#he has mixed feelings about maria

[tizeline]

Ok we all know that Sep!Leo loves Sonic, but what's his favorite piece of Sonic media? I feel like Forces would be his guilty pleasure cause of the OC making thing

hELP YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE FORCES THING 😭unfortunately there's no turtle option in the character creator :(

That being said, with Leo being obsessed with Shadow, his favorite game is to no suprise the Shadow The Hedgehog game. Not just is it entirely focused on HIS FAVORITE CHARACTER, but you can even pick which side Shadow takes in the story, so you can beat up a bunch of humans if you want!! :D And yeah sure the game insists that this is the "evil route" or whatever, but who cares what the stupid human developers think! 🙄 Aside from that, he kinda just prefers any of the Sonic media that feature Shadow (yes that includes Sonic 06)

I've also decided that Leo doesn't really like Sonic as a character. Like, at all. Not just his voice, but his personality as well, he just finds him very annoying (lol. lmao even.) Because of that he doesn't tend to bother that much with any Sonic media that's too focused on only Sonic. He likes the other characters though, but his adoration for Shadow trumps everything else so he's mostly interested in whatever includes Shadow, even if it's...... not very good (again, Sonic 06 haha)

OH and if you're wondering. Yes, he's a HUGE Crush 40 fan.

[jksprincess10]

His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Tommy hires a new ranch hand behind Joel's back and he's not happy about it.

CW: jackson era, rancher!joel and helper!reader, mean!joel, perv!joel, unhinged and bold!reader, lots of banter, mentions of parent death, alcohol, masturbation, smut, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, daddy kink, degradation kink, lots of pet names (baby, etc.), big cock joel miller, lots of dirty talk, some fluff and feelings, no y/n, multiple POVs. (2.8k words)

A/N: Special thanks to @fhatbhabiee for proofreading, @notjustjavierpena for the beautiful banner, @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

“The hell is this?!” Joel’s fists are closed against his hips, his head cocked to the side as he looks at what Tommy has brought into his home, another lost sheep.

“This is your new helper.” His younger brother gestures towards you and you look at the older man, an eyebrow raised in defiance. It wasn’t the warm welcome you had expected. “Maria’s about to pop out any day now, so I hired someone to take my place in the ranch.”

“You think a lil’ girl can help me?” Joel looks down at you, his steel gaze analyzing your reaction. But Tommy cuts you off before you can say anything.

“Don’t be a sexist ol’ prick. She has experience and took care of animals in her previous community.”

“And I’m not a little girl.” You add, detaching every syllable. “Shall we try that again? You must be Joel.” You tell him your name, and he takes your extended hand in his calloused palm, squeezing it stronger than necessary.

“Nice to meet you.” He grumbles.

“So, where’s my room?”

“Your… room?” Joel asks, his murderous gaze pinning Tommy down.

“Listen, she just got here. It’s temporary. Give ‘er a room, feed her and she’ll work for you for free.”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.” Joel mutters.

How dare he bring this pretty young woman into his home without asking him before? The worst part is, you’re hard working. Every day, you get up at the crack of dawn to feed the cows and the sheep. You’re stronger than you look. And sometimes, you cook for him too, and he hates admitting that you’re good. You’re too fucking young, too fucking good looking and he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. He shouldn’t be fucking his fist every night since you arrived with your name dying on his chapped lips.

Joel joins you in the barn to see if you’re working well. You are, of course, milking one of the cows; your knees in the mud, pulling on the cow’s udders.

“When you’re done, put the milk into glass bottles and bring ‘em inside… We can trade ‘em.” Joel orders, then clears his throat. “D’ya… need anythin’?”

When Joel doesn’t bark out orders, he’s silent. It’s the first time in a week he’s shown any care for your well-being.

“Hm… clothes for the cold months coming would be nice.” You finish milking the cow and get up. You look at your ruined pants and sigh. “Yeah… clothes would be nice.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

You cringe at the nickname. “Thanks, Joel. But stop calling me that.” You can’t look at him, and you simply pet the giant, but soft beast who moos in response. You chuckle and turn to Joel. You pretend for his sake that you don’t hear him on the other side of the wall every night, wet noises mixed with heavy pants. You pretend you don’t do the same. “I’m closer to 30 than to 20.” You watch as he swallows heavily.

Still, 26 years is a big age gap, and Joel curses in his head as he hears you confirm your age.

“Right, but I’m 56. You’re jus’ a kid to me. I could be your dad.”

“I’m a woman. Treat me like one.” You respond firmly. He sees how worked up that gets you, how your body is facing him with your fists tight like you’re keeping yourself from hitting him.

Joel sighs and stays silent for too long, leaving with a last glance at you and another order. “Be ready in 10. We’re goin’ downtown to get you clothes. Be late, and I’ll go without ya.”

You’re fuming, and you want to curse the man’s ancestors, but you stay silent, obedient. You pack the milk harvest of the day: 3 good bottles, that would only need to be filtered before consumption. You go into your room to put on your only clean pair of jeans, and join Joel at the front, where he’s stoically waiting, big, stupid strong arms crossed against his chest, the sleeves of his flannel pulling against his muscles. You stomp to him with a box of milk in hands, and he chuckles, the asshole chuckles –

“Listen, asshole – ” You push the box into his arms, and he takes it effortlessly, an amused grin on his face. “I don’t know if you’re just sexually constipated or what, if so, please for the love of God, get fucking laid, but you don’t have to be mean to me all the time. Just because I’m young or because you don’t want me here or…. You know what? I had a dad, he’s fucking dead. You’re not my father, move on. Treat me like a fucking person.”

One of his eyebrows lift, and he looks at you for a few seconds, before asking: “You done?”

“No. Tell me you’ll stop being an ass or I’ll go find someone more annoying than me to replace me.”

“Fine. I’ll treat you like a woman and a person.”

“Thank you for the bare fucking minimum. Let’s go, cowboy.” You say between your teeth.

Your walk from the ranch to downtown Jackson calms you down. Everyone else is too nice for you to stay mad.

“S’here.” He points at the storefront with a sign that reads clothing and repair services. You go in with him, a soft bell announcing new guests. There are a few racks with seasonal clothing, a few different sections clearly identified: for children, women and men. Joel brings the milk up to the counter and the owner gives him five coupons in exchange.

“You can get five things.” Joel tells you as he hands you the coupons.

“But…. Don’t you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

You look around while Joel waits at the counter. You find two sweaters your size, two pairs of pants and some underwear (that were on “sale” for 3 for 1 coupon). You give your coupons to the owner, she counts your items and tells you that you’re good to go.

Weeks pass, where Joel really tries to be nicer to you after your little meltdown. He doesn’t call you kiddo anymore – thank God – but you sometimes feel his gaze linger. You both try to stay away from each other – why would you fuck your new boss - because truth is, you find him very attractive despite his ill manners. But seeing Joel every day in the most domestic of settings lights something inside of you – a profound want and… affection.

In some rare occurrences, you have fun together. There are a few people in your backyard – Tommy, some townies you met through Joel, Ellie, Joel’s adoptive daughter who had moved away with her girlfriend. You’re settled around a bonfire to shield your bodies from the cold. Joel has a guitar on his lap, and his face has a pleasant glow from the beers you shared. You’re sitting between him and Tommy.

“Hope the old man’s treating you well.” Tommy jokes, a dig at his older brother.

“Surprisingly well. Well, after he stop treating me like a fucking kid.” You snort.

“Yeah, he tends to do that.” Ellie concedes.

“Stop talkin’ about me like I ain’t here.” Joel grumbles.

“You just had to be nicer.” You grimace.

“Had to see if you were a good worker ‘fore.”

“Am I?”

Your shoulders brush, and you smile innocently at him.

“Guess so.”

That’s the closest thing from a compliment you’d get.  You call it a night shortly after, but everyone seems determined to spend the night outside.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a door closing, so you decide to get up for a glass of water. You pad silently on the cold wooden floor, only wearing your panties and an oversized long-sleeved shirt. You almost jump out of your skin when you see Joel sat on his favorite chair in the living room, knees spread like he owned the world. He had a half empty beer in hand.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up, sweetheart.” His voice is rough. He looks up at you, eyes tracing your curves through your shirt, focusing on your bare legs, on your nipples peaking through your shirt. You self-consciously wrapped your arms around your torso.

“S’okay…” You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You could still feel Joel’s gaze on you, since the house was open-floored.  “Hm, Joel?”  You suddenly felt bold, maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you masturbate every night when I’m right here?” You sip on your water as you walk back calmly to where Joel sat. “Why don’t you fuck me, huh?”

Joel’s face burns with shame, and you smile when you realize you were right.

“You’re way too young and pretty for me, darlin’.” He leaves his bottle on the table next to him, and he pinches the bridge with a long sigh. “And you’re workin’ for me.”

“Let me be clear, Joel.” Your glass joins his bottle, and you lean towards him, your legs between his, your arms around his neck. “I like you. I want you. Please. Let me have you.”

Joel’s breath comes out shaky, and his rough hands grab onto your shirt. “Tried so hard to make you hate me, so this wouldn’t happen.”

“You succeeded for a while.” You smile sweetly, your fingers treading in the curls on the back of his neck.  “You’re very hot, Mr. Miller. I won’t beg again.” Your breath fans his dry lips.

“Okay. Okay.” Joel pulls you down even more, and you’re almost falling on his lap as his lips crash on yours. It’s hungry and angry, desperate. He’s angry at himself, you know it, but you don’t want his shame. The older man tastes like beer and smells like fire. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip.

“I do the same thing, Joel. I fuck my fingers every night while I imagine yours.” You whisper against his lips after a chaste kiss to his swollen bottom lip.

Joel groans and drags you down. You sit comfortably on his lap, feeling the rough tent in his jeans.

“Le’me see you.” He sounds more confident now as he pulls on your hem and lift your shirt over your head. You like his heavy gaze on your breasts, his calloused fingers pulling on your nipples to make them harder. You sigh happily and thrust your hips against his hard cock. He feels so big, but you’re confident you could take all of him.

“Y’wanna rut against my cock like a bitch in heat, huh? Go ahead, sweet girl. Make yourself wet for daddy.”

You didn’t think Joel had such a dirty mouth on him, but you obey. You rub your wet panties against the large bump in his jeans. The rough texture of the used fabric pleases you, but you need more. You clumsily remove your panties and abandon them on the floor. Joel, in a trance, admires your pussy. His fingers barely touch you, and you’re already panting.

“S’all fo’ me, huh? D’you need help?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Words, baby.” He pressed, his free hand holding your chin up.

“Touch me, daddy. Please.”

“Suddenly so polite and sweet.”  Two of Joel’s fingers circle your clit as you keep desperately moving your heat against his jeans, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Pleasure builds rapidly in your core, and you’re thrusting your hips even harder, until you come in a moan.

“That’s it, that’s it.” He soothes. “C’me here.” He holds you in his arms strengthened by years of manual labor and lifts you up as he gets up. You wrap your legs around him. “M’not done with you, but I want you to be comfortable.”

He brings you to his bedroom, which you had never seen fully. Only glimpses here and there. Somehow, it felt more intimate. He drops your body on his large bed.

“How are you still wearing clothes?” You complain, and he chuckles.

“So eager, aren’t ya?” Joel starts undressing, still on his feet by the bed. He only leaves his boxers on, and you try to see him in the dark. You decide to rely on your touch instead, when he takes the spot between your legs. Your fingers trace his strong back, finding scars here and there. You kiss him, softly this time.

“Need to get you ready fo’ me,”

“Yes, please.”

His calloused hands spread your legs more, before he inserts one of his thick fingers in. You tighten around him, it already feels like he’s stretching you out.

“Relax baby.”

You breathe, in and out, slowly relaxing your walls at the same time.

“That’s it, le’me in.” He thrusts it in and out a few times, before adding another finger. He uses his thumb to caress your clit, soothing the pain through another wave of pleasure.

“F-Fuck, Joel. That’s so much.”

“I know baby, you’re doin’ so well. Jus’ let go.”

He fucks you hard and fast with his fingers, pressing on your swollen clit with his thumb. You’re moaning and thrashing through your second orgasm of the night, and Joel’s looking at you intently, his free hand caressing the lump in his boxers.

“Need to fuck ya now. Can you take it?” His fingers leave you empty, and he soothes you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes. Give it to me, please.”

He pulls down his boxers and throws them away. You watch in awe as his girth jumps out. He holds the base and swirls the fat head against your wetness, making you jump a little, still sensitive.

“So wet fo’ me.”

He aligns the head of his cock with your hole and pushes in slowly. You let out a breath after the big tip has breached your entrance.

“That’s only the tip. More?”

You nod your head a few times. “I want everything.”  You’re so scared this will be the only time you can have him like this, bare and desperate.

He thrusts in, feeding you his cock as slow as he can bear. You hold on to him.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whine.

“I know baby I know.” Joel kisses you lazily and sensually, stopping his movements when his hips are flush with yours. He waits until you move on your own, and he thrusts in and out with your help, still slow and careful. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, you had never felt better in your life.

“Faster.”

He listens, snapping his hips faster and harsher, but he can’t seem to be able to fuck you as hard as he wants in this angle. He suddenly leaves you empty and grabs your hips to turn you around, your ass in the air.

He thrusts in before you’re even ready, and the angle is perfect.  He fucks you hard and fast, the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and your pants fill his bedroom. The line between pleasure and pain is so thin, but you love the way he lets himself go. His big balls hit your clit a few times, and you’re crying of pleasure. You hold on to his silky sheets and to the solid, wooden headboard as he pounds into you.

“Gimme ‘nother one, c’mon.” He urges you through gritted teeth. “Come on my cock.”

He slows down to catch his breath, fucking you deep and hard, and one of his hand sneaks to the front of your body, teasing your tits with expert hands. Your pleasure builds in your tummy, before the pressure releases, and you come hard around his cock.

“Atta girl.” He praises, breath heavy. You feel him move away, and you turn around just in time to see him pumping his cock a few times, until he comes in any piece of fabric he can find – which ends up being his boxers.

You lay down on his bed, all members spread as you catch your breath with a dumb smile on your lips. You couldn’t believe you were just fucked by Joel Miller.

“I never came so much in my life, God.” You whisper in amazement, a hand against your sweaty forehead.

Joel chuckles and you hear his steps moving away from the room, but he isn’t gone for too long. He comes back with a warm, wet cloth, which he uses to soothe your swollen pussy, and clean himself up. He climbs into bed with you, and you hope he doesn’t ask you to go back to your room. Ever.

You’re both laying on your side, facing each other. Joel lifts the blanket over you and lays his palm against your warm cheek.

“M’glad Tommy hired you behind my back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stay. I like you.”  He adds after clearing his throat. You smile and bring his palm to your lips to kiss it.

“I like you too. I won’t leave, if you want me to stay.” You assure him.

“Good.” He says as he closes his eyes.  “Sleep, you’re workin’ early tomorrow.”

“You’re the worst.” You mumble as he chuckles weakly.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saddle Me Up, Cowboy Part 1: Spin Me Around the Dance Floor✨

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @alltheirdamn for encouraging me to write this! Beth Dutton and Rip Wheeler from Yellowstone heavily inspired this short little series. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: You were only trying to enjoy your drink and watch the different couples spin around the dance floor at your favorite country club, but all that changed when you set your eyes on a certain handsome brown-eyed cowboy.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: Lots of fluff, flirting, pining, two stepping, meet cute at a country western bar, no use y/n, no outbreak au, switching POVs, soft! Joel, summer love, reader has hair

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The neon lights flash across the busy dance floor as bodies sway back and forth to the slow country tune. Smoke permeates through the air as couples hold each other close and the men spin their lovers around the wooden floor. You love two stepping, love the rustic feel of the bar, love the feel of your jean shorts and fitted cowboy boots. You just love being here on a Friday night in your favorite country bar called Cowboys. 

   You stir the straw slowly around in your mixed drink, your elbow leaning against the side of the dance floor, toes tapping on the bottom of the barstool. And as you watch the happy couples spin across the floor, you can’t help but wish that was you out there. 

   When was the last time you came here with a date? Maybe two years. 

   Sure, you’ve been asked to dance. Took a twirl around the room twice with some nice blonde guy that talked about his job and dogs. But it was just friendly and casual. Just a way to spin around the dance floor a couple of times. It wasn’t a perfect match with your cowboy lover. That’s someone you haven’t met yet.

   Tonight, maybe you’d find someone. The one. A girl can dream, and that’s exactly what you do. Dream.

   Another two songs fly by as you sip your fruity drink, watching couples come and go on and off the dance floor. A slow Morgan Wallen song floats through the packed room, your eyes roam around the bar, falling on the far right corner. Just when a couple spins out of the way, it clears your view to the opposite side of the dance floor. And oh my God, your heart drops out of your chest.

   You nearly choke on the fruity liquid, your jaw dropping straight to the floor. There, right across the room, stands the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

   He’s tall, well over six foot. His green button-up flannel clings to strong biceps, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider down into massive hands. His hair is dark and sandy, silver threaded through his tousled curls and burrowing into the thick beard against his sculpted jawline. He’s tan, dark from working out in the sun, you think. And his eyes look like the color of chocolate almonds from what you can tell under the dim lights. And his smile. Jesus, it could light up an entire room. 

   Soft. He looks so soft the way he holds the flute of his beer bottle, the way his eyes light up every time he laughs with his friends. And God, you’d kill to see him smile at you like that.

   You keep your gaze on him, staring like a child in a candy store, eyeing the last Hershey’s bar on the shelf. And it’s like your first school crush all over. You need to get a hold of yourself, but you just can’t. He’s too tempting, too smoldering, too perfect.

   And in the next moment, his eyes are on you.

—

   Sweat beads Joel’s forehead as he takes another swig of his beer, a chuckle leaving his lips as Tommy teases Maria and pulls her to his chest. She just laughs and kisses him on the cheek as he wraps her in his leather jacket. Joel wishes he had someone like that. Someone to love as much as Tommy loves her. Maybe someday he would.

   “You gonna ask anyone to dance?” Tommy asks, his brown eyes trained on Joel. 

   “Eventually,” Joel mutters, sighing as he takes another generous sip of the strong alcohol. 

   “Better before the end of the night,” Tommy laughs, pulling Maria by the hand to the dance floor. Before Tommy turns away, he gives a brotherly shove to Joel’s shoulder and winks. “Pretty girl at twelve o’clock, straight across the room. Go get her, Joel.”

   Just as Tommy leaves him with a confused expression, he looks up and freezes the minute he spots you. He gulps and sets his beer on the table, his fingers curling into the wooden tabletop, eyes wide when your eyes meet his.

   Big, glittering, beautiful eyes swallow him whole, the swirling lights making them glow even brighter. He catches his breath and has it knocked right back out of his chest again as a shy smile curls against your glossy red lips. He thinks he just fell in love. 

   Your pretty hair falls in long waves down your shoulders; your low-cut tank top sticking to your sun kissed skin shining under the bright spotlight. It’s like an angel sits before him, and he’s mesmerized. Your tight denim shorts hug your curves, and your tan boots with embroidered butterflies scuff against the barstool. Your pretty eyes flick down to your drink and back up to him repeatedly, sweetly beckoning to him to come ask you to dance.

   Shy, sweet, adorable, beautiful. He picks all this out just by looking at your pretty face. And you’re just his type of girl; he already knows it. He thinks you were made just for him to find tonight.

   It goes on like clockwork for the next few songs. Shy smiles, locked eyes, hesitation permeating through the thick, smoky air. But he won’t hesitate for long. No. He wants to know you, to dance with you, to take you out, maybe show you his ranch. 

   He just has to have you. And he will. You’ll be his by the end of the night.

   After an encouraging slap on the back from Tommy, he takes one more glance your way and hands his tan cowboy hat to Tommy. Right now he only has one task at hand, and that is to ask the pretty girl to dance. So, he swallows all his nerves and walks across the room, right through the sea of endless bodies. 

   Right to you.

—

   Your cheeks burn hot as you lock eyes again; a flirtatious game you’ve been playing for the past two songs. You practically feel on fire with the way your body reacts every time he looks at you. 

   Maybe he’ll ask you to dance. You hope he does because you have a feeling being in those big, strong arms would be like jumping into a freshly made bed after a long day at work. Warm and cozy and made just for you. 

   You bite your bottom lip and laugh as your head drops to the scuffed-up wood, a loose curl falling over your shoulder. How can you already like someone this much when you don’t even know them? Sounds pretty silly, but it gives you tingles in your feet just the same.  

   This is a good sign.

   When you look back up, your heart drops to the floor when you don’t see the handsome man standing across the room anymore. You slide further down in your chair and sigh, letting all the hope fizzle out of your tired body. 

   He left. You just wanted one dance. That’s all you wanted. One fucking dance.

   You sigh quietly and look back out at the spinning bodies on the dance floor, shaking off the growing tears in your eyes. Just when you think one might drop, your body freezes when you hear a husky, deep voice being cleared next to you. When you turn to look at who just interrupted your sulking session, you nearly fall off the barstool.

   It’s him. The man with the pretty brown eyes.

  “Hi.” His deep voice floats through your ears like a dream, and the music seems to disappear altogether.  

   “Uhh—hi,” you stammer out, your mouth agape as you watch a small smile curl against his inviting lips.

   “‘M sorry if this comes off as rude. But what’s a girl like you doin’ sittin’ on the sidelines, darlin’?” His thick Southern accent drawls out, and your eyes immediately widen when you hear how deep and staccato it sounds. You think you could listen to it all night long.

   Darlin’. He called you darlin’.

   Your words fail you, so you just brush off his apology and smile. “Can’t a girl enjoy a drink?”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, a tousled curl falling into his forehead. You want to brush it back for him. That soft looking sandy hair. “Well, sure ya can. Didn’t answer why you’re sittin’ over here by yourself, though.”

   “My friends are dancing,” you shrug, spinning your straw nervously in your drink, letting the liquid slosh around the sides.

   “Now how come a pretty thing like you ain’t out there with ‘em? Hmm?” His thick eyebrows raise in question, and another dreamy smile meets his face. 

   God, he’s so handsome.

   “Oh, I dunno. Was just watching,” you answer nonchalantly, not pointing out the fact that they’re all taken and you’re not.

   He hums to himself, his eyes flicking to the dance floor and back to you after a few seconds. “You wanna dance?” he asks softly, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the hope that you’ll say yes.

   “Huh?” you say off guard, your eyes wide at the question. 

   He just asked you to dance.

   “Do you wanna dance with me?” he asks again, nudging the side of your boot with his own worn leather boot.

   “You’re asking me to dance?” you question.

   “Ain’t that what I asked?” he chuckles, causing your stomach to somersault with the way his infectious laugh is making you feel. All warm and tingly.

   “Oh. I umm—okay,” you smile shyly, looking up through your long eyelashes at him. 

   “Is that a yes, darlin’?” he asks with a big smile.

   “Yes, I’d love to,” you confirm with a nod.

   “Well, c’mon then.” He holds out his open palm, and you don’t hesitate to take it. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. Rough, calloused hands that hold yours perfectly. A match made in heaven.

   He leads you to the middle of the dance floor, careful not to get in the way of any other couples. And then he slowly slips a hand around your waist, the other securely latched to your hand, his fingers laced through yours. And when he starts to lead the dance, you follow right after him.

   The bright lights land over him, putting his beautiful eyes right on display for you. Your breath catches when you see how soft his eyes are. Dark brown like the color of honey and onyx flecks swirling in his irises that hypnotize you to him. He’s absolutely beautiful. You’ve never seen eyes as pretty as his; ones that draw you right in. And the way he’s looking at you, all soft and like he’s looking at the most beautiful girl in the world makes your knees a little wobbly. 

   The neon signs on the walls glow in the distance, the melodic tune of a Scotty McCreery song floats in the background while couples dance around you. Joel leads you around the dance floor, holding you tight and never once stepping on your feet. 

   You scuff your boot over his toes out of nervousness, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just chuckles and pulls you closer to where you can feel his steady heartbeat against your chest, his brown eyes staring into yours like he’s enamored by you. But he’s got your full attention, and you’re so into him already.

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, his Southern drawl completely melting you at the sweet sound. You tell him yours and when your name slips off his tongue, you nearly fall to your knees in awe.

   “And yours? What’s yours, Cowboy?” you ask over the loud couple that whips around you. 

   “Cowboy, huh? Already got a nickname for me, sweetheart?” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the nickname like he wants you to say it again. And maybe you will.

   “Maybe so,” you giggle, relaxing into the dance as he spins you around in circles, the lights following your movements.

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.” He tips his head and gives you a big smile. You can’t help but giggle every time he smiles at you. It’s like you’re in first grade all over, and Joel’s the new, cute boy that’s caught your attention in class.

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joel.” 

   “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he smiles, keeping you close to his warm body. You let out another nervous giggle, and it just makes him smile wider like he’s addicted to your laugh. 

   “I like your laugh, darlin’. Could listen to it all night,” he sighs dreamily, chocolate eyes melting as he looks intensely at you, honing in on just you while the rest of the room disappears. Your breath hitches for just a second, and then you melt right back into him.

   “Well, I like your brown eyes,” you lull, your eyes locked on his pretty pools of honey. You giggle when he blushes, and then a dimple indents into his left cheek when he smiles. And God, you think you just fell in love. 

   “And your smile. I love your pretty smile. It lights up a room, darlin’. And you lit up the whole damn bar tonight,” he drawls, his warm breath fanning over your open mouth, gawking at this handsome gentleman. 

   He’s fucking perfect. 

   He lifts his arm and spins you around in a complete circle, his large hand finding your hip again and pulling you back into his broad chest. And there you are, completely breathless again.

   “So, Cowboy. What made you want to come ask me to dance?” you ask, curiosity circling in your wide eyes.

   “Saw you from across the room, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he answers honestly with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

   “Me?” you ask, taken aback. 

   “Yes, you,” he chuckles as he guides you across the polished dance floor.

   “There’s a hundred other girls in here who’ve had their eyes on you all night,” you scoff in a playful way.

   “Oh? Is that so?” An eyebrow lifts in piqued interest, but his eyes still don’t leave yours. They stay glued to you.

   “Mhm,” you hum in confirmation.

   “That means you’ve been watchin’ me too, ain’t that right?” he smirks devilishly, his brown eyes darkening just slightly.

   “No I—no. That’s not…” you stutter, at a loss for words. You were watching him. Ever since you saw him across the room; that damn smile that has your head spinning.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. Wasn’t tryin’ to get you all flustered now,” he chuckles, obviously trying to get you flustered. He doesn’t have to try hard because you’re already overly flustered.

   “I’m not flustered,” you scoff, your cheeks burning hotter with every second his chocolate eyes are on you.

   “No? Well, you’re pretty cute when you’re blushin’, darlin’. Maybe I want you flustered,” he grins, a beautiful smile curling against his plush lips.

   “Careful, Cowboy. You might be the one blushing next,” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully in response.

   “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart,” he challenges, his eyes growing into a soft syrupy color you want to drown in.

   “Maybe I will, brown eyes,” you say with the flash of a smile.

   “Brown eyes, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.” His pretty eyes are genuine when he says it, like it’s the best thing you’ve said this whole dance. And the pink that marinates around his dark scruff tells you enough. He does like it.

   You smirk in knowing and wink playfully his way, creating a deeper blush on his tanned skin. It makes your heart skip a beat. “Good, now you’re the one blushing.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and sighs, his eyes alight with an enamored glow. “Christ, you’re adorable.”

   “If you say so, Cowboy,” you say, letting him continue the dance even though there’s a new song booming from the overhead speakers.

   He wraps his large hand tighter against your waist, and you let his other gently glide up and down the back of your hand. A caress that’s laced with care.

   “I do say so, sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly. “But you wanna know the real reason why I asked you to dance?”

   You keep your eyes trained on the glow of his and squint carefully. “Tell me.”

   He takes a deep breath and smiles shyly. “The reason I asked you is ‘cause I thought you were the prettiest girl in the room.”

   Your mouth gawks open in shock. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the room? Wow. “Me? Are you sure you picked the right girl?” 

   “Yes, you,” he nods, his thumb stroking against your soft skin. An affirmation of what? Care, admiration, love?

   “You think I’m… pretty?” you ask hesitantly, your voice quiet and meek. He can’t think you’re the prettiest girl. There’s no way.

   “Mhm. Gorgeous. And your eyes. Absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. They make the lights in here look dim with how bright yours shine.”

   You stare in amazement at him, eyes as wide as an owl’s gawking at the man with pretty brown eyes who swept you off your feet. You’re falling into places you’ve never been, and you’re quite scared of how many feelings are bubbling up inside you already. But at this moment, you don’t care. All you can do is stare at him affectionately as he spins you around the room.

   He’s perfect. 

   “So, what does a pretty girl like you do for work, sweetheart?” he asks, molton brown eyes glazing into yours, making you audibly gasp how pretty they are.

   “I’m a vet assistant.”

   “Vet assistant, huh? You ever work on cattle, by chance?” His wide brown eyes are full of hope, and a smile tugs at his lips. 

   “Unfortunately no. Just dogs and cats mostly. Why? You got some cattle, Cowboy?” Your eyebrow arches, and a mischievous smirk curls over your mouth.

   He chuckles and nods his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. I own a ranch,” he says proudly, standing a little taller, making your face hurt from smiling so damn much at him. 

   “So you are a Cowboy. I knew it,” you giggle. “What kind of animals do you have?”

   “Tons,” he says, the neon lights glowing over his tousled curls. “Horses, cows, bulls, chickens, sheep, dogs, and the list goes on.”

   “My, my. You got your hands full. Don’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously up at him. You like him even more now. 

   “Reckon I do,” he chuckles, his thumb tracing light circles against the back of your hand, eliciting goosebumps down your arms. 

   “Too full to handle one more thing?” you question, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that you can manage. 

   He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “If that one thing is you then ‘course not. Got all the room for you, darlin’.”

   Your eyes soften into liquid and your head is spinning as you stare at this beautiful man. You’re already falling head over heels, and you think he is too. 

   “You ever ride a horse before?” he asks, tilting his head like he’s assessing you.

   You shake your head in response. “I mean, when I was little I rode on a pony. But a horse? No. Can’t say that I have.” 

   “You wanna learn? Got a stallion back at home that has your name on the saddle.” His smile is breathtaking, just like his honey-colored eyes. Your heart gallops in your chest like hooves pounding on the ground. He wants to teach you how to ride?

   “You really plan on teaching me?” Your eyebrows pinch together, hesitation stuck on your tongue. 

   He nods, a fleeting smile meeting his beautiful eyes. “Consider it our first date, darlin’. Gonna turn you into a little cowgirl.”

   “Oh, a cowgirl, huh? Is that what I’m going to be?” you giggle flirtatiously, and he picks right back up on it as he winks at you.

   “S’right. My cowgirl.”

   My cowgirl. 

   Your heart gets stuck in your throat, words lodged deep inside. So you do what you can do. Smile and trace your fingertips across his broad shoulder, letting the soft flannel graze against your smooth skin. 

   As the song slows to a halt, you find the opportunity to wrap both of your arms tightly around his neck, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric of his flannel. His arms circle your hips, and one hand gently runs up and down your lower back, sending electricity zapping through your nerve endings. 

   You smell him now. His woodsy cologne, the hint of sweet beer on the tip of his tongue, faint scents of smoke on his collar, the scent of leather in the air. He smells like your favorite scent all mixed together, combined into the perfect formula to get you drunk off him. And you’d gladly get drunk off him. 

   “Lady May” by Tyler Childers plays through the speakers; the slow song sending the mood of the bar into  a romantic, all consuming type of way. Love’s permeating through the air, and you can feel it everywhere. It tingles in your toes, brushes like a breeze through your hair, spirals down the back of your spine, floods your heart with warmth you’ve never felt before, makes your eyes sparkle like starlight through the bright lights, landing right in the palm of Joel.

   Put your toes down in the water. And a smile across your face. And tell me that you love me. Lovely Lady May.

   He pulls you closer, where your chin is tucked against the crook of his neck, his woodsy cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. 

   Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel that your hands have ever held. But, darling, I could love you well.

   Lovely lady May.

   His lips brush over the crown of your head, his fingertips lighting your nerve endings on complete fire, sparks igniting in his caramel eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s already in love with you. And maybe you’ve already fallen in love with him, too. 

   As the music slows, he dips you low, not daring to let your back touch the scuffed-up wood. When he pulls you back up, he brings you flush to his broad chest, and his scent is everywhere. 

   His brown eyes sparkle like glitter, shooting stars that only you can make a wish on in the clear night sky. And his smile. My God, you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him before.

   He gently brushes a loose curl behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingertips down your jawline, ending right under your chin where he stills. The room melts away, the noisy crowd disappearing as the song completely takes a hold of you. 

   But I’m baptized in your name. Lovely Lady May. 

   His thumb slowly traces your bottom lip, leaving invisible marks that’ll stick like permanent ink, branding you as his own. The way he’s staring at you all soft and deeply makes you melt into him even more.

   One more trace, one more shy smile, and he’s asking. “Darlin’?”

   “Yes?” you ask breathlessly.

   “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his Southern drawl sounding lovestruck and angelic. “And thank you for allowin’ me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. But there’s jus’ one more thing I’d like to do.” His mouth drops a little lower, and your breath hitches.

   “And what’s that?” you ask, lilting at his soft smile.

   “I’d really like to kiss you…” he breathes, his deep timbre shaky as his brown eyes melt into you.

   You lean up on your tiptoes, blowing your breath over his open lips. “Then kiss me, Cowboy…” you whisper out.

   He cups your face the next second and leans in, crashing his lips down on yours without any hesitation. And he draws you in like a moth to a flame. 

   His lips are soft like velvet, and he tastes like your new favorite flavor. Blue moon, sweet and savory with a hint of smoke and mint marinating on his tongue. 

   And then your lips become his as you fall like rain into his kiss.

   Mint. Blue Moon. Smoke. Velvet. Cedar Wood. Leather.

   He’s all you know now. 

   You stay like that for minutes, connected like webs to each other in the middle of the dance floor as couples swirl in a colorful blur around you. When the two of you finally disconnect from each other’s lips, a big smile curls against his mouth and his pretty brown eyes look like they’re laced with love the longer he looks at you.

   He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and leans in close, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “You taste like mine, darlin’.”

   And that’s when you fall head over heels for the Cowboy that snatched your heart and made you his own.

   He pulls you in for another dance, and you let him lead you through another song which turns into another and another and another. You lose count. All you know is that you’d dance all night with him if you could. 

   After over an hour of twirling around the dance floor with him, he buys you a drink and leads you over to two barstools. You end up with your legs sprawled over his lap, his fingertips tracing lines over your thighs, his lips brushing over your cheek while he places his cowboy hat on top of your head, claiming you as his own. 

   You end up meeting Joel’s brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. And you spend all night laughing and flirting with Joel while you bond over music and shared interests. Turns out you have a lot in common. 

   It’s the way his smile stops your heart and his brown eyes that send your head spinning. It’s the way he calls you his girl and the way he can’t keep his hands off you for even a second. You’ve never been this wrapped up in a guy before, but you’ve never met a handsome gentleman like Joel. A cowboy that won your heart over the second he looked at you. 

   He ends the night by driving you home, walking you up to your door, pulling you against his broad chest as his thumb traces lightly against your skin affectionately. You don’t want to say goodnight.

   “So, pretty girl. How ’bout I pick you up at 4:00 o’clock tomorrow? Can give you your first ridin’ lesson, maybe watch the sunset from the back of my truck. Can tell you how beautiful you look under the stars,” he drawls, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight. 

   He has you reeled in, pulling you in like he just lassoed his way into your heart. 

   “Quite the romantic type. Aren’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, lacing your fingers through his tousled curls. 

   “That I am,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you tighter against him. “So, what do ya say, Cowgirl? You gonna let me take you on that date?”

   “Pick me up at 4:00, and I’m all yours.”

   “All mine?” he smiles, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

   “All yours,” you confirm.

   He pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, letting it linger as the stars twinkle above your porch. You’re never going to get tired of his kisses, his soft Southern drawl, his big brown eyes. You’re only going to grow more in love with him every day. And you’ll let it grow like a wildfire that consumes you whole. 

   This was only the beginning. The beginning of a perfect summer love that would never fade away. 

Tags for those that were interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @lotusbxtch @almostfoxglove @burntheedges

@jasminedragoon @inept-the-magnificent @magpiepills @almostempty @aurorawritestoescape

@milla-frenchy @pedrospatch @thundermartini @lanaispunk @sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused

@stylesispunk @there1snothingleft4u @littlevenicebitch69 @tuquoquebrute @ajw-23

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 4

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴,"

summary: life has been perfect, just you and him, but the shadows of both of you and Joel's past has been haunting you again...

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 4

masterlist of the series

previous | chapter 3

next | chapter 5

The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter these days, casting a warm glow over your life since Joel had become more involved in it. His presence brought a newfound sense of safety and comfort, not just for you but for him as well. Joel, once a cold and distant figure, began to soften, melting into a warmer, more open person whenever you were around. It was as if the world belonged to just the two of you, and the bond you shared illuminated both your lives in profound ways.

Joel was now a regular at church, attending Sunday services and every fellowship event with renewed purpose. His participation didn't go unnoticed, especially by Tommy, Ellie, and Maria, who observed the positive changes in him. Joel still remained a man of few words, guarded and cautious, but your presence had undeniably brought a light into his life, guiding him out of the shadows.

For you, Joel became the protector you desperately needed. Whenever your father’s temper flared, you could escape to Joel, finding solace in his arms. He calmed your storms, just as you eased his burdens, becoming each other's anchor. You often sneaked out together to the lake or climbed into the back of Joel’s truck to gaze at the stars. Those moments felt like the world stood still, with only the two of you and the infinite sky. Joel found himself no longer lost in the darkness; instead, he had found his light in you.

However, you both had to maintain a facade, keeping your relationship discreet to avoid the prying eyes of the community. Sneaking out, lying to your father about being at a friend's house, and stolen moments of intimacy became part of your routine. While you hadn't taken your relationship to a sexual level due to your trauma from Jamie, the nights spent cuddling, kissing, and talking were enough for Joel. Though he sometimes felt the stirrings of desire, he respected your boundaries, focusing instead on the depth of your connection.

Joel sometimes took you out of town, exploring Austin or Houston. You visited night markets, played in arcades, and strolled through bustling streets. Joel despised arcades, but the sound of your laughter and the sight of your carefree smile made every annoying game worthwhile. Every time you smiled, it was as if a sunbeam pierced through the clouds in Joel's heart, warming a place he had thought forever cold.

"Got another project comin' up," Joel said one evening as you sat together in his truck, overlooking the hills. "A big one. Tommy thinks it's too much work for the crew we got, but I reckon we can handle it."

"Tell me more about it," you prompted, even though construction details often went over your head. You loved hearing Joel talk about his work; the passion in his voice made you feel closer to him.

"It's an office building downtown. Gonna be a challenge because we gotta keep the old facade. Means a lotta careful demolition, precision work. Gotta bring in some new folks, too, ones who know their way around older structures."

You nodded, trying to visualize it. "Sounds complicated."

"It is," he admitted, a touch of pride in his voice. "But we got a good team. Tommy's been talkin' to some contractors. We need people who can do the job right, you know? Can’t afford any mistakes."

"I believe you can do it," you said earnestly. "You’re amazing at what you do."

He chuckled softly. "You’re sweet." Joel's hand reached up, his rough fingers gently caressing your chin. His touch was like a warm breeze on a chilly evening, comforting and electrifying at the same time. Joel’s gaze held yours, his brown eyes deep and intense, like molten chocolate, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher but felt deeply within your soul.

Every touch, every look from him, made you melt. It was as if you were a snowflake landing on a sun-warmed pavement, vanishing into a pool of warmth under the intensity of his presence. You giggled, the sound light and musical, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel shook his head slowly, his smile spreading across his face, tender and genuine. "Nothin', darlin'," he said, his voice calm, gentle, and sincere.

Joel couldn’t fully grasp his feelings, but being with you made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years. He knew this might be wrong, but it felt so good, like a burst of sunlight through storm clouds, casting colors on a world that had been grey for too long. Ever since Sarah and his wife had passed, his life had been a landscape painted in shades of grief and loss. Ellie had brought back some light, but what he felt with you was different, something more vivid, more profound.

His world had been a desolate canvas, splashed with only the darkest hues. But you were the burst of color, the brush of a vibrant dawn, illuminating the shadows that had consumed him. You were his beacon, guiding him from the darkness, painting his existence with the brightest of shades. And though it scared him, it also filled him with a warmth and a hope he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

***

After school, you found yourself in the familiar warmth of the kitchen, the comforting scent of vanilla and sugar filling the air. Your mother, in her element, was bustling around, gathering ingredients for a cake and cookies.

"Can you grab the eggs from the fridge, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice gentle.

You nodded, reaching into the refrigerator. As you handed her the carton, her hand brushed against your back, right where the still-healing bruises were. You flinched, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath.

Your mother's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I'm so sorry. Does..does it still...um hurt?" she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, Mama, it's okay. It's getting better."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of worry and sorrow. "I know I haven't... I haven't done enough to protect you," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for that. I'm just... I’m so afraid of your father."

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to offer some comfort. "Mama, it's alright. I understand. Let's just focus on the baking, okay?"

Your mother nodded, her relief palpable. She turned back to the counter, trying to regain her composure. "So, have you noticed how Joel’s been coming to church more often lately?"

You tensed slightly at the mention of Joel, careful to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, I noticed."

Your mother smiled, though it was tinged with curiosity. "You know, he’s changed a lot over the years. He used to be so different when Sarah and his wife were alive."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. You knew bits and pieces about Joel’s past but had never heard the full story. "What was he like back then?"

"Joel was a wonderful father and husband. He adored Sarah and Jane," your mother said, her eyes softening with nostalgia. "Jane and I were good friends. They were high school sweethearts, you know. Joel got Jane pregnant in high school, and they got married right after graduation. He worked so hard to provide for them."

You listened intently as your mother spoke, the rhythm of her words blending with the sounds of baking—mixing bowls clinking, the oven humming softly. Joel had never brought up his past daughter and wife when he was with you. It was as if a part of his heart was still locked away, guarded against the pain of revisiting those memories. You felt a mixture of sadness and curiosity, wishing he would open up to you but understanding his need to protect himself from that pain.

As your mother continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Joel’s heart was still closed off, like a house with the windows shuttered, sunlight struggling to seep through the cracks. "After they died, Joel was never the same," your mother said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her memories. "He isolated himself, barely spoke to anyone. He stopped coming to church, buried himself in work and alcohol. It was like the light went out of him."

You continued to bake, your hands moving automatically as you processed your mother's words. The more you learned, the more you understood the layers of grief and resilience that made up the man you had come to care for so deeply.

"Did you know his wife well?" you asked, curious about the woman who had once been such a significant part of Joel’s life. You felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Joel had once opened his heart fully to another woman, something he hadn't done with you yet.

Your mother nodded, her smile tinged with sadness. "Yes, she was one of my closest friends. Jane was kind and loving, always had a smile on her face. They were perfect together. Losing her was a blow Joel never really recovered from."

You felt a pang in your chest, imagining the life Joel had once had—a life filled with love and happiness that was abruptly shattered. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel empathy for him, understanding the depth of his loss and the strength it took for him to keep going.

Your mind swirling with thoughts. Joel had been through so much, yet he found the strength to care for Ellie and, in his own way, for you. He was like a fortress, strong and unyielding, yet vulnerable to the storms that battered him.

Your mother’s voice brought you back to the present. "Since he adopted Ellie, he's shown glimpses of the old Joel. But he still struggles. He’s still grumpy and distant. It was as if he built a wall around himself, shutting out the world to avoid more pain."

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of empathy for Joel. He had been through so much, yet he found a way to care for you and Ellie. "And now he's starting to come back to church," your mother said softly.

"It's good to see him more involved again. He deserves some happiness."

You smiled, though your heart was heavy with the knowledge of what you shared with Joel. "Yeah, he does," you agreed, hoping that somehow, against all odds, you could both find the happiness you deserved.

Your mom glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "I wonder what’s changed in him," she mused. "Maybe he’s finally opening up his heart for another woman."

Your body tensed at her words. She continued, "Ever since he became a widower, there have been plenty of women interested in him. It’s a small town, you know. Everyone knows everything. But he's always been so... cold and distant. Joel is handsome, successful, and a gentleman. Don't tell your father I said that." She chuckled, and you just smile to her.

Inside, you couldn't help but agree. Joel was indeed handsome and a gentleman, so different from your father. Your father, who should have been the epitome of kindness and morality as a preacher, was anything but. His exterior was polished and righteous, but inside, he was rotten. Joel, on the other hand, seemed rough on the outside but was truly good at heart.

Your mother sighed, "It’s good for Joel, though. It’s about time he moved on and built a new life. Maybe he’ll find a nice woman his age, someone who can be a good mother to Ellie. Adam needs his Eve, after all."

Her words made you uncomfortable, a knot forming in your stomach. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joel with someone else. The jealousy gnawed at you, knowing your mother would lose her mind if she ever discovered you were the reason for Joel’s recent change. You also felt a pang of insecurity, realizing how much older Joel was, how he could practically be your father. There were so many women in town who were more age-appropriate for him, attractive and mature, whereas you felt small and insignificant in comparison.

You focused on mixing the batter, trying to push away the uncomfortable thoughts. "Yeah, maybe," you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

Your mother didn't seem to notice your discomfort. She continued to chatter about the town gossip, but your mind was elsewhere. You wondered if Joel ever thought about these things—marry a nice woman and built a new life? You knew he cared for you, but could he see a future with you, or was this just a fleeting moment in his life?

As you finished the cake and placed it in the oven, you couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in your head. Joel was a beacon of light in your life, but the future felt uncertain. You wished you could ask him, but the fear of his answer kept you silent.

The cookies were done baking, and your mother placed them in two jars. "Take these over to Joel’s house and then to Tommy's," she said, handing you the jars and placing them in a sturdy tote bag to make it easier to carry on your bike.

You nodded, appreciating the excuse to see Joel. As you rode your bike through the familiar streets, the wind swept across your face, carrying the sweet scent of summer and the promise of evening. The sky was a canvas of blue and orange, painting a picturesque scene straight out of a movie. You loved this town—the southern charm, the way everyone knew each other—but part of you hated it, longed to escape its confines and the shadows that lurked within your home.

Arriving at Joel’s house, one of the bigger ones in the neighborhood, you parked your bike in the driveway and grabbed one of the cookie jars. Knocking on the door, as you always did instead of using the bell, you expected Ellie to answer since Joel’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.

The door opened, and instead of Ellie, it was Joel standing there. His face softened the moment he saw you.

"Hey, Mr. Miller," you said, deliberately using his formal title to tease him a bit.

Joel chuckled, his eyes warm. "Hey, doll."

You lifted the jar slightly. "Mom sent some cookies. She thought you might like them."

Joel took the jar from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. "Oh, that's nice of her, well, do want to come in?"

"Maybe for a little," You followed him inside, the familiar coziness of his home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Joel set the jar on the kitchen counter and turned to you, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"You alright?" he asked, sensing your unease.

You smiled, trying to brush off your worries. "Yeah, just... thinking about stuff."

Joel stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your chin. His touch was rough but tender, sending shivers down your spine. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, looking up into his eyes. They were deep pools of warmth and safety, and every time you looked into them, you felt like you could melt. "I know," you whispered.

For a moment, you just stood there, lost in each other's gaze. Joel’s eyes held something you couldn’t quite decipher, a mix of emotions that made your heart race. You giggled nervously, breaking the silence.

"What?" you asked, feeling self-conscious.

Joel shook his head slowly, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Nothin'."

You giggled again. "You have to stop looking at me like that."

Joel raised an eyebrow, still smiling. He's leaning in to kiss you, "Like what?"

You blushed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Before Joel could kiss you, you both heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Quickly, you stepped away from each other.

"Oh, hey, I thought I heard someone knocking," Ellie said, entering the kitchen.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her. "My mom and I made some cookies, and she sent you some. I thought I’d drop by for a bit."

Ellie grinned and walked over to you and Joel. She glanced at Joel, noticing his slightly flushed face, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, Joel?"

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, just, uh, a bit of dust or somethin'."

Ellie opened the jar and took a cookie. "These are great. Thanks!" She turned to you. Joel took a cookie as well, taking a bite and nodding in approval.

"You made this?" Joel asked, looking impressed.

You blushed a little. "Well, I just helping my mom."

"I take that as a yes and this is good," Joel said, his eyes warm.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth from his compliment.

Ellie turned her attention to you. "So, how’s school? I haven’t seen you much lately."

You shrugged. "Just busy with a lot of things."

Ellie nodded. "I heard you’re in charge of the church dance troupe for the event next week."

"Yeah," you said, smiling.

Ellie smirked playfully. "And I heard Pastor Ben picked you as soon as he saw you. I think he likes you."

Joel’s expression changed, his jaw tightening slightly. "Who's Ben?"

Ellie glanced at Joel, oblivious to his jealousy. "Pastor Ben is the new young pastor who’s going to be taking over while Father Gibson is away for a couple of weeks."

"Yeah," you added. "He’s just helping out while my dad is on a trip to New Orleans for the church."

Ellie nodded enthusiastically. "He's super popular with the girls at school. They all think he’s really handsome."

You laughed lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "He’s just being friendly, Ellie."

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he forced a casual tone. "How old is he?"

"Not sure," Ellie said, shrugging. "Maybe late twenties?"

"Oh," he said.

Joel's face remained impassive, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his emotions. He didn’t want to show too much, to let on how much it bothered him that someone else might have an eye on you. After all, anyone would notice your beauty—your presence was like a beacon, drawing people in with your pure, radiant light. Men and boys alike found themselves captivated by you, your allure almost heavenly. Joel, despite not being religious, found himself silently praying that he could keep you to himself.

He knew that your beauty wasn’t just skin-deep. There was something about you that felt untouched, ethereal—a stark contrast to the gritty world he had come to know. You were his salvation, a glimpse of purity and hope in his otherwise dark and turbulent life.

Ellie changed the subject, sensing the awkwardness. "Anyway, are you excited about leading the dance troupe?"

"Yeah, it should be fun," you replied, grateful for the shift in conversation. "It’s a lot of work, but I think it’ll be worth it."

"Maybe you want to join, Ellie?" you said teasing her, "Oh hell nah," Ellie answered making a disgusting face, you chuckled.

Joel remained quiet, his eyes flicking between you and Ellie. You could tell he was still processing the idea of Pastor Ben, but he seemed to be trying to push it aside.

"Well, thanks for the cookies," Ellie said, taking another bite. "They’re delicious."

"Glad you like them," you said with a smile. "I should probably get going. I need to drop the other jar off at Tommy’s."

Joel’s expression softened as he looked at you. "Let me walk you out," he said. As Ellie remained engrossed in the cookies, Joel gently took your hand, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"When is your father leaving for New Orleans?" Joel asked in a low voice as he guided you towards the door.

"Tonight, around eight," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Joel’s eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can you sneak out tonight?" he whispered, his hand lightly caressing yours.

You smirked and nodded, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

Joel’s eyes darted around, ensuring no one was watching. "I’ll pick you up behind your house at nine," he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and caution. His rough hand felt like a contrast to your soft skin, a stark reminder of the different worlds you both came from, yet a perfect match in this moment.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a combination of anticipation and desire. His touch was electric, sending a rush of warmth through your veins. You wanted to hold onto this feeling, the thrill of the forbidden, the secret moments that were just for the two of you.

Joel leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to your cheek, ensuring no one was watching. You felt your heart race, the sensation of his lips lingering on your skin.

"I’ll see you later," he murmured, stepping back slightly. "Take care."

You nodded, trying to contain your excitement. "You too," you said softly, your voice tinged with the happiness you felt inside.

The whole way to Tommy’s house, you couldn’t stop blushing. Riding your bike, you felt the wind rush past you, the world around you vibrant and alive. The sky was a brilliant canvas of blue and orange, the southern landscape unfolding like a scene straight out of a movie. Each pedal felt lighter, the anticipation of the night ahead filling you with a sense of freedom and exhilaration.

Reaching Tommy’s house, you parked your bike and grabbed the jar of cookies. Knocking on the door, you took a deep breath, the smile on your face unshakeable. Tonight held the promise of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see Joel again.

The house was a quiet, still tableau of ordinary life, its corners cast in the muted hues of nightfall. Your mother’s soft, tired footsteps echoed as she busied herself with the last-minute preparations for your father’s departure. From your vantage point in the dimly lit room, you could hear the rumble of his stern, authoritative voice as he issued his final instructions for his absence.

“Behave yourself, Evelyn. Take care of your duties.” your father’s voice cut through the air like a blade to your mother, “Make sure the house is in order," He said to your mother.

Your mother then called you from downstairs. “Come say goodbye to your father before he leaves.”

You descended the stairs with a heavy heart, each step a reluctant march towards the formality of your father's departure. His figure loomed large in the dimly lit foyer, his stern face illuminated by the flickering light from the chandelier above. The space around him seemed to shrink under the weight of his presence, a constant reminder of his authority and control.

Your father, already dressed in his traveling attire, turned to face you as you approached. His expression was as impassive as ever, his eyes scanning you with a critical gaze that never quite softened. “I expect you to behave while I’m away. Keep things in order, take care of your house duties with your mother and don’t let any mischief slip through. Pastor Ben will be in charge for the next two weeks."

You offered a formal, almost mechanical embrace, your body stiff as you pressed against him. The touch was brief, a quick and emotionless exchange that spoke more of obligation than affection. His words felt like a final checklist, a list of expectations that you had long learned to adhere to.

With a nod, you managed a polite, “Yes, daddy."

As he turned to leave, he gave one last instruction, his voice trailing off as he stepped toward the door. “Remember, be a good Christian girl. Stay close to God. Make sure you’re not a burden to your mother.”

After he had gone, your mother’s weary voice called from the kitchen. “Sweetheart, would you like something to eat? There are leftovers in the fridge. I’m quite tired and I think I'm gonna go to bed early,”

You shook your head, feigning a lack of appetite. “No, I’m full, Mama. I’ll just head to bed.”

“Alright, dear,” she replied, her tone soft but tinged with fatigue. “Don’t forget to pray before you sleep.”

You watched her retreat to her room, her movements slow and burdened. The house felt emptier as she disappeared from view, and you knew it was time to execute your carefully laid plan.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of bed and crept to your window. The night was still and serene, the air cool against your skin as you pushed the window open. The backyard, bathed in the soft glow of the moon, felt like a secret world just waiting to be explored.

You carefully climbed out of the window, landing softly on the grass below. The night sky was a canvas of stars, each one a twinkling reminder of the possibilities that lay beyond the confines of your everyday life. The cool breeze ruffled your hair, carrying with it the scents of the garden—jasmine, freshly cut grass, and the distant promise of freedom.

In the darkness, Joel’s truck waited, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of the night. The vehicle was cloaked in shadows, its lights off to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Your heart raced with anticipation as you approached, the thrill of the forbidden making your steps lighter and faster.

Sliding into the truck, you were greeted by Joel’s familiar presence. His face, partially illuminated by the dim interior light, softened as he saw you. A warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement that you felt.

Before you could say a word, Joel’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a moment of pure, unrestrained connection, the outside world falling away as the heat of his touch enveloped you. The kiss was fervent, a melding of stolen desires and whispered promises, each touch a testament to the intimacy you shared.

Joel’s hands were rough and warm, their contrast to your soft skin sending a shiver through your body. As he pulled away, his eyes held a deep, unspoken affection that spoke louder than any words could. “Hey there, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet cabin.

The truck’s engine roared to life, a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the seats. The world outside seemed to blur as Joel drove through the empty streets, the city lights casting fleeting golden streaks across the windshield. Each streetlamp was a beacon in the darkness, guiding you through a night that felt like a dream.

With every mile that passed, the weight of your ordinary life lifted, replaced by the vivid colors of this stolen moment. The night sky above was a tapestry of dreams and possibilities, a perfect backdrop for the intimate adventure you were embarking upon.

The truck rolled to a gentle stop at the top of a secluded hill, its path winding through the darkened landscape like a secret road leading to a hidden sanctuary. The night sky stretched out above, an endless canvas dotted with twinkling stars, their cold light a delicate contrast to the warm cocoon of the truck's interior. Joel’s touch was a constant comfort, the warmth of his hand against yours a promise of the intimacy you shared.

You and Joel made your way to the truck's open bed, where a soft blanket had been laid out. The fabric was cool beneath you, but the warmth of Joel’s body beside you quickly dispelled any chill. You settled in together, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace as you both lay back to gaze at the sprawling expanse of the cosmos.

The night was a silent witness to your closeness, the stars above flickering like distant, celestial eyes. The moon hung low, casting a soft, silvery light over the landscape, making the moment feel surreal and dreamlike. Joel’s presence was a soothing balm, his breaths steady and calming against the backdrop of the night.

As you both lay there, the peacefulness of the night was punctuated by your conversation. The topics ranged from trivial to profound, each word a thread weaving the tapestry of your shared moment. The serenity of the night made every laugh and whisper seem more intimate, more precious.

Then, Joel’s voice broke the quiet, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. “Tell me more about this Ben,” he asked, his tone light but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You chuckled, rolling onto your side to face him. “Ben? Oh, he’s just this new pastor. He’s always paying attention to me, it's weird...my friends keep telling me like he likes me, but he's not really my type. He's...too boyish,” you said, trying to convey your disinterest.

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Boyish? He’s an adult.”

You smiled, playfully snuggling closer. “Yeah, but he’s not you.”

Joel’s eyes flickered with something akin to jealousy, though he quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “Jealous?” you teased, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Joel gave a soft chuckle, his laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the night. “I’m not jealous.”

You continued to tease him, your light-hearted jokes breaking through the quiet night air. Each laugh and playful nudge seemed to draw you both closer, your bond solidified by the shared humor and intimacy of the moment.

However, your mind wandered back to the conversation you’d overheard with your mother. The stories of Joel’s past, of Sarah and Jane, lingered like shadows at the edge of your thoughts. A wave of curiosity and a tinge of apprehension washed over you.

“Joel,” you began tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper, “how come you never tell me about your life?"

"What do you mean, doll?"

"About Sarah and Jane,"

Joel’s body stiffened beside you, his hand retracting from its position on your waist. The shift was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy closeness you’d just shared. His face hardened slightly, a veil of discomfort settling over his features.

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice guarded and distant.

You felt a pang of regret, your heart aching at the sight of his discomfort. The stars above, once a symbol of wonder and possibility, now felt like distant witnesses to a moment of unspoken pain. You struggled to find the right words, the metaphors of your own emotions becoming tangled in the reality of Joel’s guarded heart.

“I...I just want to understand,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “I know about your life, but it feels like there’s so much more you haven’t shared.”

"And you knew about mine, all of it," you said again.

Joel’s silence was heavy, a deep, almost tangible weight that pressed against your chest. The night seemed to stretch on forever, the stars above a cold, indifferent audience to the emotions playing out beneath them. The warmth of Joel’s touch was still there, but it now felt like a fragile thread, tenuous and delicate.

Joel’s gaze softened, but the weight of his past seemed to anchor him, pulling him into a place he wasn’t ready to share. “It’s not easy to talk about,” he admitted, his voice trembling with a mixture of regret and sadness. “Some things are just too hard to revisit.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability, and you reached out, your voice gentle. “You can open up to me, Joel. I want to listen. You always listen whenever I’m down. I’m here with you,”

Joel’s eyes flickered with a storm of emotions, a mix of frustration and something else, but he remained quiet. You pressed on, your fingers lightly grazing his hand. “Do you ever think about them?"

A tense silence followed, Joel’s expression darkening. He clenched his jaw, struggling with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his voice strained and edged with anger.

You tried to close the distance, your hand still resting on his. “Joel, it’s okay to open up.”

But before you could say more, Joel’s frustration erupted. “I just don't want to talk about it!” he snapped, his voice sharp and louder than you’d ever heard.

You flinched, your heart racing as the sudden intensity of his reaction hit you. The night, once a haven of comfort and connection, now felt oppressive, the stars above seeming distant and indifferent to the turmoil unfolding below.

Joel’s eyes widened as he saw the fear in your gaze, and his anger dissipated almost immediately, replaced by regret and sorrow. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to steady yourself, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s okay,” you whispered, though your voice wavered. “I’m sorry."

Joel’s face crumpled with remorse, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “No, no, it’s alright,” he said urgently, his hands trembling as they held you close. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace, the warmth of his body a balm against the sharp edges of your fear. Joel’s arms were strong and reassuring, his apologies sincere as he gently stroked your back, his touch a contrast to the harshness of his earlier words.

The night around you seemed to settle, the tension easing as Joel’s grip tightened, holding you as if he could shield you from the weight of his own emotions. The stars above continued to shine, their distant light a reminder of the vastness of the world and the smallness of your own worries in the grand scheme of things.

Joel’s voice was soft now, filled with the weight of his remorse. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...I just can’t talk about it right now.”

You nestled closer against Joel, the warmth of his body enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. “It’s okay, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice a gentle caress against the backdrop of the night. “I’m sorry to push you, but I want you to know that I am here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here, just like you are for me.”

Joel’s fingers brushed against your hair, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, a whisper of affection that traveled down to your cheek and finally to your lips. The kiss was brief but sweet, a promise of connection and understanding. He pulled you back into his embrace, both of you gazing up at the star-speckled sky.

The vastness of the night felt like a canvas, stretching out endlessly before you. You could feel the weight of your desires and dreams mingling with the cool night air, and a yearning for freedom began to take shape in your heart. “Joel,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “I want to go out. I want to get away from all of this. Will you come with me one day?”

The sincerity in your voice carried a longing for escape, for a fresh start where the past could no longer cast its shadow. You wanted to run away, to leave behind the chains of hurt and disappointment and start anew with Joel by your side. The dream of leaving it all behind, just the two of you, was intoxicating—a chance to be free from the constraints of your everyday lives and the ghosts of your pasts.

Joel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of determination lighting up his features. He could see the raw honesty in your gaze, the hope that shimmered like the stars above. “I promise you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “one day, we will. We’ll get out of here and start fresh. Just you and me.”

You felt a flutter of relief and happiness at his words, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your heart. The idea of a future together, unburdened by the past, seemed within reach now, a possibility painted against the backdrop of the night sky. Joel’s promise was a beacon of hope, a light guiding you through the darkness.

You lay there, side by side, under the vast expanse of the universe, the stars shining brightly above you. The night felt endless, full of potential and promise. The warmth of Joel’s presence, the softness of his touch, and the certainty of his promise wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, making the future seem just a little bit brighter.

In the quiet moments that followed, you allowed yourself to dream of a different life, one where the past was a distant memory and the present was filled with endless possibilities. With Joel by your side, the journey ahead felt less daunting, and the dreams of escape and freedom seemed like they could one day become a beautiful reality.

***

The sun cast a warm, golden light over the school grounds as you and your classmates, including Emma, practiced your dance routines for the upcoming church event. The afternoon air was filled with the sounds of music and the rustle of your movements as you and your friends rehearsed, perfecting every step and spin. The new Pastor Ben, fresh from Mexico with his wife Jemima, observed with an encouraging smile, his presence adding an extra layer of excitement to the practice.

Pastor Ben, young and charismatic, was the center of attention for many of the girls. His charm and good looks had quickly made him popular, and you could see why. Though you knew he was married, the admiration from your friends was palpable. Jemima, his wife, had been less present in the community, focusing on settling into their new life. You hadn’t interacted with her much, and you were more familiar with Ben’s friendly demeanor and the sparkle in his eyes that made him somehow likable among your friends.

As the practice came to a close, you and Emma walked outside the school, discussing the day’s rehearsals and sharing your thoughts on the choreography. The conversation was light-hearted, filled with giggles and the occasional sigh as you both reflected on the challenges and progress made.

Suddenly, Pastor Ben appeared beside you, his presence both surprising and pleasant. “Afternoon, girls. How did the practice go today?” he asked, his attention clearly focused on you.

You could feel the warmth of his gaze as he continued, “Any difficulties? How are you finding the choreography?”

You answered, your voice steady but with a hint of nervousness, “We’re making good progress. There were a few tricky moves, but we’re getting there.”

Ben nodded, his eyes never straying far from you. “You’re doing really well. I’ve noticed you’ve been putting in a lot of effort. It shows.”

Emma, ever the enthusiastic friend, chimed in, “Oh, we’re just working hard! It’s been a lot of fun, though. Don’t you think Pastor Ben has been so encouraging?”

Ben smiled at her but turned his attention back to you. “I’m glad to hear that. I just wanted to check in and see how everyone’s doing. Is there anything you need help with?”

You felt a mix of emotions—flattered by his attention but also a bit uncomfortable given the context of the situation. Ben’s genuine interest was clear, but it was hard not to feel like you were under a spotlight.

“Thank you, Pastor Ben. I think we’re okay for now. It’s just a matter of practice,” Emma said.

He nodded, “If any of you ever need any extra guidance or just want to talk, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m here to help.”

As Pastor Ben walked away, you felt a twinge of relief mixed with lingering confusion. You were still processing the interaction when Ellie’s familiar voice broke through, startling you slightly.

“Oh, that’s Pastor Ben,” Ellie said, a playful tone in her voice. She tapped you on the shoulder, making Emma and you turn to face her.

Emma grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yep, that’s the new hot pastor,"

Ellie looked between you and Emma with a knowing smile. “So, what’s the gossip on Pastor Ben?”

Before Emma could answer, you asked Ellie if she was heading home. Ellie shook her head, her excitement palpable. “Nope, I’m going out with Joel. We’re going to practice shooting. You know, for deer hunting. Joel and I usually do this.”

Just then, the sound of a truck horn pierced the air, and Ellie waved enthusiastically. “Ah, there’s Joel now. See you later, guys!”

You watched as Ellie walked toward the truck, your gaze meeting Joel’s for a brief moment. You tried to hide your blush, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest whenever Joel was near.

Emma then suddenly said, "Ah the town's DILF,"

You choked caught off guard. “What did you just say?”

Emma laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, DILF—‘Dad I’d Like to’—you know the type. Joel’s like the ultimate Southern gentleman. He’s got that rugged charm. He looks like he works with his hands, and I bet he smells like Marlboro Reds. Everyone’s talking about how lucky Ellie is. Goddamn, he's just hot,"

You felt your cheeks flush deeper, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “Emma, stop. He’s much older than us.”

Emma raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh come on, you’re telling me you’ve never thought about Joel that way? I mean, he’s your dad’s best friend in high school, but just tell me you have right?”

You glared at Emma, trying to hide the twinge of jealousy you felt. “Emma, that’s inappropriate."

Emma pouted in mock innocence. “Oh, come on! Don’t be so uptight. We’re just talking. I’m sure you’ve had some thoughts, especially with how close you are with Joel right?"

You shook your head, trying to suppress the tumult of emotions bubbling inside you. “Seriously, Emma, I don’t want to talk about this.”

Emma grinned, undeterred. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. But you have to admit, Joel’s a pretty interesting guy.”

You gave her a half-smile, trying to brush off the teasing. “Emma..."

Emma’s grin remained as she walked alongside you, her excitement infectious despite your lingering discomfort. You both made your way home, your thoughts tangled with the events of the day.

As you approached your house, Emma’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey, you know what? My parents are out tonight. How about a sleepover at my place? We can hang out and have some fun. It’ll be a nice break before graduation.”

You hesitated, “I don’t know, Em. I’ve got a lot to prepare for graduation.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. Jim will be there too, and he’s a blast. Plus, you’ll have me to keep you entertained. What’s the harm?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your reluctance. “I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

Emma’s expression softened as she playfully pleaded. “Oh, please. It’ll be fine. Just come hang out. If you don’t, my parents might not let Jim over if it's just both of us. Pretty please?”

You sighed, weighing your options. Emma’s persistence was hard to resist, and you knew it would be a good chance to take your mind off things. “Alright, alright. I’ll come. But let me ask my mom first.”

Emma’s face lit up with joy. “Yes! Thank you! I promise we’ll have a great time.”

As you walked inside your house, you found your mom in the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner for herself. The smell of food filled the air, a comforting reminder of home.

“Mom, Emma invited me to a sleepover at her house tonight,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Is it okay if I go?”

Your mom looked up, her face reflecting mild surprise but also understanding. “A sleepover? Well, I suppose it’s fine. Just be sure to come home early tomorrow."

You nodded, relieved by her response. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back early.”

With your mother’s approval, you quickly gathered your things and headed back outside to meet Emma. Her excitement was palpable as she waited for you by the front gate.

“Great! Let’s go!” Emma chirped, grabbing your hand and leading the way.

As you walked to Emma’s house, your mind was still clouded by the earlier events. The thought of spending the evening with Emma and Jim was a welcome distraction from the swirl of emotions you had been feeling. You hoped it would be a chance to relax and clear your head before facing whatever came next.

Hours later, the three of you were lounging in Emma’s cozy living room, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. After an exciting board game session, you settled down to watch "Gone with the Wind." Emma and Jim sat close together on the couch, their whispered conversations blending with the movie's dialogue. You tried to focus on the screen, but their growing intimacy was hard to ignore.

Emma giggled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over just in time to see them exchanging a tender kiss. Their kisses grew more passionate, and soon they were making out fervently. You turned your attention back to the movie, trying to block out the sounds of their affection, but it was no use.

"I'm going to take Jim to my bedroom," Emma said, her cheeks flushed. "Is it okay if you stay here alone?"

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Yeah, it's fine. I want to finish the movie anyway."

Emma smiled and led Jim to her room, leaving you alone in the dimly lit living room. The hours passed slowly, the film a distant backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Their muffled voices and occasional moans filtered through the walls, filling you with a mix of curiosity and discomfort.

The next morning, you woke early and decided to make breakfast for everyone. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee filled the kitchen as you worked. Emma was the first to join you, her hair tousled and eyes bright.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said, giving you a warm smile. “Did you have fun playing board games last night?”

You returned her smile, feeling a genuine sense of friendship. "Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for inviting me."

Emma smiling to you, "You're a good friend," you smiled at her.

You hesitated at first, then asked the question that had been on your mind. "So, uh... about last night... did you and Jim...?"

Emma blushed slightly but didn't shy away. "You mean, am I not a virgin anymore? Yes. and I'm really in love with Jim. He's so kind and supportive. We’re thinking about getting married after we graduate, moving to a big city like Austin or Houston to start our lives together. He can work in a garage, and I'll stay home."

Her words made you think of Joel, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. "Have you ever been in love?" Emma asked, noticing your pensive expression.

“I don’t know,” you replied hesitantly. “I think about someone a lot, but I’m not sure what it means.”

“And have you ever... you know, had sex?” Emma asked.

Your body tensed, the memory of Jamie’s forceful actions coming to mind. You decided to lie and shook your head.

“Typical preacher’s daughter, stay pure, hon,” Emma said, her tone sincere rather than mocking.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity. “How does it feel like?”

Emma’s expression softened. “Well, when you’re with someone you truly care about, it can be really special. It’s not just about the physical aspect, but the emotional connection. It’s like sharing something deeply personal with someone you love and who loves you back. It can feel very intimate and fulfilling.”

You nodded, trying to understand her words. “But isn’t it scary? Does it hurt?”

Emma smiled gently. “It can be, especially the first time. But when you’re with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe, it’s a lot easier. It’s important that you feel comfortable and loved.”

You took in her words, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “What if I’m not ready for that yet?”

Emma reassured you. “That’s completely okay. There’s no rush. It’s important to wait until you feel ready and comfortable. And remember, there are other ways to show affection and care for someone.”

You felt a bit of relief. “Like what?”

Emma leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. “Like, for example, giving him oral pleasure. It’s a way to show that you care about him and want to make him feel good. But it’s really important that you’re comfortable with whatever you choose to do. Communication and mutual respect are key in any relationship.”

You blushed, feeling a mix of curiosity and embarrassment. “I don’t know much about that. It sounds kind of… complicated.”

Emma smiled warmly. “It can seem that way, but you’ll learn what feels right for you and your partner as you go along. The most important thing is to have open conversations and make sure you’re both on the same page.”

You nodded, absorbing her advice. “Thanks for explaining."

Emma’s words lingered in your mind as you processed what she had said. The idea of intimacy was something you hadn’t explored deeply, shaped by the teachings you’d grown up with. Your father’s sermons had painted it as an ultimate sin, a taboo wrapped in layers of guilt and religious doctrine. The notion of sex had always been shadowed by the fear of moral failure, a breach of sacred promises that could never be undone.

Emma’s perspective, however, was a stark contrast. She spoke of intimacy as a beautiful, shared experience between two people who cared deeply for each other. It wasn’t just a physical act but a manifestation of affection and connection. It was a way to express love, to show that you cherish someone in the most personal and vulnerable way.

You thought about Joel, and how his kindness had touched you. His presence was like a gentle light breaking through a stormy sky—offering warmth, comfort, and a sense of security you had rarely felt before. The idea of pleasing him, of sharing something deeply intimate, seemed like a way to express your gratitude, to show him how much you valued his care and support.

It was as if you were standing at the edge of a beautiful, uncharted garden, its entrance hidden behind a veil of mist and uncertainty. The garden represented a space of connection, where the blossoms of affection and mutual respect could flourish. The thought of stepping into this garden with Joel was both thrilling and daunting. It was a step into the unknown, where the flowers of shared experiences and emotional intimacy awaited.

You contemplated the possibility of finding a way to share this garden with Joel, to offer him a gesture of affection that went beyond words. Maybe through a physical expression of care, you could bridge the gap between your feelings and his, creating a shared space where love could grow and flourish.

Emma’s reassurance and gentle explanations provided a new perspective, one that allowed you to see intimacy not as a forbidden act but as a potential expression of love and appreciation. You wondered if perhaps, in time, you could navigate this new terrain with Joel, guided by mutual respect and deep affection.

[aurumacadicus]

Listen, Steve is grateful he gets to work at a Stark-funded hospital. He is. Not only is the prestige of working there even for a year going to carry him through his entire career, but if he stays for five years, the Maria Stark Foundation will pay off all of his student loans. Their clientele are people typically in poverty and he loves that he can help the less fortunate. It's all he ever wanted to do after watching his single mother scrimp and save as a nurse just to make sure they had a roof over their heads. He would never do anything to jeopardize his position or the reputation of the hospital.

"That custodian is going to be the reason you're fired," Natasha declares, and both Clint and Bucky spin from their nursing charts just in time to watch Steve almost fall over as he attempts to get one more glimpse of Tony's ass as he pushes his cart, whistling, toward the elevator. "Is this your way of getting out of the gala? Getting shit-canned the day before?"

"Are you going to tattle on me to Dr. Potts?" Steve asks her bluntly.

Natasha says nothing for several minutes, mulling the idea over in her head. Finally, though, she mutters, "I guess you're better than Hammer. He actually put his hands on Tony."

Steve doesn't know how to respond, because he'd only gotten his position after Dr. Hammer had groped Tony one too many times (apparently Tony had never reported it? It had actually been one of the nurses) and got fired for it. Again, he's grateful for the position, but he knows other doctors would shank him for the opportunity. He's just looking, but maybe he shouldn't look? Tony isn't a piece of meat. He's a respected member of the hospital staff.

Tony stops and bends over to pick up a piece of garbage on the floor, and even Natasha whimpers as his pants lovingly cup each of his cheeks.

Luckily, they're saved by one of the PR interns coming out of a hospital room and chirping, "Are you going to the gala tomorrow, Mr. Tony?"

"Peter how many times do I have to tell you," Tony begins, sighing, then shakes his head. "Yes, my mother is finally forcing me to show up for the gala."

Steve does a minute fist pump, and Bucky immediately drags him into a noogie that makes him squawk about his hair in probably the most unattractive manner possible.

--

"Gala" is probably too fancy a term for it. Unlike the Foundation galas, where the Stark family squeezes donations from the other wealthy elite for all they muster, this is more of a get-together between other hospitals to compare notes. Women are in cocktail dresses and the men are a healthy mix of suits and slacks-and-polos. The only people really decked out in formal wear are those with the foundation.

Steve is trying to be very casual as he keeps an eye out for Tony. He hasn't seen him yet, but he's hoping to ask Tony for at least one dance. Dr. Potts had said Tony liked to dance when he'd been talking with her and Natasha at the start of the gala. (She'd made really deliberate eye contact with him when she'd said so, too, so Steve figures she at least approves of him??? Even if she also kind of scares him.)

"Oh my God," Bruce whispers, wine dripping down his chin. He's gone ashen.

Steve and Thor turn to see what he's looking at, and Steve immediately understands. He feels as if he's just been simultaneously punched in the gut and head.

Because Mrs. Stark has finally arrived at her gala, dressed to the nines and yet somehow making everyone feel at ease in their own clothes. She's being escorted by a handsome man in a tuxedo.

The man looks a lot like Tony from the custodial department. But Mrs. Stark keeps loudly and proudly announcing that he's her son.

"I'm so fired," Steve whispers, voice cracking, as Bucky finally steps up beside him and claps him on the shoulder.

[millerstolemyheart]

Pairing: Joel Miller x M!Reader

Warnings: Broken ankle, pure smut, blowjob (reader receiving), anal, gay gay gay gay

A/N: There’s absolutely not enough gay Joel Miller fanfics out there, so I guess I’ll add my own to the mix? Note- I do this for fun, so I don’t proofread a lot. I just wanna add more filth to the world ✨

Summary: Reader gets injured on patrol with Joel, and Joel refuses to leave his side.

Closer

Snow crunches under your boots as you trudge through the forest, the frigid winter air stinging your cheeks and making each breath feel like pins and needles are going down your trachea. The bitter wind howls through the barren landscape, carrying with it a cold that cuts straight to the bone. You tighten the pitiful excuse for a scarf around your neck, the woolen fabric offering little protection against the relentless Wyoming chill. Each breath is a reminder of the harsh reality of your world. Without thinking about it, you glance ahead at Joel, who trudges forward with the kind of grim determination that has kept you both alive many times before.

The trees, bare and skeletal, reach towards the heavy gray sky with gnarled branches, their bark coated in a thin layer of frost. It seems as if the woods themselves are frozen in time, awaiting the thaw of spring to come. Unfortunately, you have several more months before warmer weather approaches. It had been a long winter already, and the food stores were beginning to dwindle. You were lucky Tommy’s patrol brought down a few elk last week, enough to keep spirits going for at least a little while longer. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the months to come.

“Eyes open,” Joel grunts ahead of you, as if sensing your wandering mind. His voice is almost lost in the wind, but you’re familiar enough at this point to understand what he says, or grunts… He’s a man of little words, playing his cards close to his chest. You’d practically begged Maria to send someone, anyone else these morning patrols. The idea of spending hours alone with the most reclusive man in Jackson wasn’t something you longed for. Plus, Joel seemed rather disinterested at the idea of having an unfamiliar body to take care of. Nevertheless, here you were, four months later- still trudging through the snowy underbrush, eyes peeled for movement.

“You keep your eyes open,” you grumble under your breath, confident the howling wind will disguise your quip.

You could swear you hear a snort of laughter from the man ahead of you, but it’s hard to tell with the wind howling so obnoxiously in your ears. Still, the possibility causes the corner of your mouth to tug upwards into a smirk. It had been a game of yours for a while, trying to force a laugh out of Joel. You’d seen it happen before on rare occasions. A chuckle here, a smirk there. It was a strange thing to watch Joel’s permanently-furrowed brow smooth itself out, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling deeply, mouth upturned. It suited him.

Without thinking, you find your eyes studying Joel. The way the softly falling flecks of snow stick to his salt-and-pepper curls. The broad muscles of his shoulders sway in time with his steady pace. He moves confidently and quickly, no doubt just as ready to return home as you are. You’re about two miles out from the gates at this point, passing the river that welcomes you into familiar territory once more. A sigh of relief escapes you, tinged with the strangest feeling of disappointment. It’s not that you enjoy freezing your asscheeks off in negative temperatures, though… There is a quiet familiarity to the routine. It’s easy to be around Joel. Less to think about. It’s as if his presence brings a calmness, something solid to hook your focus into. You were aware these feelings meant trouble, but at this point… what didn’t?

Joel slows his pace as you pass the river, no doubt feeling just as relieved to be in the home stretch. He reaches a comfortable pace a few feet from you, eyes cast forward. The steady clomp of his boots falls into time with your own.

“Almost there,” he comments, shooting a quick glance in your direction. He knits his brow together, eyes scanning your red cheeks. “Y’alright?”

I’m lucky the cold sting of the wind hides the blush that creeps into my face. “Yep. Nothing I love more than freezing my dick off in this beautiful Wyoming hellscape.”

Joel snorts under his breath, bringing a pleased smile to your lips. One point for Y/N…

“What about you, old man?” You suddenly tease, testing your luck. You watch as Joel turns a sharp amber gaze in your direction, jaw clenching. But he’s unable to hide the twinkle in his eyes. You arch a brow, waiting for his response.

Joel simply adjusts his rifle on his shoulder to a more comfortable position with a grunt. “Old man could still kick your ass…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the horizon, scanning from right to left.

You break into a genuine grin, falling silent once more as you both make your way step-by-step towards home. 1.8 miles. 1.6 miles. 1.5 miles. It’s a relatively quiet day besides the howling of wind and the crunch of snow under your feet. Not many people are crazy enough to brave the northern winter; though, you maintain your daily patrols, unwilling to take the chance and end up losing the first place you’ve found to be safe in a long time.

It’s almost too uneventful these days… You catch yourself thinking just as your foot hits a hidden patch of ice. You hear the snap before you feel it, a sharp pulse of pain shooting its way up your leg as you tumble down, hitting the ground with a hard thump. A soft cry makes its way from your throat, practically losing itself in the wind.

Before you can figure out what happened, Joel is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning you diligently, hands hovering above your wounded leg. “Sh, sh sh…” He consoles. “Y’alright?” He checks your head for injury, and you swat him away, hissing through your teeth at the radiating pain in your ankle.

“Fine, Joel,” You grunt. “Didn’t hit my head, just slipped. I… I think it’s broken.” You attempt to move your leg, the pain causing your vision to go white for a split instant. “Shit!” You’re over a mile away from home with no horses, and the weather seems to be picking up. Wracking your brain, you clench your jaw. “Go to town, get help. I’ve got my rifle.” Staying here by yourself isn’t the most appealing of ideas, but you know you can’t walk.

You see Joel bristle as you suggest parting, and the man releases an annoyed puff of air in the form of a small cloud that dissipates above your heads. “Go to town, my ass. I’m not leavin’ you out here to freeze to death.” His eyes are locked onto yours, a warm coffee-color that reflects the dull glint of sunlight off the freshly fallen snow. You feel your body give an involuntary shudder and mentally blame it on the pain.

“Well unless you’re hiding a horse up your ass, you don’t have a choice,” I counter, tilting my head in a clear challenge.

This only seems to strengthen Joel’s resolve. He silently stands, towering over you for a moment. In this instant, it seems as though he may actually turn and leave you lying there. Why does the thought of that make your stomach hurt? However, his intentions make themselves clear when he steps behind you and locks his thick arms under your knees and behind your back. With a deep grunt, he straightens up, you locked tightly against his chest like a baby. The move is dizzying, and you unintentionally grip his shoulders in response. “Woah! Joel! What are you doing?”

“Deal with it,” he grunts as simply as that. He begins to take gentle steps back on our route towards town, paying attention to any unlevel areas of ground. You barely feel the motions of his stride, but you’re hyper aware of other things now. The warmth of his broad chest radiating out and thawing your aching muscles. His steady breathing, gentle puffs of air on the top of your head. The thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat. And most of all, the deep crimson shade that’s taken over your cheeks as you’re forced into an incredibly-humiliating position of vulnerability. You want to protest, to hit him, to force him to drop you and leave you on the frozen ground to avoid being spotted like this. However, you can’t deny the surge of warmth that spreads through your belly as the man carries you effortlessly over the landscape.

Joel purposely shoots you a glance, sensing your discomfort. “Y’alright?”

“Shut up.”

“Big words for someone gettin’ a free lift,” he shoots back, clearly enjoying the upper hand. There’s a hint of arrogance in his tone that makes you want to slap him and then kiss him. It sends a shiver down your spine, something not lost on the older man. You sense the vibration of a chuckle in his chest, but he stays silent, maintaining a clear and careful path back towards Jackson.

“This is humiliating,” You whine, throwing your head back and letting the snow fall directly onto your face.

“Quit your complainin’. Freezing to death ‘cause of pride would be humiliating.” Joel tightens his grip. “And for Christ’s sake, help me out here. Hold on or somethin’.”

You clench my teeth, biting back a groan while you throw a hesitant arm around his shoulders, other hand holding on to his jacket. It’s the least intimate position you could possibly contort yourself into, and yet it still feels like you’re playing “damsel-in-distress.” You should have seen the ice coming, should have been more careful. Now you were definitely off patrol for a while. A shadow falls over your face at the thought of someone else taking over your patrol slot with Joel.

“It hurtin’?” Joel asks softly, voice taking on a careful tone. When you glance up, he’s concerned, eyes flicking down to study your swelling ankle. “We’ll be there soon.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You close your eyes, finding comfort in the darkness away from your present situation. “Thanks.”

A low rumble is all you receive in response, his chest humming an approving noise. The steady rocking of his pace sends your head falling back against his chest every few steps, colliding gently with the hard muscle. Being this close, you can smell his natural Joel smell. Like old sawdust and pine. It’s a comforting scent that you’ve grown used to on patrol, sneaking careful inhales without Joel noticing. You could only imagine the taunts you would receive if he ever suspected. He knows about your sexuality at this point, but he’s never made a case of it, electing instead to carry on as if nothing changed, which you appreciate. In return, you refrain from asking about his personal life, only engaging when he has something to share, which is rare.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?”

Joel’s drawling voice wakes you from your daydream, your eyes shooting open to find an amused, maybe even cocky smirk. You feel your cheeks redden again. “No, shut up.” You feel like a child in his arms, completely helpless. It’s a far cry from how you’ve worked hard to prove yourself, both to the community and to Joel.

Joel just chuckles and continues his trek. Within minutes you spot the familiar walls of Jackson on the horizon. Your body relaxes a bit knowing your ordeal will be over soon. With a sharp whistle, Joel has them opening the heavy wooden gates, carrying you inside. You begin to squirm, ready for Joel to release you, but he just lifts you higher into his grip and continues walking, ignoring the looks from the gate patrol. “I’m takin’ you to the infirmary,” he states, resolute.

You open your mouth to protest, but something about his steady determination feels… good. It has a warmth pooling in your core again, eyes careful as they scrutinize Joel’s rugged expression. Deciding it best not to argue, you just nod silently and look forward as he walks you both to the nearby infirmary. It’s a quiet day today, most people holed up inside their homes to wait out the falling snow. The infirmary only has a few people flitting in and out, and Joel is confident as he makes his way inside towards an available cot. “Slipped on ice out on patrol,” he explains calmly when the nurse makes his way over to you.

“We’re gonna have to cut these pants off,” the nurse explains apologetically, eyes flitting to your swelling ankle. “I hope you have more.”

You roll your eyes, unable to help yourself. “Great. Just great.” You sigh and nod, giving silent permission for the scissors to be brought out. Joel backs up, giving the staff room to work, though his eyes remain fixed. They study your calm diligence as your favorite pair of pants is hacked away, your ankle red and inflamed. His cheeks appear almost tinged pink when he realizes he’s gazing, and he quickly averts his gaze to give you some privacy.

You, meanwhile, are too busy mourning the pants to notice how Joel’s eyes flicker across the hem of your underwear before shooting down to the tile floor. If you had noticed, you may have also seen the way his breath catches in his throat, or how his pupils dilate. But no, you’re busy watching as the staff treat your ankle, setting and wrapping it, and giving you a small amount of pain medication to take on your way. They don’t have any extra pants around, so they wrap you as best they can in a thick fleece blanket, making you look like the world’s most insane upper-midwestern mermaid. You don’t miss the twinkle in Joel’s eyes when he sees your new outfit.

“Well that sure is somethin’ ya don’t see every day…” Joel muses, one side of his mouth curling up into an amused smirk.

“I swear to god, Joel,” you groan. “Can you just help me get home?”

Joel raises his hands in mock defense. “Alright, alright. But you’re coming with me.” His voice carries with it a sternness that dares you to challenge him.

“With you?” You squeak out, surprised.

“Ya can’t walk. Not at least for a few days.” He scratches the back of his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he appeared sheepish. “You got hurt on my watch, and that makes you my responsibility.”

Your face falls slightly. So that’s it? I’m a responsibility? I feel my jaw clench. “I can’t take care of myself, Joel.” The statement is pure bullshit. He and you both know you’d be frozen into a human popsicle if it weren’t for Joel’s stubbornness. “I’m not anyone’s burden.”

Joel’s eyes narrow as he takes in your reaction, the defensive hurt evident on your face. It doesn’t take him a second to kneel down next to your cot, eyes serious. “Hey now…” His gaze is a magnetic force, pulling your focus up to those eyes of his. Those damn eyes…

“You’re no burden,” he declares matter-of-factly. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya. We’re… we’re buds, right?”

Buds? You blink. Since when does Joel consider you a friend? You must have worn your surprise on your face, because Joel continues on.

“Yeah, buds. Whatever. Shut up. Just let me bring you home with me for a couple days, alright? I could use the company. Ellie’s out on a supply run for the week anyways.” His eyes soften, seeming to implore me. But his mouth is still drawn in that classic Joel expression.

“I…” You feel your suspicion begin to dissipate, replaced with surprised confusion. “Fine.” Your voice is soft, careful even. Of all the times you’ve fantasized about Joel bringing you home, this was never one of the scenarios.

Joel nods silently, but his body hums with a pleased glow. He stands, takes the medication and pockets it before glancing back down at you.. “Ready?” His arms twitch to take you up again, but this time he refrains from doing so until he’s sure you’re expecting it. “Promise I’m just a short walk away this time.” He shoots you an uncharacteristically cheeky grin.

You feel yourself nodding before you even consider his words. Joel takes you up to cradle you once more, this time making sure the blanket around your lower half is wrapped securely and won’t be lost in the increasingly-strong winds outside. You barely notice the frigid temperatures this time. Between the adrenaline from your ankle and the warmth flooding your body from Joel’s arms, it could be springtime. Luckily, there’s nobody wandering outside to spot this display of vulnerability, and Joel is able to bring you to his home within the next few minutes.

The air inside is warmer, but still chilly, as he sets you on the couch. He wordlessly moves to the fireplace and gets a good blaze started. The heat from the flames fills the room with a comforting warm and steady glow, already making you forget about the storm outside. You find yourself holding the small bottle of pain pills from the infirmary. “Take your meds,” Joel commands, eyes studying you for a moment before he turns and disappears into the kitchen.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n…” You mutter, twisting off the top and popping one. At least we have medication now. The town supplies were steadily growing, but this winter was bound to be harsh. It was a good thing the reserves could last you for weeks… Your mind wanders while Joel fusses about in the kitchen, returning with two cups of coffee. The aroma fills your nose, making you almost forget about the dull throb in your ankle for just a moment.

Joel wordlessly hands you a steaming mug and takes a seat in the chair across from you. His gaze is steady as he takes in the sight of you laid up on his couch. His expression is hard to read, but it seems as though he’s pleased about something.

Narrowing your eyes, you interrupt the silence. “What?”

Joel shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re cute when you’re all indignant.”

The words hang in the air like balloons. It’s as close to a flirt as you’ve ever heard from Joel, and directed at you??? You feel heat rise to your cheeks, and you swallow thickly. “I- er… I-”

“See?” Joel shakes his head, releasing an amused puff of breath. “You can’t stand being taken care of, can you?”

Your cheeks burn, embarrassed. That’s not entirely the truth. To be perfectly honest, you wanted nothing more than to sit back and let Joel take care of you. To protect you. To provide for you. But that isn’t the way the world works. People don’t just take care of others without expecting something in return. You knew Joel wasn’t the type, not anymore… but the bias remained firm. “I… This isn’t a place where you can rely on someone else,” You finally choke out.

Joel studies you carefully, considering your words, before responding.

“This place? With me?” He grows serious, expression softening. “You ain’t gotta worry about that, hot shot.” His teasing term of endearment makes my shoulders soften, a familiarity amidst all this new territory and the rearranging of boundaries that comes with it. Joel points to my ankle. “That. That’s no joke. You could make it worse. Hurt yourself. I still need you on patrol when you get better.” His mouth twitches up into a tiny smile. “Next time you can carry me. I promise.”

The joke prompts a laugh out of you, the mental image of you struggling to lift Joel into your arms a sight to behold. As your body shakes with laughter, you spot Joel with a pleased grin, his plan to break down your walls already working. It was a strange game you played. Each with your own walls and defenses, each with your own strategy of navigating the other’s. Here, in Joel’s home, you felt those walls attempt to erect themselves again, your body’s way of protecting itself against threats. And your developing crush on Joel was the biggest threat of all.

***

One day turned into two days, and two days turned into two weeks. Your ankle was slower to heal than you would have liked, and crutches would have been no help on the icy terrain around town. Joel demanded you remain at his home, long after Ellie returned. The teen regarded you laid up on the couch with an amused smirk. “It’s about time,” she remarks, a teasing grin playing on her lips.

Joel shoots her a dark glower, and she backs off, hands raised in defense. “I’ll be upstairs.” She shoots a final smirk directly at me before turning on her heel and bounding upstairs to go do whatever it is that teenagers do. Joel sighs, shaking his head and grumbling something about kids. You, however, are still stuck on Ellie’s comment.

“What did she mean by ‘about time?’” You ask.

Joel looks up from his hands, brow shooting up. “Er, who knows? Have you met Ellie? Who knows what she’s sayin’ half the time?” He tries to play it off, but you’ve spent enough time around Joel to know when he’s bullshitting. Still, though, you don’t care to dig too much, so you try and change the subject. “Joel? Would you mind grabbing the ice pack?” The request is simple. Usually, giving Joel something to make him feel helpful is the quickest way to dissolve any lingering tension.

Like clockwork, Joel rises and moves to the kitchen with a silent but relieved nod. When he returns, he makes his way to the couch and takes a seat, pausing to move your legs into his lap. He’s gentle as he moves you, taking care to support your weight evenly. Even the ice pack feels feather light when he presses it to your ankle. This had been your nightly routine for the past week, as Joel argued that you weren’t “icin’ it proper.” This had also led to more indignant protesting and a lot of red cheeks before you finally gave in.

You let out a tiny, relieved sigh as the ice pack soothes your injury, eyes falling closed. “Thanks, Joel…”

Joel grunts in response. “See? Feels nice to let someone finally take care of ya.”

You chuckle, butterflies fluttering about in your belly at his words. “Yeah, yeah… You know, you seem to like this more than you should.” Your tone is teasing. “Maybe you shoulda been a doctor.”

Joel hums in amusement. “Hmph. Nah, not for everyone, just… just you.”

The words are like an atomic bomb set off between you. Your eyes flutter open, finding Joel staring at the fire like he can’t believe what he’s just said. His muscles are rigid, the kind of frozen that appears when you’re hiding from something out on patrol. All you hear is the crackling of the fire and the steady beating of your heart in your ears. “Me?” You finally manage to gasp out.

It’s the reddest you’ve ever seen Joel. His eyes shoot from the flames to your face, and he releases a long, steady stream of air. He seems to be accepting his fate. “You.” With an awkward clearing of his throat, he focuses back on your ankle, adjusting the ice pack. There’s a tension in the air now, thick enough to cut. For a moment, you worry you’re misinterpreting things, but when Joel glances up at you, the truth is evident. He has something deeper on his mind.

“Y/N, I…” Joel treads cautiously, appearing hesitant to say the wrong thing. One of his hands cups your other ankle, lightly enough to be felt but not strong enough to keep you still. “I’m tired.” He clenches his jaw, determined. “I’m tired of dancin’ around this shit. I’m gettin’ too old for this.” He finally twists his head, gaze locking onto yours, challenging. “I care about you. More than I thought I would. More than I should. More than you probably know.” Those puppy dog eyes of his are relentless. “I like ya.”

Talk about atomic bombs.

You can’t suppress the sudden trembles that crop up across your body. All the feelings you’d been fighting with for so long are making their way out of the floodgates. All these months of patrol with Joel, of sneaking secret looks and dreaming of moments like this. The time spent in his home has only driven you closer and intensified those feelings. You’ve been growing to enjoy feeling taken care of, and Joel does it oh-so-well. “Joel…” You breathe, heart racing.

The man pauses his doctor routine to meet your eyes, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you see fear. It’s almost disconcerting. His hands remain close, ready to remove themselves at your word. He worries he’s gone past the point of no return now.

“I want you.”

The words send a shudder through Joel’s body. His breath comes out quicker, and his eyes take on a gleam of desire. It’s as if a weight has been loosened from his shoulders. Gently… tenderly… he leans closer, arm coming to steady your head in his giant paw of a hand. He pauses inches away, warm brown eyes searching yours earnestly. You feel his breath on your face, the heat of his body both heavy and comforting. The scent of his soap and that natural Joel smell that you crave so deeply.

“Please…” You breathe, afraid to blink lest the moment end.

“Gladly…” Joel closes the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a sweet, tender kiss. He’s surprisingly gentle, but you can feel the raw power in his body, barely kept at bay from sheer resolve. His scruff tickles your face, and it makes you shiver with delight. Emboldened, you take your hands and cup his cheeks, running your thumbs over the short, prickly follicles. Without meaning to, you release a low whine into his mouth.

Joel’s grip tightens, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring the seam of your lips. When you part them to grant him access, you can feel his grin. Joel’s hands move down your torso, settling at your waist. His lips are soft and warm against yours, tasting slightly of whisky. It gives you a heady rush, your own hands fumbling at his chest to undo his top shirt buttons. You find his hand gripping your wrists, eyes on fire with utter desire.

“Are you sure?” His voice is calm, but it's tinged with a slight tremor, as if he’s on the verge of something.

“Joel…” You gaze up at him. “I’ve wanted you for so long…” The admission makes your cheeks burn, but you can see the pleased look on Joel’s face. Without another word, he scoops you up just as he had on the way back from patrol, heading to the stairs. He wordlessly strides up to the second floor, turning down the dark hall and entering his bedroom. As he gently sets you down on the mattress, he presses a gentle kiss to your ear. “I’m gonna take good care of you tonight, Darlin’,” he purrs.

You shiver, the anticipation spreading throughout your limbs. You cast a glance up at Joel, your expression one of hunger and desire, but also of vulnerability and trust. Joel seems pleased by this, and he rises once more to begin removing his shirt. You watch intensely as the worn fabric shrugs its way off of broad shoulders, sliding over python-like biceps and hitting the floor with a muted thump. Joel stands bare chested in front of you. Your eyes rake over his thick, strong neck, leading into a broad, muscular chest that dissipates into a softer tummy. Flecks of salt-and-pepper chest hair dot his torso, the heaviest concentration gathering in a condensed line heading from his navel and disappearing into his jeans. You swallow thickly, eyes locked on his belt. Your fingers itch to remove it yourself, but you force stillness while Joel continues his show.

His thick fingers have his belt out in no time at all, dropping his pants to the floor. Arousal floods you at the sight of his (presumably) heavy cock straining against the black fabric of his underwear. Even restrained, it was impressive. You felt your mouth fall open as you directed your gaze back up to his eyes. They were diligently trained on you, studying your body language like he was out on patrol. He steps free of his pants and approaches carefully, swinging a leg up on the bed to prowl up your body.

His heat blankets you in warmth, his weight a comforting feeling. Boxing you in with his forearms, he settles lower and kisses you softly. “This okay?”

You nod wordlessly, fingers already moving to your shirt buttons. Joel catches you and chuckles low, sitting up on his knees to help you out. Between the two of you, your shirt is off quickly. Opened up like plaid angel wings underneath your trembling frame.

“So beautiful…” Joel murmurs, settling back down and pressing soft, aching kisses to your chest. His beard pricks your skin, sending fire rushing down to your already straining member. He feels so warm and solid atop your body. The sensation is an unfamiliar but welcome one. Hesitantly, you clutch Joel’s rippling shoulder blades, admiring the tautness of the skin underneath your fingertips.

Joel’s lips find a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, making you buck softly, a low whine crawling its way out of your throat. “Oh!”

Joel grins wolfishly against your neck. “Oh?” His lips attack once more, teeth grazing the soft, supple flesh. “Does someone like that?” He nuzzles against the sensitive spot, breath hot and ready. His callused hands clutch and grip you tightly in place. “Sensitive, aren’t we?”

His teasing tone makes your heart flutter. It feels so good to give into this side of yourself, one that isn’t afraid to moan and squirm and show vulnerability. Something about Joel’s presence makes you feel it’s okay to let go and come fully undone. It’s a primal urge, a desire for truth. For something raw and exposed.

Joel’s hands pause on your sweatpants, teeth nibbling at my earlobe. “May I?” He growls.

You whimper once more, and Joel gives a low grunt of approval before undoing the drawstring and slipping them down over your hips. “You’re beyond beautiful like this…” He coos in praise, fingers trailing lightly over your exposed flesh. “I’ve wanted this for so long…” He leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips, leaving you dizzy.

Joel begins making his way down to help y fully shimmy out of my sweats before returning to hook his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He shoots you one final look for consent, refusing to budge unless you give him an answer. You give him a nod, raising your hips to make it easier. Within an instant, your underwear is gathered around your ankles, and Joel is admiring you, fully exposed, beneath him.

His eyes lock onto your erection, currently bobbing and twitching, aching for any kind of contact. His tongue flits out and licks his lips before he shoots you a cheeky look. “Big boy…” He grins.The comment sends you blushing yet again, to which Joel responds with a hungry chuckle. He softly takes his hand, wrapping around your base, eyes meeting yours with a look of pure lust. The pressure makes you moan involuntarily, and your eyes squeeze themselves shut.

“Eyes on me,” Joel growls. “I wanna see you when I make you scream my name…”

Your eyes fly open, heart pounding so loudly you worry that Joel himself can hear it with his deaf ear. The commanding tone comes out of nowhere, sounding similar to how Joel presented himself to you during your first few patrols together. This time, however, it makes you even needier. “Joel…” You whimper.

Joel’s response is to grin and then wrap his lips around the head of your cock, sinking down and enveloping your arousal in his warm, velvety mouth. The sensation is like fireworks going off inside of your groin, and you can’t contain the moan that rips its way out, reverberating through the home. Thank god Ellie was out for the day.

Joel brings his mouth off long enough to shoot you a smirk. “Good boy…”

You shiver uncontrollably, lost in the throes of desire. You need more, and you need it now. Joel seems all-too-happy to comply as he envelops your cock in his mouth once more, this time taking you all the way to the base. He swirls his tongue around your shaft while one hand massages your inner thighs, fingers working their way lower and lower. It’s an overwhelming feeling, and your eyes practically roll back in your head. “Fuck!”

Joel moans his approval around your cock, the vibration sending even more pleasure rushing through you. He bobs his head up and down, intent on making this about you first and foremost. And oh, did he want you to come undone for him…

You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations, tangling your fingers in his curls. He only increases his efforts, spurned on by your responses. You can feel the heat in your belly coiling and tensing, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of white hot bliss. You struggle to come up with the words to warn Joel. “J-Joel! I… I’m gonna… I-”

Joel brings his head off your dick, swiping his tongue down the side of your shaft. “What are you gonna do, Baby?” He purrs.

I whimper, bucking softly, arching my back into his touch. “Please… I wanna cum…”

The burning request makes Joel shiver, and a dark glint twinkles in his eye. “Oh, don’t worry, Darlin’...” He ignores your weeping cock and prowls over you like a panther until his eyes are locked right above your own. “I’m gonna get you there.” He gently grasps your hands and brings them to the waistband of his boxers. Sensing the intention, you eagerly hook your fingers in and lower them, freeing his cock. It swings down like a battle ax, heavy and swollen with desire. The sight makes your breath catch in your throat, already anticipating the feeling of him stretching you out.

“You want this, Darlin’?” Joel murmurs, hand brushing your cheek delicately. The motion causes you to turn your eyes back to his, fervent with lust.

“Y-yes…” You nod, hand reaching down to softly wrap around his hilt. The action makes Joel stiffen and gasp, sending a thrill through you. You hold him for a moment, eyes heavy through thick lashes. “Do you have… do you have any lube?”

Joel chuckles and reaches over into his nightstand drawer. “The perks of being on scavenge teams.” He withdraws a small bottle of something and returns to hover over you, slathering his fingers in the substance. “You ready?”

You nod breathlessly. “Please, Joel.” The request is simple but laced with need. The anticipation was killing you. You watch with careful eyes as Joel lowers his fingers, teasing his first digit near your entrance. His eyes lock onto your own, a silent command. You obediently hold his gaze and bite your lip when he begins to probe his way inside of you. You can’t help the shaking, nor can you help the soft moans. Joel fucking loves it, eyes shining with pride at each sound he coerces from your body. It’s been a while since he’s been with a guy, but it’s good to know he still has it. And this wasn’t just any guy… This was “Y/N.”

The sensation of Joel’s finger inside of you is soon joined by two, both working in tandem to stretch you out. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this, but Joel is patient and careful. He wants this to feel good for you. Nothing makes him more aroused than knowing he has that effect. And it’s been a long time for him as well.

“Joel… more!” You cry, bucking your hips. The feeling is too good now, and it’s all you can do to keep from thrusting yourself down on his fingers yourself.

“That’s it, Darlin’... Doin’ so good for me…” Joel purrs, introducing his middle finger to your hole. “So fuckin’ tight…”

His words have you gasping for air, clearly their intended effect, as Joel gives a pleased smile and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss him back hungrily, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance. Joel wins out, and you succumb to his touch willingly. It’s an easy thing to let go and pass him the reins at this point. He’s shown enough evidence at this point that he knows exactly what you need, even if you didn’t know yourself.

“That’s right, angel… let yourself go…” He encourages, shifting his hips to bring himself up close to your entrance. “Gonna make you feel so good…” He gently removes his fingers and aligns the head of his pulsing cock with your hole. He lets out a low hiss, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck… gonna make me feel so good…” His eyes open once- more long enough to lock gazes with you- before he grasps your thighs in both hands and gently pushes inside.

You cry out at the sensation of being stretched out by something larger than his fingers. “Fuck, Joel!” He feels massive, and it’s just the head. It really has been a minute.

Joel shushes you softly, leaning forward to pepper your face with kisses. “Doin’ so good, Darlin’...” He buries his face in your neck. “We’ll stay right here… long as you need.” His voice is steady and patient, but his body trembles with the effort of keeping himself only just inserted in you. The restraint is perhaps one of the hottest displays of affection you’ve seen in a long time.

You bite your lip, forcing yourself to relax more. “Just… kiss me… and take me…” You beg softly, willing Joel to look back. When he does, his expression is of amusement and arousal. He brings his face closer, lips finally meeting yours with a tenderness you’d come to expect. “Gladly…” He moans, and then he begins pushing the rest of the way inside of you. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his tongue swipe at your teeth in a carnal display of possession. He bottoms out and continues to kiss you, hands cradling the back of your head, hips locked into place. “You… feel so… good…” He groans. “Fucking hell…”

You whimper, allowing yourself to get used to the feeling of having Joel buried inside of you, stretching you out and filling you up. “Oh… Joel…”

Joel growls as you moan out his name, lips claiming yours once more in a passionate display of affection. “Fuckin’ love hearing you say my name like that…” He snarls. “Might have to keep ya around.” His hand grips the side of your ass roughly, but his eyes still carry that same tenderness underneath the arousal. You can feel your blood roaring in your ears at this point, carrying with it the pressure of wanting your release.

“Joel…” You whimper again, testing out the waters.

Joel groans, hips moving forward and pushing him impossibly deep inside of your walls. “Fuck, Darlin’... You don’t know what you do to me…”

You force back a pleased smile long enough to find his warm toffee gaze once more. “Please, Joel… I need you.”

Joel’s breath catches in his throat, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple. “Well, shit, sweetheart. That’s all you had to say.” He begins to pull out softly, stopping before he’s fully extricated, then pumping himself back into you with a resounding smack of skin against skin. The sound is absolutely obscene, and it makes Joel pick up the speed. His hips move quickly, back and forth, finding a rhythm that has the bed creaking and headboard knocking against the wall. You find your nails digging into Joel’s back, leaving small angry crescents across his back. The sensation makes him hiss and bury his face in your neck with a muffled howl of delight.

“Let me hear my name, Darlin’,” he pants, rhythm building, wanting to hear the delight he’s giving you.

Your good leg wraps around him, pulling him deeper. “Joel!” You mewl, vision obscured by heavy lids. With your legs around him, Joel is deeper than ever, the pressure of your tight walls around him almost too much to bear.

“Fuck…” He swears, his thrusts becoming more urgent, the sound of skin-against-skin filling the room. His lips seek yours, hungry and desperate as he guides you both to the brink. His chest is slick with sweat, a testament to the intensity of his actions. “Cum for me, Angel… Cum with my cock inside you…” He murmurs against your lips, his movements erratic, his own climax impending.

You feel yourself teetering over into that blissful oblivion as he shifts his hips one final time and begins hitting your sweet spot. The pleasure is blinding, and even though you’re sure you’re practically screaming his name, you can barely hear yourself as you reach orgasm. You’re sure you’ve never cum so hard in your life. As you do, you tighten around Joel’s pistoning cock, and he’s unable to prevent from filling you with his seed. You gasp at the sensation of load after load of Joel’s cum filling you, hot and thick. Joel shakes with the tremors of pleasure as he pumps out the last of his load, finally collapsing on top of you in one big sweaty mess.

“Goddamn…” he breathes, still impaling you with his cock.

You’re at a loss for words, reality slowly setting in as you realize you and Joel have just crossed into uncharted territory. But with the man’s comforting weight on you, arms wrapped protectively around your torso, you find it hard to be anxious. That’s a first. You find yourself speaking first after several moments of introspection.

“Did you mean what you said?”

Joel pauses at your sudden interjection, finding his eyes making their way over your bare torso and up to your gaze. “Did I mean what?” He asks. “Specifically?”

You feel a familiar tinge of embarrassment. “That you care for me…” You look away.

Joel hums a disapproving tone and reaches out to gently tilt your chin back to face him. “Of course, Darlin’. I’m not just trying to get my rocks off here, though…” He glances down at himself, still fully embedded inside of you. “Mission accomplished,” he grins cheekily.

The relief floods your body, easing tension you didn’t realize you were carrying. “Oh… good.” A faint smile crosses your lips. “I meant it, too.”

Joel gives you a small smile, hand reaching to caress your cheek softly. You lean into his touch, craving the gentle contact in such an intimate moment. “Good.”

You lay there for a while before Joel shifts, slowly removing himself from you. The sensation makes you hiss, and Joel himself groans until he’s finally extricated from you. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “Gonna get a shower goin’. I’ll come help you up when it’s ready.” And with that, he gives you a tender kiss on the lips and rises to pad off into the bathroom.

You remain on your back, gazing up at the ceiling and marveling at the turn of events. What does this make you? What will Ellie think? What will Tommy think? Hell, what will the town think? Anxieties plague your mind until Joel returns, and he can sense your discomfort.

“Hey now… what’s the matter?” He rushes over, sitting on the side of the bed and checking you over. “I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

The comment brings a smirk to your face. “Only in the best way,” you chuckle. The joke relaxes Joel, but his eyes still carry concern, so you continue. “I guess… just wondering what people are gonna think, ya know? I know it’s stupid, but…” You trail off, looking down.

Joel’s hand takes yours, giving it a reaffirming squeeze. “For starters, I think people got bigger problems than whatever we do with ourselves.” He smirks. “God knows Ellie will have lots to say, but she’s the one that’s been ridin’ my ass about asking you out for the past three months.”

Suddenly, her comment (“It’s about time…”) makes sense to you. “Oh…” Then a blush crosses your face. “Months???”

Joel grins unexpectedly, ducking his head and running a hand through his curls. “Guess it took me a while to work up the nerve…” He looks sheepish.

“I broke my goddamn ankle!” You find yourself laughing suddenly, amused at the stupidity of it all. “We fight monsters out there almost every day, but we couldn’t even bring ourselves to just get a damn drink?”

Joel’s eye catches yours, the wrinkles at the corner growing deeper as his grin widens. “Well, how about it?” He asks, hand clutching your own and turning it over to inspect it with gentle eyes.

“How about what?” You tilt your head.

“That drink?” Joel’s gaze flicks up once more. “I’d say I owe you a few.”

You bite back a pleased smile, your heart swelling. “It’s a date.”

Joel grins, pleased, before ducking down and crushing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His delight is palpable, and it may be the first time you’ve seen him this way. It seems he has as much opening up to do as you. But… as you feel his warmth and steadiness around you, you know that it’s only inevitable. Your ankle will eventually heal, and you’ll return to patrols with Joel. Things will go back to the way they were except for in the one way that matters most. Joel is never, ever, taking his eye off you again. And that’s a promise.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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[loviingpedri]

playboys don’t play - marc guiu

prompt: college parties are his thing, but soon you’re the life of his party.

warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content (not smut, but just some making out and physical touch), probably some cheesy stuff

credits to owners for all images.

just to clear things up, you weren’t a total loser in college. you loved going out with your friends. the only difference is, you knew how to maintain your grades. this semester has taken over your life very negatively. your friends never saw you anymore, and you only said 5 words to your roommate every single day.

there was only one solution. going out to a party. don’t get me wrong, therapy is very considerable as well. yet, parties are free and a nice stress reliever. your friends practically forced you out of your dorm. you loved going out, but never to places where the entire college is attending.

this party was a celebration to the college’s first soccer game this season, ending in a successful win. it was hosted by the one and only, marc guiu.

it was only his first year attending college. boy, did he gain a quick reputation. every single girl wanted him. during conversations before your classes, his name would start echoing. loud sounds of laughter and shrieks from people as he walked past. rumors flew about how many girls he’s been with, but nobody knew if they were true. constant talk in your friend group of bets on who gets to be the lucky girl he’s going to be with tonight.

you couldn’t lie to yourself. he was very attractive. he gave you sweet smiles across the class, maybe a few winks. in return, you gave him a ‘what the fuck’ face. you were in denial that you wanted him too.

“y/n is looking hella good today.” one of your girlfriends whistling as you put on your red lipstick.

“about time you took a break from your glasses. those contacts look really nice.”

overwhelmed with the compliments, you replied with a simple thank you. nothing like a tight and short black dress with gold jewelry.

arriving to the party, you and your friends were greeted with flashing lights. your friend group consisted a mix of girls. some popular, some casual, some nerdy. all that matters was a healthy friendship.

welcomed with shots being poured down your throat. you were still shocked at how beautiful the soccer teams ‘frat’ house was.

mingling in with the people, you couldn’t help but make eye contact with marc. his soft brown eyes looking at you and slowly noticing every detail of you.

“who are you staring at?” hector came up to him, causing the eye contact to break. you turned around to socialize with people and make more friends.

“nobody.” marc cleared his throat. trying to gain his normal thoughts, hector could see through his lies.

“you were staring at y/n, weren’t you.”

“no. i wasn’t. what are you talking about.” he shook his head repeatedly. marc had feelings for you ever since he laid eyes on you. he hated when rumors came around about him with other girls because the only person he wanted to be with, was you.

“marc, it’s time for you to tell her. im sure you don’t want any other guy on her, right?” as hector said the last sentence, he pointed at you talking to another guy who was obviously flirting with you.

“maybe i will. don’t worry about it.” marc walked away to get a drink as hector shrugged him off. nothing like getting him riled up just so he can be more direct towards you.

more games came around. such as beer pong, and your favorite, spin the bottle.

people sat in a circle with an empty beer bottle in the middle. first few spins landed on some of your friends.

“maria, truth or dare?” your friend, livy asked her.

“truth.” some people shouted boring, but the game was just getting started.

“is it true you hooked up with tyler?” sounds of ooo’s and gasps were heard. rumors flew around here, and this was the perfect time to get them straight.

“it is true.” maria laughed it off. the secret was finally out. considering maria was your roommate, you knew all the details of that night.

“alright, next.” livy’s boyfriend spun the bottle. slowly passing up marc, it landed on hector.

“truth or dare, hector?” hector gave a soft smirk. this man was always up for a challenge.

“dare.” it’s a tradition that the first dare of the night had to be the most memorable and the highlight of the party.

“i dare you to make out with kaitlyn.” damn, this game was getting hot. nothing like a time to rekindle high school sweethearts. especially when hector missed his ex girlfriend from his junior year. kaitlyn didn’t mind, she wanted him back just as bad.

hector stood up slowly and went up to her. both of them start making out, leading to many people trying to separate them after awhile.

“alright, next person.” hector spun the bottle. it made two laps and spun past you twice. it slowed down and pointed directly at marc.

“marc, my best friend, truth or dare.” hector patted him on his back.

“dare.” marc’s soft smile made you smile.

“i want you to spend 7 minutes in heaven with the next person it lands on.” all the girls made eye contact with each other. some of them were determined to have the bottle land on them.

“deal.” marc spun the bottle as fast as he could. slowly and slowly, the bottle landed on you. hector gave him a nice smile and a few laughs. you slowly stood up as marc was looking at you in disbelief.

“get up marc. you know you want to.” you were scared. you doubted anything was gonna happen since this would be the first interaction between the two, but this was definitely not how you saw yourself for the next 7 minutes. everyone followed you and him upstairs to his room. hector opened his closet door. luckily it was clean. "have fun." hector closed the door and now you were alone with marc. with the only light coming from his room through the little cracks of his door.

the next 2 minutes were just in silence as both of you sat on the ground. it was awkward, and you wanted to try and talk to him. yet, he looked terrified.

soon, he spoke, "i'm sorry y/n. i didn't wanna make my reaction look like that."

"you're fine. i thought you hated me for a second." trying to ease the tension, marc knew it was time to listen to hector's advice.

“no, i don’t hate you. it’s actually the opposite. i know this sounds weird, but i actually have a crush on you.” this was the first time someone ever confessed to you directly. maybe the first time someone even confessed. you were in pure shock trying to process what he just said.

“i thought you had a girlfriend.” marc sighed, knowing you were gonna bring up the rumors.

“i swear i’ve never dated anyone. you’re the only one i have feelings for. i know you’ve heard and think i got with almost every girl here, but i can promise you i didn’t. y/n, i’m being so serious to you. i’m not the playboy you think i am.”

you moved your body closer to him as he looked at you. he waited patiently for a response. “that’s actually pretty sweet of you to say. i’m not gonna lie to you either, but i think you’re attractive too. it’s just, i think we need to take some time to get to know each other.”

“that’s understandable. i’m just glad you got where i was coming from.” you made eye contact with him again. this time, you were closer to his face and you could see his eyes glisten at you. you looked at his lips, then his eyes.

one second led to another, you were now fully making out with him. you were straddled over his lap as your tongues continued to dance. his left hand placed on your ass, and his right traveling around your body. you kissed his jawline, then to his neck. he wanted his full attention on your lips though. he was holding your cheek as the night became needy.

unexpectedly, the door opened. you got off of marc and stood up to fix your dress.

“i see someone had fun.” hector winked at marc as he helped him stood up. walking outside, everyone was shocked. you looked at marc in confusion, only to notice your red lipstick was all over his lips, neck, and jaw. marc looked at you, and did not expect to see your lipstick smudged.

everyone left the room as marc wiped off some of your lipstick, and gave you one last kiss.

[sweetyluvs]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: jealousy is a nasty disease, especially when it’s ally is miscommunication.

warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of sexual activity

a/n: was feeling a little bit mixed so… <3

the once sweet drink in Ellie’s hand has become unbearably bitter to the touch of her tongue.

all joy from the fun atmosphere of the party evaporated like ice under heat. her green eyes were following your every movement, brows furrowed agitatedly. you were smiling at a boy, laughing at whatever lame joke he had cracked. The grin on your face was wide, allowing him to lean closer and closer with you by every passing second.

“you okay there, Ellie?” Joel comments, following her deadly glaze to you. She flickered her eyes quickly away, sitting up in her chair and facing him.

“yeah, i’m fine.” she mumbled, taking a sip from her drink.

Joel didn’t say anything else, only leaning on the bar she sat at and sending her a knowing side glance.

Ellie fought the urge to look back to you when she heard the lovely sound of your laughter, and she could only imagine the grin on your face. something about the fact she wasn’t the one making you laugh like that made a spark of something bad burn in her chest.

her jaw clenched upon hearing you gasp, and let her urges consume her as she looked to you.

The man was leaning against you, whispering something in your ear when you playfully pushed him off, a big, happy grin painted your face when you said something she couldn’t decipher in return.

She only looks back to Joel when Maria calls his name, earning both her and said man to look. He sent her a nod before departing, smiling when his brother greeted him.

her green eyes looked to her drink, swaying it as pieces of her auburn hair filled her peripheral vision.

Ellie kept trying to deny the feeling that devoured her insides. the gut-wrenching, nauseating, body heating feeling of jealousy. It ate her alive.

She would never admit to it, not ever.

Her eyes trailed back to you again; wishing she was the one beside you, wanting to be the one making you laugh— needing to be the one so close.

your eyes looked up and locked with hers, the feeling that was life threatening consuming you both.

Your smile grew impossibly bigger, quickly excusing yourself from the boy you were speaking with and walking to ellie.

Your hair was up, neck and collar bones showing attractively, your shirt was unbuckled just enough to show a little more than wanted skin. Ellie snapped her eyes away from anywhere below your eyes, no smile on her face even after you got so close she could smell you.

“Hey, els. why are you here alone? where’s jesse and dina?” you question, brows furrowing in the way she loved too much.

“i dunno.” she responded dully, sipping her drink and looking away from you.

your lips shaped into a frown, bottom lip sticking out.

“Are you okay?”

“yeah. I’m great.” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes and slamming her jar down, pushing her chair out and grabbing her coat.

“ellie, where are you going?” you hurry after, pushing through the crowd of people in a desperate attempt to follow her. she shuffles her jacket on, brutally shoving people out of her way and successfully making it to the door— with you close behind.

The cold night hair blows into Ellie’s face, her hair flying up before falling out of place. She tried to ignore your voice, calling out to her from not too far away.

“wait up! why are you leaving already?” you pant once you finally reach her, blowing warm air into the palms of your hands to try and remain comfortable.

She didn’t reply, stuffing her hands in her pockets as you two walk side by side.

“ellie?”

“ugh— what? what do you want?” she snapped, stopping dead in her tracks.

“I just asked you, like, three times. why are you leaving?”

“Probably because I want to? it was a shit party, anyways.” she replied, eyes scanning you shortly before darting away. “You could’ve come to where I was. we were having fun, you would’ve liked it.” you remarked, crossing your arms.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes for the second time tonight. “and interrupt your little.. love affair? No thanks.”

your eyes widened at her comment, brows furrowing confusedly.

“what are you taking about?”

“you think I didn’t see the way you were looking at that guy?” she retorted, voice raising. “i’m not an idiot.”

“it wasn’t like that! he’s just my—”

“let me guess, your ‘friend’?”

“Yes! he is, I swear.” your voice sounded pleading, as if you needed her to believe you.

Ellie brushed you off when she began walking again, leaving you to follow after her a second time.

“Ellie! why are you so upset? he’s only my friend, I was just having a good time. is that not allowed anymore or something?” You grabbed her arm, making her stop just before she ripped it away from your grasp.

“God— you’re so annoying! just.. go back to the party and leave me alone.” she exclaimed, regretting it immediately upon seeing your face.

“What did I do? I’m not leaving until I can properly apologize,” you insisted, raising your own voice. “here’s what you did; you stared at that guy like you wanted to fuck him!” She shouted, watching as you flinched.

your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you stare up at her. “what? fuck Matt? Ellie, He’s gay!” you yelled angrily, exasperated by her ridiculous attitude. The widen of her green eyes told you just how little she knew.

“I.. I told you that. were you not even listening?” you whispered, licking your lips.

“and why the hell are you so upset, anyways? I can fuck whoever I want and it shouldn’t bother you, it’s none of your business.”

Your words seemed to make her more upset, her face flushing with anger.

“Whatever! You’re right! go fuck some 50 year old for all I care!”

You groaned loudly, slapping your hands over your face. “Don’t say that! Why would you say that! Why is everything I do such a problem for you, ellie? i thought we were friends, we’re supposed to be with each other, not against each other. what’s up with you?” uncovering your face, your eyes met her’s—and her expression was unreadable.

It was unlike any you’ve ever seen. It had so many words, so many emotions you didn’t know where to begin.

“..ellie..?”

her jaw clenched, eyes flickering down to your lips before she let out an angry sigh.

“fuck it— I love you, Okay? I’m— fucking in love with you.”

your jaw almost met the floor, cheeks heating up instantly. Your eyes were wide, and ellie was obviously embarrassed.

“You’re… in love with me?” you voiced aloud, eyes looking to the floor.

Ellie knew she shouldn’t have said it. Now not only did she lose the one she loves, she also most likely lost her best friend.

“fuck— i.. I shouldn’t have said anyth—”

She was cut off by a pair of soft lips on hers. Ellie’s eyes shot wide, you were kissing her, and it wasn’t a dream.

As if on instinct, she kissed you back. Hands subconsciously clutching your waist as her lips made a song with yours. It was desperate, it was needy. You were greedy as they moved in an indescribable rhythm, matching perfectly like puzzle pieces. You wrapped your arms around her neck, holding tightly.

ellie felt you push harder against her, so close she could feel your every curve.

she moved from your waist to your hips, gripping you in a bruising grip.

Hums of pleasure escapes you the longer the kiss continued, urging ellie to continue; to keep it going.

You pulled away, though. Gasping for air desperately, meeting her eyes.

“I.. I fucking love you too, Ellie.”

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.12 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

SMUT MDNI !!

Hello beautiful people, I finished planning out the whole story and Friends? Never is going to wrap up after 25 chapters! I am so excited for you guys to see what I have planned and I really hope you're gonna love it as much as I do because you have all been so kind so far so THANK YOU SO MUCH and if anyone has any requests I would love to hear them <3

“Hey Joel.” 

“Hey kiddo, come on in.” Ellie’s smile mirrored Joel’s lopsided one as she walked into the living room of his cabin.  

“Ugh what is that smell?” 

“Coffee.” 

“Smells like burnt ass.” 

“Well burnt ass tastes pretty good.” Ellie chuckles as she grimaces. 

“Ew... how did you get that anyway?” 

“I’m ashamed of what I had to trade to get it.” He bowed his head in shame before beckoning Ellie into the kitchen. “I didn’t have much on me when you said about coming over so er sorry the food isn’t as good as last time.” He gestures to the plates of pasta and Ellie notices the can still sitting on the side. 

“Oh shit, chef boyardee... throwback.” 

“Yeah no kidding, tastes a lot nicer warmed up though I swear.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ellie grabs her plate and follows Joel to the living room where he sits on the sofa and presses play on the film he had put on. They eat in silence as they watch the film until Joel sighs and puts his fork down.  

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you’re here but is everything okay? Seemed kinda out of the blue.” 

“Oh er yeah everything’s fine. I just- I know I’ve been distant since... everything and It’s taken me a long time to understand why you did what you did but I think I’m starting to, at least I’m trying to anyway. I want us to be able to move on you know?” There was quiet for a long while after Ellie finished speaking, the only sounds in the room were that of the ones playing on the TV until Joel sucked a sharp breath in. 

“I- I’d like that. A lot.” She could see the glassy sheen of his eyes as he placed his hand over her knee and squeezed. “This anything to do with that girl your roommate executed a few weeks ago?” 

“So Maria told you huh?” 

“Yeah... I appreciate what she did for me.” 

“Yeah me too, about that actually... Er she-” 

“She’s your girlfriend.” 

“Wha- How did you...” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, she is.” 

“Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” 

“Well that makes one of us.” They both chuckle and go back to eating, Ellie commenting on the film every few minutes and being met with a mix of chuckles and scoffs.  

“So he knew already?” 

“Yeah probably guessed after he walked in on us in the kitchen.” 

“Ha! He knew before us then.” 

“Yeah sounds about right.” You and Ellie were riding next to each other at the back of your patrol group, Ellie had got home from Joel’s after you fell asleep last night so now was the first chance she had to tell you about it. As you both chuckled, Rita who was up front signalled to dismount the horses because you had reached the factory building you needed to clear. Everyone tied up their horses and began moving inside. The second you walked through the doors you heard the foreboding sound of groans and clicks, you glance at Ellie to see she’s already looking at you, you nod and she reciprocates the gesture before you all start to push forward, the quiet doesn’t last long as your teams bullets start ricocheting all throughout the building.  

You fired your gun twice and sent a runner and a clicker to the ground before you’re tackled to the ground by a runner, you can feel its hot, rancid breath on your neck as he desperately snaps his mangled teeth at you. You struggle with all your force to keep him away from you and as you feel your body being plagued with fatigue a gunshot rings out and the body falls limp on top off you. You groan and struggle to push him off as Lex offers you a hand up. You immediately scan the room for Ellie and see her savaging a clicker with her switchblade before Rita calls for everyone to move, you wait to see Ellie start running and then you follow, fleeing the dozens of infected that were on your tail. You can see the exit of the building you’re being led to and you see three people climb through the opening before Ellie gets to it, she turns back and as you make eye contact, she pauses.  

“GO ELLIE I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU!” You scream to her and you breathe a sigh of relief when she reluctantly goes through the opening only to immediately suck it back in as the building shakes and rumbles and debris begins to fall all around you, right in front of the opening Ellie had just climbed through. “Fuck, we gotta find another way out.” You say as you bash yourself against the debris that wouldn’t move an inch. 

“NO!” Ellie screeches as she watches you disappear behind the fallen debris that was now blocking the exit. She throws herself against it in vain as she only causes a dull ache to ring throughout the right side of her body. “Fuck fuck fuck.” She screams your name in a panic. “Please tell me you’re okay!” Her voice is shaky and desperate as her stomach churns and drops.  

“I’m okay but we gotta find another- AGH!” Your sentence is interrupted as a clicker lunges at you sending you both crashing to the floor, you can hear Ellie screaming your name and the repeated thuds of her throwing herself against the wall but you can’t reassure because you’re not sure if you are okay. You jam your knife into the clicker’s skull and grip your gun to deliver two shots straight through the fungal crown growing out of its head. As it falls on top of you, you climb out from beneath it and scream a quick ‘I’m okay!’ to Ellie before shooting at the three runners that were speeding at you. You and the two other people still stuck inside with you empty out all of your magazines, use every bit of ammo you had, you’re sure your knife is blunt from the amount of infected it had slaughtered. As you’re running from a clicker you notice a large hammer on the floor and grip it tight enough that your knuckles turn white before turning and slamming it into the clicker until it laid in a crumpled pile before you. You take a second to catch your breath before you hear the muffled screams of help from the others as you run towards the sound. You bash the brains of a runner that had tackled Raphael to the ground before stabbing your knife into the back of a clicker and dragging it down as a blood-curdling screech fills the room, you slam the hammer into its head until it’s unmoving on the ground and Lacey can bounce back up with the same enthusiasm she always magically had. “Fuck that was bad. We all clear?” They nod and you begin moving forward desperate to find a way out now that the immediate threat was neutralised.  

All Ellie could hear was a symphony of gunshots and shrieks until everything goes quiet. She feels her eyes sting with tears as the panic overtakes her as she continues to slam herself against the unmoving debris blocking the exit she had crawled through without you. “I should’ve waited... fuck why didn’t I wait?” She mutters to herself until she feels a pair of hands wrapping around her and yanking her away from the wall.  

“Ellie, that’s not helping, we just have to trust they’re okay.” Rita tries to reason with her as she thrashes in her arms. 

“No! Get the fuck off me. I have to get in there, I have to help her!” Ellie pushes a stunned Rita to the ground with a crazed look in her eyes before running off to try and find another way in as everyone calls out to her to stay put, she can hear their footsteps following but she doesn’t care, she needed to know if you were okay, she needed to find you. “Come on, please be okay.” She whispers as she frantically searches for another entrance until she sees a window a floor up that was open. She immediately starts looking for a way to climb it and as she manages to get a footing on a pipe running up the building she feels someone pulling her down again, sending her crashing to the ground on top of Ben. She immediately punches him and then squeezes round his neck with all her strength. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!” Ben claws at her as he thrashes in her arms and she only loosens up when she hears a thump only to see Lacey dropping to the ground from the window, she lets go of her grip around Ben’s neck as she immediately runs over to Lacey. Then Raphael drops to the ground also, her heartbeat quickens as there’s no sign of you, she storms over to Raphael and pushes him hard enough that he stumbles back to the ground. “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” 

“I- I don’t know, she was right behind me when I went out the window.” She looks up only to see no sign of you and the lump in her throat returns making it hard for her to breathe. She calls your name and is met with silence until a minute later, although it felt like centuries, your head pops out of the window before you throw yourself out of it, smacking onto the ground with a whine. She runs over to you immediately cradling you in her arms as the tears that had been threatening to spill over, cascade down her cheeks in waves. You smile up at her flushed face as you attempt to catch your breath, the fall winding you slightly. 

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead, you’re okay, you’re okay.” She pulls away to look down at you. “You’re okay right? You’re clear?” 

“Yeah, I’m clear.” Your voice comes out as a wheeze and the relief flooding through her pushes her forward to attach her lips to yours in a passionate kiss before she remembers her surroundings and stands, pulling you up with her. You both turn to see everyone on patrol staring at you both with dumbfounded expressions before you roll your eyes, sick of the undivided attention on you both. 

“What? You ain’t ever seen two girls kiss before? Shut your traps, you’re catching flies!” You snap and everyone immediately averts their gaze from you both as you all collect yourselves and get ready to keep moving. The thought that you still had four checkpoints to go through send a shiver through your body but feeling Ellie’s hand slip into yours and squeeze grounds you enough to continue your assignment. 

“Fuck I was so worried- ugh- I- I thought you were dead.” Ellie breathes out through grunts and moans. 

 You had barely made it through the door of your home before she was attacking your body with kisses, sucking bruises on any skin she could find.  

“Just let me take care of you please, I need to feel you.” She was almost pleading with you as if you would actually say no. She squeezed at your hips to prompt a response from your panting form.  

“Take me upstairs babe.” At your words she immediately pulls you away from the wall that your back was against and led you upstairs, her lips never leaving your skin. You both tumble into her room and clumsily fall down onto her bed as you both desperately try and rid each other of the clothes that were preventing you from feeling your bodies press together. As you rip her top over her head your mouth waters at the sight of her already erect nipples, you lurch forward attaching your lips to her pink bud and swirling your tongue around it as she grips onto your hair and hisses at the sudden stimulation. You pull away as she lifts your top over your head, grabbing a handful of each tit and squeezing them together then pressing her face into them and leaving tiny, ticklish kisses over them. You giggle at her actions before she pushes you down flush with the bed, you whine a little at the distance between you two but she shushes you as she stands to yank her jeans and briefs off in one motion before tapping at your hip so you’d lift them, allowing her to strip you naked to match her. 

Her hands run all over your naked form as she consumes you with her kisses, the dance of your tongues taking over your every thought. The warmth of her body pressing against yours feels like heaven as she slots herself flush with you and begins grinding herself down onto you. This was your favourite way to have sex with Ellie, the grinding of your bodies together felt like your hearts were merging into one and every thought that wasn’t her left your mind as you feel your core tightening and pulsing as her movements became rougher and rushed. The room was filled with your heavy breaths and groans until she swallowed them into her mouth as she once again attached her lips to yours before sucking a line from your jaw to your collarbones. “I love you so much, you can’t scare me like that again.” She says through kisses and pants as her hips stutter. 

“Oh Ellie, I love you too. I’m sorry, all I could think about was getting back to you.” You cry out as the knot in your stomach tightens, you can tell from the scrunch of Ellie’s face she’s as close to finishing as you are. You lean up to whisper in her ear. “Cum with me babe, please. I love you, I love you, I love you- ugh Ellie oh my god!” You chant your words as they’re the only words ringing throughout your mind. You loved her and she loved you and it was the most important thing to you, you used to get stir-crazy when you hadn’t gone on patrol in awhile, you used to look forward to patrol but since your relationship with Ellie had blossomed, those feelings had changed, twisted into feelings of panic and fear because the worst thing you could imagine is being ripped from her or her you because the only thing you cared about was getting to love with her and be with her. As Ellie gazed at your beautiful face, slightly shiny from the sweat that was generated from the heat between the both of you, she realised she hated how patrol had made her feel recently because all it did was increase the risk of her not getting to grow old with you and that was all she wanted, to grow old and die in your arms because the thought of losing you sent her into a spiral she felt she’d never escape. 

As you both finish with whines and moans, you expect her to slow down but she doesn’t which elicits a scream from you at the overstimulation. “Come on baby, give me another one, please, I just need you to give me one more.” She breathed out and the desperation in her voice was enough for you to fight through the urge to squirm and shy away from the feeling of her slick clunt gliding against yours roughly. It wasn’t long before her pace was faltering as she leant down to hold onto you for leverage as her body trembled as both of your second orgasms washed over you, your toes curled and you bit down onto her shoulder hard enough to draw blood as you felt lightheaded and dizzy from the force of your second release. As both your bodies relaxed and she collapsed fully onto you you released from her shoulder and kitten-licked at the wound before kissing her so she tastes her blood on your tongue, she moans into your mouth, a high-pitched moan that had both your eyes snapping open, her cheeks flush even darker than they already had before she cracks a small lop-sides smile and that you gigglle at. “Sorry about that...” You mutter sheepishly as you glance at the bite mark on her shoulder. 

“It’s okay, that was hot.” She kisses your forhead before lying down on top of you once again as your heartbeats and breathing sync, her thumb drawing circles on your hip and your hands scratching at her back. She sighs into you before squeezing at your hip a little. “I think I might wanna do less patrolling, try and pick up some jobs in Jackson-” She was ready to explain herself, thinking you’d call her a pussy and tell her to stop being silly but your soft tone shocks her. 

“Me too, today made me realise we’re so lucky to live in Jackson, where it’s safe and where we can have a pretty normal life and every time we leave those walls voluntarily we’re taking it for granted. We already lost 3 years, I don’t want our time together to be cut short.” 

“Fuck you’re so perfect.” You giggle and press a kiss to the top of her head as you both relax into the comfort of your bodies being pressed together without anything between you both, her soft skin caressing yours. “We’re kinda becoming the pussies we used to make fun of.” 

“Oh god don’t remind me.” You whine before sighing. “It’s all your fault though.” 

“My fault?!” She gasps and pinches you as you squeal. “You know if I wasn’t so wiped we’d totally be fighting right now.” 

“Mhm sure.” You reply monotonously not believing a word that leaves her pretty lips. 

“No I’m so serious, you wouldn’t know what hit you.” She barely gets her sentence out before a loud yawn leaves her causing her to glare at your smug face.  

“I believe you babe, get some sleep, it was a long day hm.” She nods and lays her head back down on your bare chest with a content sigh as you both feel the tiredness consume you and drag you into slumber. 

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699 @lil-elliesgf @isitadinosaur @amberputh

[lucysarah-c]

WE NEED AN ENTIRE STORY OF LEVI AS A BABY BOY DADDY! LIKE PLEASE ITS ACTUALLY TOO GOOD 🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭😭😭

You all have inspired me to write a one-shot, so I'll post it soon. Thank you so much!

But since I'm on it, I think I'll give you a few headcanons.

In my idea, Levi didn't have many children, and while sometimes my scenarios may change depending on the situation, mostly Levi's boy would be an only child. This wasn't Levi's original idea, and I'll explain why.

Leaving aside whether in the canon period of time there are real contraceptives or not, I 100% believe Levi is a highly meticulous guy. If he needs to pull out and count days in the old-fashioned way, he will. If he has to wear condoms every single time, he will. I believe Levi would try to make sure that if he ever has a child, it would be planned, as far as is humanly possible, of course. Sometimes contraceptives fail, etc.

In my mind, I believe Levi and Y/N decided or happened to have a kid around the time before the expedition to Wall Maria. There was about half a year when the scouts waited for the correct time to do the expedition to Wall Maria. Well, I believe she probably got pregnant around that time. I believe it was a mix between Levi transitioning a lot of emotions after Kenny's death, etc., and having more free time on his hands since they weren't doing expeditions while preparing for the mission… and well… let's say they decided to go handy, haha.

With that said… I think Levi would hardly admit it out loud, but he's one of those guys who always wanted to be parents, so they kinda said, "You know what? Fuck it, if it happens, it happens," and well, it happened almost immediately. Levi hears the news around two months later, and let me tell you, this man is all over the moon. He wants to be part of EVERYTHING. For me, Levi wants to prove that he is better than the men who failed his mother and also failed him. Levi wants to prove he can be a present father.

She goes to the doctor for just a check, he wants to be there. Better keep his man informed because he would ask a million questions. He's a first-time father, and she may sneeze, and he's all worried. Levi saw too many women die in childbirth or from difficult pregnancies in the underground. He's blessed with the chance of being a father, but also terrified. Levi feels that if he loses his love just because he "grew selfish" and asked for more (aka asked for a kid), he would feel horrible.

Anyways, back in the day, men waited outside during birth, and I believe they would try to kick Levi out of the room, and he would be like, "and who is going to stop me?" He wants to be there.

Now is when his baby boy comes into the picture. I believe, and God bless the mother, he was such a healthy CHUNKY boy. He was BIG. Those kinds of kids that look so healthy but at the same time, it's like "he literally sucked her dry, that baby took anything the mother has to offer."

Like, she's too tired after childbirth, and the nurses offer Levi feeding bottles with milk to keep the baby eating while the mother rests… and the baby is EATING to the point a doctor comes, pats Levi's arm playfully, and says, "Hope you've a good salary, Captain, because that kid is going to eat like a horse."

Perhaps these are the only few times that Levi is the most excited out of the two, she's tired from all the work, and Levi is over the moon. Ah, but don't you dare to touch his baby without washing your hands. If Levi could force you to take a bath in chlorine before even getting close to his baby, he would.

Aside from that, I think Levi's baby boy that I've named in my mind "Adrien" because Y/N thinks that naming her kids with A's to match the last name, especially since Ackerman's are finally able to not be in hiding.

In my mind, Adrien inherits Kenny's height. Yes, as you heard, KENNY'S HEIGHT. 190cm (6'3"). He's a big boy. I think it's funny that all the doctors check the baby and say, "haha, he's going to be tall!" and Levi is there looking at her like "… I don't like to admit I'm short as fuck, but if the kid isn't mine you can tell me," joking obviously, lmao.

"Levi, the kid is a photocopy of you."

Adrien is an extremely playful, happy, and hyperactive kid. He's so cheerful, and it makes Levi wish his mother was around so he could ask if he was such a cheerful kid too.

Chunky fat legs running down the halls as he doesn't even speak properly, but he already knows which office is daddy's office. He loves horses, he loves playing soldier, he loves being a daddy's boy.

This is when I mention that I believe Levi having a single child wasn't his original plan. I think he wished to give Adrien a sibling to make sure he won't be alone in life if anything ever happens to him as he was. But the whole rumbling happened, and after that, Levi was too busy trying to move him and his family outside of Paradise and after that settling down, taking care of Gabi and Falcon, that well time flew, and when everything was back to calmness, haha, well let's say that Levi had to admit that the train had left the station, and his energy to go back to change diapers had kinda withdrawn, lmao.

Finally, I think Adrien was a very hyperactive kid mainly because of the Ackerman genes. He has energy, he has strength, he has the abilities. He just has too much bottled up and doesn't know how to get tired. Levi is basically running around making sure the kid isn't jumping from the roof or climbing the kitchen cupboards. He probably ends up signing him up for a bunch of activities: baseball, self-defense classes, football, triathlon.

I have a bunch of other headcanons, so let me know if you want more!"

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[blossom-works]

Mommy and Daddy Bear

"Chris! Claire!" Leon calls out to his friends. They are locked inside two Alcatraz jail cells. The Redfield siblings are pale, gritting their teeth from whatever is hurting them. The DSO agent tries to force the cells open, but they are locked shut.

"Look behind you, Leon." Claires points. Her arm is shaking, but she is determined to make her friend look behind him. Following her finger, Leon spots someone else in the cell behind him. The entire room is dark, so he turns on his flashlight.

"Babe!" Leon drops his flashlight and crawls to your cell. Like the Redflields, you are gritting your teeth in pain. Your skin is pale too. Leon reaches inside the cell to cup your cheek. Through his gloves, Leon can feel your rising temperature.

"What are you doing here? What happened? Where are the kids?"

Drowsy, you try your best to answer him. "They...They're with Helena. Some woman tried to ambush us but I managed to hold her off." Your wheezing worries Leon even more. There are two times Leon has seen you in a similar state. Both were when you gave birth to his children.

"Help! Get us out of here!"

Leon turns around and in Claire's cell is Leon's target.

"Antonia Taylor...I'll deal with your ass later." Screw his mission. His wife is more important than bringing in some rouge scientist. He needs to get his wife home to their kids.

Leon rubs your warm cheek as an act of comfort. "I'm gonna get you out of here, sweetheart. Don't worry."

Suddenly, the lights flicker on. Jill and Leon pull out their guns and point them in opposite directions. The man in charge, Dylan Blake, introduces himself and his insane plan to the entire group. One of his bio-drones stings Leon in the back of his neck, weakening the man. From your line of view, you see the same woman who tried to take your children jump down from the floor above.

"You bitch." You groan out. You wish you had your gun on you so you could shoot the woman between her eyes. The woman disarms your weakened husband and kicks him to your cell. Reaching your hand out, you squeeze Leon's shoulder.

"I get it now. The attack. The virus. You got them from Arias. That's why she's here." Leon wheezes out. The virus is coursing through his veins, slowly shutting his body down.

"Leon," You exhale. "That's her. That the bitch that tried to take the kids."

Dylan's voice echoes the large, empty room. "You killed poor Maria's father. It was only fair for her to take away your family, Leon. Unfortunately, we underestimated your wife's condition. Even at three months post-partum, she was able to put up a fight. Left a bruise or two on Maria. I've got to say my friend, you have yourself quite a catch."

"Screw you, you bastard!"

"My kids and wife are innocent! You had no right to go after them!"

Dylan goes on a tangent about how everything the BOW fighters have fought for was a lie. They are nothing but pawns for powerful people to use. Dylan nit-picks at each of them, even you.

"And poor Mrs. Kennedy...I feel bad for you the most. You married a man who is tied down to his endless, grueling job. He even got your family mixed into his mess. What kind of a man does that to his family?"

You defend your husband through your gritted teeth. "Leon didn't do shit to our family. You're the one who endangered our family, asshole! My husband does everything he can to protect us so kindly fuck off!"

Leon has always questioned his ability to protect his family. He is constantly gone throughout the year and for an unknown amount of time. Your husband tries his best to be there for his kids and for you, but work gets in the way. He even worries about being present in their early lives. Leon does not want to miss out on their important firsts. He never wants to end up as the dad who misses out on his kids' school events, games, and recitals. Dylan is good at hitting a man in his Achilles heel.

Maria grabs onto Jill's hand, making her drop her gun from the pressure she applies. To protect their only chance at survival, Leon pulls out a flash grenade and tosses it in the middle of the hallway. When the flash clears, Maria steps onto Leon's chest. The more pressure she uses, the more her heeled boots dig into his skin.

"Leave them, Maria. They're all about to turn anyway."

Reluctantly, the woman obeys. She haughtily looks down at you who is glaring at her. Cursing the woman for going after your family. Silently proclaiming your revenge.

All week and terrified, Leon does his best to distract you from the pain. "How are the kids?"

"They should be fine. Helena was with me when Maria decided to drop by. She took the kids while I stalled Maria." You grip your side in pain. "Man that bitch packs a mean kick."

"She," Leon groans. "She knew where we lived?" You nod. It astonishes you too. Everything about your family is classified thanks to DSO's protocol. Information about their agents and their families is pretty much untouchable with the exception of a few.

Being the angel she is, Rebecca shows up with her vaccines. "Thank goodness I made an extra." She tries to give Leon the vaccine first, but he rejects it. No way is he going to get better while his wife is still sick. When everyone is vaccinated, you all know the battle is almost over.

Picking up Jill's gun, you turn around to face your husband. "Let's go get that bitch."

---

The fight between you, Leon, and Maria is an exhausting one. It takes the two of you a while before your full strength is back. Something must have been injected into Maria because she is what you describe as a "super soldier". Maria is a good fighter, but she fucked with your family. She broke into your home. She tried to go after your precious kids and use them as leverage. The woman fucked with the wrong set of parents. And she put her nasty ass foot on your husband's face! So not cool!

When Leon regains his strength, he double-kicks Maria. His last kick is about to send Maria to her death, but you want to be the one to do it. You take the disheveled Maria and shove her from behind with your foot while bending her body down to a certain level of height. The metal rod sticking out, pierces through Maria's head, killing her instantly. You and Leon have peace of mind knowing that the woman after your family is dead.

Leon drags you away from Maria's body and brings you into his chest. Your hug only lasts a couple of seconds because the control room starts to shake.

"We are so going on vacation after this." You say.

Leon laughs and nods his head in agreement. You guys are definitely booking a trip when you get home. He hopes that Eri will not remember whatever happened in your home. Levi is only a few months old but his sister is two. Leon does not want Maria to be one of Eri's earliest memories. Leon can only hope that your maternal instincts protected Eri from early childhood trauma.

---

The fight on Alcatraz Island is over. The six of you sit outside as you wait for backup to arrive.

"Well...I know what I'm taking away from this."

"What's that?" Rebecca asks.

"Prison tours suck." Leon's dorky remark makes everyone laugh. You lightly shove him to the side before he swings his arm around your shoulder. "So, where we goin' for vacation, love?"

"You were serious about that?" Chris asks. Leon announced that he and his family were going on vacation after this mission, but the BSAA operative thought Leon just said that in the heat of the moment.

You hum. "France? I've always wanted to see the Palace of Versailles and I'm sure Eri would love to go to the Disneyland there."

Claire raises her hand like a kid. "OOO! I wanna go too!" As much as she travels because of one thing or another, it is never where she wants to go and do what she wants to do (besides survive of course).

"France sounds good. Jill? Rebecca?"

Jill shrugs her shoulders and Rebecca says that she could use a vacation after this week.

"Wait a damn minute, It's a family vacation. Kennedy only." You slap your husband's arm for being rude to your friends.

"C'mon babe, these guys are practically family. Besides, free babysitters."

Hearing "free babysitters" immediately changes Leon's mind. He loves his children, but having the chance to have their mother to himself is just too good to pass up. Eri is an easy kid to watch, she just needs to work on her potty-training skills. Levi is formula fed so he does not need to be on your boobs every two or three hours. This means that mommy and daddy can have some uninterrupted "mommy and daddy" time.

"Alright, fine but you guys are paying for yourselves."

---

Story inspired by "Family Matters" by @not-another-leon-blog

[nocturnest]

Heyyy. Could u do tan x reader where they are like partner in crime and they get on really well and tan kinda just has a soft spot for them. Like they are in mission briefing and reader makes a point, tan is jumping on the idea, reader needs a breather outside for a min whilst on a mission, tan is going with her and he just likes being in her presence. They are both a bit oblivious with each other so its a hard watch for lemon and ladybug (maybe maria too :) ). And tan is affectionate but in his own way like 'saw this and thought you might like it but idc if u dont'. Hes always got her back but in a subtle way but it's not so subtle for lemon bcus he knows his brother and he knows hes whipped. Really hope u can do this and hope it wasn't complicated :))))

Hello, lovely! Thank you for this wonderful idea - it's no at all too complicated. I appreciate how much detail you included because I'm still relatively new at this and it's only my second fic so I hope that you enjoy and feel free to send more requests if this meets your liking! ~

Partners in Crime

In a dimly lit hotel suite, Tangerine and Lemon are sat beside you, their expressions serious as they review the dossier spread out on the table. The air was thick with anticipation, tension coiling in the pit of your stomach as you read through the details of the mission.

Lemon had been shot in the leg during the Twins' last mission, so they called you in as the unofficial third of the fruits.

You scan through the document as thoroughly as you can but you find it difficult with Tangerine's gaze on you. You look up briefly and meet his eyes. His piercing blue eyes seem to bore into your soul, and for a moment, you find it hard to concentrate as a rush of warmth floods your cheeks.

Feeling his intense stare, you glance up briefly, meeting Tangerine's eyes. There's a flicker of something in his expression – a mix of concern and reassurance – that sends a shiver down your spine. Despite the gravity of the situation, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you silently acknowledge the unspoken connection between you. You swear that you see a small smile creeping up on his face.

Clearing your throat and desperate to focus, you return your focus to the dossier, determined to push aside any distractions and focus on the task at hand. You dissect the details of the mission methodically, your mind racing as you strategize the best course of action.

"It's the usual," Lemon remarked, "You corner the target, retrieve the files, and get the fuck out of there."

As Lemon spoke, you couldn't help but notice the knowing smirk that played at the corners of his lips. It was clear that he had picked up on the subtle dynamic between you and Tangerine, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment at being caught in the act.

Tangerine's gaze flickered between you and Lemon, his expression unreadable as he considered the plan laid out before him. Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and measured.

"So, how are we going to go about this?"

You have an idea but you're hesitant.

"Well - um... We could always pose as a couple. Raises less suspicion if we're talking amongst ourselves. Only if you want to of course..."

You pause for confirmation, nervous as all hell.

Tangerine's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he considered your suggestion. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach, unsure of how he would respond to your proposal.

After what felt like an eternity, Tangerine finally nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I think that's a great idea. It's a lot easier to blend in when we're not drawing attention to ourselves."

Relief washed over you at his approval, and you couldn't help but return his smile with one of your own. "Great, I'm glad you agree," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

Lemon clasps his hands together and sighs, "Well - now that that's settled, I'm going to get some fucking beauty sleep. My leg's been killing me."

As Lemon announced his departure, you couldn't help but chuckle at his gruff demeanor. "Alright, Lemon. Get some rest. We'll handle the rest of the planning."

With a nod, Lemon headed towards the door, casting a final glance over his shoulder. "Don't stay up too late, you two. We've got a big day ahead of us."

Once Lemon had left the room, you turned your attention back to Tangerine, a sense of anticipation bubbling within you.

Once Lemon had left the room, leaving you and Tangerine alone, a mischievous glint danced in Tangerine's eyes. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Well, well, well, looks like it's just you and me now," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile at his antics. "Oh, please. Don't tell me you're going to start with the jokes now."

Tangerine chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it, love... for now," he replied, winking playfully.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, you couldn't help but laugh at Tangerine's lighthearted teasing. There was something about his playful nature that always managed to brighten your mood, even in the midst of a tense situation.

As you and Tangerine settled back into your planning, the atmosphere in the room was lighter, and you couldn't help but feel more drawn to Tangerine with each passing minute spent with him.

But as the night wore on, exhaustion began to catch up with both of you. The weight of the mission and the hours of planning took their toll, and soon you noticed Tangerine's eyelids growing heavy, his head nodding forward ever so slightly.

With a soft chuckle, you reached out and gently nudged him, a fond smile playing at your lips. "Looks like someone's ready for bed," you teased, your voice laced with affection.

Tangerine blinked owlishly, his gaze momentarily unfocused before he shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "I'm fine, just... resting my eyes," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his feeble attempt to deny his fatigue. "Sure you are, Tangerine," you replied teasingly, reaching out to gently pat his arm. "Why don't you take a break? We can pick this up in the morning."

With a reluctant nod, Tangerine acquiesced, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes. Just as you begin to stand up, his eyes gently flutter open and he reaches for your hand lazily.

"Stay?"

As Tangerine's eyes fluttered open and he reached out for your hand, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. His vulnerability in that moment tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn't bring yourself to deny his request.

"Of course, Tangerine," you replied softly, settling back into your seat beside him. You intertwined your fingers with his, feeling a warmth spread through you at the simple gesture of connection.

Tangerine's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gentle, comforting motion. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a small smile, you leaned your head against his shoulder, relishing in the warmth and comfort of his presence. The weight of the mission and the exhaustion of the night melted away in that moment, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the two of you together.

Before long, the rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the room, a peaceful reminder of the trust and camaraderie that existed between you.

You sighed, and before you even realized it, you were reaching out to brush a stray curl from Tangerine's forehead, your touch feather-light against his skin. He looked so peaceful, so angelic. The tension between his brows had disappeared. You noticed how close the two of you were, how you could easily reach over and -

Oh, no. You were utterly and horrendously fucked.

~ The pulsating rhythm of the music filled the air as you entered the room. Feeling your nervousness, Tangerine placed a gentle hand on the small of your back.

You look up to him hesitantly and a smile appears beneath his mustache.

“Don’t worry, love. Just keep up that beautiful smile of yours and everything will sort itself out.”

A light blush makes its way onto your face that you hope he can’t notice as he observes the rest of the room discreetly.

“Dance with me, will ya darlin'?” he turns to you with a grin, his voice playful yet inviting.

You grin back, “It would be my pleasure.”

With a nod, you take Tangerine's hand as he leads you onto the dance floor. The music envelops you, its infectious rhythm sweeping you up in its embrace as you move together in perfect harmony.

As you dance, you can't help but feel a sense of comfort and security in Tangerine's presence. He looks charming as ever in his blue pinstriped suit. Don't get distracted, you remind yourself as you begin looking in the crowd for the target. Your eyes land on what appears to very clearly be a wealthy man. Late 60s. His hair is a myriad of white and gray hairs. He laughs boisterously around a crowd of women.

"You see 'im?"

"Yeah..."

Seemingly, the target feels your gaze and looks your way. He smirks into his drink while maintaining eye contact with you. You feel a sense of discomfort creeping in on you, but you remind yourself to keep up a front and give a shy smile back.

Tangerine's eyes dart between the two of you. "Right," he sniffs, "You know what to do. You find a way to get him into his office to give us the code to the safe, and I'll be right behind you the whole time, promise." He squeezes your hand with assurance before muttering, "God forbid that fucking geezer tries anything."

And then, just as you had hoped, you found yourself face to face with the target, a charming smile gracing his lips as he extended his hand towards you.

"May I spare the lady for a dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Tangerine's eye twitches but otherwise, he remains cool and collected, "Be my guest."

You offer the target a polite smile, your heart pounding in your chest as you accept his invitation to dance. As you move across the dance floor, you can feel Tangerine's eyes on you, his silent presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of the chaos.

The target's grip tightens on your hand, pulling you closer as he leads you in a graceful waltz. You force yourself to maintain your composure, to keep up the facade of innocence and charm as you dance with the man who holds the key to your mission's success.

But despite your best efforts, you can't shake the feeling of unease that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. The target's gaze feels like a weight on your skin, his eyes boring into yours with a predatory intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"You're quite the stunner, you know that?"

Your eyes widen with surprise, "Oh?"

The man continues, "Oh yes! It makes me wonder what you could possibly be doing with a man like that when someone like me could offer you so much more."

You feel a chill run down your spine and hardly the good kind. The target seems to notice and perceive it as interest.

You lean in, feigning coy, "And what is it exactly that you have to offer?"

In the background, you make out Tangerine sitting at the bar. He has an unreadable look on his face and seems almost angry. Tangerine grips the whiskey in his hand tightly, his knuckles white.

As the dance comes to an end, the target leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Meet me in my office," he whispers, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "And just maybe I'll show you."

You force a smile, nodding politely as you pull away from him. "I'll be there" you reply, praying that your voice doesn't waver and thankfully it doesn't.

The man walks away giving you one last knowing glance. Your smile is already fading as the man finally turns away. You take in deep breaths but feel the room closing in on you. You're stronger than this. You've been on countless missions like this before, so how is this one any different?

You navigate your way through the dancing couples and make your way to the balcony for some fresh air.

There's a gentle breeze as you step out onto the balcony, and a sense of relief washes over you, the cool evening air providing a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere of the crowded ballroom. You gaze out at the sprawling garden maze below.

The maze is bathed in soft moonlight, its intricate pathways illuminated by the glow of outdoor lanterns scattered throughout. Despite the chill in the air, the sight is enchanting, a peaceful oasis amidst the chaos of the party.

You move closer to one of the outdoor heat lamps, positioning yourself nearby to soak in its warmth. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing yourself a moment of quiet reflection amidst the whirlwind of the mission. The sound of distant laughter drifts up from the garden below, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of the heat lamp.

You hear the sound of familiar footsteps but don't open your eyes.

"Love?"

You recognize the voice immediately, and a sense of relief floods through you as you open your eyes to find Tangerine standing beside you on the balcony. His expression is unreadable, but there's a hint of concern in his piercing blue eyes.

"Tangerine," you breathe out, unable to suppress the wave of emotion that washes over you at the sight of him. His eyes are practically glowing as he stands beneath the lamp.

He steps closer to you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of distress. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal, but the concern in Tangerine's eyes urges you to speak. "I... I'm fine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I don't like the feeling of his grubby hands all over me."

He stills, unsure of whether to reach toward you or not. He longs to comfort you, to whisk you away from here and into the comfort of his arms, but he doesn't know how you'd react.

"I know it's tough," he says, his voice tinged with empathy. "But you're doing great. You're one of the strongest people I fucking know. And I'm not going to stand by and let anything bad happen to you. You know that, right?"

Without a word, you close the distance between the two of you, and his arms envelop you in a warm and comforting embrace. You lean into his arms as he holds you close.

"Partners?" You whisper.

"Partners."

But you both seem to be wondering what if you could be more?

~

You feel more confident after speaking with Tangerine. You're good at your job - you know that. And you aren't going to let a fucking geezer get you down.

It's quiet as you and Tangerine roam through the halls of the mansion and make your way to this man's office. As you both come closer toward it, you notice two broad-shouldered guards blocking your way.

Tangerine pulls you aside into an alcove and pulls out two earpieces from his pocket.

"Here, I brought these so we can hear each other."

Tangerine reaches forward and slips the device onto your ear. The small earpiece fits snugly, the soft hum of static filling your ear as you adjust it into place.

Tangerine nods, a determined glint in his eyes as he secures his own earpiece. "Alright, let's do this fucker in," he says, his voice low and steady.

You give him one last smile, and he gives one back, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Is he worried? Never mind that.

While Tangerine remains out of sight of the guards, you make your way toward the office door. One of the guards knocks, and you hear a boisterous, "Come in!"

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you push open the door and step into the office, Tangerine's voice coming through crystal clear in your earpiece.

"You've got this, love."

The target, an older man with a smug grin plastered across his face, looks up from his desk, his eyes lingering on you with unmistakable interest. "Ah, there you are," he says, gesturing for you to come closer. "I've been expecting you."

You force a polite smile, your heart pounding in your chest as you approach the desk. "Thank you for seeing me," you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

The target's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, his eyes roving over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. "It's my pleasure, my dear," he says, his tone oozing with false charm. ""Now, where was I? Oh yes, you were asking what I could possibly have to offer?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his blatant attempts at flirtation, instead keeping your expression neutral as you try to steer the conversation toward the task at hand.

"I wonder," you begin, trailing your fingertips against one of the armchairs, "If a man like you doesn't have secrets that he might be hiding..."

The target looks back eagerly, eyes raking your form up and down. He nears closer to you with careful eyes, "What kinds of secrets?"

Now leaning against the armchair, you pull delicately at the hem of your dress until it reaches your thigh, "The kind that would destroy you if someone knew about them."

You hear a cough in your earpiece.

After a tense moment of silence, the target finally nods, a sly grin curling at the corners of his lips. "Very well," he says, his hands grazing the paperweight on his desk. "I just might provide you with the secret you desire. But first..."

You feel a surge of apprehension as the target's voice trails off, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. "Let's play a game! I'd like to get to know you a little better," he finishes, his tone dripping with unmistakable intent.

"Is this man on Fifty Shades of crack?," you hear Tangerine practically yell in your ear.

You can't help but stifle a nervous giggle at Tangerine's colorful commentary, his words providing a small but welcome distraction from the unsettling situation at hand.

You force a polite smile, your mind racing as you search for a way to extricate yourself from the situation without arousing suspicion. "I'm afraid I can't," you reply, your voice steady despite the unease that coils in the pit of your stomach. "I have other matters to attend to."

The target's grin falters slightly at your refusal, but he doesn't relent. Instead, he leans in closer, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as he continues to press the issue. "Come now, my dear," he urges, his tone coaxing. "Surely you can spare a few moments for a little game. It'll be fun, I promise."

Your heart races as you feel the weight of the target's gaze bearing down on you, his proximity sending a wave of discomfort washing over you. You glance toward the door, willing yourself to remain calm despite the rising tension in the room.

Meanwhile, Tangerine's voice crackles in your ear, his frustration palpable as he listens to the exchange. "This fucking prick," he growls, his voice laced with barely contained anger. "I swear if he doesn't back off..."

He grabs you by the chin, the rest of his fingers pressing into the side of your face. "By the end of the night, I'm sure I'll have you screaming my name.

Tangerine's patience wears thin. "That fucking bastard," he snarls, his voice a low, menacing growl. "I've had enough of this bullshit. I'm comin' in."

"No - you'll blow our cover," you whisper.

The target's face shifts with confusion and surprise, "What was that?"

You hear the sounds of gunshots outside the door and the target looks up with alarm. The door slams open and Tangerine bursts in, gun drawn in his hand.

"Now here's the deal ya old fuck, you give us the fucking code and maybe I just won't shoot ya," Tangerine yells, hair falling into his eyes, veins popping.

The target seems to consider his options as he looks between you and Tangerine. Retaining what confidence he has left, the target utters, "L-Let's be civil about this, shall we?"

He's behind his desk and you notice a movement out of the corner of your eye. The target seems to be reaching for something.

You grab an extraordinarily heavy paperweight from the target's desk, consider the weight of it in your hand, and wack the target across the head with it, "Is this civil enough for you?"

He barely has time to react and goes out cold, blood seeping from the top of his head.

Tangerine looks at you with slight frustration yet amusement, "Well...now how are we goin' to get the code for the safe?"

You slowly turn towards him and grin, "He already gave it to me."

Tangerine gives a look of confusion as you make your way toward the desk, peeling a sticky note off of where the metal paperweight used to be. On it is a four-digit code.

You make your way toward the safe behind the desk, "Not quite the brightest we've encountered, eh?"

"Let's hope his lack of intelligence works in our favor," he mutters, his hand resting on the grip of his gun.

You punch in the four-digit code with practiced precision, the sound of the tumblers clicking into place echoing in the silence of the room. With a quiet creak, the safe door swings open, revealing a stack of documents neatly arranged inside.

Tangerine's eyes light up with satisfaction as he steps forward to examine the contents. "Bloody brilliant, love," he says, his voice low with excitement.

You share a triumphant grin with Tangerine as you begin to retrieve the documents from the safe, each one a piece of the puzzle that will bring down your target's operation once and for all.

~

The mission is completed successfully and a few weeks go by. You, Lemon, and Tangerine team up again and again on various missions - to Portugal, Monaco, and then Bolivia.

Between Tangerine's ranting about you and your lovestruck eyes, Lemon wasn't sure how much of this he could take much longer. He would do whatever it took to get both of your heads out of your arses to realize your feelings for one another.

And eventually, the perfect moment arrived. As the three of you found yourselves on another mission, this time in the bustling streets of Tokyo, Lemon observed something that was the last fucking straw for him.

As the three of you strolled through the vibrant streets of Tokyo, the colorful sights and sounds of the bustling outdoor market beckoned to you. Lemon couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between you and Tangerine, the way your eyes lit up with excitement at each new discovery.

When Tangerine spotted a small jewelry stall tucked away in a corner of the market, he seized the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Lemon's suspicions were confirmed when he saw Tangerine emerge a few moments later, a mischievous grin on his face and a jewel-encrusted hairclip clutched in his hand.

"Oi, what's that?" Lemon asked, eyeing the hairclip with curiosity as Tangerine presented it to you with a flourish.

"It's for you, love," Tangerine replied, his voice low as he held out the hairclip for you to admire. He stumbles over his next words, "I - I saw it and thought of you. I mean, I don't mind you don't like it, I can always - "

You cut his sentence short, "Thank you, Tangerine," you said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, your eyes sparkling with gratitude as you ran your fingers over the intricate design.

Tangerine's cheeks flushed slightly at your gesture, and Lemon felt a surge of frustration building within him. The dance you and Tangerine had going on around your feelings for each other was going to drive him mad.

"Will you help me put it on?" You ask with a shy smile. Tangerine happily obliges, delicately clasping the clip to your hair.

"Fuck me," mutters Lemon, absolutely at his wit's end.

~

You arrive at a hotel, the three of you going over your next job, a mission from the White Death, whose son has been held for ransom by some group called the Triad. You're rather tired, so you head off to your room.

Lemon, meanwhile, has just about had it.

"Enough is enough," Lemon declared, his voice firm as he turned to face Tangerine. "You need to pull your head out of your arse and confess your feelings to her, mate. It's bloody obvious to everyone but you."

Tangerine's eyes widened in surprise at Lemon's outburst, but before he could respond, Lemon held up a hand to silence him.

"I'm serious, Tangerine," Lemon continued, his tone softening slightly as he spoke. "You've been pining after her for long enough. It's time to man up and tell her how you feel."

With that, Lemon storms off, heading to his room for the night. Perhaps it is time for Tangerine to finally confess his feelings and put an end to the tension between you once and for all. But nothing can console him from being afraid of losing you and your friendship in the process.

~

Things have gone absolutely tits up a long time ago and all thanks to this blonde fucking glasses prat. First, the damn briefcase had gone missing, courtesy of him, then you had discovered the Son to be bleeding out of his eyes, probably also courtesy of him, and so now here you are, trying to keep Tangerine from blowing a gasket while he sought out this Ladybug character and became increasingly more disheveled in the process - not that you mind, of course.

You're not at all distracted by the loose strands of hair that frame his face, the ferocity behind his blue eyes, or the chest hair that creeps out from under his tight shirt. Yes you are. No - you're definitely not entranced by him at all. You're positively fucked. Especially not when he pulls you close and gives you a longing glance, muttering "Stay here, love," before violently knocking on the door to the restroom.

Ladybug opens it and chaos ensues. You're amazed by the unquenchable level of anger Tangerine seems to have toward this man. He's roughhousing him like there's no tomorrow and you'll be damned if you don't think it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen.

Their fight is interrupted as the train stewardess enters the train car. She seems very sweet yet seemingly oblivious to any of what is going on.

Tangerine is out of breath and bleeding from his nose and Ladybug isn't that far off. It's when Ladybug asks for water that Tangerine looks like he's about to lose it again. You roll your eyes at Ladybug's antics and Tangerine gives you a frustrated look that seems to say See what I have to deal with, here.

Drinking his water, Ladbug pauses, "You sure you don’t want to talk this out?

"Not particularly, no."

You throw a kettle back at Ladybug in response. It lands and he stumbles back, yelling "Ow, woman!"

You step between the both of them, gun at the ready, and exclaim, "Alright, that's enough!"

"Woah, lady!"

"Ladybug, calm down. Tangerine, stop with the fighting. We need to figure this out like civilized adults."

Tangerine glares at Ladybug, his fists clenched at his sides. "Where's the briefcase, you sneaky bastard? What did you do to the Son?"

Ladybug straightens up, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Listen, I've got the case, but I have no idea what's wrong with the kid. I didn't even know he was dead!"

You scrutinize Ladybug once more before asking, "Right, and where's the case?"

Ladybug hesitates until you point the gun in his direction, "Alright! It's in the refreshment car."

You scrutinize Ladybug once more before pulling Tangerine aside. You put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, and it seems to do something. The crazed look in his eyes calms and his breathing settles.

"I don't think Lemon was wrong. This guy might not be our Diesel."

Tangerine sighs, "I swear if you start with the Thomas references, I'm going to lose my shit - "

You smile assuredly, "Alright, no more train references. But seriously, we need to consider all possibilities here. If Ladybug didn't have anything to do with the briefcase or the Son's condition, then who did?"

Tangerine runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. "I don't fucking know, but we need to focus on finding out who's behind all of this and stop them before it's too late."

You nod in agreement. "Agreed. Let's just for now until we figure out who's responsible and make them pay for what they've done. Then you can beat him up as much as you want."

Tangerine gives you a grateful look. "Thanks, love. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smile, feeling a sense of safety and closeness with Tangerine despite the chaos surrounding you. "Likewise. Now let's go find some answers."

Ladybug looks between the two of you, confused yet hopeful that he can escape your wrath. He observes your interaction with Tangerine and the way you adjust his tie subconsciously, looking at him with absolute adoration. He thinks he understands now what Lemon meant when he muttered something about his partners being "oblivious as fuck." Because Tangerine seems just as unaware of the effect you seem to have on him.

Suddenly, though, Tangerine's phone rings and the caller does not sound happy. They expect you, Lemon, and Tangerine to get your arses out of the train at the next stop with the briefcase in hand. God knows the two of you won't be able to make it to the refreshment cart in time.

After you express your worry about getting your arms cut off, Ladybug offers to pose as Lemon, and you three set off to find a briefcase.

~

You, Tangerine, and Ladybug find yourselves in front of again what Tangerine so delicately put as an "80s dance-off."

"Wow. You two do look like twins, huh?"

Tangerine tries to keep his frustration to a minimum, "Yeah, okay. We got the case, now what?"

The leader of the group retains a look of seriousness, "You still take the train to Kyoto station."

"Mm-hmm. Yeah, okay. We can do that. Wonderful."

The man pauses with a look of scrutiny, "Have you opened the case?"

"No, of course not. Do you know what? I never asked for the combination. You know what I mean? Keep it safe that way."

Ladybug joins in with a shoddy English accent, "Yeah, so no one gets greedy."

Tangering fights the urge to roll his eyes and you're trying not to burst out into laughter. That is until Ladybug starts playing with the lock on the briefcase, which opens to reveal a pile of unmentionables.

You and Tangerine exchange a look of panic and all three of you make your way back onto the train.

Ladybug looks genuinely apologetic, "I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I-I have this bad luck thing, and I hit the thing -"

"Oh, is that what you call it?

You raise your hands with frustration, "What the absolute fuck was that?"

Ladybug winces, "I was trying to sell it. I was selling it."

"Well, I don’t think they were in the market for fucking dildos and pantyhose, were they?"

Ladybug snaps his fingers, "Ah, but… They were buying it."

There's a beat of silence. Then, Ladybug tries his hand at trying to convince you and Tangerine to get off the train. He talks about wanting to visit a temple or something. Your mind's on other things, like the fact that if you don't find that damn briefcase, the White Death is going to be all but merciful.

Tangerine seems to be on the same wavelength, "It’s a bit of a conundrum, really, ’cause, you know, I’m thinking, do I hand him back in one piece or do I chop you up into little pieces and stuff you inside a fucking Momomon or not? That’s what’s going through my head right now."

"Or..."

Tangerine frowns, "Oh, what? You got a better idea, do ya?"

"You know, before us now is just a wall, but it’s an illusion, man. It’s a construct. You know, ’cause within that wall sits a window. A window of opportunity. Damn it, it’s a door. It’s… Within that wall is a door."

You blink in confusion whispering, "What the fuck..."

Tangerine rolls his eyes and gives a look that says, "Is this guy serious?"

He squints and gestures, "I’m finding it very hard to follow this story."

Something changes in Ladybug's expression, "My point is, that door is closing."

Before you can even react, Ladybug is kicking Tangerine onto the platform outside the train door, which closes before you can step out. You punch the door's window with frustration with a look of anguish, watching Tangerine's beautiful surprised and angered face pass you by, "Damn it!"

You turn backwards slowly and Ladybug's smile immediately fades upon seeing your expression. 'Cause if looks could fucking kill.

Ladybug backs away, "Listen, lady-"

"It's Peach," you growl, anger evident on your face. You approach Ladybug with your arms at the ready.

"Right. I'm sorry about your boyfriend. It's nothing personal-"

"He's not my boyfriend."

Ladybug stops himself and frowns in confusion, "Really?"

You feel your face heat up and not only with anger.

As you stride forward, fists clenched and fury ablaze, Ladybug backpedals, "You're sure?"

You land a punch on Ladybug. "Yes, goddamn it!"

"Okay, well I've got a great therapist for this sort of thing - fuck!"

You kick him in the groin.

He winces, "Ow! Working through your buried feelings of admiration might help. Maybe-"

"Shut up!"

"Maybe if you just talked to him. 'Cause I'm sure he feels the same way."

"What?"

You pause and try to conceal your surprise before shoving him against the luggage rack.

He groans in pain yet looks at you thoughtfully, "You really haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?!" You shout, waving your arms with confusion.

"God, Lemon was right about you two. You're both oblivious as all hell," Ladybug mutters. "He's clearly in love with you."

All of a sudden, you hear a crash from the nearby train cart, where Tangerine and Ladybug had been fighting earlier.

Ladybug takes advantage of your distraction and bashes his head into yours. You falter backwards and your vision blurs. Ladybug runs off in the other direction. You hear him yell from a distance: "Just talk to him!"

"Fucking insect," you grumble, bringing your hand towards your head.

With what little balance you possess, you stumble into the adjacent train cart and spot a sight for fucking sore eyes. It's Tangerine. He's panting, bleeding, and covered in shards of glass, but you've never been so happy to see him in your life.

"Tangerine!"

You run towards him eagerly, and he looks up at you, disoriented and with curls bouncing, the gel in his hair having worn off. This man looked handsome in every state.

You help him to his feet, brushing off the pieces of glass that stick to his clothing.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

He looks a bit dazed at the sight of you, "I'm alright, love."

You can't help but hug him tightly, your eyes watering as you ramble. His arms wrap around your waist with just as much fervor, like he's clinging onto you for dear life.

"I thought I lost you," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Tangerine squeezes you tightly, his warmth enveloping you like a protective shield. "I'm not going anywhere, Peach. Not without you."

You loosen your grip on him and brush the glass out of his hair. "I was about to murder Ladybug after he pushed you off the train! And he kept on talking, over and over again. About his wild ideas about you and I. Something about Lemon and us being oblivious. Oh, I don't know..."

"Go on."

You retract your hand from his hair and he seems almost disappointed at the loss of touch. "Well, it's nothing..."

There's a mischievous glint in Tangerine's eyes, but he also looks hopeful, like he's been waiting ages for what you're about to say.

"Don't keep secrets, now, darlin'," he says, calloused hands caressing your face.

You feel heat rise in your cheeks and your hands fall to his chest, his heart beating quicky under your palms, "Well, he might have said you're in love with me," you admit, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Tangerine's expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of relief and something else you can't quite place.

"I am, Peach," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been in love with you since the moment we fucking met."

God, this man... Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you like wildfire.

"I love you too, Tangerine," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

His lips meet yours fiercely and its absolute bliss. His mustache tickles your lips, but it's a nice feeling. It's familiar. It's him.

As Tangerine's lips press against yours with a fervor born of longing and passion. His hands move to cup your face, his touch gentle yet possessive as he deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance. You revel in the taste of him, his cologne mingled with the sweat and adrenaline of the chaos around you.

His lips move hungrily against yours, his kisses growing more urgent with each passing moment as if trying to convey all the love and longing he's kept bottled up inside for so long. And you respond in kind, matching his passion with your own, your hands roaming freely over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

He presses against you and you moan with pleasure. You've wanted this man for so long. His hands trickle down your back and you feel chills. The things you want him to do to you.

As you come up for air, you gaze into his eyes, bright and passionate. Tangerine looks youthful, free almost. He has a decisive look about him, "Forget the case. We're finding Lemon and getting the fuck off this train."

He bites your earlobe and whispers, "And then I'm going to absolutely ravish you."

You giggle as he kisses you on the cheek, takes your hand, and leads you down the train. Besides the blood and disheveled look he had about him, you wouldn't have thought that he had just punched his way onto a bullet train. You thought you had lost him, and yet here you were.

Fuck the case. You two would find Lemon. You three would get off the train and find a cozy hotel. Things were going to be okay.

~

Tagged those who might be interested! Hope that's alright 🥹

@little-miss-dilf-lover @sebsbarnes @kino-rogers @tangerinesgf

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 15

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: angst, survivor's trauma, smut, FLUFF chapter map

-You stay together for a few days in the hotel in town to recover from your ordeal. Burns, Paul’s slashed arm, a possible concussion, raw scrapes at your wrists and ankles, and the lacerations upon your back that you feel sharply every time you move. A persistent cough dogs you without mercy, your lungs raw from smoke and the pure heat you’d endured in the inferno. 

Anjélica is able to slip away once to check on you. She tells you that Las Nubes has fallen into chaos. No body was ever recovered from the ruins of the house, but it was such an inferno that there’s no conceivable possibility don Juan survived. You hug your sister tearfully, certain you’ll never be able to return to your childhood home again. You do not know how your misadventure will pan out for the rest of your family, living in the shadow of the Aragóns.

When doña Maria sends a representative to your door to make noises about murder and arson, you tell them you’ll be glad to tell the world in court about what depraved things her son Juan Aragón y Espinosa did to you. The papers will eat up every sordid detail. To people like the Aragóns, saving face is everything. It would be their worst nightmare. 

They went away, and you haven’t heard from them again. 

You are sure they will rebuild, and the winery will go on, eventually under Juan’s younger brother, Pedro, who has been away at school. 

You have mixed feelings about Juan’s death. 

A part of you mourns the loss of your childhood companion. The more logical part of you insists that there was nothing left of that boy in the prideful monster Juan became. He fully intended to destroy you for the sake of his own ego, one way or another. He left you to die, and you should feel nothing for him. 

You always thought you would have been burned as a witch in an earlier century. 

You never imagined it was a fate you might actually face in the present time, had your sister, Paul, and the Veterans, bless them all, not banded together to save you. 

Now you and Paul have harrowing nightmares about your pasts, together. You cling to each other at night in your little room, taking turns soothing the other. 

What a pair you make. 

Paul helps change the dressings upon your shoulders. Some of it will heal, but you will be scarred for the rest of your life by what Juan did. You watch Paul work in the mirror, see the dismay upon his handsome features as he peels back your bandages. The wretched words fall from your lips before you can stop them: “Am I ugly?” 

His touch upon you freezes for a moment, taken aback by the vehemence of your outburst. 

You’re afraid that’s your answer, until he asks a question back: “Do you think my scar is ugly?” 

He surely means the long raised cicatrice that stretches the entire length of his abdomen, a souvenir from war shrapnel that nearly took his life in France. You turn in his arms on the bed to look at it, for he is shirtless behind you, only wearing blue-striped boxer shorts and a bandage around his upper arm, every inch your battered war-hero. Your heart is filled with so much love you fear it might explode, and you climb into his lap with your arms around his shoulders.  

“Of course not,” you answer without falter.  

“Why not?” His hands on your waist anchor you, pulling you closer. There’s no where you feel safer, as though finally you’ve found the place where you belong. You cup his face in your hands, tracing those high cheekbones with your thumbs. His eyes are liquid pools filled with so much earnest yearning–this man is so good, so valiant, so true, and you don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

“Because…I love every part of you, Paul Sutton. I love you.” Realizing the magnitude of this admission, you start to cry, but then somehow, you start to laugh too, ducking to hide in the bend of his neck “I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” he asks through his own tears and laughter, flummoxed by joy and squeezing you carefully in his strong arms.    

“For…everything. For being me. For what happened. For getting you involved–”

He effectively shuts you up with his mouth on yours, a bone-melting kiss that renders you soft and pliant in his arms. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he insists with his forehead pressed to yours. “I would only change…that you got hurt.” 

You’ve never really talked about Juan’s demise, and the parts the two of you played in it. You find that your only remorse in that moment…is that you have no remorse. 

You kiss him again, a lingering lock of lips that feels like offering up a piece of your soul to this man. You feel him smiling against your mouth, and for the umpteenth time you think your heart will burst. 

“Will you say it again?” he asks, so shyly with such a sparkle in his dark eyes. He is breathtaking beyond words, and in that moment you don’t know how you haven’t told him, every day and every hour. 

You never told him what you said to Juan to earn the worst part of your thrashing–you never intend to, you know he would just feel guilty, and that is not a weight you intend to lay on his shoulders, when he already carries so much. But you know what you said that night is true. This man owns you–in the way two puzzle pieces meet, or a lock that has finally found its long lost key–and incredibly…you are fine with that now. There is a freedom in this acceptance of the truth that makes you absolutely giddy inside.  

“I love you.” You say it again, and again, between kisses and running your hands over his form you adore so well. He shudders as your nails graze his scalp and your hips press into his, finding him at full attention between you. Suddenly what little clothing you’re wearing is too much between you. Yet he catches your hands when you reach for the buttons of his shorts. 

“Sweetheart…I want to,” he sighs raggedly. “I want you so much, but you’re hurt, and I–” 

You kiss him again, merciless in your sudden need to devour him whole and lick the bones clean. It’s amazing, how desire acts as such an effective painkiller.  “I’ll be fine. I will not be fine, if I can’t have you inside me.” 

He laughs, that beautiful, unassuming sound that fills you with sunlight. “Honey…” 

“Come here.” He lets you–of course he lets you, you could not budge this strapping man without his cooperation–nudge him over until he can lay back on the bed, and you can straddle his hips. As you undo his buttons you can tell Paul is fighting a war with himself, torn between need and worry. Taking off your brassiere helps slightly–you can’t help but grin with a bit of wickedness as a small sound escapes him, looking up at you. 

“Y/n…” 

“I’m alright,” you tell him gently. “Because of you. Let me thank you.” You feel the burn in your back, the sharp ache as you stretch your skin to lean down to press your lips to his scar, but you have no intention of stopping. 

“You don’t need to thank me…” His breath hitches, his fingers tangling in your hair as you brush the velvety tip of his manhood with your chin 

“I want to. I want to be close to you.” 

That much he agrees with, and you watch him nod, eyes half-lidded, before taking him into your mouth. 

Though he clearly loves it, his head thrown back into the bedclothes, he only lets you savor him for a little while before he tugs gently on your hair, urging you up, needing you too, guiding you with those big hands on your hips until you are sinking onto his thick length, and the both of you see stars. 

“Go slow,” he cautions you sheepishly. “Or I’ll lose it.”

You are so pent up with desire and emotion that you know you won’t last long either. You savor the delicious stretch of him inside you, riding him slowly with your breasts in your hands, his thumb on your ripe little clit driving you mad. He brings you like the sun cresting the horizon, a warm and bright pleasure that fills your center and spreads through your bones. You know he holds on by a thread as your greedy cunt milks every last drop of golden ecstasy from him, his strong fingers digging into your hips with a moan. Breathless, you take mercy on him, uncoupling to take him in your mouth once more. The taste of him spilling upon your tongue is divine–his throaty moans the most wonderful sound. 

With a satisfied sigh you curl up beside him, resting your cheek on his ribs, shuddering for his featherlight fingers tracing over your hair, careful of your shoulders. That disbelieving laughter you love so much draws your attention back up to him, finding him looking down at you with so much joy shining in those lovely dark eyes. 

Not for the first time, you think he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” you answer with a smile, and in that happy moment you know you are equally blessed and ruined. 

The latter, you are finally ready to accept with an open heart.  

___

epilogue to follow...

[charleslee-valentine]

The Lost Boys name etymology:

As the leader of the group, we’ll start with David. The name David means ‘lover.’ His approach to vampirism is somewhat romantic. The ritual and the wine mixed with blood, takes on an erotic edge for example. Their lips touching the same bottle and the exchanging of fluids, and the haze that follows. His role as the leader could be violent given his power, or indifferent like Max’s way of running things- but he chooses to genuinely savor each member of his little pack. The tears he sheds for Marko are shed with love. The words he whispers to Michael, conscious or not, are endearing and soothing. Whether these bonds are more than platonic to him, or even approached in an acceptable way, he still has loving and sharing that love deeply in his nature, amplified by his powers.

Following him is Dwayne. Dwayne can mean ‘dark.’ Not just referring to his hair among the group obviously, his name could give a tiny glimpse into his character. Being less than a main character his screen time and thus his analytical depth is limited, but something about Dwayne is he can go from smiling with the group, to taking on a very stoic or cold expression fast. The ‘darkness’ inside Dwayne could be festering more than the other boys and making the whole -slightly irritating but mostly harmless teenager facade- a lot harder to keep up for him. Notable especially around Max is that stoniness. Part of his depth, it seems, is distrust for anyone outside of his boys, even his own sire. Dwayne’s edge (and weakness, actually) is his quickness to hold those dark and bitter feelings.

Marko involves some mythology to understand his meaning. The name itself stands for ‘dedicated to Mars,’ and Mars is the God of a few things, prominently war and feral nature. What this means for Marko is possibly strength and power. Of course, he is the smallest and that’s why he’s picked off first, but had the fight been between an awake Marko instead, his name hints at him possibly being the most brutal of the pack. It would make sense, that smaller stature equates to speed, in addition to the heightened vampire powers. Marko probably strikes like a feral animal. His tendency to drift to David and, in the words of Alex Winter himself, serve as something of a lap dog to him, is also possibly because of this nature. The idea being that he sacrificed some of his humanity to the brutality of vampirism and turns to David like a handler of sorts.

Finally is Paul. Maybe unexpectedly, the name means ‘humble.’ Where this personality trait can most prominently be seen is in Paul’s treatment of Star, Michael, and Laddie. He seems to be the only one to empathize with how unsettling vampirism can be and offers gentleness to each, at least in the novelization. There are also still distinctly human traits to him like his substance use, his more enthusiastic expressions, and turning on the radio, which he initiated out of the group. Even refraining from harassing (though affectionately, as we know from the deleted scene) Maria the video store worker. It seems that Paul uses being a vampire to intimidate humans and half vampires much less than the others. This makes him a branch towards humanity. Where he loses his humbleness is when he dies. He takes the time to brag about the stupidity of the Frogs and it costs him time. In his grief he gave up a trait that was so woven into him, and thus became reckless enough that he gets killed.

That’s the case with all of the boys really. Their rage and grief over Marko’s death meant letting those qualities either amplify or disappear to the point of losing themselves, and then losing the fight. In Dwayne’s case, he embraced the violence in himself and targeted Sam even when he knew it wasn’t safe because of Michael’s proximity. The ‘dark’ quality of him took over the common sense. As for David, he trusted in Michael so blindly that he was still trying to coerce him to their side. Even after Marko was gone and now the boys were dropping like flies, it was too hard for him to just stop loving someone. It only becomes clear too late, and then Michael has the upper hand and David’s the one dying.