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juletheghoul · 2 years ago

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Amarum

A/N: What if Dave was the guy you met at a bar, and what if that guy absolutely rocked your shit? Well, it might go a little something like this. For any of you that have read my work, imagine Dave from Dulcis, only without the toxicity. A well-adjusted, divorced dad, who likes to tell good girls what to do. I am still on my little break, but I wanted to throw this on here and then fuck off into the sunset. Thanks to my girlie-pop @wheresarizona for listening to my ramblings and for beta-ing this. Enjoy xoxo

Dave York x f!Reader

Pairing: David York x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ language, Smut, PIV sex (wrap it up), slight dom-Dave, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, oral (both m & f rec'g), spanking, a thumb in the booty- let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

There was a pleasant buzz flowing through your veins when the bartender placed a drink you definitely didn’t order on the counter in front of you.

“Sorry! I didn’t order this!” You frowned at him, but he waved away your protest, pointing to a man across the bar.

“Courtesy of the gentleman.” He left you with the drink, moving to serve other patrons.

The man he’d indicated to was watching you with clear interest on his face. He was handsome, very handsome. Clean cut from what you could see, dark hair and dark eyes, well dressed, and just your type. You raised the drink to him in thanks, and he smiled, raising his own in return.

Vodka cranberry, classic.

He held your gaze, his smile widening, his eyes raking over you without shame. He pushed away from his place at the bar, and your heart leapt that he was coming over.

You adjusted your dress as best you could, doing a quick sweep over your general appearance, dress smoothed, hair in place, perfect.

“Hi,” he smiled, coming close enough to be heard over the soundtrack of the bar, his voice deep and lovely in your ear. “I’m David. I noticed you from the other side of the room.” He smelled good enough to make your mouth water.

“Hi David,” you introduced yourself, “You did? And what did you think?”

“Thought it must be my lucky day.” His eyes travelled down the length of you without a single attempt at subtlety.

“Do you still think that? Now that you’re up close?” His watch face flashed for a moment, drawing your attention to his hands. They were big and instantly, you imagined them on your hips, at your throat. You swallowed thickly.

“Well, that depends on whether or not you’re looking for the same thing I’m looking for.” He had caught you staring at his hands and made a show of using them to swirl his drink, to fix the collar at his throat; placing one on the bar just beside where you leaned against it. He moved closer, and your focus shifted to the long line of his throat. “I think you are. I think you might be exactly what I’m looking for.”

Your heart was racing, thumping wildly in your chest that this gorgeous man was showing interest. He pressed a little closer, speaking the words right into your ear.

“I think you want to come home with me.” His thumb made contact with your side, a gentle pass that had heat clawing its way through your veins. Your eyes closed of their own accord, an attempt at keeping your cool despite the buzz, despite your body’s reaction to him.

“You’re quite forward.” You smiled, a little nervous, a little intimidated, but very excited.

“Yes, I don’t like to waste time. I find you very attractive, and I’d like to take you home. I’d very much like to show you a good time.” He tipped back his glass, finishing his drink. You did the same. “If I have read you wrong, I apologize, and I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, no.” You put your hand on his arm, your skin sizzling with the small touch, “You’re good.” You thought about it for a minute, questioning whether this was something you really wanted to do. He smiled, his eyes solely focused on you, and for better or worse, you’d already made up your mind. “I would like to go home with you, David.” Adrenaline raced through your body, chasing some of the buzz away, and when he offered his hand, you took it.

“This place is lovely.” You walk through his airy loft, smiling to yourself because of course he lives in a loft. The ceilings are insanely high, and the whole place has an open, yet homey, lived-in feel. It’s all one giant room, with a staircase leading up to an open second level facing a wall of windows. The gorgeous cityscape laid out before you.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.” He sets his sport coat down on an expensive-looking leather chair, “Would you like something to drink?” He gestures towards the minimalist dream that is his kitchen.

“No, thank you, I’m okay for now.” You smile up at him, the nerves in your stomach fluttering wildly. Your eyes continue to take in the space while he makes his way past you.

“Well,” He opens up the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water. “I’m going to bring water for you anyway.” He smiles. “Let me show you the bedroom.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as you make your way up the stairs, a clear indication of just how excited you are at the prospect of him getting you naked.

God, I hope he’s a good fuck.

The thought repeats in your head like a mantra, but there’s something about him, an energy he carries that negates any doubt before anything even happens. In truth, you don’t know anything about him. There are little things you can guess–he’s definitely older, for one. Somewhere in his late thirties, early forties.

His bedroom is sparse but neatly organized. Evidence of military experience, maybe?

“Now.” He sets the waters down on one of the nightstands, “Here’s how this is going to go.” He turns to you, his eyes intense, “I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it.” He’s moving towards you now, his fingers making quick work of rolling his sleeves up to expose his forearms. “You think you could do that for me?”

“I–yes, I can.” He stands beside you, his body a hair's breadth away.

“I knew you would. I knew you’d be on your best behaviour for me.” His fingers come up, skimming across the expanse of your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. “Before we get to all the fun I have planned… I would like to check in. I want you to enjoy this, so I’ll set a few guidelines.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, and it makes your stomach flutter. “For your comfort, we’ll use the traffic light system. Green means all good, continue–yellow means slow down, and red is a full stop.” He pulls the strap of your dress to the side and places another kiss to your heated skin. “How does that sound?”

You nod at him.

“I need vocal, enthusiastic consent, honey.”

“Yes, yes. I want this.” You turn to him, sliding your hands up to rest on his ribs.

“That’s what I like to hear. Final item, I have been tested and have a clean bill of health. How about you?” His hands caress your arms, almost distracting you from his words.

“Clean. I was tested a few months ago, haven’t been with anyone since then. I’m also on birth control.”

“Lovely, I’m looking forward to filling you to the brim.” He presses a little closer, his finger tilting your chin up, bringing your mouth to his in a soft, surprisingly tender kiss. His lips are plush, pressing against yours while his hand moves from your chin to curl around the column of your neck.

It’s soft, gentle, until it isn’t.

He licks into your mouth, pulling threads of arousal out to pool in your panties. He pushes everything but him out of your mind before giving you a final kiss, rewarding you with a groan, and then pulling away. Your mouth chases his, almost making you stumble, but he holds you in place.

“I want you to sit at the edge of the bed.”

You obey, the nerves replaced with pure arousal and a curious need to make him happy.

“Lovely.” He stands over you, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, “Hands behind your back, please, baby. You’re going to keep them there, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The words come out unbidden, but he smiles a gorgeous smile, and something inside of you preens.

“That’s my good girl. Keep them there.” His hands go to his belt, and you can almost feel your eyes dilating with excitement. The clink of the belt, the sound of his zipper, best of all, the sight of him hard and thick in front of your face makes your heart race. It makes your mouth water.

“What colour are we at?” His cock bobs in front of him, angry red and weeping, but his thumb at your lip is feather soft.

“Bright green, I want it.” You give him your most seductive look before opening your mouth.

“You’re being so good for me,” he gives his cock a few slow strokes, using his own arousal before moving towards your mouth once more. “Stick out your tongue for me, sweetheart. That's it.” You comply with gusto, sticking your tongue out for him. His big hand holds the hinge of your jaw, fingers pressing gently into the heated skin of your face. Your arousal is something huge, something with claws and teeth and a feral edge—it holds you tight enough to hurt, makes you ache for him. “That’s my pretty girl.” He guides the tip of his cock into your mouth, sliding it against your tongue.

Every instinct, every desire in your body begs to act. It compels you to hold his hips, to suck at the fat head of him, to swallow his dick down and make him come so hard he babbles, but you hold still, let the sweat bead at your temples. Obey.

He has a mischievous smile on his face, enjoying the conflict evident on your face.

“I am very proud of how good you’re being for me, holding your hands where I told you to, opening up that pretty mouth for me.” He slides in a little further, pressing the tip to the back of your throat with each shallow thrust of his hips. “See how hard you made me?” He taps his cock against your tongue a couple of times before pulling out of your mouth completely. “Colour?”

“Green.” You moan the word, and he smiles. He leans towards you and gifts you with another toe-curling kiss, his tongue obscene while his hands pull down the straps of your dress, your bra as well to expose your tits.

“That’s better.” He moves back into position, and you hurry to stick out your tongue again, “Close your lips around me; I’m going to fuck that pretty face.” You let out a moan, pressing your thighs together to ease the aching emptiness of your arousal, “Sit still.” You let out a breath and do as he says.

The sounds don’t help. They only make it harder to sit still.

He makes you gag on his cock, makes you feel dirty with how he’s using your mouth, how your spit drips down onto your tits, how your eyes water. He makes you feel divine with how wrecked he looks towering above you, how reverently his hands hold onto your face.

“God, I could just come down your fucking throat, baby.” He pulls out and lets you catch your breath, his voice sinful.

You wait for instructions. You know you must look a mess, but you don’t care. The thing inside you is too happy; the bruising grip of arousal is too strong.

“Good girls get rewarded, and you, baby, have been a very good girl for me. How are we on colour?” He moves to take his shirt off, tossing it into a hamper, watching you as he takes everything off.

“Bright green, but-“You take a deep breath, and he pauses.

“Tell me,” instantly, there’s a shift from confident and commanding to genuine concern. “Too much?”

“No, no, it’s really good, I could suck your dick all night, but I am so fucking wet, I need something.” You pout at him, and he smiles, the so-far benevolent authority back in place.

“How wet?” He’s fully naked now, and your heart races, your cunt itching to be filled by him.

“So fucking wet, David, I’m dying—“ His hand holds your throat, and you whimper.

“Aw, my poor little thing, come, let’s get you out of these clothes.” You let him pull you up from the bed, and within moments, you’re just as naked as him. His mouth fuses to yours, hard, all teeth and tongues, as you both fall onto his bed, a frantic shuffle to move up and align yourselves.

“Fuck me, please.” You grip his hair, sliding your legs high onto his hips.

“Good manners, but no. I’m going to do something else first.” You almost complain, but his mouth moves down and latches onto a nipple, and then all the words float out of your brain. First, one, then the other before he moves lower still, and all of a sudden, your legs are open wide from the breadth of his shoulders, and he’s staring at your pussy like it’s the gates of heaven.

“Good god, it’s so fucking pretty.” He spreads you open with one hand, exposing the plump pearl of your pleasure.

He spits on it, and you feel the warmth of it slip down towards your entrance, but it never makes it; he dives in, and your heart races.

His tongue is a holy thing, and its pilgrimage across your sex is nothing short of sacred. The grip of arousal tightens further, and with his tongue honing in on the center of your universe, your orgasm is shockingly close. He must feel the muscles in your stomach contract under his arm because he pulls away. His eyebrows raise at the strangled whine you let out, a low laugh from somewhere in his throat at the way your hips chase his mouth.

“I never said you could come.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your engorged little clit. “You’ve been so fucking good for me. You aren’t going to start misbehaving now, are you?” He kisses it again, his bottom lip gliding against it just right. Tears slip out, unbidden. “Colour?” His hand smooths over the silky skin of your inner thighs, calming the slight tremble in them.

“Green, please, Sir, please—I need to come. I wanna come so bad. Your tongue feels so fucking good.” You aren’t above begging, and something passes over his face, something inside him being fed by you, something that is languishing in your desperation for him.

“No.”

He presses his tongue to your pussy again, broad licks from your dripping entrance up to circle around your sensitive clit. You let out a pitiful whine, squeezing your eyes together to try—really try to focus on something other than the mounting pleasure blooming between your thighs.

“Yellow, yellow!” You scream out the word, letting out a shaky breath when he pulls away from where you pulse under his tongue.

“Good girl, thank you for warning me. How close are you?” He presses kisses to your inner thigh, seemingly content to take all the time in the world while you hang on by a fucking thread.

“It’s right there, so close.” You whine, every muscle in your body pulled taut.

“Okay baby, when you can, on your knees.” He taps your thigh lightly before pressing a kiss to your mound.

You take a few long breaths to steady yourself, clear your mind, and let the orgasm slip away before getting into position. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but how charged your whole body is, and when your nipples graze against the silky fabric of his bedspread, it sends a shiver down your spine.

He wastes no time; his big hands land heavy on your hips, pulling you toward his hips, letting you feel the way his cock slips and slides between your legs.

“You ready to take me, honey? Ready for me to stretch your tight little pussy on my cock?” His hands spread you open, and you know he’s staring at where your bodies meet, his thumb dipping into your dripping entrance. He lands a solid crack on your ass, and you jolt.

“Answer me.” His hand smooths the sting away, and you gulp down your excitement.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s better.” He glides the tip of his cock against your clit for a moment before slipping inside, the sheer size of him pulls a moan from somewhere in your throat. “So fucking wet for me huh, baby, you needed this cock didn’t you?” He fucks you slow, too slow.

“Yes, god yes, more, please.” The sheets near your face dampen with your words, and with your breath, your arms stretch out in front of you, clutching wildly at the sheets. He tuts when you start to push back and fuck yourself harder. Another solid crack sounds through the room, the sting of the spank only heightens your arousal.

“None of that. You’ll take it how I want to give it.” He holds you in place, letting you feel him deep.

You whine. He laughs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His hands spread you open wider, “You don’t wanna be good for me anymore?” He lands another crack, and more tears slip down your face. “I’m speaking to you. Answer me.”

“David, please.” A sob claws its way out of your mouth. “Please let me come.”

“Colour?”

“Green, but please, I am begging, please sir.” You know in your heart that the game would end if you said yellow or even red. You know it in your gut, but this is the most aroused you’ve ever been in your life. The feeling of him controlling you, of him withholding your orgasm, has you delirious with excitement, and despite the desperation, you want to be good for him.

He starts to move, shallow at first, but he picks up the pace, and soon the wet sounds of his thrusts echo through the apartment. Until he stops again, and you whine pitifully.

His hand moves, and you feel it swipe the arousal upwards from the stretched mouth of your cunt, up towards your asshole, where something wet and warm has landed, and you know it’s his spit again. Your stomach leapt, a dark thrill running through you like a lightning strike.

“Oh god, green,” the moan you let out was obscene, your body a livewire at the way he circles your back door.

“My dirty girl likes that, huh?” He speeds back up, and with a wet press, he breaches the tight ring of muscle, and your world implodes. The orgasm burns through you, your stomach clenching, your cunt fluttering around his cock, your asshole pulsing around his thumb.

He fucks you through it, his thumb in place, his cock a battering ram against your womb, and when you scream in ecstasy, he pulls away.

“Bad girl, I never gave you permission—“ Your body is jelly in his hands, “Now you’re going to get fucked like a bad girl.” He manoeuvres you onto your back, a pillow shoved under your hips and within a minute he’s slipping back inside you. He fucks the thoughts right out of your head, not bothering to wait until you’ve caught your breath. “Now you’re going to take what I give you.” He’s breathing hard, his cock punching into you over and over, one of his hands holding both of yours above your head, the other wrapped around your throat.

Your mind blanks with every thrust, tears slip out, and into your temples in your altered state of euphoria; you might actually be drooling.

He presses his forehead to yours, panting into your mouth for a handful of thrusts before he grinds himself deep.

He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his hips grinding through the oversensitivity, babbling incoherent words into your ear. Well, they might be incoherent. Or you might have come so hard that you’ve gone deaf. Who knows.

“—pussy milked me dry.” His face is red with his exertion, sweat beading at his temples, a gorgeous flush crawling up his neck.

“Hmm?” You’re in a daze, your body an untethered thing.

“I said—“ he smiles, “Your pussy milked me dry. I almost don’t want to pull out. I want to stay here all night.” He leans in to kiss, and you whimper into his mouth. Relishing how soft it is after—well, that.

“Sounds nice.” Your voice is hoarse, and exhaustion hits you lightning-quick.

“Stay there.” He pulls out with a hiss and moves towards his en suite. You’re not even sure you respond. Your eyes close for a moment, and then something wonderfully cool wipes at the mess between your legs. “Come on, up for a minute, honey.” He pulls you up gently. “Need you to drink some water.” He’s wearing a pair of grey sweats when you sit up, and he presses the bottle to your mouth, gulping it down eagerly. “Drink it all, please, then you can go to the bathroom, and we can cuddle.”

You do as he says, chug the water, head to the bathroom, and take care of your business. Finally rinsing the makeup and tears and spit from off your face before heading back into the now blessedly dark bedroom. He opens the covers for you, and you slip in, craving intimacy but falling asleep as soon as your head hits the wall of his chest.

You wake to the sound of rain, heavy sheets of it. Lightning strikes, filling the room with a flash of white light, and then the boom comes, and you stretch within the warm comfort of David’s bed. When you turn, he yawns.

“Rain woke me up too.” His voice is soft, sleep ridden. “How did you sleep?” He turns to look at his clock, and it draws your attention. Not yet six am.

“Slept like a rock. I think you fucked me into a coma.” He laughs at this, full throated, and the sound makes you feel warm.

“Come-“ He opens his arms, and you shuffle into them quickly, sighing contentedly into the warmth of his chest. “I want to check in again. What did you like? Any room for improvement on my end?” His hand swept over your back, a soothing stroke from the back of your neck down to your ass and back again.

“No notes, really, it was really good. I don’t think anyone’s ever made me cry with their dick before, in a good way.” You lift your head a little and snuggle into the crook of his neck. “You tease a lot, but I enjoyed it.” He chuckles.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. What about after? Anything I could have done better?”

“Nope, I think I passed out, but good call on the water.” You press a kiss to his neck. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well, I work for the government. I’m divorced, I have two beautiful daughters who I see every other week, and I have a friendly relationship with my ex wife. My parents are retired, and I have no siblings.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “What about you?”

You tell him about yourself, your work, your family, the important beats of your life, and he listens intently. Eventually though you just get a little antsy, your legs restless while you press yourself closer.

“You need closeness now, hm?” He turns onto his side to face you, “Feeling a little needy?” It isn't asked unkindly. You nod into his shoulder.

“I got you, honey. You did really good for me; made me feel amazing.” He pulls your face up towards his for a kiss, a soft, languid thing that makes you whimper into his mouth. “You’re so warm and soft,” another kiss. “And I don’t ever want you to leave this bed.”

Your hands rub at his back, they pull him closer, needing to feel all of him, and he lets you, continuing to stroke any and all skin available to him. Content to hold you close in the rainy glow of early dawn until exhaustion pulls you down again into the warmth of sleep.

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#dave x reader #dave york #pedro pascal characters #equalizer 2 #david york #david york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #equalizer 2 fanfic

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hrtwayne · 8 days ago

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Her Royal Highness [Part Two] || Jenna Ortega

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Princess of Scotland!Reader (Your Royal Highness AU!)

Summary: After the annual Laird Family Ball, you and Jenna manage to sneak away for a few moments just to enjoy each other's company!

Note: This chapter was inspired by the book Her Royal Highness! (English is not my first language!!)

Warning: Mentions of kisses, casual conversations, and a possibly pre-established relationship!

Previous Chapter | MASTERLIST

The two-week suspension served only for your mother, the Queen of Scotland, to make you endure hours of train travel just to attend an annual ball you despised with every fiber of your being. Using a flimsy excuse that you didn’t want to go through it alone, you managed to convince Jenna to join you. The American girl stood beside you with her arms crossed, fiddling with the small amethyst stone of the silver pendant engraved with your initials on the back. The sight made her smile genuinely.

A pair of blue eyes, clear as a bright, cloudless sky, met Jenna's deep brown gaze. The radiant smile, complete with small dimples, made the blonde-haired girl shiver. Jenna rested her head on the blonde's shoulder, trying to absorb any warmth she could find—the winter in Scotland’s highest mountains had the Texan muttering curses under her breath.

The Laird Family’s castle, perched atop Scotland's tallest hill, combined its medieval charm with modern renovations, making the Texan feel oddly comforted. The blonde’s warm hands clung to the brunette’s waist as the latter grumbled about the sheer size of the place. The Laird chuckled softly, noticing Jenna’s wide-eyed expression.

“Scared?” the blonde teased, resting her chin on the brunette's shoulder, which was covered by a thick jacket.

"Actually, I'm surprised," Jenna said, intertwining her fingers with yours. "Won't your family mind seeing you with a girl?"

"Times have changed, my love," the Laird replied, pressing a kiss to the Texan’s rosy cheeks.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall before a figure with nearly platinum hair appeared at the top of the staircase. A tall man with a charming smile descended gracefully, prompting the blonde-haired girl to release the brunette. A wide grin spread across the blonde’s lips, painted with cherry gloss, as she leapt into the man’s arms, leaving Jenna momentarily bewildered by the situation.

"Looks like you've grown a few inches," the man's Scottish accent filled the room. "Is this the girl Henry mentioned?"

"Well, yes," the Laird replied, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Hello, Miss...?" he inquired.

"Ortega, Jenna Ortega, sir," she replied, shaking the man’s hand.

"It’s a pleasure to meet the future Duchess of Scotland," he said with a knowing smile, watching as the girl’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

Jenna felt her heart racing as she noticed the mischievous smile on the blonde's lips. The sound of calm footsteps echoed from the staircase before an elegant woman descended, her gaze intimidating. Jenna swallowed hard, while the Laird kept her hands casually in the pockets of her jacket.

"Aren’t you going to hug your mother, S/n Laird?" the woman asked in a calm tone, prompting the girl to embrace her protectively. "You must be Jenna, right?"

The brunette nodded, her eyes pleading silently for reassurance from the Scottish girl.

"It’s good to finally meet the one who managed to get her in line," the woman remarked, watching as Jenna nodded nervously.

The sound of countless loud voices echoed throughout the room, but the two girls seemed submerged in their own little bubble. Once again, the blue-eyed girl found herself mesmerized by the beauty of the Texan. Jenna’s soft laughter was enough to make the Laird smile faintly. Even though they came from such different worlds, the Laird couldn’t deny it—she had never met anyone like Jenna.

An oddly comforting glimmer appeared in the Laird's eyes as she extended her hand toward the brunette, a silent invitation to follow her.

The Laird kept hold of Jenna��s hand as she led her through the dimly lit corridors of the grand castle. The tall, well-crafted windows added an air of security to the place. When they stopped in front of a pair of oak doors, the brunette furrowed her brow in curiosity.

A sweet scent filled the air as their hands remained intertwined. The blue-eyed girl focused on their surroundings while the Texan looked around with curiosity.

"What is this place?" Jenna asked, gesturing toward the room as the blonde shut the door behind them.

"An orangery," the Laird replied, lacing their fingers together again. "When I feel overwhelmed by the parties, I come here to clear my mind. Thankfully, because of you, I managed to kick that awful smoking habit."

"And why do your parents have an orangery inside the house?" the Texan asked, following her.

"My great-grandparents built this place," the blonde explained, brushing her fingers against a greenish orange. "Scotland is a very cold place, so we needed spaces like this to cultivate certain plants—and these oranges. They were even considered a luxury item at one point."

"So, if you had a special room like this, you must have been very, very rich?" Jenna murmured, watching the blonde nod. "Ahh, that’s interesting, Your Highness.

"A mischievous smile adorned the Texan's lips, painted with crimson lipstick. The Scot’s skilled hands rested on Jenna’s waist as their eyes locked onto one another—blue on brown, brown on blue. An intriguing connection seemed to spark between them.

"I want you to promise me something," Jenna said softly, her hand gently cupping the blonde’s rosy cheek. "No matter what happens, even if things get tough, you won’t go back to drinking or smoking, okay?"

"Alright, I’ll try," the Laird promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the Texan’s lips. "I think they’re already looking for us."

"I really think getting involved with a princess was a terrible idea," Jenna muttered, watching the blonde open the oak door with a teasing smirk.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #gxg #imagine #headcanons #two shot #her royal highness

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months ago

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Halcyon - Ch. 7: It'll Be Nice to Feel Wanted for a Change

You and Joel decide your next steps. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 6, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

^I keep using Pedro gifs instead of Joel gifs because Joel is such a baby in this fic I'm sorry 😭

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 7.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Told you, I have connections.”

Joel rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, watching as the kids on the soccer field changed directions.

“Still feel like business school is overkill,” he said, putting the travel mug in the cupholder of his folding chair. “Especially at this point… GET ‘EM BABY GIRL!”

Sarah stole the ball from a girl on the other team and dodged another girl before starting to charge up field, a serious look on her face.

“GO SARAH!” You jumped up and screamed, cupping your hands around your mouth. Sarah got pinned down and looked around before passing the ball, sending the it between two defenders to another player. Her teammate got the ball and sent it careening toward the goal before the other team could change direction. It sailed in and Joel leapt to his feet, the two of you jumping and clapping. “HECK YEAH!”

Sarah beamed at the two of you before she went to hug the girl who scored. You and Joel sat back down as play started back up. The coffee had spilled some in his excitement, the fabric arm of the chair wet.

“Now is the time to do the business school thing,” you said as you leaned forward on your thighs, watching the game intently, your hands clasped together and tucked between your knees. “And besides, it’s not actual business school. It’s… business school light. Enough to help you draw up a business plan and that kind of shi…stuff. The kind of stuff that you’ll need if you need to take out money from the bank to get started.”

Joel sighed. He knew you were right, he just wasn’t crazy about the idea.

After you’d had dinner - and nearly devolved into an argument that, in hindsight, Joel really was not ready to have no matter how hard he was pushing for it - the two of you had gone back and forth about what to do next.

Your call shouldn’t have surprised him. You’d always been an academic sort of person, the fact that you’d gotten into some fancy college had come as no surprise to Joel. Of course your first idea involved formal education.

You reached out to a friend of a friend at the business school and got some of his recorded lectures from the era of virtual classes during COVID. He was happy to share them once you explained it, compiling some lectures, notes and guides for Joel to use.

Joel felt bad about putting some stranger out like that but you said he was happy to do it in exchange for an autographed copy of your book.

“I know, it’s crazy,” you’d teased when he looked at you in disbelief. “Should have let me draw on your face that one time, think of how valuable it’d be now…”

Joel just snorted and shook his head.

“Get in there!”

You were on your feet again, watching as Sarah tackled the ball away from another girl. You screamed and jumped when she succeeded and Sarah smiled as she clambered back to her feet.

“Good job, kiddo!” Joel called, still seated but smiling. You got really into Sarah’s games, Joel had quickly learned. He wasn’t about to admit it to you, but he loved it. It reminded him of when you were both in high school, when you’d watch from the front row of the stands during football games, screaming so loud that he could hear you over everyone else at the game. You drew his number on your cheek and bleached it onto a t-shirt. You’d even made Tommy a matching one, something the 10-year-old had taken as a profession of undying love and devotion back then.

The next time you were at the house after giving him the shirt, Tommy sauntered through the kitchen where you and Joel were having a snack, topless, drenched in cologne and hair slicked back. Joel watched you try not to laugh as Tommy leaned on the table in front of you, giving you a cocky smile.

“Hey Goldie,” he said, his voice artificially deep. Joel choked on his Coke and covered it with a cough. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. “Even though I’m here every Saturday afternoon?”

His smile faltered.

“Well… uh…” his eyes darted to Joel, like he was looking for help. Joel just held up his hands. “Just… didn’t expect you to be here looking so good.”

“Oh,” Joel could see the edges of your lips pulling up. “So I don’t normally look good? Darn…”

“No, wait…” he stood up from the table, eyes darting to Joel again. “I don’t… you…”

“Don’t you have a matchbox car to crash or something?” Joel asked. “Stop tryin’ to pick up my girl, little man.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy muttered before stomping back off toward his room.

“I’ll tell mom you said that,” Joel leaned forward and watched his little brother go.

“So I’m your girl now?” You teased once he was out of ear shot. “News to me. And be nice to him, he’s just a kid and he’s a sweetheart.”

“He thinks he’s Don Juanito is what he is,” Joel muttered, sitting back in his seat and taking a sip of his Coke. “You being my girl might be the only way he leaves you alone.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled a little anyway.

“All this trouble because I wanted to support my best friend as he fucked up in the red zone…”

“I’ll tell my mom on your language, too,” he said. “Don’t think she won’t smack you upside your head just because she didn’t birth you. You’re her favorite kid, but don’t push it.”

Tommy had, thankfully, gotten over his crush on you. A fact that Joel was endlessly thankful for now that his part in helping you complete your list included finding you a fucking date.

There was a guy on his team at work he thought would at least be something besides a total waste of time. Blake was a decent man, one of the few on the site who didn’t say disgusting shit about women the second they believed they were among other assholes who thought the same way. Joel had caught him reading once on his lunch break, something that he was sure would be important to you. You’d want someone who read. Joel should read more.

Blake, Joel thought, would be a decent enough guy to set you up with. Not good enough for you - no one was good enough for you - but at least a damn improvement over fucking Brad.

He just hoped it wouldn’t stick.

Not that he wanted you to be alone. He didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. More than almost anything else he wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have whatever it took to make that happen. But he wasn’t sure how he’d get past working with someone he knew got to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. He’d hear about dates with you and things you enjoyed with a boyfriend and not just your friend. He’d have to hear all about what someone else was doing for you because he couldn’t.

Which was fine. Should be fine. You were his friend, you’d always been his friend. He could love you as a friend, he did love you as a friend, he could get past the other shit. He could.

And if Blake ever decided to try to talk about you the way some of the other assholes they worked with talked about their girlfriends then, well, at least Joel could fucking deck him for it.

“She’s killing it out there,” you settled back into your folding chair and glanced over at Joel.

“She always does,” Joel nodded. “She’s got skills, that girl.”

“She seems to really like it, too,” you said, eyes back on Sarah. “Which is the important thing. If she’s good enough, she could get scholarships and shit. But that really only matters if she also likes it, there’s no use in her being miserable because of the demands of being a student athlete because she happens to be good a sport she doesn’t enjoy…”

“She loves it,” Joel said. “And, honestly, I’m hopin’ that sticks and that she can get a scholarship, lord knows I can’t afford to shell out for college…”

“You can’t now,” you corrected him good naturedly. “But once you become Joel Miller: Entrepreneur and man about town, that’s another story.”

Joel scoffed.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve just got a lot more faith in me than I do.”

“Aren’t I supposed to?” You asked, looking at him again. “You’re my person so that’s part of my my job. Recognizing your potential.”

“See, just the fact that you think I have potential to recognize…”

“Oh shut up,” you swatted his arm and he laughed a little, watching you watch his daughter run back up the field.

No, Blake didn’t deserve you. No one did. Least of all Joel.

Sarah’s team won the game and she was beaming when she ran over to you and Joel after the post-game huddle.

“Did you see that one steal I did?” She asked, leaning between the front seats of the truck. “It was so cool, I almost missed it but then I got it to Sophie and she was able to score and it was so COOL!”

“Seatbelt,” Joel said. Sarah rolled her eyes but flopped back into her seat and buckled up, anyway. “Thank you. And yes, we saw, Baby Girl! You kicked ass out there.”

“Can ass kickers pick lunch?” She asked.

“Ass kickers can pick lunch,” Joel said. “But ass kickers can’t say ass until they’re at least 13, sorry kiddo.”

“Aw man,” she huffed but then smiled. “I’m gonna swear so much on my 13th birthday…”

“Yeah I bet you are,” he shook is head and caught you trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, kiddo, where for lunch?”

Joel watched her in the rearview mirror, a serious look on her face as she considered her options.

“Dairy Queen,” she said eventually, nodding seriously. “Because then I can get a Blizzard.”

“Whatever the ass kicker demands,” Joel said.

Sarah ordered a burger with her blizzard before going to find a table. Joel got the steak fingers and a shake and you just stood there, staring up at the menu board with a slight frown on your face.

“What?” Joel asked. “C’mon, it’s a limited menu, can’t be that hard.”

“It’s just been forever since I’ve been to a DQ,” you said absently. “Not sure what to really get…”

“Goldie,” he said, voice serious. You looked at him, frowning. “We both know what you get at Dairy Queen.”

“Yeah, when I was a teenager,” you looked back up at the menu. “Little different now…”

“Not gonna find a salad up there,” he said.

“Yeah, but…”

“Remember how the number one thing on your list was finalize your divorce?” He asked. You looked at him again, brows raised. “Well, this is one part of that you can control. You can ditch all the stupid shit that asshole put in your head, starting with the idea that you can’t get chicken fingers every once in a while.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, instead looking to the cashier.

“She’ll do the chicken fingers basket,” Joel said. “With fries. And a medium Reese’s Blizzard.”

“Small,” you corrected him.

“Medium,” he said, looking over at you. “Because we both know I want to eat half of it.”

You laughed a little.

“Medium,” you said.

“Alright,” he said, going to pay.

When the food came out, he took one of your chicken fingers and your eyes went wide.

“Hey!”

“Oh sit tight,” he rolled his eyes and dropped one of his steak fingers in your basket.

“What makes you think I want one of your steak fingers?” You asked, incredulous.

“You always want one of my steak fingers,” he said. “Every time.”

You glared at him for a second.

“Shut up.”

Joel laughed before dropping an onion ring in your basket and swiping a few fries.

“So you guys really hung out all the time before, huh?” Sarah said, eating a fry and watching the two of you from across the table.

“We did,” you smiled at Joel before looking back at Sarah. “We basically lived together, probably drove our moms crazy…”

“Your mom, maybe,” Joel teased. “Mine loved havin’ you around all the time. Said you were a good influence.”

“Because I was,” you teased back.

“So,” Sarah watched you both closely. “Why didn’t I meet you until now? I mean, I met other friends of my dad’s. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

The two of you looked at each other for a second. How the fuck was Joel supposed to explain this to his kid? Yeah, we were friends, and then the two of us decided to have sex and then just stop talking for a decade and a half? Not quite age appropriate.

“Well,” you said, dipping one of your fries in your Blizzard before popping it in your mouth.

“You’re so gross,” Joel said and you rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the side.

“Shove it,” you smiled a little and looked back to Sarah. “We finished high school and I had to move for college and we just kind of stopped talking quite as much, we didn’t do a great job of keeping in touch. We were busy, it just kind of happens when you’re a grown up.”

Sarah crinkled her nose.

“That’s dumb,” she said.

“You’re right,” you smiled a little, looking at Joel. “But adults do dumb things sometimes.”

Sarah nodded slowly, taking a fry and dipping it in her Oreo Blizzard before taking a hesitant bite and chewing thoughtfully. She frowned for a moment before her eyes lit up and she dipped the fry again.

Joel groaned.

“Not you, too…”

“Just gotta get on the French fries in ice cream train, Miller,” you smiled smugly. “Sweet, savory? It’s the best.”

“She’s right, Dad,” Sarah said, dipping another fry. “This is better than ketchup.”

“I’m surrounded by weirdos,” Joel muttered but he couldn’t help smiling a little to himself, watching you and his daughter together, a strange pull at the base of his chest at the sight. This, he thought, was how it was supposed to be. You were meant to be with the two of them, it was obvious. It was almost strange, how clearly he fit with you. He hadn’t felt like there was something distinctly missing over the last decade. He’d gone about his life, raising his daughter, trying to get ahead at work. He bought a house, kept his brother’s nose clean, buried his mother. There had been no distinct sense of absence. He thought of you often - every day, really - and it hurt but it was a dulled pain, a longing for what he had before. He hadn’t known what he’d really been missing, the way things would be with you at the stage of life you were both in now.

But now that he had you here, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed this gaping hole at the center of his reality before. There would be no excising you from him now, it wouldn’t work, the ragged edges of your absence would be too clear in everything he did.

He’d just have to do whatever it took to keep you in his life. Even if that meant setting you up with some guy from work.

“So Sarah,” you said, ripping your chicken finger in half and reaching over to dip it in the gravy in Joel’s basket.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Do you think you can do me a favor?” You continued, eating the chicken tender.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “What do you need?”

“Well,” you said, brushing your hands free of crumbs before taking a sip of your drink. “I was thinking about getting a cat but I have no idea how to pick a cat. Do you think you could come with me to the shelter and help me look? Just make sure I’m finding the right one?”

Her eyes lit up and she looked at Joel.

“Can I Dad?” She begged. “Please? I love cats, they’re so cute, and…”

Joel laughed, draping his arm over the bench behind you. You’d already talked with him about this, seeing if Sarah wanted to go to the animal shelter this afternoon. He knew she’d love it.

“Well,” he sighed, pretending to consider it. “If you promise to behave this week…”

“I will!”

“And do all your homework the first time I ask,” he said.

“Deal!”

“Then alright,” he conceded. “We can go with Aunt Goldie to pick a cat.”

“Yes!” She punched the air in victory and Joel smiled and shook his head, settling back in the booth with his shake in his hand.

The three of you went back to Joel’s and gave Sarah a chance to get cleaned up before heading to the shelter to look at cats. Sarah took over the radio in the car and insisted on playing Taylor Swift and you learned the chorus to one of the songs she was belting in the back seat, singing along the last time through, windows rolled down, your hand tapping out the rhythm of the song on the outside of the door.

“So what kind of cat do you want?” Sarah asked, turning to face you and Joel as she walked backwards down the row of cages.

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged. “Never really had a pet. One that wants to sit on my lap and purr?”

“See what not having a pet as a kid does to you, Dad?” Sarah said, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “Leaves you totally unprepared for picking a pet later in life. I should get a cat, too, while we’re here.”

“No,” he said. “Watch where you’re walkin’.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically but obeyed, leading the way through the cages.

“Oh, look at this one!” She stopped in front of a cage and laced her fingers through the bars, a black and white cat on the other side of it watching her from the back corner. “She’s so pretty!”

Joel stood at your back as you paused, looking at the cat for a moment.

“She is pretty,” you said. “But I want to see all of them first before I see if there are any we want to really meet.”

Sarah stopped outside of a gray and white tabby’s cage, the cat rubbing its face over the bars.

“Aw!” She reached a finger out and brushed along its cheek. “She’s so cute! And she seems so sweet!”

“She does,” you agreed, reaching around Sarah to give the cat a haphazard pet.

“Dad!” Sarah looked back over her shoulder at him. “Her name is Swiftie! She’s perfect!”

“We’re not here for us, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “C’mon, more cats to see, don’t get attached.”

“Well we have to meet that one now,” you said, looking at Joel and very clearly trying not to smile. “It’s required.”

“It’s really not,” he replied. “God, you’re such a bad influence…”

“Nah,” you replied. “I’m just always right, you should get used to it.”

You found another cat you really wanted to meet, an orange striped one who stood on his hind legs in his cage and reached a paw through the bars while meowing loudly for attention.

“Alright, Baby Girl,” Joel sighed, hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you go find someone who works here, see if we can meet some of these guys…”

She squealed before running out to find someone, Joel watching her go before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re never gonna have another moment’s peace with that thing in your house,” he said, watching as you reached your fingers through the bars and scratched its head as it purred loudly, arching into your touch.

“That’s alright,” you smiled, watching the cat. “It’ll be nice to feel wanted for a change. Totally worth it.”

Joel just looked at you for a moment, an odd twinge in him. Maybe you were lonelier than he realized. Maybe things had been worse with your fucking ex than he’d known. Maybe you didn’t understand that he wanted you. In so many fucking ways, he wanted you.

He just had no idea how to say that to you, not without fucking up everything else.

“Hi there,” a woman with a name tag walked up, Sarah at her side, before Joel had a chance to say anything at all. “I hear you want to see some cats?”

You told her the ones you wanted to see and the woman led you to a small room with a bench and some cat toys before going to get the first cat.

Joel should really have known what was going to happen after that. The three of you settled on the floor, you and Joel sitting beside each other, backs against the cinderblock wall, letting cats climb over your legs and throwing little bell-filled balls for them to chase as Sarah pulled a feather on a string across the floor. You were already attached to the orange cat but Sarah was obviously in love with the gray one. Joel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, watching as his daughter held the little cat on her lap, talking to it all soft and gentle.

“I really should’ve known better than to do this,” he muttered and you laughed a little, leaning your head on his shoulder and watching Sarah, too. “Jesus…”

“At least it’s a cat and not a dog,” you patted his thigh twice before letting your hand rest there near his knee. His heart beat faster. “Could be worse.”

“So,” the woman came back in, carefully closing the door before the cat on Sarah’s lap could escape. But it didn’t look like there was any risk of it, the little thing seemingly content to stay there for the rest of time. “What are we thinking?”

“Please, Dad?” Sarah looked at him, her eyes so wide. “I’ll do all the work, I promise. I’ll clean the litter box every day and I’ll feed her and play with her and…”

Joel sighed.

“You’d gotta actually do it, Baby Girl,” he said. “I mean it.”

“I will!” She said, holding the cat close. “I promise!”

He sighed again.

“Alright, we’ll take that one…”

“Fantastic,” the woman smiled. “I’ll start the paperwork…”

“Oh, and I’m going to get Garfield, the orange one,” you said as she turned to leave. “But I’ll be changing his name…”

“That’s great,” she said. “But we will have to check and make sure the cats are compatible before we send you home with two…”

“No,” you laughed. “No, sorry, no, we don’t live together. He’ll be coming with me and this one will be going with them.”

“Oh!” She laughed back. “I’m so sorry, I just thought you two were married. I’ll get started on the paperwork for both, I’ll be right back.”

Joel watched the woman go and glanced at Sarah to make sure she was still totally absorbed with the cat on her lap before lowering his voice.

“Could have denied that a little harder, I think…”

He practically heard you roll your eyes.

“What, did you want to see if we could save on adoption fees by filling out one set of paperwork?” You asked.

“Always said we’d make good roommates,” he replied. “Seems a good a reason as any.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

“What?” He said, turning his head just enough to see you, still leaning against him. “I’m serious. You really tellin’ me that the idea of living with me is that terrifying?”

“The inevitable fallout is terrifying, yeah,” you said.

“Here we go,” the woman came back in with two clipboards and you lifted your head from Joel’s shoulder. “Once you fill this out and pay your deposit, we can run a few checks and you can come back in a few days for your new best friends!”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Joel smirked a little as he started completing the paperwork. “You were looking to replace me the whole time…”

“Well clearly yes,” you said absently, working on your own documents. “Furry, loud, opinionated… You’re basically twins, why do I need you to keep coming over when I’ll have Puck?”

“Puck?” Joel frowned. “Like hockey puck?”

“Puck like the fairy from Midsummer,” you replied. Joel must have still looked confused because when you looked over at him, you rolled your eyes. “The mischievous one from Midsummer Night’s Dream? The Shakespeare play? I know you read it, we had to read it sophomore year…”

“C’mon Dad,” Sarah looked up from the cat in her lap. “Even I know that one.”

“Alright, well,” Joel said. “You two are the smartest people I know, not fair to judge me by that standard…”

Joel caught a glimpse of you smiling out of the corner of his eye as he finished the paperwork.

***

“I have a question for you.”

You opened your eyes to see Joel looking down to you, your head in his lap, his thumb brushing your temple in a soothing rhythm. It was late. Sarah had gone to bed hours before, worn out after her game and suckering her dad into adopting a cat and going to Target to pick out every toy under the sun for her new pet and yours. You were pretty sure you weren’t going home that night, too comfortable in your position against Joel.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes and settling into him and the couch again. “I can’t convince Sarah to give up the cat. My position as the cool aunt is too tenuous, I’m going to side exclusively with Sarah in all conflicts for the foreseeable future…”

“I could just refuse to pick it up in a few days,” Joel mused. “Tell her the shelter denied our application because of my history as a cold hearted killer with no mercy.”

“Ah yes,” you smiled a little. “I forgot, Joel Miller, heartless killing machine.”

“Cold hearted,” he corrected. “Get it right.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“But no,” he continued. “Not what I was going to ask.”

You opened one eye, looking up at him, trying not to think about how soft his eyes were.

“Shoot,” you said, closing your eye again.

“Was thinking about the lists…” he trailed off.

“That wasn’t a question, Miller,” you said after a moment.

“I’m gettin’ there, don’t rush me, woman.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see him over you. His hand slipped around to cup the crown of your head. He was so handsome. There should be rules about that, there should be rules about men who are that beautiful. They should need licensing or something, they shouldn’t just be allowed to freely exist, endangering women everywhere.

You closed your eyes again.

“Take your time, Miller,” you said. “Not going anywhere.”

“Anyway,” he said and you could hear his eye roll. His thumb stroked your hair. “Both our lists have relationship shit on ‘em…”

His voice trailed off and your heart beat a little faster.

“Yes?” You said when he didn’t continue.

“Well, you were sayin’ you didn’t know how to do the whole… app thing.”

“Right…”

“What if…” he took a deep breath. “We tried going out together. You bring someone for me, I bring someone for you…”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t help it. You knew the kind of relationship you had with Joel, the kind of relationship you’d always had with Joel. He’d made it perfectly clear that anything beyond that was totally out of the question for him and you’d accepted that. It had taken a long time - and a failed marriage - but you accepted it.

That didn’t make the concept of picking out a girlfriend for him sting any less.

“Just… then you don’t have to fuck around on apps,” he said quickly when you didn’t reply. “And I don’t have to waste my time on someone who wouldn’t work in a million years because you’re doing my thinking for me…”

“Instead of your dick?” You asked, opening your eyes. He smiled a little. Goddammit, him and his fucking dimple.

“Exactly,” he said, cocking his head so it was more in line with yours. He looked a little uncertain, his eyes searching yours. “So… what do you think?”

“Well,” you sighed. “Makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose…. When were you thinking?”

“I did say we should move ‘get laid’ to the top of your list,” he smirked a little. “So maybe next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” You sat up so fast that you almost smacked into his nose, your head spinning for a moment. Joel grabbed you to steady you as you twisted haphazardly to face him again, legs crossed in front of you. “Doesn’t that seem fast?”

He looked at you, puzzled, as he turned to face you, too.

“Goldie, you and fuckin’ Brad…”

“Gale.”

“…Split up a year ago. You gotta get back out there, it’s not fast.”

“No, I mean,” you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “Isn’t that a little fast to find someone for each other? I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

There was something about the sheepish look on his face that made your eyes narrow.

“What.”

“I… might have someone in mind for you already,” he flinched as he said it.

“Seriously?”

“Look, I just don’t want you dating some random asshole, alright?” He said. “He’s a good guy, think you’d have at least some shit in common, feels like I could trust him with you…”

“Gee, thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m being serious!” He looked down at his lap for a moment, absently picking at a seam on his couch. “I worry about you. I know shit’s dangerous for women, alright? Much rather you be out with someone who I know isn’t gonna hurt you than some guy I don’t know that I can trust…”

“Careful Miller,” you said wryly. “Someone might think you care about me or something.”

“Well, can’t have that now can we,” he looked up to meet your eyes again, small smile on his face. “I’m already worrying about this shit with Sarah and she’s years off from dating. Outside of her, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Want to know you’re OK out there when I’m not with you. And I’m assuming that you wouldn’t want me to tag along on every damn date you have…”

“Bold assumption.”

He glared at you.

“And this way I can know,” he said. “So yeah, alright, it’s crossed my mind.”

“Have you talked to this guy?” You asked. “He might want nothing to do with me.”

“I ain’t worried about that part,” he waved you off. “You’re you and he’s a smart guy, he’ll see what’s on the table. Much more worried about you conning someone into goin’ out with me…”

“Oh ha ha,” you rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve ever had a problem landing women…”

“The kind that stick?” He raised his brows. “Yeah, I have.”

“Fair enough,” you sighed, thinking about the few people you knew in Austin. There was an adjunct professor in your department who you thought might be Joel’s type that you wouldn’t vomit at the thought of seeing him with. “I think I have someone who will go for it. Next weekend?”

“Next weekend,” he confirmed and then laughed a little. “C’mon, don’t look so miserable about it. Whoever you end up with it’ll be better than fuckin’ Brad.”

“Gale,” you corrected again and then slumped forward until your forehead was pressed into Joel’s shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms gently around you. “This sucks. I got married so I wouldn’t have to date anymore. This is bullshit, I want a refund.”

He laughed once.

“Don’t think that’s how it works, Goldie,” he said, giving you a little squeeze. “Refund part, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’d just like the best years of my life back.”

Joel was quiet for a moment, one hand finding a gentle, easy path over your back.

“Come on,” he said eventually. “You feel tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Assuming you mean here at this point?”

He scoffed.

“Ship sailed on you goin’ home hours ago,” he said. “I know who I’m dealing with.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You pulled away from him slowly and followed him up to his room. He loaned you a t-shirt and you got changed in his bathroom, taking your makeup off as best you could with the world’s most basic facial scrub and water before going to find him in bed. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up at you for a moment when you came in and looked back at his phone for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, his mouth open slightly.

You frowned.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, plugging his phone in and putting it face down on his nightstand. “Just forgot what shirt I gave you.”

You looked down at it, a faded shirt from the Houston Space Center. You frowned for a moment.

“Was this from when we went when we were kids?” You laughed. “On a field trip?”

“It is,” he said. “I wanted something that would fit as I was bulking up. Might have been a bit ambitious on the size…”

“You’ll have to model it for me sometime,” you said, climbing into bed next to him. He turned out the lamp and you heard him lay down. You gave him a second to adjust before you slipped against his side, his arm gong around you. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead as your cheek found its place on his chest.

“You’re sure about this dating thing?” You asked quietly into the dark. He was so warm next to you. Warm and big and firm and safe. You tried not to think about how desperately you wanted him to say no, in fact, he wasn’t sure. That all he was sure of was that he wanted you.

He sighed instead.

“Think so,” he said.”You really that worried about it?”

You shrugged against him.

“Goldie.”

“Just…” you sighed. “I fucked up one marriage already. Why should I think I’ll get it right next time?”

“You realize that shit isn’t all on you, right?” He asked. “I don’t even know what happened but… I can just about promise that it’s not all on you. Be surprised if any of it is. You gotta stop letting that asshole determine your whole life, Goldie. He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, moving closer to him. “You’re probably right.”

Joel made sure both of you were up before Sarah in the morning, sparing you both from any of her prying questions, and you spent the morning with them before going home again and trying to write but getting nowhere. You wasted hours on an outline this time before hating the story so much that it made your stomach clench to even look at it. It was so pathetic, a lost woman clinging to a past lover so hard that she couldn’t chart a path forward, and you couldn’t seem to chart a way toward a satisfying end. You started a fire in your fireplace for the first time just so you could burn the paper you’d wasted on this one. You had a glass of wine as you watched the flames devour it, ash floating to the hearth like snow, white and dead.

Part of it, you were sure, was the fact that you were dreading the idea of talking with Natalie, the adjunct you were going to try to set up with Joel. She’d like him. Of course she’d like him. It was Joel, everyone liked Joel, that was the problem. She’d like him and you’d have to sit there and watch him like her. Love her, eventually. If not her then someone else. You hadn’t been able to handle that when you were 18 and the fact that you were in your 30s now didn’t seem to have changed much. That’s part of why you’d done what you’d done after prom. A small part, perhaps, but a part.

But you were a grown up now, no longer a girl trying to find her way through the maze of the adult reality you found yourself thrust into. Things were going to be different this time.

They had to be.

May 2008, the Tuesday after prom

“Honey?”

You could hear the frown in your mom’s voice as you stumbled to your bedroom.

“That you?”

You caught yourself on the door frame. Your head was still spinning, why was it still spinning? It felt like you were going to throw up.

“Yeah,” you managed. “Just me.”

“You’re home early,” she said, her voice closer. “No Joel today?”

“No,” you said, hoping you sounded normal. “No Joel today.”

“Oh,” she sounded surprised. “Hungry? I can make you something…”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just… tired. Going to lie down, I think.”

You didn’t wait for a response, just going in your room and closing the door behind you. Your walls were covered in movie posters, the faces of strangers you felt like you knew through their films an odd comfort as you sat on the edge of your bed.

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

That’s what he’d said. Anyone else. Anyone but you.

You weren’t sure how long you stared into space. How were you supposed to face him now? How were you supposed to go back to your life now?

You’d never been a particularly social person - writing all the time didn’t lend itself to vibrant friendships - but Joel had been your person for almost three years. He was who you had, who you told everything to, who you wanted to do everything with. Leaving him behind was going to be the hardest part of going away to school - so hard that part of you was still in denial that it would work that way at all. Part of you thought that he’d find some way to come with you over the summer and it’d be the two of you against the world the way it seemed like it always had been.

But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want you.

I wish it were anyone else.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, your voice wet.

Graduation was soon but it was still three weeks out. Three torturous weeks of being next to the person you loved most in the world when they didn’t love you, not really, not at all.

You weren’t sure how long you stared at the wall when it occurred to you.

You forced your body to move, joints stiff, and went to your computer, scrolling back through your email history to one from Dr. Gale Newton. An invitation to a summer creative writing workshop, one you’d decided to pass on because it meant leaving Joel months earlier. You hadn’t been ready for that before. You’d gone about checking with your counselor at school to see if it was even possible before deciding you weren’t ready for it.

You were ready now.

You called the number in his email signature and the phone rang twice before a woman answered.

“Dr. Newton’s office,” she said. “This is Florence.”

“Hi Florence,” you said, sniffing a bit, hoping it didn’t sound like you’d been crying. “Is… um… Is Dr. Newton available?”

“I can check,” she said. “It’s a bit late in the day… Can I ask who’s calling and what this is about?”

You gave her your name and told her that you were a candidate for the summer program.

“Ah, right,” she said. “You were the one denial. Can’t say I remember that happening before! Let me see… yes, one moment, I’ll transfer you back.”

It didn’t take long. Dr. Newton answered on the first ring, saying your name before you had a chance to say anything at all.

“I was wondering if I’d get to speak with you directly,” he said. “I’ve never had a student turn down the intensive before.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” you said, voice trembling a little. “I thought I had some things I needed to finish up here before I moved but, as it turns out, I can come up sooner. I was wondering if my spot would still be available?”

“Well,” he sighed. You could hear the rustle of pages on his end. “The program did already start and you are the only incoming freshman I invited - your online portfolio was quite impressive - I wouldn’t want you to fall behind. How soon could you be here?”

“I could be there for the start of next week’s sessions,” you said. “And I can try to keep up with some work in the mean time if you want to email me some prompts or assignments…”

“No, no need for that,” he said. You heard the click of a mouse. “I’m going back over some of your work now, I think this will work fine for what we’re doing next week. There’s a short story here, Golden Boy, that we can workshop alongside the fresh pieces for the coming sessions.”

You quickly clicked over to the simple blog you’d made to showcase your writing for college applications. You scrolled past one of your senior portraits and bio at the top down to the work and found the story. You couldn’t remember if you’d put the whole piece up or just parts but it was the whole piece, one you’d written about Joel.

It’d be better if it were anyone else.

Your chest got tight.

“Perfect,” you said. “That’s great, thank you so, so much…”

“I hope to see some more dedication out of you when you arrive here,” he said, voice a little more stern now. “I reviewed your portfolio personally and you show a lot of promise but so does every student who comes through this program. If you’re not willing to make sacrifices and work for it, I can’t help you hone that raw skill into what it has the potential to become.”

“I understand,” you said quickly. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you think I need…”

“I’m willing to work with you one on one,” he said. “Get you caught up over the next few weeks, both because you missed some of the intensive but because you haven’t had any classes here yet. It’s going to be a lot of time and a lot of effort but I’m happy to put in the work if you’re willing to do the same. I expect you to be devoted to this program, do you think you can do that?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Absolutely.”

“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll email you my personal cell phone number, call me there when you get to town. I’ll make sure you get set up in your dorm and we can get to work. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you said, your eyes falling on a picture of you and Joel laughing on his couch that glared at you from its place next to your computer monitor. You turned it to face the wall. “Yes it does.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So we now know at least SOME of Bambi's side of the story. Not the whole of it yet but some!

What do you think? Teenaged overreaction? Totally makes sense? Neither? Both?

Also... I hope you caught that Gale had a picture of her before he met her and picked up on how much he'd selected her to be a pupil of particular interest from the get go. He's so slimy. Or, I hope he comes off that way, anyway. He's slimy in my head, at least!

Thank you, as always, for reading. I hope you're enjoying the ride as Joel and Goldie navigate their tangled friendship!

Love you!!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #slow burn #friends to lovers #halcyon

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lobstermobster-95 · 1 year ago

Text

Down in the Wicked Depths Below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Woe to the man

The dark-eyed sailor

Ship’s adrift

And the sea’s his jailor

Drag him down

Down, down, down

Down in the wicked depths below

Lost at sea, the sailor cried

I will not die

The sea shall bow to me

“That was quite a display,” Finnegrin said as he rummaged through the piles of assorted junk on his desk. His gruff voice drowning out the singing voices of the crew on deck. “All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.”

Callum looked away.

The tidebound captain wasn’t wrong. Seeing Rayla like that – writhing and screaming in pain, skin turning blue as if she were already dead – it did something to him. Just like it always did something to him when he thought he’d lost her.

That spell had simultaneously caused a pain in Callum that was so deep that he couldn’t think or see straight. He’d forgotten any spells or tricks that could have helped him and instead did the only thing he could think of.

It had at least been a solid hit – something his younger self would be in awe of for several reasons. A lot of good it had done him though.

At that moment, Callum caught sight of Bait’s empty cage and for a terrible, brief second, thought perhaps the little guy had already been cast into the depths. However, Finnegrin stepped aside and revealed the glow toad had been crammed into another smaller cage.

“What are you doing?” Callum asked, feeling confident he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t worry. The cage is for his protection,” the captain replied with a smug smile. “This way, he lures us a leviathan but doesn’t get eaten.”

He crossed the room and stood before Callum, looking down at him with the black-hearted confidence of a man who had spilled more than his fair share of blood. “The one getting thrown into the sea serpent’s hungry mouth is your elf girl.”

He may as well have been strapped to an anchor and dropped into the sea for how quickly Callum became submerged in the crushing weight of dread and panic. He struggled against the chains that bound him to the post, but there was no give.

He couldn’t lose Rayla. Not again. Not ever again.

“No, no wait!” The words leapt from his tongue without his consent. “A dying breath, blood filled with hatred, and a unicorn horn. That’s the dark magic you want. Just…just let her go.”

They could deal with the ramifications. They would find a way to protect Domina Profundis, but Callum had to protect Rayla first.

A beat passed as Finnegrin paused in the doorway before he began to click his tongue in disappointment like a parent about to scold their child. “Oh, my poor lad,” he said. “That deal was no longer on the table.” He chuckled, pulling the door open and quickly disappearing through it, leaving Callum alone as he sunk even deeper into despair.

“No!” He called out to no avail. “No!”

Again he struggled and again the chains around his wrists did not budge.

Hot tears began cutting their way down his cheeks. This was really it. Rayla would die and a piece of him would die right alongside her. They had only just begun to truly mend their relationship. The last few weeks began replaying in Callum’s mind

Staying in his and Ez’s old, adjoining rooms had been his idea. After Umber Tor, he’d shed the last piece of the already-cracked and crumbling armor he’d built around his heart over the last two years. He’d opened himself back up to her, and it was wonderful. They’d often stayed up late during those nights, fretting over Ezran and the others or just talking like they used to.

Then they’d traveled to Lux Aurea, retracing the steps they’d taken together on that first world-changing journey. The route had been easier this time. There was no dragon egg to hide and protect, no duplicitous aid from Soren and Claudia, and no race to outrun an impending battle with Viren’s corrupted army.

And with the border open, the route itself had become more traveled, leading to amenities like the inn they’d stayed at. Seeing Rayla happy and at peace that night had filled Callum’s heart in a way it hadn’t been in two years. He’d wanted to kiss her again, to hold her and tell her he loved her.

Now he desperately wished he had.

He could hear shouts and thuds from above him and his heart began to pound. He didn’t have much time.

Looking around for something, anything he could use to free himself, Callum spotted it. The slug Finnegrin had offered as a dark magic conduit.

No. No he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He’d sworn to himself that he would never do dark magic again. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. He’d vowed to write his own destiny.

…But what would that destiny look like without Rayla?

The question seared his heart like a brand because he knew the answer immediately. Without Rayla, he had no destiny. If he allowed her to die when there was something, anything , he could have done to save her, the anguish would fester in his body like a blight and consume him from the inside out.

He would do anything for her.

Anything.

Pulling against the chains one last time, Callum reached out and grabbed the slug.

The sunrise was beautiful, almost mockingly so after all that had happened the night before.

Callum sat at the base of the mast, feeling no modicum of triumph or elation at their victory. He felt like a liar, a sham. He was the first human mage to do primal magic and still he’d resorted to dark magic.

He thought he was better than this. But was he? Was he any better than Viren or Claudia if he would dirty his hands with the lives of innocent creatures if pushed far enough?

“So…” Came a voice through the fog. “Two primal sources? Now you’re just getting greedy, mister mage.”

Callum saw Rayla as she sat down next to him, felt the warmth of her living, breathing body, but he didn’t feel any less ashamed. If she knew what he’d done to save her, she’d be disgusted and furious, as she should be.

“Callum, are you okay?”

Was he? He let the question sink deep before nodding his head and letting his eyes finally unfocus from the abyss he’d been staring into.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling a smile up along with him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I am.”

He looked at Rayla as she smiled back at him, his heart feeling full and complete as she brought a hand up to his cheek.

“I’m glad,” she said softly.

She pulled him into a hug and Callum felt guilt wrap itself around him along with her arms. Below them, somewhere in the guts of the hull, two dark magic snakes now slithered and slunk because he’d brought them to life.

He’d broken his oath, and as Rayla sighed contentedly, holding Callum like she had when they’d first fallen in love, he knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat to save her.

And that’s what scared him more than anything.

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #tdp season 5 #rayllum #angst #i wasnt ready #stayed up all night #ahhhh

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noforkingclue · 1 year ago

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A Thief Through Time Chapter 14

Fifteenth Doctor- Reunion

A Thief Trough Time tag list: @littlemisslonely721, @kenzieeclark, @soggumm, @skyeofbees

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

It wasn’t the first time the Doctor had kissed but this felt somehow… different.

You barely had time to react before the Doctor had leapt across the TARDIS and pressed you against the door. You blinked in confusion before the Doctor cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. Your hands flew to his shoulder and you closed your eyes as you lost yourself to the sensation. When the Doctor broke the kiss you let out a frustrated noise and leant in closer. The Doctor smirked as your reaction and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Someone missed me.” You said teasingly

“Always do, love.”

That nickname shouldn’t make you feel like that. The Doctor wrapped his arms around you and brought you tightly against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes. You let yourself get lost in the sensation for a second and then you looked up. The Doctor looked down at you and you quickly broke eye contact. You glanced around and said,

“Gone old school I see?”

“You like it.”

“Yeah.”

The Doctor gave you one last squeeze and, almost reluctantly, broke the hug. His hands moved to your shoulders and he gave you a soft smile. You quickly looked away, still not used to the fondness in his gaze. A cough snapped the two of you out of your bubble and the Doctor spun around to face his companion.

“I thought you said you didn’t have anyone.” She said with a smirk

“Ah, yeah, well,” the Doctor wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you tightly against him, “Rube, y/n. Y/n, Ruby.”

You smiled and nodded, not bothering to tell the Doctor that you already knew. Besides, he was probably already aware. Time travel could be confusing at times even for other time travellers. You hadn’t realised that the Doctor had led you further into the TARDIS until you were by the console. Ruby’s smirk seemed to widen when the Doctor pressed another brief kiss against your temple.

“Got to do something quickly,” he said, “won’t be long, ok?”

“I’m more than capable of looking after myself.” You said

“I know.”

There was a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in the Doctor’s voice. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as he disappeared into the TARDIS. You whistled a tune as you walked about the TARDIS console, ignoring Ruby’s pointed stare.

“So,” she said eventually, “you and the Doctor.”

“Me and the Doctor.”

“The two of you are…”

“Friends.”

“Friends don’t kiss each other,” she said teasingly, “and especially not like that.”

“We’re very good friends.”

“Is that how you greet each other on your planet?”

“Our planet,” you gave Ruby a shocked looked, “do I look like a time lord.”

Ruby shrugged and opened her mouth to say something but a sudden shout and crash from the Doctor cut her off. She gave you a pained look and ran off after him. You smiled and folded your arms as you leant against the console.

“Hello old girl, missed me?” you said

The TARDIS gave a familiar hum and you patted the console. You looked over as you heard running footsteps and the Doctor skidded into view. He beamed at you and ran over. He once again pressed his lips against yours and pressed you against the console.

“Missed you,” he said against your lips, “stay a bit longer this time? For me?”

#fanfiction #doctor who #reader insert #the doctor #fifteenth doctor #the doctor x reader #fifteenth doctor x reader

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moeitsu · 9 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Welcome to Horseshoe Overlook

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 3 - The Suns Low Down The Sky

Arthur escorted Kate to Dutch’s tent first, where the other gang members looked on curiously. Jack leapt into his mother's arms, as she eyed the mystery woman who rode in with her son. Arthur explained the situation to Dutch, introducing Kate as a traveler heading west, planning to stay for only a few days.

“Nonsense!” Dutch laughed heartily. “Drifter, outcast, or outlaw, whatever you may be, Miss McCanon, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. We only ask that you pitch in with meals and chores.” He smiled, taking a puff from his cigar.

Kate nodded gratefully. “That's very kind of you, Mr. Van der Linde,” she replied.

“Please, call me Dutch,” he insisted. Kate reciprocated the informalities.

Dutch continued, “Arthur, show our new friend here where she can settle her things. Then come find me afterward; I’d like to discuss these Pinkertons you’re so worked up about.” He spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.

Arthur led Kate to a small clearing next to the ladies' tents, where they whispered among themselves. Though Kate felt like an outcast among the group, she hoped to get to know them better, especially the other women. It had been a long time since she’s had the company of fellow girls. Even though she was still unsure about just how long she would remain here.

“You get yourself settled,” Arthur said warmly, “I’m gonna go speak with Dutch. I’ll come find you for dinner.” He bid her farewell, Kate nodded and set to work unpacking her few belongings—a tent cloth, bedroll, and a small bag of clothes. She chose to travel light, since she had no wagon to pull.

From the adjacent tent, two heads peeked out with nervous giggles. One woman had a head full of curls and a face full of freckles, while the other was dark-skinned and wore a vibrant yellow dress. They whispered amongst each other before addressing Kate.

“Hello,” Kate said, feeling a hint of sudden nervousness, it really had been awhile since she was around so much company.

“Hi Miss,” said the curly-haired girl, “are you Arthur’s new mistress?” She asked with a giggle.

Kate’s eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks tinted red, she hadn't thought about what the situation looked like to the other members. A strange woman riding in with one of the men, of course they would think she was a prostitute. Yet she was a little flattered, she did not feel nearly as pretty enough to be considered as such.

Kate used to be all “ladylike” back in the days when she was tending to her husband and daughter. But she's always been more on the rugged side, she stood about 5 foot 10 inches, and had wide shoulders and thick thighs like sturdy tree trunks. All the years on the open plains she's gained muscle in places she didn't even know she had. But the beginning of her journey west is what really hardened her, she shuddered at the memory.

“No, no, I assure you it’s nothing like that,” she clarified. .

“Oh, quit it, Mary-Beth,” the girl in yellow scolded, stepping out from the tent. “My name's Tilly. Nosey Nelly over here is Mary-Beth.”

Kate chuckled softly, relieved by Tilly's playful interruption. "Nice to meet you both," she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm Kate. And no, I'm not Arthur's mistress. Just passing through, like he said.” She restated, taking a good look at the two girls, she noticed they were incredibly young. Tilly couldn't be much older than 18, and Mary-Beth only looked a handful of years older. The faces were full of youth, and eyes still bright with hopes and dreams. She wondered how two beautiful young women ended up with a gang of outlaws. She prayed it was nothing nefarious.

Mary-Beth blushed, realizing her bluntness. "Sorry about that," she mumbled sheepishly.

Tilly waved off the apology with a grin. "Don't mind her. She's a hopeless romantic always jumping to conclusions," she explained, shooting a teasing glance at her friend.

"It's alright," Kate assured them, continuing to unpack her belongings. "I'm just grateful for a place to rest for a few days."

"Well, you're welcome here," Tilly said warmly. "We might be a ragtag bunch, but we look out for each other." The girls smiled in unison. It was clear they were eager to make a new friend.

Kate nodded, feeling a sense of security and camaraderie with the girls already. "Thank you Tilly. I really appreciate it."

“Can we introduce you to the others?” Mary-Beth inquired. Kate put down the bed roll she was spreading out and wiped her hands. She took a look around the camp and saw people milling about doing all sorts of activities. Some were cooking, some cleaning, others sat by a fire while two played dominos at a nearby table. She couldn't see him, but she knew Arthur would be inside the large canvas tent with Dutch and Hosea discussing the encounter by the river.

“That would be nice,” she answered with a nod. Mary-Beth lept at the opportunity and linked her arm with Kates, the gesture took her by surprise.

“Oh, it's so nice to have another woman around here. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the girls first,” Mary-Beth exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

Kate couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm; this was slowly becoming exciting for her too. Together, the three of them strolled a short distance to a larger tent near a crackling fire. Jack sat on the ground, drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick, his eyes lighting up when they approached. Kate recognized the woman beside him as his mother from their earlier encounter. She wore a worn blue dress covered by a long plaid-brown trench coat, busy sewing Jack's sleepwear.

“Hello, Miss,” Kate greeted politely, acknowledging Abigail's tired smile. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your boy already. He's a wonderful kid.”

Abigail nodded gratefully, the weariness evident in her eyes. “Jack told me all about his adventures,” she paused her sewing to shake Kate's hand. “I’m Abigail.”

Kate returned the handshake warmly. “It's a pleasure, Abigail.”

As they moved on, Mary-Beth leaned close to Kate's ear, her voice hushed. “Abigail’s been under a lot of pressure lately,” she confided. “Her husband, well, I guess they're not technically married. Anyways, John hasn’t been the best father to Jack. She worries about her boy a lot.”

Kate's sympathy for Abigail deepened. Motherhood was challenging, even under the best circumstances, and she couldn't imagine the strain of raising a child in their risky situation. She wondered if this had anything to do with why Arthur took Jack fishing. Maybe he was trying to give his mother a break. She hoped to offer her support to Abigail when the opportunity arose.

Approaching the tree line, they encountered a blonde woman holding a rifle, evidently on guard duty. Kate noted the caution in her stance, understanding their wariness toward strangers.

“Well, who do we have here?” the woman greeted, her tone wary.

Mary-Beth took the lead in introducing Kate. “This is Kate, she’s our newest member!” she announced.

Karen eyed Kate suspiciously, her grip on the rifle tightening slightly. “Newest member, huh?” she said bluntly.

Kate raised her hands in a friendly gesture. “I’m just passin’ through, only staying for a night or two,” she explained. “I’m uh - a friend of Arthur’s.” She wasn't sure why the words came out so strange.

“I’m Karen,” she replied tersely. “Sorry if we don't take kindly to strangers. It's been real hard these past couple weeks.” Mary-Beth nodded in agreement. “I best get back to my lookout, holler when dinners ready.” She added, turning around and heading back into the thicket of trees.

As they returned to camp, the aroma of meat stew filled the air, and the fire crackled brighter with the encroaching darkness. People began claiming their seats by the fire's warm glow. Kate scanned the camp but saw no sign of Arthur, she figured he must still be with Dutch. She hoped he was alright after his encounter with the Agents, though she understood his agitation. If he truly was an outlaw, then any government official would probably trigger his flight or fight. She wanted to ask him about it, and ask him what happened.

She longed to hear his side of the story, but she knew it wasn't her place to pry. If he chose to confide in her, she would listen eagerly. After all, sharing stories was what kept her journey alive, each encounter offering a new perspective and enriching her travels. In return, she kept their memory alive, as they lived on through her.

As Mary-Beth led her to a spot by the fire, a formidable older woman with a head full of gray hair strode over, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Mary-Beth, I swear to the Lord above if those clothes aren’t washed by tomorrow morning I will—” she halted mid-sentence, her gaze landing on Kate. “Oh, hello dear. Who might you be?” Straightening her dress and tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she composed herself before the stranger.

“Miss Grimshaw, this is Kate McCanon. She’s going to be staying for a few days,” Mary-Beth introduced, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

Kate realized that Miss Grimshaw must be the matriarch of the camp, responsible for keeping things in order. She offered a warm smile. “It's a pleasure, Miss Grimshaw,” she said, extending her hand for a shake. “I’m very grateful to be welcomed here. Whatever you need me to do will be done, be it cleaning, cooking, hunting—you name it. Anything I can do to repay the kindness.”

Miss Grimshaw seemed pleased by Kate’s graciousness. “Well, my oh my, if only the other girls had as much responsibility as you, young lady, then maybe we wouldn’t be living in this dump,” she chuckled. “Well, enjoy your evening, dear. The work can wait until tomorrow.”

Kate nodded her thanks, noting Mary-Beth's subtle eye-roll as Miss Grimshaw walked away. As the dinner bell rang, a heavyset man by the chuck wagon announced that dinner was ready. Mary-Beth informed Kate that he was Mr. Pearson, the camp cook.

The two of them lined up and filled their bowls, then settled by the fire. Kate found herself between Mary-Beth and Tilly, enjoying the warmth and the chatter of the camp. As the commotion continued, she spotted three men emerging from Dutch’s large tent. Among them was Arthur, making his way over to join them at the fire.

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Arthur left Dutch’s tent feeling irritated. He laid out the entire situation to him and Hosea—the Pinkertons, Milton’s offer, everything. He stressed that they were being watched, that danger lurked closer than they might realize.

Dutch had questioned his decision to refuse the offer, which Arthur found absurd. Why would he betray his own for a deal with the devil? He was raised not to trust the government and this camp was the closest thing he had to a family, and he’d sooner face down the law than betray them.

The conversation echoed in his mind, “ What's our move, Dutch? ” Arthur had asked, desperation creeping into his voice. Dutch's response was predictably vague, “ We do nothing, son, ” he asserted, “ They want us scrambling, like headless chickens, but we will stand our ground. We just need a bit more cash, then we’ll set sail east. ” Hosea sighed in resignation—“ Have faith ,” Dutch added, as if it were a magic word.

Arthur had never once doubted Dutch or Hosea, they were the people who clothed him, fed him, and protected him from a very young age, but he was beginning to wonder when the robbing and running would end. They had already lost Mac, Davey, and young Jenny. This life was not a safe one, and everyday he wonders if it will be his last.

He bid them farewell and exited the tent, he made his way towards the fire and spotted Kate eating dinner and integrating herself with the gang. He noticed her smile as he tipped his hat in greeting, and sat on a log opposite from her.

“Looks like you've made yourself at home, Miss McCanon,” Arthur remarked with a friendly grin, not revealing any of the stress that weighed heavy on his shoulders.

“Kate,” she corrected him, casual and warm, “and yes, everyone's been lovely. I’m grateful for the company,” she replied, spooning up some stew.

“So, where is it you come from?” Lenny chimed in, initiating the conversation.

“I was born up north, near Boston. I lived there for about 20 years before traveling southwest,” she answered truthfully. Arthur noted this must be why her accent was different from most people around these parts.

“Long way from home!” Javier exclaimed, joining the conversation, “I’ve always wanted to see the north, I hear it's beautiful,” he looked up, picturing the image in his head.

Kate nodded and hummed an answer as she remembered her home, “it's very green and mountainous.”

Lenny’s voice chimed in again, “what brought you out this way? If ya dont mind me asking.” He said politely.

Kate inhaled a breath and shook her head slightly, “it's quite a long story. Suffice to say, there’s nothing left for me up there. Ain't got no family, no land or property.” She said as her expression darkened briefly.

“How come a pretty thing like you ain't married eh?” The Irish man, Sean, quipped from his seat across from her, his voice lubricated with ale. He was more than a little tipsy, already on his fourth beer of the night. Arthur tensed at his comment, Sean had a knack for stirring trouble with his loose tongue. To his surprise Kate laughed and met his banter with her own.

“Well, you see Sean, I’m just waiting for a man who can match my charm. But they seem as rare as a sober Irishman in a pub.” She shot back with a playful wink. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.

Sean let out a whooping laugh and slapped his leg, “oh she’s a feisty Lass!” he hollered, “what’s a woman like you doing with a grumpy old bastard like Arthur? Maybe you’d like to take your chances with a handsome young gentleman such as myself.” Sean shimmied his body insinuating something nefarious. Kate only laughed and shook her head.

Arthur couldn't help but join in, “I shoulda let you hang,” he said with a snicker, masking his annoyance, “and we met on a job a few weeks back. Ran into her again down by the river when I was fishin’ with the kid.” He explained, taking a swig of his drink, he didn't want Kate to think he had any ulterior motive based on Sean’s comment.

They continued to chat together, but the conversation shifted from being about Kate to whatever absurd tale Uncle was telling. Arthur’s peace was interrupted for the third time that day by the sound of hooves approaching.

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Kate leaned back against the log and placed her empty bowl beside her. Content after a warm hearty meal. She listened with content as the other members of the camp shared stories amongst each other.

Her gaze lingered over to Arthur, who seemed lost in thought whilst looking deep in the fire. He wrung his hands together and Kate noticed he did not grab dinner for himself. Before she could offer to fill him a bowl they all turned to the sound of hooves.

Three men were returning to camp, with a woman following behind them. She noticed, unlike the other ladies of the camp, the woman was wearing trousers, and carrying iron on her hip, she made a note to introduce herself later. Next to her, Tilly pointed out the new arrivals. The one with shaggy black hair was John, Jack’s father and Abigail’s not-so husband. He dismounted and immediately went to his tent, where Abigail was eating with Jack. The other two men were heavier, and rougher looking. Tilly said their names were Bill and Micah. The one called Bill helped himself to the stew, while the one she called Micah caught Dutch’s attention and they entered his tent together. That just left the woman, Tilly explained that she was a widow they rescued in the Grizzlies. O’Driscoll’s had killed her husband, and Micah accidently set her cabin aflame. She dismounted and pulled a white envelope from her satchel.

Approaching Arthur she held out the paper, “for you.” She said handing him the letter, “from a woman, uh, Mary Linton, I think.” He nodded and took the envelope, opening its contents. Kate was suddenly curious about this Mary woman.

The woman, Sadie, tipped her hat at Kate and Tilly before grabbing a bowl of stew and retreating back to her tent. A woman of few words, Kate recalled.

She tried to watch the fire and go back to listening to the stories, but her gaze lingered on Arthur, whatever this woman said in her letter gave him a sorrowful expression. Abruptly he stood up, shoving the paper in his back pocket, and walked away. Kate was a little disappointed he didn't say goodnight, or give any acknowledgement. She had the idea to bring him some food later to cheer him up.

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Over an hour had passed and Kate was confident she knew all the camp members now, after everyone shared tales and fun memories of one another. The only people missing were Charles, who Tilly informed her he often went out hunting, and Kieren, who hasn't really integrated himself with the others yet. It was getting late, and she needed to feed and tend to her horse before resting herself. She bid her farewell to everyone and made her way over to her beloved mare Lorena. Briefly stopping by her tent to grab an apple for her, and a peach for Arthur. She would have to pass his tent on her way, so she figured she would offer the food then, if he wasn't already asleep.

To her surprise he wasn't on his cot, perhaps he went for a ride she thought. She continued on to find her mare with the other gang's horses near the entrance to their camp. Lorena greeted her excitedly, it had only been a few hours since she last saw her, but her baby had always been clingy.

“How ya doin’ girl,” she cooed, scratching her snout. She reached around and undid the saddle strapped to her back, “let's get this heavy thing off ya so you can rest properly.” She said pulling the saddle down. Lorena let out a happy huff in response.

Kate reached into her satchel pulling out a small blade, she tenderly cut small pieces from the apple and fed them to her horse. While she fed her she sang a soft tune, almost like a lullaby, to ease her mares nerves and settle her in for the night.

This house, she’s holding secrets.

I got my change behind the bed,

In a coffee can I can throw my nickels in.

Just in case I have to leave.

She sliced another piece of the apple and Lorena lapped it from her hand, nudging her snout into Kate’s hair, making her laugh. She continued on with her song as the quiet of the night sang its own gentle tune.

I will go if you ask me to,

I will stay if you dare.

And I go, I’m goin’ shameless.

Let my hunger take me there.

Lorena let out a soft, breathy whinny, her body growing visibly relaxed. Kate watched the other horses as she sang, most of them paid her no mind, lazily grazing on the little tufts of grass that the overlook had to offer them. She noticed Arthur’s mare, Belle, standing near a tree about a yard away. She watched them wearily, probably interested in the apple Kate was feeding. She was a beautiful white Arabian, and a stark contrast to her own black beauty, as Arthur had called her.

She paused her tune and clicked her tongue, inviting his horse to join her. Lorena stomped a hoof in protest but Kate ignored. She wanted to feed his beautiful horse, and get to know her.

“Nice to see you again, pretty girl,” she said when Belle came around the tree she was hiding near. She cut another slice of the apple and Belle sniffed her palm before gently taking the piece from her.

While feeding the two horses and gently running her fingers through their manes, she finished her song.

I will go if you ask me to.

I will stay if you dare.

And if I go, I’m goin’ crazy.

Let my darlin’ take me there.

Kate doesn't remember how she discovered it, but since the day she’s had Lorena her voice always had an effect on her horse. Maybe it was because she was the first to show her mare kindness, being rescued as a young filly taken from her mother too soon. Kate had always been a bit of a singer, her father taught her to play guitar, and her mother would often sing lullabies to her siblings when they were little. She picked it up somewhere along the way in life, it was a comfort for her. One of the last things she has of her family was their love for music, and she always carried that with her.

“That was real pretty,” a rugged voice said from the ground, a few feet away from where Kate stood. She yelped and jumped back, in the moonlight she could just barely make out Arthur’s figure resting against the tree that Belle had been standing by.

“Arthur, you scared the shit out of me! I’m surprised Lorena didn’t take off again!” She scolded. Grabbing her mare’s reins as if she were about to bolt.

He chuckled and stood up, brushing his jeans, “well Lorena already knew I was here,” he said in a hushed voice, almost teasing.

Kate blushed and realized he was right, the horses knew he was there, she was the one who didn't look down. “Sorry,” she admitted, “but you really did scare the daylight out of me,” she laughed, feeling less embarrassed now. “I um, noticed you didn't have dinner with us tonight,” she said changing the subject.

Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “uh yeah, just wasn't hungry is all.” He said bluntly.

“Are you alright?” Kate asked flat-out, Arthur blinked in surprise at her question, “the letter you received earlier, I noticed it made you upset.” She explained.

Arthur let out a breath, “oh that, it’s…complicated,” he admitted.

“I see. I won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, reaching into her satchel and pulling out the fresh peach she had brought him. “I brought you a snack, in case you were hungry. I was gonna bring it to your tent but you weren’t there,” she smiled handing him the treat.

Arthur’s heart leapt at the gesture. It had been a long time since someone paid attention to him like this. Sure everyone at the camp always asks how he is or how his day went, what he’s up to and what not. Aside from his short talks with Tilly and Mary-Beth. The rest of the gang never seemed to notice when he doesn't eat, or when he’s not at camp. When he was in a sour mood they avoided him like the plague, and when he was upset Dutch would just say, “chin up, boy.” He was the right hand man of the gang leader, but he always felt invisible. Like he was nothing more than a big dumb strong arm.

“That really for me?” He said, unable to hide the smile in his voice, “peaches ain’t even in season, where'd you get this?”

“A man from Georgia came through Emerald ranch the other day, he was selling a bunch of fruit so I bought some peaches,” she explained. She went back to cutting slices of her apple and feeding them to Lorena.

Arthur held the peach in his hands as if he were admiring the plushy soft flesh, “thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Don't mention it,” she replied warmly. Arthur held the peach and watched Kate feed her horse while he stroked his mare with his free hand.

“I meant what I said earlier, ‘fore I scared you,” he said quietly, “the song, well, your voice, is real pretty,” he complimented again.

Kate laughed quietly, “thank you Arthur, It's something I've always found comfort in.”

“I heard you singin’ for her when we was back at Emerald ranch,” he continued, “you must have a special bond with that horse.” He looked at Lorena who was breathing quietly and closing her eyes as Kate scratched under her jaw.

“Lorena and I have a complicated history,” she began, “she was just a filly when I got her, scared and alone, and I was, well I was pretty much the same,” she added quietly, not wanting to reveal too much emotion in her tone, “I guess her and I needed each other more than we realized.”

Arthur sensed her discomfort and began telling her about his own mare, “well that's more than I can say about Belle,” he started with a half laugh to ease the tension, “She found me in the Grizzlies about a month ago, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place when,” he paused a moment and looked somber as he reflected on the memory, “when my old horse Bodasia didn't make it through the snow storm, I thought I was going to die too.” He patted Belle affectionately. “That's when she found me, I could barely make out between her white coat and the snow. But she wasn't scared of me, came right up to me as if she was sayin’ follow me, I’ll get you out of here .”

Kate watched as Arthur nuzzled his horse lovingly, it always warmed her heart to see people have such deep bonds with their horses. They were incredible animals, and very in tune with their owners' own emotions. For Belle to trust Arthur from the beginning, and stand by his side since, he must be a very special man.

“That's beautiful, she chose you Arthur. That bond is stronger than anything you could have bought from a stable or caught in the wild.” She said somberly.

Arthur nodded in agreement, the two tended to their horses in a comfortable silence. The sound of the night’s chorus around them.

After a moment, Arthur spoke up again, “the letter was from my old flame, Mary,” he began, his voice tinted with quiet sadness. Kate realized he was comfortable enough to open up to her about it, she dared not interrupt. “She's….she's askin’ for my help.”

“What kind of help?” Kate asked softly.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, “She's in a tough spot,” he explained, his gaze distant as he recounted Mary's plea for assistance. "Her family's facing trouble, and she's desperate for someone to turn to."

"Sounds like she trusts you," Kate remarked, offering him a sympathetic look.

Arthur nodded, his expression conflicted. "We had our moments," he admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "But things didn't end well between us."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she spoke.

He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting to the ground. "Yeah, well, sometimes things just don't work out the way we hope," he replied, his voice tinged with regret.

Kate could sense the weight of his words, the burden of past regrets bearing down on him. She reached out a hand, placing it gently on his arm in a gesture of comfort. "You can't blame yourself for everything, Arthur," she said softly. "People change, circumstances change. It's just a part of life."

For a moment, they sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the night enveloped them in its embrace. After a while, Arthur spoke up again, his tone more subdued. "I don't know what to do, Kate," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Part of me wants to help Mary, but another part...well, another part just wants to leave the past behind and move on."

Kate nodded sympathetically, understanding the internal struggle he was facing. "It's not an easy decision to make," she acknowledged. "But whatever you choose, just make sure it's what's best for you."

Arthur let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Yeah, easier said than done," he muttered, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"You'll figure it out, Arthur," she reassured him, her voice filled with conviction. "If life didn't give us second chances, then we would all be alone. We rely on each other, lean on each other, to make it through the tough times. Helping others isn't a weakness, it's a testament to our humanity. Even if they've hurt us in the past.”

Arthur offered her a grateful smile, "Thanks, Kate," he said softly, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I appreciate that more than you know."

With a nod of understanding, Kate squeezed his arm reassuringly before returning her attention to Lorena. Together, they sat in companionable silence, the sound of the forest as their backdrop. After a moment, Arthur retrieved the peach from his satchel, its juicy aroma filling the air as he bit into its sweet flesh. Lost in thought, his mind wandered to the woman who had unexpectedly entered his life and stirred emotions he thought long buried.

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