#also while i have been to that part of montana it was when i was about 7 years old

[piedoesnotequalpi]

ok for the au thing !! i got Western AU and Dark AU !!

Thank you for the ask! I got distracted talking to my partner!

Anyway a bunch of this is yoinked from a book series I never finished due to it being a bit too politically conservative for my tastes (specifically the book Nowhere to Run) and I also spent far too much time browsing Wikipedia for locations. Not sure if this is what is meant by "dark AU" but it's late at night so

TW for some mild gore and death

Carbon County (MT; there's also one in Wyoming) game warden Jack Kelly was reassigned to temporarily work in Granite County, MT and he's finally almost due to go back to his normal post in Red Lodge. He'd left it in good hands--the Stillwater County game warden (Finch) and county sheriff (Charlie) have most of his duties covered and give him near-daily updates. But he'd rather be back in Red Lodge, where he knows most of the people and their habits and can use his friendship with Katherine, the editor-in-chief of the local newspaper, as an excuse to stop by the office and flirt with one of the staff writers.

However! The week before he's supposed to leave, he starts getting reports of disappearances and campsites being attacked and mysteriously murdered wildlife in Lolo National Forest, so he very reluctantly goes in to investigate. He has a penchant for getting caught up in far more murder mysteries than any self-respecting game warden should, so he's resigned himself to dealing with this nonsense yet again. On the other hand, despite the looming threat of who (or what) ever's behind all this, it is kind of nice to be out camping in the woods.

Jack had made plans with Sean Conlon, the game warden from the neighboring county, to separately make their way through the national forest (both on horseback) and meet somewhere in the middle, with the goal of covering more ground and hopefully finding more information about whatever's going on. But he's struggling to get a hold of Sean, so he resigns himself to investigating alone--he hasn't run into anyone so far--even though part of him knows he should turn back.

The day he decides to turn around, he finally finds Sean, accompanied by a backpacker with a mischievous smile who won't give his real name.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Sean says. "We have murders to prevent."

"I've been helping," the backpacker says. "We have murders to prevent."

Jack is skeptical of the backpacker, but he's annoyingly charming and Sean seems to trust him, so what else is he supposed to do? They start investigating together, and the backpacker, who still won't give them a name beyond "Racer" and won't say where he's from beyond the UP ("What's that? The Union Pacific?" it's the Upper Peninsula of Michigan but Jack and Sean haven't paid enough attention to Michigan to realize that), brings them to a campsite, where they find a whole bunch of dead elk and also the bodies of a couple of the people who have gone missing. There aren't a ton of clues, but it's the first new information they've gotten the whole time, so they're feeling a little better about the whole thing. Being game wardens, they're used to seeing dead animals, but the decomposing human bodies are a little (a lot) unsettling.

The problem is, when they try to signal the local authorities with the location of the campsite, their radios keep running into technical difficulties. Racer seems unbothered by the whole thing, weirdly, but they decide to note the coordinates as best they can, keep going, and see if they can find anything else.

The thing is, Jack and Sean have been feeling the effects of all this time outside--they're getting sunburnt, they have scrapes everywhere, and they're definitely going to need a shower when they get back. After they find the campsite, they start to notice that Racer is as pale and clean and un-scratched as he was when they first met. And now that they think of it, they haven't seen him eat or drink anything the whole time he's been traveling with them...

And now they're in the middle of nowhere together, with malfunctioning communication gear, and it's been a week since they entered the national forest, and they haven't encountered any other living humans during that time.

#the UP thing is directly from nowhere to run and as someone who knows exactly what the UP is i found it very funny #anyway dm me if you want to know where i got the inspiration for race from #since it's kind of a spoiler to one of the best plot twists i've ever read #newsies #newsies au #jack kelly #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #ask game #jac :) #my posts #hope you enjoy this! i forgot how hard it is to come up with stuff based on prompts but this was fun #i probably won't write it though since i'm not great at settings and have the bachelorette au to work on #also while i have been to that part of montana it was when i was about 7 years old #so i'm fuzzy on the details #my dad is actually from wyoming/idaho/montana but i haven't been back in a while and i miss it :( #asks #still through the leaves

[reasonsforhope]

Article Link

"Minnetonka first started selling its “Thunderbird” moccasins in 1965. Now, for the first time, they’ve been redesigned by a Native American designer.

It’s one step in the company’s larger work to deal with its history of cultural appropriation. The Minneapolis-based company launched in the 1940s as a small business making souvenirs for roadside gift shops in the region—including Native American-inspired moccasins, though the business wasn’t started or run by Native Americans. The moccasins soon became its biggest seller.

[Photo: Minnetonka]

Adrienne Benjamin, an Anishanaabe artist and community activist who became the company’s “reconciliation advisor,” was initially reluctant when a tribal elder approached her about meeting with the company. Other activists had dismissed the idea that the company would do the work to truly transform. But Benjamin agreed to the meeting, and the conversation convinced her to move forward.

“I sensed a genuine commitment to positive change,” she says. “They had really done their homework as far as understanding and acknowledging the wrong and the appropriation. I think they knew for a long time that things needed to get better, and they just weren’t sure what a first step was.”

Pictured: Lucie Skjefte and son Animikii [Photo: Minnetonka]

In 2020, Minnetonka publicly apologized “for having benefited from selling Native-inspired designs without directly honoring Native culture or communities.” It also said that it was actively recruiting Native Americans to work at the company, reexamining its branding, looking for Native-owned businesses to partner with, continuing to support Native American nonprofits, and that it planned to collaborate with Native American artists and designers.

Benjamin partnered with the company on the first collaboration, a collection of hand-beaded hats, and then recruited the Minneapolis-based designer Lucie Skjefte, a citizen of the Red Lake Nation, who designed the beadwork for another moccasin style and a pair of slippers for the brand. Skjefte says that she felt comfortable working with the company knowing that it had already done work with Benjamin on reconciliation. And she wasn’t a stranger to the brand. “Our grandmothers and our mothers would always look for moccasins in a clutch kind of situation where they didn’t have a pair ready and available to make on their own—then they would buy Minnetonka mocs and walk into a traditional pow wow and wear them,” she says. Her mother, she says, who passed away in 2019, would have been “immensely proud” that Skjefte’s design work was part of the moccasins—and on the new version of the Thunderbird moccasin, one of the company’s top-selling styles.

[Photo: Minnetonka]

“I started thinking about all of those stories, and what resonated with me visually,” Skjefte says. The redesign, she says, is much more detailed and authentic than the previous version. “Through the redesign and beading process, we are actively reclaiming and reconnecting our Animikii or Thunderbird motif with its Indigenous roots,” she says. Skjefte will earn royalties for the design, and Minnetonka will also separately donate a portion of the sale of each shoe to Mni Sota Fund, a nonprofit that helps Native Americans in Minnesota get training and capital for home ownership and entrepreneurship.

Some companies go a step farther—Manitobah Mukluks, based in Canada, has an Indigenous founder and more than half Indigenous staff. (While Minnetonka is actively recruiting more Native American workers, the company says that employees self-report race and it can’t share any data about its current number of Indigenous employees.) Beyond its own line of products, Manitobah also has an online Indigenous Market that features artists who earn 100% of the profit for their work.

White Bear Moccasins, a Native-owned-and-made brand in Montana, makes moccasins from bison hide. Each custom pair can take six to eight hours to make; the shoes cost hundreds of dollars, though they can also be repaired and last as long as a lifetime, says owner Shauna White Bear. In interviews, White Bear has said that she wants “to take our craft back,” from companies like Minnetonka. But she also told Fast Company that she doesn’t think that Minnetonka, as a family-owned business, should have to lose its livelihood now and stop making moccasins.

The situation is arguably different for other fashion brands that might use a Native American symbol—or rip off a Native American design completely—on a single product that could easily be taken off the market. Benjamin says that she has also worked with other companies that have discontinued products.

She sees five steps in the process of reconciliation. First, the person or company who did wrong has to acknowledge the wrong. Then they need to publicly apologize, begin to change behavior, start to rebuild trust, and then, eventually, the wronged party might take the step of forgiveness. Right now, she says, Minnetonka is in the third phase of behavior change. The brand plans to continue to collaborate with Native American designers.

The company can be an example to others on how to listen and build true relationships, Benjamin says. “I think that’s the only way that these relationships are going to get any better—people have to sit down and talk about it,” she says. “People have to be real. People have to apologize. They have to want to reconcile with people.”

The leadership at Minnetonka can also be allies in pushing other companies to do better. “My voice is important at the table as an Indigenous woman,” Benjamin says. “Lucie’s voice is important. But at tables where there’s a majority of people that aren’t Indigenous, sometimes those allies’ voices are more powerful in those spaces, because that means that they’ve signed on to what we’re saying. The power has signed on to moving forward and we agree with ‘Yes, this was wrong.’ That’s the stuff that’s going to change [things] right there.”"

-via FastCompany, February 7, 2024

#indigenous #indigenous artists #indigenous art #moccasins #thunderbird #native american #native american art #cultural appropriation #indigenous peoples #cultural representation #minnesota #minnetonka #minneapolis #red lake nation #ojibwe #anishinaabe #reconciliation #fashion #fashion news #good news #hope #indigenous designers #native artist #indigenous artist

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six. 

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile. 

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled. 

“It’s okay,” you said. 

But it wasn’t. Nothing was. 

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice. 

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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#It's Not Right But It's Okay #Take Me Home #Part 2 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #beau arlen x you #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

[avecra]

Not My Babe

summary: After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

pairing: biker!bucky x reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of toxic relationship, violence, alcohol, smoking, biker!bucky is also protective!bucky

a/n - the title and some dialogue is partly based on #icanteven by The Neighbourhood and French Montana, let me know if you guys want a part 2 :)

The smell of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey burned your nostrils all while you kept your hand encased with your best friend’s, following her into the packed bar. Rock music echoed against the walls, lyrics of Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith filled the air. You passed by a few people, before settling down at the far end of the bar.

You felt wildly out of place, glancing between the leather clad patrons and the grey sweater that sat over your shoulder. Nervously fiddling with your fingers, you saw Natasha plop herself on a stool next to you and place a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Relax, would you?” Her green eyes and soft smile seemed to relax you, but there was still an inkling feeling in the back of your head. “You are not together anymore, if he wants to make a big deal of you going out then he can talk to me.”

“Him being the horrid boyfriend, I presume?” You looked up at the sudden voice and smiled, seeing Sam Wilson behind the bar.

“Ex-boyfriend, actually,” Natasha cut in, a knowing smile, but you couldn’t even muster yourself to lift up the corner of your mouth.

Nearly two years was wasted, and you spent it chasing a man for affection that didn’t even care about you in the first place. A relationship that had started so beautifully, that had been filled with joy and happiness that had now developed into something that filled your days with misery.

Quentin Beck never showed you affection unless you were the one to initiate it, he never showed up on dates and when he did, he was always either staring down at his phone or up at a television set, watching whatever sports was on at the moment.

It didn’t just stop at that, though.

Continuous nights of coming home when it was nearing one or two in the morning, the stench of stale beer and the hint of floral perfume tearing you from your sleep as he slithered into bed. The times you questioned him about it, he brushed you off and told you in an annoyed voice, “Would you relax and stop being so dramatic? You were probably having another one of those dreams.”

Looking back, you put up a lot for a long time with him and his flaws. Always having to clean the apartment, do the dishes, the laundry, everything. Natasha had begged, practically pleaded you to leave and break up with him, but you always opposed that. He, unfortunately besides Natasha, was all you had. You had no one else.

Conversations about your relationship swirled between you and your best friend for months, until finally, you saw him kiss another woman’s neck in the small restaurant you had about to order from, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from how he gently held her waist and caressed her face when he moved to cup her cheek.

It physically hurt you.

Not the fact that your boyfriend was kissing another woman in a bar, but the fact that in the past year of your relationship, he ever showed you an ounce of the love and affection he showed her.

You finally decided that was the final straw and broke up with him the day after. Natasha and a few of her friends volunteered themselves to help move you out of his apartment and in with Natasha.

To say it had been a stressful past few weeks would be an understatement, dealing with moving and adjusting to a life without him, Natasha instead that the two of you meet up with her friends, to let yourself loose.

And now, you found yourself sitting in a bar surrounded by people who you had only met on a few occasions, but Natasha had told them enough to get a good read off of you.

“And I presume that’s a good thing?” Sam’s voice tore you out of your thoughts. Natasha nodded her head a little too enthusiastically and you moved your gaze to his and nodded. “Well, good riddance to his ass. What’s your drink, sugar?”

“I guess a vodka cranberry,” you replied, unsure if you really wanted it.

In all truth, Beck always seemed to discourage you whenever you ordered yourself anything remotely alcohol, he would advise you to take it easy and to order something else in a bitter tone. But Natasha knew you better than anyone else.

“No, give her a whiskey sour. I think she’ll like that,” She slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned her temple against yours. “I know it feels like everything is falling apart, but I’m really glad you’re here with me tonight. I missed my best friend.”  

The familiar sting of tears pricked at the back of your throat and you leaned into her embrace. Sam placed your drink on the napkin in front of you, handing Natasha a beer.

“I missed you, too, Nat.” you said back, taking your drink and clinked it against her bottle. You took a sip of your drink, and you looked at Sam with a gleam in your eyes. “Oh, I like that.”

“See? Don’t I know my friends?” The redhead smirked as she took a sip from her bottle, eyes glinting with excitement when she heard the deep familiar voice of the owner.

“Probably knows us all better than we know ourselves.”

You turned your head to see James, or Bucky as he liked to be called, walk up to the bar, several bottles of alcohol in hand as he began to stock the bar. Striking blue eyes met yours and he sent you a smile.

“The shipment just came in,” Bucky spoke to Sam. “Just stock it up in the freezer and Nat and Steve will go over the inventory tomorrow morning.”

Sam nodded and looked to Natasha, nudging his head to the back, where the inventory was waiting to be put away. Then, she turned to you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“You gonna be okay if I help Sam out?” she asked and you nodded, pushing out a smile for her. She squeezed your arm and murmured how she wouldn’t be long. You watched her until she disappeared into the back before returning your gaze to your drink.

From behind the bar, Bucky watched as you trailed a finger up the side of your glass, catching the condensation before it touched the bartop. He lifted up your drink and placed a napkin below and leaned his elbows against the counter.

Bucky had been one of the first to know of your messy breakup with Beck. Afterall, he and Sam were both sitting with Natasha in the near empty bar when you called her, crying and almost hyperventilating after a two hour screaming match with him.

He had driven his truck to the apartment you shared with Beck and watched as Natasha dashed out of the backseat to you, pulling you into her arms. A shared look with Sam and Natasha was leading you to the truck, helping you inside before rushing inside to pack you a bag of essentials, some things to hold you over until you could properly move out.

The tissues that sat unopened in his glove box were offered to you, and your glossy eyes met the soft hues of his blue ones and more tears filled your eyes. The night was a blur to you, but you could distinctly remember him getting out of the driver's seat to comfort you until Natasha returned.

It was the simple acts of kindness, like when he placed a hand on your trembling back, rubbing soothing circles across your tense shoulders. Or when he helped pack and move your belongings from Beck’s apartment to Natasha’s.

You had only known him for a few months, but he had shown you more care than Beck had in the two years together.

“How are you?” Bucky asked as you took another sip. You shrugged and propped your head up on the palm of your hand.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “One day I’m fine, the next day I just want to cry my eyes out for a guy who treated me like shit, now that I realize.” It never dawned on you how horribly he had treated you during your relationship. How he never liked you going out with Nat, or just going out in general unless it was with him. He could go out with his friends, but you had to stay home. He despised when you came home from work late, and would often pressure you into cooking even though you were exhausted. “I’m so stupid for staying with him for so long.”

You quickly downed the rest of your drink and winced at the sour taste before running the back of your hand over your forehead. The urge to cry tore its way through you, but you fought the desire.

Bucky placed a cup of water in front of you and  brushed his fingers lightly over your knuckles. “Please don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not stupid, don’t think that you are.”

His voice was soft, and though he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt with tattoos lining his arms, he was always gentle when he spoke to you. You had seen him get rousey and excited during football games shown at the bar, but even then, he still remained a gentle person.

Parts of you wished Beck could have been more like Bucky… or that Beck was Bucky. If Beck had been more like him, maybe you wouldn’t have been in a bar drinking your pain away, but you couldn’t change the past, though you desperately wish you could.

“You have such a beautiful personality, don’t let that asshole take that from you again. Don’t let him hurt you even more.” Blue eyes held so much intensity as they gazed into yours and you could feel your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said, mustering up a small smile. He winked at you and took your empty glass off the bartop and you asked, “can I have another?”

But Bucky was already a step ahead of you, placing a freshly made whisky sour in front of you. He watched you with a smile as you took a sip, sighing in content as the lemony alcohol satisfied the pain. “The guys and I have really enjoyed your company. We really like it when Nat invites you to the bar.”

You let out a hearty huff and smiled at him. “I like hanging out with you. I feel like I can… I can just finally be me.”

“It’s a good look on you,” Bucky said with a cheeky smile and he leaned forward. “But seriously, it doesn’t matter how long you stayed with him, or how poorly treated you. What matters is that you are away from him.” Tears gathered at your waterline. “Besides, you’re way too beautiful for him anyways. It’s his loss.”

You were at a loss for words, you couldn’t help the bashful smile and the heat that spread across your face like a wildfire. The way he spoke to you made your stomach flutter, the calm ocean blue of his eyes brought you to a safe place, away from all the toxicity you had faced.

“Thank you, James.” you whispered, blinking away the tears, though one escaped down your cheek. Before you could wipe it away, Bucky beat you to it, catching your tear with the pad of his thumb. He dropped his hand and brushed his fingers over the back of your hand and over your fingers.

As he was about to say something, a few patrons down the bar flagged for his attention. He nodded to them and turned back to you, pushing himself up from the bar. You watched him in content as he gave you a small smile and and you reached out and placed a hand over his tattooed wrist.

“I’ll be okay. Go help your customers,” you gently told him.

“I’ll only be a minute, doll,” He nodded and gave you one last smile before making his way down the bar. Your stomach fluttered at the nickname and you kept your eyes on his back until he was down at the other end of the bar, pouring whiskey into glasses and pulling out beer bottles from the cooler. You forced yourself to pull your gaze away from him, opting to swirl the straw around your drink.

Absorbing yourself in the atmosphere, you looked around, seeing how some patted each other’s back and laughed, some cheered to who knows what, and others placed bets on who would win in a game of pool.

Everyone knew each other around here, and the thought made your heart warm. The music wasn’t too bad either, as the jukebox played mostly classic rock, you still enjoyed it. The atmosphere in general you enjoyed.

You silently thanked Natasha in your head for dragging you tonight, though you had no interest originally, but being around Bucky and talking to him lifted your spirits. The thoughts of Beck and being with him instantly flew out of your mind.

Until you felt an all too familiar presence behind you, followed by the same nauseating stench of his cologne.

You turned around with wide eyes as you came face to face with your ex-boyfriend. Quentin Beck looked at you with an annoyed, malicious smirk. You couldn’t help but scoot closer to the bartop as his eyes raked over your form.

“What are you doing here?” You were the first one to speak, though your voice wavered. Your last encounter with him had been a two hour screaming match that left you sobbing and trembling.

Beck let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/n? Who the hell brings you to a place like this? I know we had our ups and downs, but really, a biker bar?”

Ups and downs? You swallowed thickly and stared back at him, biting your lip to ground yourself.

“Quentin, you cheated on me. With another woman. All the downs came from you, not me. We did not have ups and downs, you did,” you retorted, trying to hide the tremble in your hands. Your heart beated rapidly against your ribcage. “You can’t control where I go and who I go with anymore. You threw that away when you cheated.”

“For the love of-”

“Did it make you feel bad when you cheated on me? Did I even cross your mind for a second? Did those years mean nothing to you?” you spewed, and he stood with wide eyes that began to fill with anger. “You’re gonna say I’m overreacting even though you know I am right.”

Brown eyes flared with anger and he reached out and grasped your bicep tightly, pulling you up from your seat. You quickly pushed him a few feet away and looked for Bucky down at the end of the bar, but dread sank in your stomach as you found the space vacant. Beck grabbed you again, this time with a much firmer grip on your wrist.

“You keeping talking like that and I swear to god Y/n, I’ll-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Beck was ripped away and the tight grip on your wrist was released. Wide eyes focused on Bucky’s back as he stood himself in front of you, acting as a shield from Beck.

Patrons paid Bucky no attention, merely moving out of the way to give him more area. Beck, who had landed on his rear, pushed himself up to his feet and stood up to meet Bucky, unprepared for the height advantage Bucky had on him.

“Oh please, Quentin, I beg you to finish that sentence. ‘Cause that’ll give me just about another reason to beat the living shit out of you,” Bucky announced to him, piercing blue eyes narrowed on him.

Your shaking hand touched Bucky’s black shirt, and he immediately snuck a hand behind his back  and you quickly latched onto his hand. Beck noticed, it only made him angrier.

“You talk about me cheating, bitch? Yet here you are, giving yourself to a biker nonetheless, whore.” You trembled at his venom laced words.

Bucky’s hand was ripped out of yours and you looked up to see Bucky punch Beck right in the nose. You clasped your hands over your mouth as patrons around the three of you cheered and applauded.

Natasha and Sam came running out to see Bucky leaning over Beck, who was nursing a bloody nose. Natasha made her way over to you, placing an arm on your shoulder as she looked to see if you were okay.

Though Sam did nothing but watch with a gleeful smirk as Bucky grabbed Beck by the collar of his jacket and whispered in his ear, “You come near her again or call her anything other than her name, and I swear to god I’ll make your life a living hell. If she so much as sheds a single tear, it’s over for you, Beck. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

You couldn’t hear what Bucky said, but you watched and took your hand away with surprised eyes as Bucky released beck and stood up, wringing his hand out. It was only then did you notice the irritated skin of his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” You tore your gaze from Bucky to Natasha, her hands smoothing over your sweater and your bruising wrist.

“I’m okay, Nat,” you mumbled, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. You were expecting a night with your best friend but instead saw the one person you dreaded seeing. Bucky made his way over to you, looking to see if you were okay, but you caught his hand in your grasp. “You’re bleeding, Bucky.”

He didn’t feel the stinging of the minor knicks on his knuckles, but he took a glance at the bruising skin of your wrist. “And you’re bruisin’ up, doll. Let me put some ice on that.”

You nodded and allowed him to lead you away from the busy bar to the back office, not before scooping some ice into a cup. He led you to sit on the small couch he kept in the office, and as he sat down next to you, he rolled up your sleeve and pressed the ice against your skin.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked quietly, and you sighed, blinking away the tears that formed at your waterline. You didn’t feel okay, but with Bucky next to you, in the moment, you felt more than okay.

Nodding your head, you fully expected him to get up and return to the bar, but he stood himself still in his seat next to you. “Thank you for what you did.”

Bucky shook himself and caught your gaze. “You don’t have to thank me, doll. I didn’t like how he was holding onto you. I’m sorry about my temper, but once he called you all those horrible things, I couldn’t help myself. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

He wiped away the tears that leaked out of your eyes and you grasped his forearm in appreciation. “Thank you, Bucky.”

The two of you sat while he continued to hold the ice to your wrist. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your arm, goosebumps littered your arms and you felt yourself leaning into his embrace.

“Do you think that maybe, whenever you find yourself ready again, I could maybe take you out on a date?” Bucky asked a moment later.

A heat spread across your face as you looked at him. Cerulean eyes stared back at you and a soft smile lit up your face. After a nasty breakup with Beck, you hadn’t even considered anyone else.

But spending the evening talking to Bucky, feeling the fluttering butterflies in your stomach from someone who genuinely made you smile, made you feel something, it was hard to not have some sort of attraction to him.

So, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yeah, I would really like that.”

It would be okay, you decided as Bucky pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Maybe a little rocky to start, but eventually everything would be okay.

Afterall, you had a tattooed biker at the end of the tunnel, waiting for you.

Yeah, everything is gonna be okay.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #biker!bucky

[lulu2992]

Exploration of the now-offline Far Cry 5 official websites

Part 14: Jerome Jeffries

Recovered content

On the American website, Jerome was introduced on or before July 13th, 2017:

THE PASTOR JEROME JEFFRIES After serving in the Gulf War, Jerome returned to Montana to serve as the county’s Catholic parish priest. But with the influx of Project at Eden’s Gate, he lost his church and some blood along the way. Now, armed with the Good Book and a good gun, he’s ready to lead his congregation from the pulpit once again.

There was a link to this video:

In an article titled “Meet Far Cry 5's Characters” posted on May 26th, 2017, on the same website, this is what we could read about Jerome:

THE PASTOR, JEROME JEFFRIES Jerome was Hope County's parish priest for more than 15 years, and was one of the first in the community to befriend Joseph Seed, the founder of The Project at Eden's Gate. Before long, Jerome's flock left to follow Joseph, and Jerome tried to take it in stride – until Eden's Gate locked down the county. Not only did Jerome lose his church, but he was beaten and left for dead in the woods. Jerome survived and vowed to protect the cult's intended victims, and as a Gulf War vet, he's got the training and experience to lead Hope County back to the light.

On or before February 9th, 2018, on the page dedicated to the characters, his description was modified:

THE PASTOR JEROME JEFFRIES Pastor Jerome Jeffries is God’s hammer. He served in the first Gulf War and saw combat up close, then returned to Montana and has been the region’s pastor for over 15 years. When Joseph Seed arrived 10 years ago, Pastor Jerome Jeffries was one of the first to befriend him. It wasn’t long before many of the pastor’s congregation broke away and joined Joseph, calling him Father. Pastor Jerome Jeffries became uncomfortable with Joseph’s unorthodox worship, but conceded that people must choose their own path to God. Then came the lockdown. The Pastor was beaten, tossed in the woods, and left to die. He clawed his way back to life and headed back to Fall’s End to protect those in need with the Good Book in one hand and a gun in the other.

And on March 27th, 2018, while the text and the linked video remained the same, the presentation slightly changed:

On the European website, from March 10th, 2018 (or earlier), to at least February 7th, 2020, he was described as follows:

JEROME JEFFRIES THE PASTOR After serving in the Gulf War, Jerome returned to Montana to serve as the county’s Catholic parish priest. But with the influx of Project at Eden’s Gate, he lost his church and some blood along the way. Now, armed with the Good Book and a good gun, he’s ready to lead his congregation from the pulpit once again.

The video was the same as the American one, but uploaded on the Ubisoft UK YouTube channel:

Commentary

Jerome does say he once was “a pawn in an oil war” in Far Cry 5, and Mary May, that “he fought in Iraq one or two”, so the part about him serving in the first Gulf War (like Jacob) seems canon. Because of the (cut) description of the Lamb of God Church, I assumed he was Lutheran and not Catholic, so either I’m wrong or they changed their mind and that explains why the word “Catholic” then disappeared from the description.

He also talks about having been kidnapped by John, who managed to make him say things he’s apparently ashamed he said, then “beaten, tossed in the woods, and left to die”, after which he considered leaving but decided against it and to protect the people of Fall’s End instead when he found a copy of the Bible. Although that dialog is still in the game, it always bothered me in terms of the timeline because Jerome says the incident happened before the Deputy arrived, but the Reaping (so the cult locking down Hope County and capturing Fall’s End) only began after Joseph’s failed arrest...

As for the part about him befriending Joseph, it’s never mentioned in the game, but we can imagine Jerome did welcome the Seed family when they arrived. However, it’s reminiscent of the live-action trailer The Baptism, in which we also get a glimpse of Joseph dragging an unconscious Jerome. Several elements of the video, the most important and mysterious one being the little girl, were never explained and/or are inconsistent with the current story of Far Cry 5... but maybe not with early versions of it.

I don’t know how canon this description still is, but I think it’s yet another proof that the story in general and the cult’s methods in particular went through several changes during the development of the game and that, at one point, the locked-down county and the constant terror caused by Eden’s Gate were not new; they had been going on for weeks, maybe months or even years before the Deputy’s arrival, and Jerome had been fighting against them the whole time.

Under the cut are all the available source files, saved directly from the website, of the images you see in the screenshots:

#far cry 5 #jerome jeffries #joseph seed #john seed #mary may fairgrave

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 3)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Beau wraps up at least one end of his case, he finds that there’s more and he may be sinking into some sort of rabbit hole. It’s his job to get Helena Montana out of this mess and safe once more with Hoyt’s help. Meanwhile, you’re getting more friendly with Andre and you start to wonder if you should be setting your sites on someone who has the time for you. What will you do when one of the two men in your life actually asks you out?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of some characters in season 1. Kidnapping case and discussions of human traffiking. Beginning of the love triangle. I think that’s it?

Beau and Jenny found Irene’s grandson, evidently named Sean, driving the green SUV down the road. They followed him and they were able to stop him at one of the many back roads of Helena Montana.

When the car was stopped, Beau and Jenny got out of Beau’s car and of course the two officers were cautious. They had their arms ready just in case.

“Sean? We need you to step out of the vehicle.” Beau said, a little wary of what might happen.

When the car door slowly opened up, a lanky looking red head with curly hair and freckles carefully stepped out of the vehicle with his hands up.

“I-I know why you’re here. And I’m so sorry…” This poor kid couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Fresh out of high school, could be a freshman in college.

“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you down to the station. We just need to talk about a few things.” Jenny said.

Sean nodded and he stood still and put his arms behind his back.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. You aren’t under arrest.” The deputy promised and it took everything Beau had in him not to say the words “not yet” afterward.

When they got Sean into the car, they made it to the station about thirty minutes later. They got Sean’s fingerprints before getting him into the interrogation room.

Jenny and Sean sat down across from one another while Beau was a little too antsy to have a seat. He just wanted to get those two women found before anything bad would happen to them.

“You said you knew what this was about, right? So, Sean, why don’t you tell us what happened, tell us your side.” Jenny said. Beau supposed she was trying to play good cop for once since this was practically a kid.

“Well… All of it was just so I could help my grandma pay her hospital bills. She just had both her hips replaced several months ago but for whatever reason her insurance and social security couldn’t cover all of it. The co-pay was a little too much for her to afford. She’s also really far behind on some of her other bills.” Sean began and he looked down at his hands.

“So you’re trying to be a good grandson. What did you do?” Beau asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I-I made a mistake… I met this guy at a bar. He didn’t give me his real name. All I knew him as was Ace. And Ace told me that I could help pay for my grandmother’s bills if I just… did some driving for him.” Sean said.

“Driving? To where? What were you transporting?” Beau’s brows narrowed.

“H-He is a part of some gang. I don’t know what gang or what they wanted, but I was supposed to take whatever ladies he had blindfolded and take them to this site. It was different every time. I-It was like they were selling people for whatever reasons.” Sean continued.

“The Syndicate? Was that who it was?” Jenny asked, remembering the case with the truck driver, Ronald Perlman, and the state trooper, Rick Legarski.

“No, I think it was someone else. Maybe someone who buys from the Syndicate or something. Maybe it’s something similar to whatever Syndicate you’re talking about? I-I don’t know for sure. I’m sorry…”

“How long does it take for the buyer to get to the site?” Beau questioned, voice growing more stern.

“It depends on how fast we can get them to answer, or rather when Ace can get them on the phone. He got them on the phone three days ago. The buyer is supposed to come by sometime early next week. I think in about two days if their on schedule.” Sean said.

“Do you remember where the site is? Can you take us there?”

Sean was a little hesitant. He seemed unsure about something and he was shaking his leg under the table. Things weren’t supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be simple. An easy payday so he could take care of his grandmother.

“I-If I show you, is there any way I can get protection from these guys? Or protection for my grandmother at least?” He asked.

Jenny looked up at Beau who’s brow was raised in the air, arms still firmly in place over his chest as if he hadn’t moved the whole time.

“We can get the FBI involved and let them know the Syndicate or someone similar is hitting up Helena again.” Beau said, “We’ll see what we can do about your grandmother at least. I don’t know what deal they’ll offer you since you were an accomplice.”

“I’ll take it! As long as she’s okay.”

“Great. Hoyt, grab some reinforcements and call some backup in case there’s any conflict. Time to hit the road.” Beau instructed and walked out of the interrogation room.

Beau had grabbed a bullet proof vest and proceeded to put it on before stepping outside to get into his vehicle. When he did, Beau realized that it was already dark outside by this time. If this case were simpler, he would be at your house watching that movie with you. there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now. He would have loved to be under some random throw blanket he had with you beside him.

But this was his job and this was his priority whether he liked it or not.

It was time to get Sidney Ferguson and Ember O’Riley back to their families. They’ve been under enough stress for this past week and it’s time to put an end to this. At least an end for their means.

Yet for some reason, Beau had this unsettling feeling that whatever group this was, they weren’t done with Helena just yet.

You were sitting on the couch with your sister and Andre. Sure enough, Cassie wasn’t able to make it and of course Beau had told you from that phone call that he and Jenny couldn’t make it tonight. So it was just the three of you watching The Shining and you had forgotten just how good of an actor Nicholson was in this role.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Cadence got up from her seat next to you on the couch.

“I’m grabbing a drink. Can I get either of you anything?”

“Sure, I’d like one if you don’t mind.” Andre said.

“I’m good.” You replied, then you watched your sister leave to go to the kitchen.

You looked at the tv again, but you weren’t exactly sure why your mind was suddenly drawing a blank. You knew you would be sitting here enjoying the movie with your sister and your guest, but you couldn’t help but think about the sheriff.

What kind of complications were there? Had he finally gotten a break in the case? Was he going to be able to find those girls? Would he come out of this okay?

“You’re thinking of your sheriff friend, huh?” Andre’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked at him for a moment and you have a half of a smile.

“That obvious? I’m sorry, you must think I’m really rude.” You apologized and looked down at your hands in embarrassment.

“No, that’s alright. I’m just curious… is he more than a friend to you?” He asked and you could feel his gaze on you.

You shook your head, “I don’t think he’ll ever be more than a friend. My sister is kind of an advocate for something to happen between me and him, but she has to face the reality that his work is his priority. I can’t stand in the way of that. What he does is important, and all I can really do is hope that he is at least safe with whatever case he’s on.”

“So… not more than a friend but you wish that wasn’t the case, hmm?” Andre asked and you looked over at him and grinned.

“You’re awfully nosey with me and him aren’t you? You and Cadence could bond over that.” You rolled your eyes, “But no, I don’t want him to be anything more than a friend. A person like him would make a much better friend than anything beyond that.”

You may have been lying through your teeth, but if you said the lie out loud maybe you could actually believe it one day. Beau would make a much better friend for you. You couldn’t get attached to him of all people, at least not romantically attached.

“I see.” Andre began but you watched him tuck his bottom lip between his teeth as his gaze went down to the space between the two of you. You could see the gears turning in his mind before he finally spoke again.

“So, hypothetically, if I were to ask you out on a date.. would you refuse?”

The question stunned you. Honestly you were speechless. You weren’t even sure if you were ready to hop back into dating but that was when your sister came into the room again.

“Of course she wouldn’t refuse! She hasn’t dated in forever and she really needs to get out more.” Cadence piped up and answered for you. You looked up at her wide eyed, wondering why the hell she was answering a question you weren’t even sure about.

“Really? How long has it been?” Andre asked and you looked back at him before you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Let’s just go with a little too long… so when do you want to go out on this date? And what do you have in mind?” You asked.

He smiled at you, apparently glad that you were willing to go along with this even if your sister practically volunteered you into this, “Why don’t we leave that as a mystery for let’s say… tomorrow morning? I’ll pick you up at nine.”

That soon? You didn’t know Andre was quite that ambitious but why not go for it? It’s not like anyone else was lining up to date you really. And it was just one time right? How bad could it be?

“Sure, nine sounds great.” You agreed as Cadence handed Andre his drink.

Then you could hear an unfamiliar ringtone and you saw Andre fish his phone from his pocket.

“Is everything alright?” You asked and you could hear him sigh seemingly out of aggravation, if that was the right word for it.

“Just when we were having a good time, I get a message from an associate. He says we need to have a meeting and it’s pretty urgent.” He said.

You smiled a little. Honestly you weren’t sure if you could complain. You weren’t sure what the jewelry business was like so you didn’t know if Andre would be as busy as Beau. Then again if he was and the two of you continued after tomorrows date goes well, you could understand that he was still starting to get established here in Montana. That would take some time.

Then again, that was all in the hypothetical and if everything would work out after tomorrow’s date.

“It’s getting pretty late anyways. We can always watch this another time or something. Go ahead for your meeting.” You said.

Andre smiled at you before he leaned in. You felt the warmth of his lips on your cheek, which sort of startled you because it was an unexpected gesture. When he pulled away, he grinned, “Thank you for understanding. I’ll be here by tomorrow morning.”

Then you watched him get up, causing you to stand as well so you could walk him out to the door. When the door was opened, you looked up at him, “Be safe on the way home, or to your meeting, or wherever the meeting is taking place whether its at home or not.”

“You’re rather adorable when you begin to ramble, aren’t you?” He chuckled, “But I’ll let you know when I get home. So don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

With that, you watched him leave and step into his truck before driving into the night.

You smiled to yourself. You weren’t quite sure where things would go between the two of you, but you hoped that maybe this could help you move on from the sheriff since that didn’t really seem to be going anywhere.

Somehow, though, it felt almost like you were cheating on Beau in a way. You didn’t think Beau knew you had feelings for him, but you wondered if this was right.

All you could do for the time being was wait and see what would happen next.

Beau, Jenny, and the other officers that were called to the site where Sean dropped the women off were successful on their mission.

Both Ember and Sidney were safe and sound, finally, and Jenny was talking with Sidney to see if there was any information on this Ace fellow that she could gather.

Ember was sitting on another ambulance with a blanket around her while a paramedic was checking on her. Both the girls would end up being taken to a hospital to check on their well being. As well as Ember’s baby. Beau knew that James would be elated to have his bride back. As for Sidney, you knew Lidia and their parents would be eager to see their family member again.

He was just glad that he was able to get these two women back safely. He just hoped that these girls could give them some kind of information.

Beau watched as the paramedics took the two girls away and Jenny walked towards him with her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

“What’d you find out?” Beau asked.

“Well, not a whole lot. Sean was wrong about this Ace fella buying from the Syndicate. I think it’s an entirely different operation. It’s still related to trafficking, but it’s a different organization. They were planning on letting Ember go anyway because apparently expecting mothers aren’t in the criteria. But they didn’t let her go because they figured she’d tell authorities.” Hoyt explained.

“I think we’re gonna have to figure out how to get in contact with Ace. Or at least locate him and we can figure out how to get them out of here before someone else gets taken.”

“That’s a great idea and all, but we’re gonna have to wait on some DNA results. We collected some cigarette buds and we think that any saliva collected could help us figure out if Ace is in the data base anywhere.”

“Well what are we supposed to do until then? Just sit around on our hands and hope for the best?”

Jenny sighed before she reached up and adjusted the jacket Beau was wearing, “We celebrate this victory. Ember and Sidney are safe and they’re going back to their families. And who knows, maybe this whole thing might be over when this Ace fella finds out that their operation was compromised and they may not come back to Helena.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So, a way you can celebrate, Arlen, is you can get your ass down to Y/N’s house and apologize to her about missing out tonight. Find a way to make it up to her. Because you know damned well that ladies like her don’t stay single forever.”

Beau thought about it for a moment and he thought about how you sounded disappointed in that phone call when he said he wouldn’t be able to make it that night. He knew you were the understanding sort, so would you actually hold it against him?

“Yeah.. I suppose I could go over. She’ll want to know that Ember and Sidney are safe now.” He nodded.

So that was exactly what he did.

When Beau made it to your house, he saw that the porch light was still on. He half expected it to be turned off considering it was getting close to midnight. We’re you alright?

He stepped out of his car and looked down when he realized the bulletproof vest was still on. He took it off and tossed it into the car and shut the door. When he made it to your porch, he lifted a hand and gently knocked on the door, hoping that you would answer.

After a few moments of waiting, the door finally opened up. He saw you there with a messy bun, an AC/DC shirt and some sleeping shorts. You looked like you were ready for bed even if you looked wide awake.

“Beau? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s alright… I just wanted to check on ya.”

“Check on me? What for?” He heard the slightest chuckle in your voice and he smiled a little before he shook his head.

“Never mind, Darlin… I did want to say that we did finally get those two girls back. They should be on their way home either tonight or tomorrow morning once their released from the hospital. They had one of those routine checkups done as far as I know.” He admitted and he saw a smile appear on your face.

“That’s good. I’m glad things were able to work out. But you know you could have told me that on the phone. So why are you really here?”

Beau couldn’t help but wonder why he felt so hesitant now. Why was he there? What was he doing on your porch close to midnight? All of this could have been done over the phone, but he just wanted to see you, he supposed.

“I um… I wanted to apologize for missin’ movie night.”

“You know I’ll never hold the job against you, Beau. You did well tonight and I’m glad you guys were able to make sure those girls got back to their families before something bad happened.” You promised.

“Right.. but uh… I was wondering if there was some way I could make it up to you?” He asked and he watched you tilt your head to the side a little.

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I have the day off tomorrow. Maybe we can do something?” That was when he saw the expression in your face change.

“Um… tomorrow won’t exactly work for me. I’m supposed to be going on a uh.. friend date tomorrow.”

“A friend date?”

“Yeah, it’s with Andre. I’m just going to be showing him some of the fun spots in town. Nothing too fancy really.”

Beau felt this twinge of jealousy within him and he hated it. He didn’t like that you were going on a date with a guy you just met a couple of days ago. We’re you insane?! What if he was dangerous? What if he was just going to use you somehow?

All of these scenarios were playing in his mind and he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“Oh.. I see…”

“But if you still want to make things up to me…” He heard you trailing off for a moment, “This weekend, you and I should have a movie night at your place. Just the two of us. I’ll bring some marshmallows to roast and we can make s’mores.”

This was your request? You two have had plenty of movie nights together since Jenny or Cassie couldn’t make it once in a while if they were caught up with their own lives. But he couldn’t exactly recall the last time you said it should just be the two of you.

“I think that ought to be doable.” Beau smiled down at you.

“Good. So… I’ll see you at the coffee shop until then?” The hopefulness in your voice made that aching feeling in Beau’s stomach subside a little. He still didn’t trust Andre one bit. But at least he had something to look forward to he supposed. You did say it was just a friend date, whatever that means.

“I’ll be there.” He promised, “Now try and get some sleep. You shouldn’t be wide awake this late at night.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes a little before you stood taller on your tipped toes. Suddenly he felt your soft lips on his scruffy cheek, taking him by surprise.

“You need your sleep too, Sheriff. You’ve had a long night and you deserve the rest.” He heard you say and he gazed down at you.

“I’ll do my best, Sweetheart… Goodnight.” He said with a softer tone.

“Goodnight, Beau.” You replied and he watched you slowly shut the door.

Beau sighed and he ran a hand through his hair before he turned around and went to his car.

While he was walking, though, he got a phone call, causing him to let out a grumble to himself. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered while he got into the vehicle. “Arlen. What’s happening?”

“We need you to get to Irene’s house. I was wrong. I don’t think this is over, Beau.”

Hey guys! Thank you for reading! I hope you guys are enjoying this series so far! There’s more to this case than meets the eye and one has to wonder just who this Ace is. We’ll see where this goes!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

#jensen ackles #beau arlen #beau arlen ff #jensen ackles beau arlen #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen x yn #spn #jensen big sky #jensen ackles big sky #big sky fanfiction #big sky fanfic #big sky #big sky beau arlen #supernatural

[sweetlittlegingy]

Burning House

♤ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Blue Jeans Masterlist

♤ Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Y/n "Tilly" Tillerson

♤ Word Count: 6.3K

♤ Warnings: Smut 18+, family fighting, reader gets hit (not by Rhett), angst, fluff

♤ A/n: I haven't written smut in years, so let me know. Also, I'm 30 minutes late, but this week has been a lot. Also, you are responsible for your own content consumption. This is an 18+ fic, please respect that.

♤ Library | Main Masterlist

The shatter of glass pulls you from your thoughts, a reminder of where you were. Thrown once again into the fire. Tugging your jeans the rest of the way up, you button the brass button. The tank top you’re wearing sticks to you like a second skin, in the hot Wyoming weather.

Yanking it off you grab an old Coors shirt, slipping it over you frame, before reaching down to tug on your boots. Mud flicks off on to the carpet, making you roll your eyes, you’d have to clean it before your mother saw.

You hadn’t been home in almost four years, leaving Wabang in the dust when you got accepted to Montana State to pursue a degree in business.

Montana had been your number one choice in schools for two reasons; it was out of state away from family, and it was still close enough that Rhett could drive down. It’d been at least 8 months since you’d last seen him, to say you were wound tight was an understatement.

The harsh reality of your father getting sick and you having to come home was thrown into your face, not even a week ago. Your mother made it quite clear, that whether you wanted to or not, you would be coming home with her.

Growing up as the youngest Tillerson, and a girl at that, hadn’t been an easy feat. The constant reminder that you would never fully be in control of your life, not while being a part of this family at least.

Luke and Billy were fine, as fine as they could be. Luke was so far up your mother’s ass, that you were surprised he could even function when she wasn’t around. While Billy was completely brainwashed by your father.

Though you would have happily dealt with them over your father and Trevor. Those two had tempers and matched against your own; the state of your life had been on fire for as long as you could remember.

The three of your tempers flaring at every incident, ended in more fist fights than you could remember, and the list of broken items was never ending. Fuel was just added to the fire when your mom was home, having all four of you in the same room always ended with Sheriff Joy, coming out on calls of domestic disturbances.

A quick look in the mirror, you double-check your makeup and hair and decide that you're more than hot enough to make a surprise appearance at the Handsome Gambler. Another crash has you looking back at your door, silently wondering what the hell was wrong now. Pulling open your bedroom door, you can hear the yelling voices of Luke and Trevor. Forgoing your hat for the night, you make your way to the den.

There was only one hat that you be wearing tonight, come hell or high water it would be yours.

Both voices raise, nearly scream, when suddenly a third voice cuts through causing you to pause your descent down the stairs.

“What she wants doesn’t matter, damn it.” A rough cough rises from your father’s chest, “She doesn’t even know what the hell’s going on, if you two idiots could keep your voice down.”

You mind races, trying to think of anything they could be talking about. Though you come up blank, having been gone you hadn’t worried about your father and brothers.

What in the hell could be so important that they needed to keep it from you? Staying on the stairs, out of sight you wait for them to go on.

“She’s gonna find out, I’m surprised Rhett hasn’t already told her. Abbott doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut.” You’d known that was Luke, his voice not rough like your fathers and Trevor’s. 

Though you couldn’t figure out why in the world they were talking about you and Rhett. It had been years since they’d seen the two of you together and there was no way they knew the two of you were still a thing.

The two of you grew up together, best friends since you were children. You knew every part of each other, sharing your deepest secrets, and eventually an unbreakable love. Puberty had hit the both of you like a fright train, leading to you two fucking in every pasture between his and your house. Fucking; eventually turned into more, friends falling in love hard and fast.

You’d officially been together three years when you graduated, though your story tale came to a sudden halt when you received your acceptance letter. With you moving and Rhett actively pursuing bull riding, the both of you had decided to end your relationship.

The both of you left it on good terms, and Rhett still came up to Bozeman, the six-hour drive nothing compared to trips he made on the circuit. You hadn’t told Rhett that you were coming home, the spur of the moment decision made by your mother prevented it, but you knew he’d be out tonight.

No longer giving a shit if they saw you, you make your way down the stairs. Their talking cutting off completely when you came into view, your brothers and father staring holes into your head as you push through the den into the kitchen.

“Don’t stop talking on my account.” The snap in your voice is evident.

The four sets of eyes following your every move, still not talking, as you dig around in the key jar.

“What are you doing?” It’s Trevor that speaks up first, his tone already pissy.

“What’s it look like?” You throw him a look over your shoulder, your gaze condensing in every way. His gaze back is still questioning, and you wonder if he truly is an idiot.

“I’m getting the fucking keys Trevor.”

A smile graces your face as you find the set to your father’s new pickup, the one he hadn’t been able to drive since he’d gotten sick. You raise your hand in triumph showing them, and silently waiting for the pushback.

“Where do you think that you're going?” This time it’s Luke that questions you, his tone less sharp not wanting to set off your temper.

Luke had learned over the years what buttons not to push, while Trevor knew exactly which one to push. It was like he thrived off the idea of making you mad, to see just how much you’d blow up.

“I’m not going to just sit around; I don’t really feel like listening to ya’ll fight. Mom might have forced me back, but she didn’t say I had to stay on the ranch.” Your eyebrow slightly raises “I’m going for a drink.”

Before you can turn to leave, a harsh, forced laugh falls from Trevor’s lips.

“When did you turn into such a fucking bitch? Saying that mom forced you here, like this ranch isn’t the thing that’s given you everything.”

Your jaw ached from how tightly you’d clenched it, all of them just staring at you. No words to defend you, you hadn’t expected it, but it would have been a nice surprise.

Trevor might have been right about your childhood. Getting everything you wanted, it wasn’t like you asked for it, it was just there. The exact way it was for each of your brothers, the only difference is that you left, and when you left so did daddy’s money.

Sure, you could have asked, begged, but you didn’t need it. You maintained a job with a company up in Bozeman, that paid you more than enough to live and the thought to being debited to this place, was enough for you to live on a smaller means.

“Unlike you Trevor, I no longer live off Daddy’s money. Though since I’m being forced to stay here, I will be taking liberties. The first on being, using the damn pickup.” The rattle you made with the keys, finally setting him off.

You’d said the wrong thing before, but the fire in Trevor’s eyes hadn’t been one you’d personally seen. Before you can make a move for the door, he was on you, the whip of your head and crack of the back of his hand on your face echoing through the kitchen.

Silent rage, you couldn’t feel the pain. The heaving of your chest should have been notion enough that you were pissed. It’s not till you feel the blood running down your lip, that you realize he’d done damage.

Sure, Trevor and your father had hurt you before, but it had been a long time since they had struck you on the face. You raise your hand up, still clutching the keys and brush your fingers over you lip. The blood smears as you do, feeling an evident spilt and swelling.

No one moves, Trevor stands just in front of you, while the other three don’t do so much as comment.

The harsh laugh that falls from your lips, should scare them. You never wanted to see a pissed off woman laugh, that was common sense, but to see a pissed off Tillerson woman laughing.

They should have been running.

Acting on pure instinct your fist reals back, flying at Trevor before anyone can react. The resounding crack of his nose brings you joy, his figure doubling over sightly. Your fist already rising back, ready to maim him. You’d seen bright red and you didn’t want to stop, not when he was the one doubled over in pain.

It’s only the feeling of Luke wrapping his arms around your waist, and dragging you back from Trevor that makes you stop.

“Calm down, damn it.” It’s your father that yells, the four of your gazes snapping directly to him.

Your lips curl back in disgust, of course it wasn’t an issue if you were the one bleeding. Oh, but if anyone touches poor Trevor, the fucking world was ending.

You scoff, shaking Luke off and double check that you still have your keys. Grabbing your purse, that had fallen, you move to leave, leaning into Trevor as he tries to stop the bleeding.

Your voice as sharp as a knife, “I’m not little anymore Trev. You touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

Pushing past him ,you brush off your shirt noticing that drops of blood had collected on it. Cursing you brother once again, you head out the door, only offering Billy a goodbye.

Walking to the truck, you can’t stop the smirk that rises on your lips. You were ready to get absolutely hammered and fall into Rhett’s bed in a tangle of limbs.

Not caring that it’s your father’s truck, or that it was in fact brand new, you peel out the drive gravel flying. Your fingers beat along the steering wheel, music blasting and windows down.

Flicking down the visor you silently thank your father, you didn’t smoke normally, but occasionally you’d light one up. Flipping open the box of Marlboro’s, you slip one between your lips. Grabbing the lighter in the cup holder, the sweet relief the nicotine gives you instantly calms your jittery limbs.

The cigarette only just brushes against the left side of your bottom lip and has you wincing, the pain finally setting in. You’d need a stiff drink to take that edge off, the glowing neon sign of the Handsome Gambler a welcomed sight.

You’d checked your lip in the mirror, grimacing slightly at the swelling and taking a wet napkin to your chin, removing the dried blood. The music can be heard before you even make it to the door, upon opening it, it increases ten-folds. Rumbling through your body and instantly soothing you. The red glowing neon of the bar was a tad obnoxious but wasn’t unbearable.

The click of your boots draw eyes to you instantly, though the only set you're looking for sits at the end of the bar. Leaning over a glass of whiskey, unfazed by his surroundings.

You don’t take time to acknowledged anyone else, your sights set and your feet carrying you without another thought in the world.

He doesn’t notice you leaning on the bar next to him, surely overthinking his last ride, and it isn’t until you grab the hat off his head that you get his attention. You’re sure that bar goes silent as the hat settles on your head, a familiar piece; one you’ve worn on many occasions.

Your hand is reaching for his whiskey before he can even comprehend that it’s you. Shooting the drink back, you rest the glass once again between his fingers and let your eyes finally meet his.

Wonder and questioning cross his face. His eyes going to your lip and your positive you see a flash of rage, before his eyes move to the hat on your head and a smug smirk settles on his lips.

“You know there’s a certain rule about stealing a cowboys hat Tilly?”

His nickname for you falling from his lip, nearly has you melting into a puddle on the ground, but you hold strong.

A hum and a nod of your head is the only recognition you given him, before moving to him. His legs opening for you like muscle memory, and your arms lacing around his neck. Your mouth resting just inches from his ear, your breath hot against him.

“And I fully intend on cashing in on those rules tonight, Abbott.”

The way his grip tightens on your waist has your toes curling in anticipation, the burning in your core igniting now that Rhett’s within your hold. Your eyes meet his and your breath catches, the blue of his eyes no longer visible. His pupils blown, watching your every move, and full of want.

It’s his hand that comes up and knocks the brim of his hat up, his eyes taking in the way your lips part as tiny soft pants fall from them.

Every time, it was like this. Like no time had passed since the last time your trembling form was under him. The way that your body became putty in his hands would have been annoying, if you didn’t like it so damn much.

No, those hands and his mouth were a God sent you were sure, or maybe hell sent. Given the way they could have you trembling like a leaf and Rhett’s name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your lip slips between your teeth, gently biting it, not caring any longer about the cut. Your stare is unwavering, neither of you paying mind to the bar surrounding you and you can’t deny the way your body craves him.

The whiskey you shot earlier didn’t come close to warming you up like he did, as his hands leave a trail of flames in their wake gently rub up your sides.

“You that needy, you have to come down here to me? Nobody work you over like me, hmm Tilly.”

You know he’ll question you later, want to know the full story. But it’s the fact that he knows just what you need to hear, the need to forget all the shit, that has you wanting to crawl up into his lap.

“No baby, I came cause I heard you needed me.”

Your hands slip into the hair at the base of his neck, lightly scratching and he can’t hide the shiver that slips up the base of his spine.

“Heard none of the bunnies could take you like I can. They're just too breakable for you.”

The tension has the both of you leaning in closer to each other, waiting for the other one to beg. You can feel Rhett’s breath hot against your lips, just barley touching, though not nearly like how you’re craving him. The need to have him flush against you, making your legs shake as tears run down your face.

Rhett caves just barely, his tongue slipping out and licking at your bottom lip. Swiping over the cut, a stinging jolt of pain and need courses through your veins. The moan that erupts from your chest, makes him smirk and pull you closer to him.  Your thigh barley nudging the front of his pants, his cock hard and pulsing against the thick denim.

Glancing down, the imprint against his jeans has your core clenching and a tiny whine coming from your throat. A chuckle falls his lips, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“You that needy, girl?”

Your head is nodding before you can even think to stop it. The need to be owned by Rhett, out-weighting your usually independent nature. He knew it, he always did. It was one of his favorite things about you; how you were a spitfire to anyone else, but when he pushed just right, you’d be on your knees.

The closeness in proximity to each other, leaves no room for outside interference.

You hadn’t seen her coming back from the bathroom, in her barley there shorts, and trashy boots. Though the whiny voice stating Rhett’s name pulls your gaze to the girl standing next to you.

Rhett’s vision never leaves your face, waiting to see how you’d react. He always loved to see you get territorial, and had a habit of forgetting to tell you about other girls hitting on him at the bar.

Your eyes rack up her form, your head tilling to the side as you take in her appearance. Looking back the Rhett, you see him shrug his shoulders, silently telling you to handle it.

Turning to her, the smile dropping from your face, “He’s got his hands full bunny.”

The hands once on your waist, slip down to grab your ass. Giving it a harsh squeeze, that has your legs clenching.

“I already claimed him for the night.” Her tone bitter, acting like she has made some miraculous point.

Your jaw ticks at her stupidity and the fact that she thinks that she has some claim over him.

The only person that had a claim over Rhett Abbott was you, and it always would be you.

Turning to full face her, Rhett’s hands settling on your hips, hands sneaking under your shirt.

“No bunny, you didn’t.” The tone of your voice is sharp and you’re sure the once loud bar has gone silent.

“For one, he’s a person, not an object, and “claims” can’t be made over him.” You take a step closer to her, your gaze unwavering. “Though if anyone has a claim over him, it’s me and this damn hat proves it.”

The flick of your finger against the hat, has her eyes rising to the hat resting on your head. Her eyes find yours again, and you can see the gears trying to turn in her head. Just as her mouth opens to say something; you’re quick to shut her up.

“I think you’d better leave bunny, unless you wanna find out just how I got the split lip.”

Her eyes flicker to your lip then back to your eyes, fire burning behind your gaze, and you watch as she realizes how serious you are. Her face falling and a slight fear crosses her eyes before she’s turning and walking away.

You turn back around to Rhett, a smug smirk resting on his lip. A new hunger burns in his eyes as he watches you and his hands slide back down to grab your ass.

“You put a claim on me girl?”

“I’ve had a claim on you, since that first time you fucked me behind the church.”

You can see the memory flashing through his mind, and before you realize it, he’s up and pulling you out of the bar to his pickup.

Your back hits the passenger door of his pick, your gazes watching one another. It’s you that sneaks up a hand around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. Not caring that you were the one to break this time, all you knew was that you needed Rhett like you needed air to breathe.

The clash of your lips against one another, stings slightly against your split lip, but the way Rhett’s leg slots between your knees has you forgetting.

It’s when Rhett nips at your bottom lip that has you cursing. Rhett’s fast to pull back, his eyes dropping to your lip and that anger from earlier reappears.

“Who the fuck did it?” the question leaves no room for you to evade it. Trapped within his arms and his hard gaze.

“Trevor.” His name taste like acid on your tongue and your sure Rhett doesn’t miss the way your grimace.

The hands at your hip tighten, surely causing bruises, and your hands drop to rub Rhett’s shoulders. A silent gesture from you, telling him that you’re okay.  

“I’ll fucking kill him.” And the heat between you is forgotten by him. The only thing incasing him now, was his anger aimed directly at your brother.

Rhett feels the way his breath picks up, he knew that your family was a bunch of assholes and that you all fought religiously. Hell, he’d been there for a few of them when you were both still in high school.

But to hear that Trevor had physically put his hands on you, set off something entirely new within him.

He doesn’t hear you; a ringing has started in his ears, and he can’t stop the replaying imagery in his mind of Trevor hitting you. He’s making his way around the pick-up and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Tilly get in.” His voice is harsh and has you climbing in quickly.

Before you know it, he’s pulling from the parking spot and heading back towards both of your homes.

“Rhett what are you thinking?” though you don’t receive an answer, the sound of gravel underneath the tire’s echoes through the cab.

You can see the steam rolling off him and though you should be scared, you know that Rhett would never hurt you. The split in the road ahead is looming, one to the Abbott Ranch and the other to your families.

Looking over to Rhett you can see his hands shaking in rage. Reaching over you take one of his hands from the steering wheel and hold it against your lips. Giving his knuckles repeated kisses, as his gaze settles on your face.

“Pull over baby.” Your voice is soft and not demanding, though you know that Rhett will listen to your gentle request.

The truck stops in the middle of the road, and you can see a storm rising up against the mountains. Much like the one that is clearly racking through Rhett’s mind, he’s eyes look back to your eyes, watching the way you continually kiss his knuckles.

A shuttered breath leaves his lips, and his head is bowing down into his chest. His voice quiet, but you still hear him.

“He hit you.” The shake and pain in his voice is clear as day. “He put his fucking hands on you, and they did nothing.”

His face snaps to you, as you go to correct him, words failing you. His gaze proves that he already knows the truth.

“Okay, so they did nothing. What’s new?” The laugh that leaves you is more strained than you planned, “I got a good hit in though, think I broke his nose.”

Rhett watches you as you tell him, a chuckle leaves his lips at your comment. The hand you’d been kissing, raising to brush against your cheek.

“My Girl.”

Such wonder and love in his tone, his eyes showing nothing but pride in you. The feeling rattles you to your core. You and Rhett had broken things off, but that didn’t mean you stopped loving him.

The look he’s giving you, makes it seem like he still loved you too. You’re up and climbing across the truck before you can seconded guess the decision.  

Climbing over into his lap, needing to be next to him, to feel him and know that he was with you.

He welcomes you, grabbing your hips to settle your thighs on either side of his lap. One hand coming to rest on your cheek, grazing the split in your lip once again.

“He deserves so much more than just a fucking broken nose.” You nuzzle into his palm, placing kisses into it.

“And you would have killed him without a seconded thought?” Your laugh is silenced, as Rhett straightens your face to look at him.

“I’d burn the fucking world to the ground for you Tilly.” The way he says it, causes your core to clench.

A commandment of love, without actually saying the words.

You know that he would, but hearing the rasp and seriousness in his voice, made you feel like you were about to combust.

Your lips surge forward, kissing him in the only way you know how to express your feelings. You needed him and you didn’t care if you were in the middle of a public road. You needed him to quench the burning in your core. To make you scream his name, to feel his length hit that spongy little spot that only he reached.

Your need for him, drowning out the pain in your lip.

Your teeth clashed against one another, Rhett’s hand rising up to knock the hat off your head.  His hand settling at the back of your hair, pulling you down harder into him. His hip bucking slightly as you grind down against his hard length, pressing into you through the two layers of denim.

The harsh tug on your hair has your head dropping back and an airy moan falling from your lips. Rhett’s lips trail down your neck, wet open mouth kisses left in his wake.

You’d missed this, the way that only he knew your body.

And just like every time, his lips settle over the junction of your neck and collarbone, teasing and biting the spot.

Your hips push down harder, your core burning with need, his lips never leave your neck. Marking you as his own. No one would question if you were together by the end of the night, he was gonna make sure of it.

It’s the nip of his teeth, that has you let out a loud moan, and your hips moving on their own accord. His hands falling to your ass, pushing, and pulling you.  

“Atta girl, let me hear you.”

A whine breaks through your lips at the praise, keening in delight. The cab of the truck getting entirely too hot, and Rhett’s hands find the bottom of your shirt tugging it over your head.

Your lips finding each other again, tastes of whiskey and mint reach your lips, your tongue teasing his bottom lip.

His hands grasping and running over your unclothed top, hands slipping behind you and flicking the clasp of your bra.

Your eyes meet each other, time slowing. Your hands hold your bra in place, Rhett’s hands raising to trace your arms. His fingers slipping into the straps, to tug them down softy. His mouth descending to your collarbone, kissing over the tops of your breast.

Your back arches, your hips lifting slightly, chasing his tongue. He laughs at you softy, before striping your bra completely from your body.

A low groan leaves his lips, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” His hand rising to cup one breast, thumb grazing your nipple. A shiver consumes your body, as your nipple erects in the cool air. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

He smirks at you, a teasing look that has you whining and your hands pulling his head down.

“So fuckin’ needy.”

The only reply falling from your lips is a moan, as his lips wrap around the bud. His other hand coming up to tug on the other. Your hands raking through his hair, tugging him forward, the tug of his teeth on you makes your head drop back. Your eyes falling shut, enjoying the way Rhett encompasses you.

He works your body over, still full clothed in front of you, and yet has you begging for release.

Quiet pleas fall from your lips, your need consuming every inch of your body.

“Please. Need it, Rhett. Need you.”

His hips buck up into you, and a high-pitched whine leaves you. Your hands moving to paw at his shirt, the need to feel him, is the only thought coursing through your mind.

You try to unbutton his shirt, but you can’t seem to process it. An upset whine from you, has Rhett’s hands replacing yours, getting the shirt off far quicker than you could.

Your hands falling to trace along his stomach, a smile gracing your lips, and you’re leaning in to kiss him.

Pressing into to him, needing the feel of his skin pressed against your own. The kiss far more than just that, Rhett’s hands rising to cradle your face, and, in that moment, you know you can’t leave him again.

He was as much a part of you, as your need to breath. Without him; it was like you’d been under water, your surrounding muffled. Being back; was like you were experiencing the world again, like you’d been gasping for air, and he was that first breath.

“Need you, Tilly.” The hand cradling your face, has his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. Gently tugging it down, you nipping as his thumb, your gaze never leaving one another.

“Let me have you.” The look in his eyes, pleading for you. Not for just a fuck; but you, wholly.

“I’m yours, Abbott.” Kissing him softy, leaning back to mutter against his lips. “Only ever been yours.”

He sucks in a harsh breath, his eyes watching you, silently questioning you. Waiting for you to laugh in his face, to tell him you didn’t mean it.

“I’m serious Rhett, —” Your voice cracks slightly as you watch him, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through your body. “I — I’m not leaving you again. I can’t.”

You're afraid that tears might fall, the events of the night weighing on you. You know that Rhett loves you, you don’t need to hear it, he’d showed you how he did your whole life.

“I love you so fuckin’ much Tilly, never been anyone else. Not even with you gone.” Your breath is sucked from your chest when he mutters it. Your eyes shocked and questioning. “No one else baby, not even the bunnies.”

The revelation has you surging forward in need, finding out that he had always been yours, sets your skin a flame. Your hands fall to this belt buckle, tugging it undone, as he works at your jeans. The both of you curse as Rhett gets your jeans unzipped, but can’t lower them down your legs. You rise up, ripping them and your panties down your legs, and throwing them into the back of the truck.

Rhett laughs as you do it, your friendship and teasing spilling through the tension momentarily.

“Don’t laugh a me.” Your voice is teasing as you say it, loving the ways his laugh is so carefree. “Now get those off.” You motion to his jeans, more than ready to feel all of him against you.

“Yes Ma’am.”

He pulls them down quickly; a groan leaving his lips at his hard cock snaps up to rest against his tone stomach. The tip red and dripping with precum, your hand reaching out to stroke him.

His length pulses in your palm and you can’t stop the way you bite your lip. The need to taste him overwhelming; the need to have him groaning under your touch.  

His eyes move down to glance at your dripping heat, his hands reaching out to grab you instantly. Fingers tracing down your hip bones and up your thighs, teasing you, your cunt clenching down in anticipation.

“Touch me, please Rhett.”

As the last syllable of his name leaves your lips, his fingers ghost along your slit. Slipping into you slightly, then pulling out to graze your clit. Your hips buck as he does it.

Rhett’s other hand comes up to rest on your hip, holding you in place.

“Hold still.” The bite in his tone pulls at your core, his eyes watching your reaction. Gaging just how far he can push you, and when you bite your lip, his hold on you tightens a bit more.

“You gonna be my good girl?”

The way your eyes snap up to him, slightly glazed over, and the hurried nod you give him, makes him let out a low groan.

His fingers slipping back into your tight channel, nudging that spongy little spot, barely grazing it. Your hips drop farther onto his lap, working to feel him just a bit deeper and when they don’t, you’re crying out.

“Need your cock.” The burning in your core insufferable; and making your mind hazy.

“Take it darlin’.” His nose nudges against your own, lips barley touching.

“Take what’s yours, baby.”

Heat surrounds you, your mind lost in need, and you’re moving to hover over his cock as he finishes the sentence. Your mind only clearing up slightly, looking up into his eyes.

“There’s never been anyone else for me either.”

And you’re sinking down around him.

Those eight months apart, make it feel like he might break you. Your legs tremble, your heat stretching and you’re cursing out.

Your head drops back as a gasp falls from your lips. His cock hitting that little spot perfectly. Too deep, but not deep enough.

A string of breathy whines fall from your lips, and Rhett swears you’ve never looked prettier.

Eye’s glazed over, lips unable to form words, so fucked out, and all you’ve done it sit on his cock.

His hips buck up just sightly, and you’re dropping forward leaning against his chest, mumbling incoherently.

“So, fucking tight for me baby.” His hips buck once more, enjoying the reaction from you. Like his cock has broken your mind, leaving you to be his perfect little doll. “Such a good pussy baby.”

The praise has you keening against his chest, your hips rising up slightly, before dropping back down. Your heat clenching around him, like a vice, his own head dropping back to rest against the seat.

“That’s it baby, take what you need.”

His words spur you on, hands resting on his shoulders as your repeatedly rise and fall on his length. Your hands move to the back of his hair and pull him forward. Needing to feel his lips on you, the pace of your hips speed up.

The burning in your core only rising. Mouths barely touching each other, as breathy whines fall from your lips, working to keep yourself upright.

A particular hard thrust from Rhett has your head dropping back and a loud moan to leaving your body.

Rhett’s lips surge forward, working on your neck as your fingers dig into his scalp.  Tugging and pulling his hair as you climb higher.  

 He can’t hold himself any longer, grasping your hips he pulls you up off himself only slightly. Before you can even register what’s going on, Rhett’s got the center console up and you laid out stretching across the seats.

His eyes watch the way your chest rises in hurried breaths, how he’s got you laid out before him like a god damn feast.

He’s sinking back into you, grabbing both your legs, and wrapping them around his waist. Fucking into you at a feverish speed, your hands above you, grasping the door handle. White knuckled and crying out every time Rhett surges forward.  

The heat within your core becoming all too much as he fucks you. Hips snapping, and hitting that little spot, that has tears gathering in your eyes.

“Please, need it.”

Your babbling uncontrollable, body withering underneath Rhett.

“I’ve got you Tilly.” The snapping of his hips speeding up, and his hand reaching up to cradle your face. Your wild eyes silently beg him for more, anything to push you over the end.

His own release, tittering on the edge. He needed you to come first though, need it to see his girl fall apart on his cock.

To feel your cunt clench down on his cock, as you screamed out his name.

A sharp whine leaves your lips and Rhett feels you clench around him. His hand resting on your face, thumb stroking your cheek, waiting to give you that final push.

Your eyes fall to each other, silently begging.

“Let go baby, daddy’s got you.”

You tumble over the edge, hands grasping at Rhett. Cunt clenching around him, as his own hips stutter.

“Wanna feel you daddy. Need to feel your cum.” Your voice is breathy, as you clench around him even tighter.

Rhett’s hands fall to rest by your head, hips stilling as he coats your walls. His hips slowly fucking into you, coating you completely.

Claiming you as his, and his alone.

His face rests in your neck, as he feathers gentle kisses across your neck and jaw. Causing you to giggle, when he kisses behind your ear.

The both of you enjoy the feeling of each other, needing this moment of peace in each other’s presence.

Rhett pulls away slightly and your hand holds onto his cheek as he stares into your eyes. Love seeping from them, and incasing the both of you.

There would never be anyone else for you, he was it.

Your first love, your best friend, and the man you wanted to marry. How you stayed away for so long eluded you, but you wouldn’t be doing it again.

“I love you, Rhett Abbott.”

#Tilly #rhett abbott #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x y/n #outer range fic #outer range #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbot x y/n Tillerson #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #gingy writes #gingy library #gingy #sweetlittlegingy writes

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Unforgettable

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

part one here

Summary: Y/n spends her summer with her boyfriend as usual but when she accidentally bump into a certain footballer in the club, her life becomes more difficult

Angst & Fluff

Warnings : Cursing, possessive Trent, angry ex-boyfriend

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

”I know about him Y/n”

The sentence kept replaying in your head, there was no way to escape it. And you cheated. How did you even end up doing that? There was no surprise anyways because you were tired of Jacob. But still, he was your boyfriend after all and you thought for a while that he was your soulmate. That’s wrong to say now.

You knew that Jacob was worried as hell because of all the calls and the messages, knowing that you’ll have to face a hangover stupid boy and from experience that isn’t the funniest thing to do.

You stood by the hotel room door, unsure what will happen when you step in. You walked in, laid your things on the floor. Jacob was sleeping.

“Jacob seriously, get up” You mumbled as he started to wake up slowly. You opened the blinds, hoping that the daylight would wake him up properly.

You got to the bathroom and took off your makeup from last night and in the corner of your eye you could see Jacob standing next to you.

“Where the fuck were you last night Y/n?” He fumed, you ignored him and continued to take your makeup off.

“Y/n I’m fucking talking to you!” He snapped and slammed the countertop, making you jump as you turned to look at him.

“What the fuck Jacob!” You cursed, walking out the bathroom and sat down by the edge of your bed.

“Answer me then!” Jacob demanded and walked out from the bathroom.

“I could ask you the same thing, where were you? You just left me to be with your mates!” You confessed as you started to pack your things in your suitcase, preparing to leave him.

“I thought you were with Amelia” He explained.

“I was, but she left me all alone at the bar” You said.

“But you never came back to the hotel”

You were going to say it, you were going to break his heart. It would hurt him and you didn’t give a fuck right now. Will you regret it? Will you regret leaving a relationship that has been going on for years? Yes or no, there’s only on answer and it’s no.

“Jacob” You began, you stood still to meet his eyes that you once adored so much, is now filled with hatred.

“I slept with another guy.”

“What?”

”I cheated on you Jacob” You said and the lump in your throat was beginning to bring tears to your eyes, the words you never thought you’d say to your lover and best friend. But that weight on your shoulders also faded away.

“No Y/n” Jacob scoffed, he stood completely still. There was no noise in the background, there was only silence which you killed off by continuing packing your things.

“Jacob, I want to break up.” You murmured.

“Are you mad? Why?” He exclaimed as you stopped packing your suitcase and turned to look at him. You felt absolutely nothing for him, not even sympathy for breaking up with him.

“I think you know why Jacob. You know, I know” You whispered.

“Y/n you’re not fucking leaving me for some random guy you met in the club” He argued. The guy you met in the club was not random and were you breaking up with Jacob just because of Trent?

“No that’s not why Jacob, you’re not understanding what I’m trying to say” You noted.

And there it was, the moment were you just stood there together with nothing to say because there was nothing to say. You felt trapped in your relationship with him, you needed to get out of it.

The time went by and your suitcase was packed and you couldn’t actually believe that you’re leaving Jacob.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” He wondered as you were walking to the door.

“You’ll be fine Jay” You said as you gave him a weak smile.

“Don’t call me that” He mocked and looked at you with glossy eyes.

“Well you can stop calling me girlfriend to your friends now. I’m sorry that it had to end like this” You admitted and you felt sorry, sorry that it went so wrong at the end. But right now there was nothing you could do about it, you could only move on.

You walked out of the hotel room and it felt like you were a brand new person but the feeling changed as soon as the question hit your mind. Where were you going now? You can’t return home and you can’t go back to Jacob.

You stood in the elevator waiting for it to come down to the 1st floor when the thought of Trent came to your attention. You completely forgot what he said to you before you left his hotel. You took up your phone and scrolled through your contacts- he had already saved himself as a contact in your phone which made you giggle.

You: Hey, can I return your clothes today?

He answered immediately.

Trent: Who is this?

You: Y/n you dumbo

Trent: Yeah I’ll pick you up at your hotel in 5 minutes, be ready

The timing was perfect, you were all ready when Trent picked you up. He opened the car boot and put your suitcase in it and greeted you later with a hug. A hug that you’ve been craving since the night when you first met him.

“I’ve missed you, dumbo” Trent smiled as you got in the car.

”I’m not the dumbo!” You playfully argued and he started driving.

Trent turned some music on and you sang along together. You really enjoyed being with him, it was like you’ve known him forever and of course you haven’t known him forever but that was your feeling.

Your phone started buzzing and you saw who it was. It was Jacob. You rolled your eyes and declined his call but your phone kept buzzing.

“Who keeps calling you?” Trent asked and turned the music down.

“No one, probably just a salesman” You lied, you didn’t want to cause a big deal with Jacob calling you whilst you were with Trent. Knowing that Trent told you to leave him, which you did but Jacob didn’t seem to understand that.

“Y/n aren’t you going to answer?” Trent considered as you shook your head.

“Let me do it for you” He suggested as your heart beat got faster when he grabbed your phone and saw the name on the screen. He shot you a gaze that made you feel nervous, he had such a strong hold on you.

“Y/n doesn’t want to talk to you Jacob” Trent insisted and looked at the road ahead of him.

“Who are you? Can you let me talk to her” Jacob challenged. You tried to hear what he was saying, you tried to tell Trent to put the call on speaker but he ignored you.

“Trent” You whispered and pushed his arm to give you your phone back, you were ignored again.

“Trent give me the goddamn phone” You grumbled, snatched your phone from him and put it to your ear.

“Jacob I can’t talk right now” You said.

“Who the fuck are you with?” He cursed and you took a deep breath to calm yourself down and Trent were starting to drive faster.

”Please just leave me alone” You mumbled and hang up on him. There were so much things happening, Trent speeding and Jacob on the phone along with you trying to deal with the both of them.

“I thought I told you to leave him” Trent queried and slowed the car down and from the view that you saw, it looked like you were at his hotel.

“Trent I just did, why did you take my phone like that?” You complained.

You found it funny that you only known Trent for a day and one thing you’re already good at is arguing.

“He wouldn’t stop calling you Y/n” He explained and turned the car off.

You didn’t know if you two were going to stay in the car arguing or if you were going to walk in the hotel arguing. The situation was killing you, you two were just sitting in his car waiting for someone to say something. You didn’t want to start off this “friendship” with him by only fighting, you wanted it to be special.

After a while of silence Trent finally spoke.

“I’m sorry Y/n”

“It’s okay, he’s a dick anyway” You replied and smirked at Trent.

“Let’s get inside” He said and opened the car door.

-

The sun was slowly setting and you took a shower to freshen yourself up. Trent’s hotel was nice, much nicer than yours before. You put your hair up in a hair clip and did your makeup peacefully in the bathroom and you heard Trent knock on the door, you opened it whilst you applied your lipgloss.

“What are you doing?” Trent asked and leaned on the door frame.

“Just some makeup” You answered and smiled at him.

“It looks beautiful” He praised as you turned your head to smile at him again.

His compliments filled your body with butterflies once again, you couldn’t describe the feeling and it felt like you were blinded by love.

“Do you miss him?” Trent spontaneously asked, making you stop what you were doing for a second.

“I don’t know maybe, maybe not” You simply responded, not sure why he would ask a question like that.

“Don’t worry Y/n, I’ll make you forget him” He claimed and went to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around yours. You took your hands and gently stroke his tanned arms.

“Do you really think he cares about you like I do?” Trent questioned. His eyes were on you in the mirror and you nervously laughed, not knowing what to answer.

“No…”

“There you go” He soothed and let go of you and walked out the bathroom leaving you in shock.

You stood in front of the mirror flabbergasted. How were you supposed to move on from that?

You managed to calm down and walk out from the bathroom. Trent was dressed up, it looked like he was going somewhere.

“Any plans for the evening, Trent?” You implored.

“Yes I’m actually bringing this really pretty girl with beautiful eyes out for dinner” He explained as your heart sank and he laughed at your face expression.

“It’s you Y/n” Trent chuckled and you started to laugh with him.

“Thank God because I was about to throw hands” You gushed.

“You’re the pretty girl with beautiful eyes”

“You’re so sweet Trent” You hummed and kissed him on his cheek whilst walking past him to get your purse.

The sunset was beautiful whilst you sat in the car with Trent on your way to the restaurant, you felt happy although you were going through a break up. Trent did what he promised, he made you forget Jacob for a moment and you were extremely thankful. Because if he hadn’t come in your life you’d probably still be stuck with Jacob. Maybe he was the person who needed to come into your life?

He took you to one of the best restaurants in London, you were overwhelmed about how beautiful everything was but the most beautiful was Trent. As you sat waiting for your food he looked over the view of the city, making you falling in love with him all over again about how he looked so peaceful and angelic.

He caught you admiring him and you both started laughing.

“What?” He beamed in his famous scouse accent.

“Nothing, you’re just so cute” You giggled as he smiled at you.

Your food finally came and you started eating, after a while the summer wind was blowing and you started to get cold which Trent noticed.

“You’re cold?”

”A little bit but it’s fine” You told him.

“Let’s get back to the hotel” Trent suggested and you nodded in response.

-

The drive back to the hotel was exactly how you wanted it to be. Music blasting again and you and Trent singing along, you were filled with joy and excitement. Were you really supposed to feel this way? After your break up with Jacob you thought you’d be in a public restroom crying, no where to go. Now the thought is different, Trent made you forget all of those thoughts.

“Y/n”

“Yeah?” You said.

“Promise me this is more than just a summer fling” He revealed, placing his hand in yours. It made you think, did you want him to only be a summer fling? Are you going to continue falling for him?

“I promise” You promised. He took your hand and kissed your ring finger whilst his gaze was burning on you.

“Good because I really like you” He confessed.

“I like you too Trent” You answered, hoping that one day you’ll exchange the “I like you” to “I love you”…

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Next part coming soon <3

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #liverpool fc #england x reader #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent imagine #trent x reader #football imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold series #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold fic #trentalexanderarnold

[beautifulpersonpeach]

He put crack in this song.

Does anyone else sit with the fact that, besides the choir, every voice heard on Set Me Free Pt 2 belongs to Jimin?

(Jimin, the man you are...)

You know, I used to wonder why Yoongi chose Tony Montana as the song to have Jimin rap on. This was way back, when I didn't really pay attention to Jimin, and I felt Jimin should be the last person to feature on a track like that. Tony Montana is one of the most disgusting songs in Yoongi's discography. It's so nasty. I'm talking gutter trap, filthy distortion... not even Yankie (the original featuring artist) could do that beat justice, and that's the song Yoongi gave Jimin.

Yoongi knew...

(He's an animal)

Yoongi knew that Jimin would work magic on a track like Tony Montana, and be fully in his element. Jimin is very similar to Yoongi in that way, and this is even more clear after SMF Pt 2. Yoonmin both use autotune to represent the voices in their heads, to colour whole personalities, to exhibit their alter-egos, both benevolent and malicious. Yoongi's mastery of that tool has only enhanced his credibility as an MC, and if there's any member who can one day match Yoongi's proficiency in using that stylistic tool, it's Jimin. Because already, with his first ever song as a solo artist, Jimin has painted such an arresting picture using that tool.

When SMF Pt 2 first dropped, I thought there were only two voices in the song: the autotuned voice saying Jimin's inner thoughts, and the normal voice singing the topline of the song. Now, I hear four distinct voices:

The voice representing reckless ambition - “I never stop, I never stop / Ah yeah, ah yeah”

The voice representing impatience and anger - "Hey fool, just get out of my way / Shut up, fuck off / I’m on my way"

The voice representing the exponent - "Enemy / Better be"

The voice representing clarity, acceptance, and triumph - "날 비웃어도 멈추지 않아"

Even with the autotune, Jimin uses it in three very different ways to express three different voices in his head - all of which are wholly Jimin, but he closes off the whole affair in his own voice, the one that's least processed on the song, the voice that represents his triumph and determination to forge his own path.

(Called it)

It's been weeks and I'm still obsessed with Jimin's delivery of those voices. His voice is addicting. No member in BTS can sing "Fuck all your opps" the way Jimin does.

Speaking of opps...

I've seen your asks about our old friend, William, and I haven't responded because a big part of me doesn't care. I don't want to be dismissive of the people who are angry that William excluded ~100k units in sales for Jimin (and Jimin only, going by the placements of other k-artists on the chart) in the second week of tracking. I agree with you that it's annoying because as it always is with BTS, the rules have been selectively applied, Jimin's work and achievement has been made to look less legitimate, and this is happening while the same organization highlights and celebrates other k-artists who haven't just fallen off the chart, but also performed poorly in critics reviews, so a.k.a. mediaplay.

I feel the frustration too but at the same time, when has the playing field ever been equal for BTS? It feels like a rite of passage for new fans to experience at least one 'what the fuck just happened?' moment when it comes to how blatant the subversion is for BTS.

But I don't care to harp on about it because (1) It's unproductive, (2) I'm neck-deep in FACE, (3) I just kinda believe Jimin.

He's not stopping. He plans to continue making music even if it hurts and even if people mock him. And I plan to keep listening to him for as long as he feels he has something to say. Jimin has already made his mark, and like everything else he does, he's done it in record time in spite of all the handicaps. He knows his fans love his work, he knows he's gotten critical acclaim for his efforts, and he knows the industry has never been a friend - he's not new to William's antics. Jimin is fine.

(...more than fine. Just look at that man. God. He was born to own the stage)

The fandom is another matter lol. ARMYs will need to figure out how to adapt, the way the fandom has always found ways to adapt, but I don't know if this will happen before the implosion or afterwards.

Either way it's only a matter of time before Jimin comes back with another project that ends k-pop and wins hearts, saves souls, and makes babies. The world can decide whether or not to make room for him to settle at the top and it wouldn't matter, because Jimin means it when he says he makes his own way. And I intend to support him as an artist his entire career. It's me and him. The rest of you can choose to join in or not.

(A performer)

Everything about Set Me Free Pt 2 feels extreme. Every single thing about it. The brass. The haunting, wailing, choral chants. The autotune... There are so many choices Jimin could have made on that song: he could've tempered the aggression with an intermission of his feather-light vocals the way he does on Face Off, he could have emphasized his points by having the instrumentals bottom out the way it does on Alone, he could have gone about SMF Pt 2 in a million other ways, but he chose the most audacious sound to declare that from here on out, he's playing by his own rules, making art on his own terms, and everyone else is just going to have to get used to the idea.

(*The performer)

*

For the Anon surprised that Jimin knows about Rilke, but went on to diss Joon in the same ask... what did you think Jimin was doing with Namjoon all those times they'd hang out and talk about life? Namjoon is the bonafide Rilke fanboy in BTS, has been sharing Rilke's works and poems with fans and the members for at least six years now, but it's suddenly surprising Jimin looked up poems to fit the theme of his song and went with Rilke? Y'all need to start paying attention to how your biases interact with every other member in BTS, not just the members you like.

#I'm writing this because it's been weeks and I still can't get over Jimin's alt-voices. #I'm so impressed with FACE #Jimin has done well #Clearing my drafts ahead of D-DAY #Jimin #park jimin

[cherrycola27]

Till Death?

Summary: after six months away, it's time to come back

Previous Part

...........................................

Epilouge

Six months, twenty-six weeks, one hundred eighty-three days. That's how long you had been gone.

That was how much time had passed since you gathered up your son and a few necessary items before loading up your Jeep and driving into the sunset.

It was also the same amount of time that had passed since you saw them.

Sure, it was hard. No one said it would be easy. But over time, you managed to adapt. You traveled the length of the West Coast, and as far east as the Grand Canyon. You'd traveled up to Montana and over to South Dakota in your Jeep.

You'd let your parents keep Nick for a while and spent a week in New York with your cousin and a week on the North Carolina coast with your best friend from college.

You enjoyed your time. But something was missing.

He was missing.

You aren't sure when missing him started, but once it did, you couldn't get the ache out of your chest.

You found yourself wanting to contact him more and more. You had to will yourself not to pick up the phone and call him. To not put your car in the wind and drive back to him.

He had hurt you. You were doing this for you.

But more and more, the hurt began to fade away. It was replaced by a longing, a want to have him with you.

You missed his laugh, his smile. You missed the way he made you feel. The way he cared about you.

He never tried to pressure you to come back. He knew you needed this.

Two weeks ago, you decided that it was time to go back, time to go to him.

You made sure you had everything in order. You even went as far as contacting Phoenix and Bob to make sure he wasn't on deployment. When they confirmed he wasn't, it made everything seem so real.

So, here you were, packing up your Jeep once again.

It would take you about four hours to get back. It would be late when you returned, but you knew that you couldn't put it off any longer.

You took a deep breath before slamming the trunk of your car shut.

You adjusted Nick in his car seat, turned on his iPad, and made sure he had a snack. You gave his seat belt one final check to be safe.

Once you made sure he was secure, you opened your phone and typed out a message.

"I'm coming home."

Three simple words. You hit send before putting the car in drive.

As you pulled away from the Air BnB you'd been staying at, you sighed. A few tears slipped down your cheek. They weren't tears of sadness though, the were happy tears. You knew you were making the right choice.

You stopped along the way for stretch breaks, snacks, fuel, and the bathroom. At each stop, you checked your phone.

He hadn't responded. You hoped he'd gotten your message. Deep down, you knew he had.

You'd just left the rest stop and had about forty-five minutes of driving left. Nick was fast asleep. You turned on the radio and let the pop songs guide you home.

It's late when you pulled up. You killed the engine and lights. You took a deep breath. Maybe you should have called first instead of texting. You sat in the driver's seat and thought for a moment. It's been over six months since you left him. What if he didn't want you anymore. It was a silly thought, really. You knew he did.

You learned a lot about yourself in that time. You became the person you were always meant to be. You found your love for life again. You became a person who could let themselves love and be loved again.

You opened the door to your car and quietly got out.

You carefully lifted Nick out of the car.

You silently made your way up the steps to the porch.

Before you could knock on the door, the porch light flipped on, and the door flung open.

He was still half asleep, but a smile spread across his face when his eyes landed on you.

A beat of silence passed before he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Hi, Honey"

So babes, this is the end. I have loved writing this series and it has been an amazing journey with you. Please feel free to send me an ask if there is anything you want to share about this! I love yall!

Tag List: @pisupsala @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @hecate-steps-on-me @withahappyrefrain @arson-tm @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @caitsymichelle13 @lillyrosenight @callsign-hummingbird @inky-sun @writeroutoftime @afterglowsb-tch13 @heyoimjordy @phoenixssugarbaby @hypatia93 @bradshawseresinbabe @je-suis-prest-rachel @teacupsandtopgun @boringusername3 @starlightstories @daggerspare-standingby @utterlyhopeful-fics @talkfastromance4 @fighterpilothoe @t-nd-rfoot @phoenix138 @abaker74 @peppizzathief @gigisimsonmars @emorychase @wannabeschyulersister @greatszu @shawnsblue @tributetomrsniffles @tv-fanatic18 @angelbabyange @sadpetalsstuff @softmullet @cowboybarbie @shewritesfiction13 @sweetlittlegingy @rogersbarnesxx

#top gun maverick #cherrycola27 #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #till death? #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman smut #hangman top gun #hangman seresin x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm #top gun 2

[losergender]

media i think the pjo cast would be into

percy : h2o + mako mermaids (he religously makes stelle watch them with him once she's older) , he also really likes teen beach movie + austin & ally (reminds him of him and annabeth). he's a great spiderman fan too, had a hyperfix on it as a kid and it came back SUPER STRONG when atsv was released, he was devastated when he couldn't infodump annabeth about it

annabeth : THE SIMS !!!! she got her dad to buy her all the DLCs of the sims 4 as compensation for how he treated her. i think she would also love the new york times games if they were more dyslexia friendly (you know when she gets absolutely furious at the sphynx in tbotl bc the questions are stupid? that's how she'd react to connection categories)

grover : he would love animal crossing new leaf and new horizons so much! i also think he would lend happy home designer to annabeth but she would get frustrated at how little you can personalise the houses. he also really likes deltarune and the concept of goat boy helps blue mc with single-mother reminds him of him and percy

nico : pokemon, but specifically the card game. will tries to introduce him to the game many times but nico is horrible at managing a console so after lots of frustration he goes "i wish it came it card format" and will is just like "OH!" he also really likes animation because he was alive during its beginnings, so i think he could be just familiar enough with it but not enough not to be super excited with every one of the new techniques that have been developed

rachel : she has watched tangled many many times. obviously she has a devianart / tumblr account. huge huge fan of the spiderverse movies (was the one percy infodumped about it) and adventure time (the opening of fionna & cake is her morning alarm). she is also a loona stan (after becoming friends with annabeth she asked for help figuring out the loonaverse and accidentally got annabeth into them as well, but rachel is more into the music while annabeth just focus on the lore)

tyson : when i was maybe 8 i had this nintendo game about horse riding that i am sure he would love. ALSO MLP!!! twilight reminds him of annabeth!!

will : TRIGUN !!!! SOMEONE LET THIS BOY READ TRIMAX!!! + he loved hannah montana, he still owns the cds and the climb is his favorite song.

bianca : would have loved christian girl k-pop i just know

clarisse : she grew up watching shonen anime. i don't watch a lot of shonen but i'm personally gonna say she likes one piece so when she got the quest on tsom a part of her kept going "omg one piece reference." she also thinks jojo's is the most hilarious piece of media to ever exist.

#pjo #rrverse #pjo hoo toa #pjo hcs #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo head #pjo headcanons #annabeth #annabeth pjo #grover #grover pjo #rachel e #rachel pjo #nico di angelo #nico pjo #tyson pjo #will solace #will pjo #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Down on the Farm-PART 3

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester

My life as the Executive Assistant of the senior senator from Montana during his re-election campaign sometimes require me to spend nearly every waking hour of a workday together with him to ensure the senator’s time is spent efficiently. A lot of the time it’s serious and a lot of time it’s fun… mainly the sex we’re having. After discussing his campaign stops in the up coming week, the senator and I headed out to Choteau, Mt. to get some good, feed beef. And according to Jon, "It's good beef man, and it eats like cotton candy. Sweet and tender."

After driving for over an hour, Jon decided to stop an take a piss at the up coming rest stop. I followed Jon to the restroom which was very large, but not kept very clean probably because of the traffic.

"What a fucking dump." Jon said as we smell piss, weed and other drugs in the air. We'd quick piss and leave as this place was filthy.

As we approached the stalls he could see a number of men standing in a huddle and some were at the litrene appearing to be taking a piss. Most of them weren't pissing, but looking at the guys dick standing next to them. Being in a hurry and not wanting to be recognised, Jon pushed one of the men aside so that he could piss quickly and head home.

As he was pissing, I could tell men on either side of him were admiring his fat cock. Jon was careful not to make eye contact as he was in a hurry and not in the mood for action. He finished taking a piss, but just as he turned to leave he saw the reasons the men were standing, huddled outside the stall. Each of the stalls had some sort of action taking place. In one stall were two men, one vigirously fucking the other up the ass. Another stall had one man on his knees sucking on two other guys while they were engaged in a hot kiss.

I could tell the senator was appalled and excited at the same time. He knew he had to be careful as someone could recognise him. But the senator's thick meat started to harden as he continued to watch.

"Maybe we should go." I said and just as we were exiting Jon noticed a tall black man with a 9' in cock getting blown by a middle aged white guy.

The black guy had just blown his load and Jon was mesmerized. Looking up at Jon, the black man asked, "Want some? Come on get it. Come on."

Letting Jon know we had to go, but he brushed me off. The hot action in the bathroom had finally gotten to the senator. He loved sucking cock and had forgotten that he didn't want to be recognized. He also forgot we should've been heading to Choteau. His only thoughts now were of the large black dick in his mouth. He wanted to draw a load of cum from the dick. Despite the fact that the man had just blown a load and probably only wanted Jon to clean off his cock. But he had other plans. He wanted to make this guy cum. After completely lick away all the dripping cum he proceeded to suck the dick vigorously, but gingerly as he knew most men's dicks were sensitive after cumming. He didn't want the man to pull out or turn him off. Jon continued the sucking, going up and down quickly on the meat. He made a tight rim with his mouth for better suction. The black man was loving the feel of a gentle mouth going up and down on his dick.

"Stop. Stop. I wanna fuck you. Put your hands against the wall and drop your pants."

What a switch as Jon usually was the one instructing someone to put their hands against the wall. Quickly complying, Jon undo his jeans and pulled then down. Then the man inserted his long black pole as the senator braced himself against the wall. The man grabbed Jon's hips for more leverage and starting pumping. In seconds, he was fucking Jon hard and fast. When he noticed Jon didn't complain, he continued pounding.

"Shit I'm cumming in your fat ass, damn I'm cumming." Screamed the man as he continued to pump. He finally pulled out and dropped to his knees in exhaustion.

They both moved over to a nearby sink to wash away some of the cum that was now dripping out of Jon's ass when the black man noticed a large bulge in his pants. Grabbing Jon's cock, the man lead him to a toilet set, had him sit with his legs spread, pants unzipped as he knelt between the huge thighs and began to suck the meat.

The young man made love to the thick juicy cock as each of them were getting into the spirit of the sucking. The young man went up and down on the thick white dick at ever increasing speed before Jon grabbed the back of the man's head and forced it up and down on his throbbing rod. But the man did not seem to mind as a small crowd gathered around the stall while the action with Jon and the young black man was going on.

A white middle aged man stood mesmerized for several minutes until Jon and motioned for the man to move forward. The man slowly moved forward inched sideways so that he could get past the knelling man to Jon who was still sitting on the toilet stool with his legs stretched straight out. With his cock in front of him, Jon immediately engulfed the meat as he was in turn being sucked by the young black man. Jon reached behind the man and held him in place while he greedily sucked his cock. It didn't take long for his expert sucking to draw the cum out of the man's dick.

As the man exited the stall he whispered to someone who watching, "He's damn good, damn good. Best suck job I've ever had."

My concern of Jon being recognised got worse as Jon waved another man over. And just like the man before him, Jon was quickly rewarded with a warm load of cum which he eagerly swallowed. He then zipped up his pants and exited the stall while looking and smiling at some the men now crowded are the scene. Without saying a word his look indicated to them that Jon was really a expert cocksucker and ready for more.

The young black man continued to suck Jon's cock as the men formed a line outside the stall to get the juice sucked out of their stiff dicks. Jon needed no urging as he was kept horny by the young black man who was intent on sucking the cum out of his thick dick. The more he sucked on the senator, the more Jon wanted to drain the cock of any of the men who approached him as he sat in the stall.

The line began to dwindle as the senator quickly drained each man who stepped up to get their meat sucked until restroom was almost completely empty. It was getting late in the afternoon, but the young black man continued to suck Jon's cock. The senator suddenly interrupted the man and said "Get up and turn around."

Both men stood up and Jon lead the young black man over to the nearest wall and pulled down his pants.

"Spread your legs." Jon said as he pressed his fat dick against the tight black ass. His dick was already lubricated from the spit from all the sucking during the afternoon.

Slowly Jon pressed, making sure not to penetrate too fast. He finally was able to get the head in. Next a couple of inches penetrated with no sign of pain from the man taking the fat dick up his ass. That was the signal he was looking for to start pumping his dick in and out of the tight hole.

"That's it. Fuck me. Fuck me." Cried the man as Jon did just that. He keep pumping, slowly working a little more of his fat dick in the man's ass with each thrust until he was thrusting the entire length of his thick 8 inch dick in the man's ass. The old man pumped his plump man meat into young black man over and over again as he moaned and grunted like a whore getting fucked. I watched as Jon continued to speed up and was close to emptying his seed. The young black man was no screaming like a wild animal.

"I'm getting close." Jon suddenly said.

"Don't cum in my ass. I want to taste that cum of yours." The young black man said.

"Ok git ready, here it comes." Jon said as he withdrew his dick so the man could turn around and swallow his cum juice.

It was now late, late afternoon and Jon just had to get going. The restroom was mostly empty now, so it was safe for us to leave without Jon being recognized. We finally got to Choteau, got our beef and headed back to the farm. What a day we had, I thought then chuckled to myself. If Jon had been recognized, he would have won himself a few votes today.

#jon tester #The Senator from Montana #fan fiction #Down on the Farm PART 3 #politician #us senator

[jungle-angel]

Random College!Rhett headcannons: Part 1 (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Notes: I haven’t seen The Line yet, but I have seen comedies like “Animal House” and “Old School” so I’ve gotten alot of headcannons from that and as a result Frat!Rhett has been living in my head rent free. I was a little bit nervous to do this, but all the same, I’m glad I did (lol). Sorry if it’s a little long, I had to pack alot in (if you catch my drift, lol). 

Tagging: @sebsxphia @bradleybeachbabe​ @bobfloyds​

Rhett is the president of the Delta Tau Epsilon fraternity at one of the colleges in Montana and oh does that house have a rep (but in the funniest possible way of course)

Kayce Dutton is his right hand man, new pledges always go through Kayce before going to Rhett and when Rhett’s away, whatever Kayce says, goes

The guys in the frat were kinda nerdy in high school so Rhett and Kayce have a particularly soft spot for the nerds. They’re also really close with the nerd frat on campus and any time anybody needs extra tutoring, they go to them

When Rhett met you, you were kind of a shy little freshman who was two years behind him. He really, really liked you because you loved to hide out in the library but you also loved to go out and have a good time

Your first party at the house though?? Holy shit, did shenanigans ensue

It all started with the new pledges engaging in a challenge to see who could shotgun the most beers in under ten minutes. One poor freshman got beer up his nose and it ended with one of Rhett’s frat brothers having to take the kid into the bathroom to help him blow it all out his nose. The kid was ok but the brothers kept an eye on him the rest of the night and well into the next morning

Three other pledges were on their knees, hands behind their backs while Rhett, Kayce and another guy were up on the staircase balcony dropping flaming hot Cheetos from above and the guys having to catch them in their mouths

Sooooo many drinking games in the basement.....quarters, bloody knuckles, boom cup, kegstands (lol)

Some of the new pledges got a chance to show off their stand-up skills and some of them had the whole crowd in stitches by the end

When you and Rhett officially started dating, you became known as “The First Lady Of The Frat” 

And ever since then the guys call you Mom and Dad

If you stayed over and the newbies were getting too loud, the older ones would shush them and be like “Mom and Dad are asleep” 

One time one of the brothers who was on the football team threw his back out during practice and was laid up on the couch with a little bell to ring any time he needed something and it was literally every two seconds that he was ringing that bell. Kayce ended up having to take care of him most of the day while Rhett had to meet with the Dean of the History Department, which was annoying as hell 

Rhett: “RING THAT BELL ONE MORE TIME AND I’M STICKIN IT WHERE THE SUN DON’T SHINE!!!......Kayce: “DAD’S HOME!!!!” 

The morning after a rager, you often had to be on standby with the puke buckets which were a little less than pleasant

But oh did you make the best hangover breakfasts ever.....eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, coffee, a little bit of rosemary and olive oil bannock on the side. You’re everybody’s favorite cook which makes Rhett’s raging housewife kink flare up

When you’re cooking the hangover specials, he’ll come up behind you and pin you against the stove only to rub the raging hard-on packed into his Wranglers against the back of your thigh and against your ass

Had a long day and are kinda burned out from studying? Rhett will clean up his room and get it in a sexy mood before he lays you down on the bed and starts giving you a full body massage. If you need a hot bath, he’s running you one in the joint bathroom to help you relax. He’s tried out the mating press with you in the bathroom and it felt soooooo fucking good (lol)

On nights when the toga parties get a little too wild and you and Rhett need a moment, he’ll bring you up to his room which sometimes ends up with the two of you falling right into the bed 

There’s a heatwave hanging over the town and the campus? Rhett and his frat brothers will dig a big pit in the backyard, fill it with ice and let everybody relax in it. When it melts? MUD WRESTLING!!!!!!

If the heatwave lasts more than a week, Rhett and the guys gather everybody up and go down to the reservoir to make a giant slip n’ slide down into the water 

You had first dibs since you were the First Lady but as soon as you hit the water, you lost your bikini top. Rhett ended up diving in and searching for it only to come back up with your bikini top in his teeth and a big shit-eating grin on his face

When it’s tick season, Rhett will literally ram it into the guys heads that they’d better check themselves and each other before and after they go traipsing through the woods or high grass. If you’re trying to check an area that’s a little hard to reach, he’ll bring you upstairs to his room for a full on pussy inspection to make sure. He’s even got a kit that has a homemade oil mix in it that’ll kill the ticks. Sometimes he’ll just use it as an excuse to rub it all in there anyways just so he can hear you moan and get you off (lol)

When Rhett walks you home at night, the rest of the frat are stationed in the trees, in the bushes or in their vehicles parked on the side of the road to keep a watch out for the frat boys who are actual assholes 

And if Rhett can’t walk you home for one reason or another? Kayce and the rest of the boys basically become your secret service escort

But there was one night you knew you wouldn’t forget 

The guys were throwing a rager to blow off some steam after midterms

And they set up a dance floor in the middle of the living room

Everybody cleared the way for you and Rhett, the President and First Lady of Delta Tau Epsilon

You were almost in tears when the song started playing, looking into Rhett’s eyes as he whispered a very quiet “I love you”

When “Where The Streets Have No Name” by U2 started playing, you, Rhett and the whole house started jumping which shook the house (that was also the song that would play when the football team charged out into the stadium during a game)

And when you all started singing at the same time, it reminded you of a big stadium concert

But you and Rhett didn’t let go of each other the entire time, the both of you belting out the lyrics with the others

And ever since then, you, Rhett and his frat brothers remained close for the rest of your days

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #kayce dutton #rhett abbott headcannons #rhett abbott x reader headcannons

[zeldasnotes]

MEN WITH A DOMINANT LILITH IN THEIR CHART

Okey this was my answer from an ask I got but I decided to make a post out of it.

A lot of criminals have prominent Lilith. Lilith men are very likely to not want to be a part of normal society working and paying taxes. Why work for a society that outcasts you and makes you out to be the black sheep and the bad guy right? Lilith in a person creates the kind of dark mind and strength to survive in that world unless they are the kind of Lilith man whos not accepted by other men.

”You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your f*cking fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy.” So what that make you? Good?”- Tony Montana

What Ive noticed on the gay men I know personally with prominent Lilith placements is that they experience jealousy from other men and there have been a strong theme of other men trying to dominate them and make them feel less attractive. They have been involved in relationships that became abusive and obsessive and ended with stalking and sometimes physical violence. I think Lilith can be even more dangerous for gay men than for women because men are less likely to become physically violent towards a woman in public while its more normalized to physically attack and even beat another man in public. My close friend whos a gay man with Lilith in the 10th house have had sooo many stalkers but he also have Mars in the 8th house so the relationship to other men is just damaged. Other men want him but at the same time they feel a sense of competition with him. They always try to downplay his attractiveness or ”jokingly” like slap him or touch him innapropriately and then pretend they are just joking. He have a very good relationship to women tho and women are usually the ones to protect him and are loyal to him.

When it comes to the heteroguys I know with prominent Lilith Ive noticed that they can be disliked or seen as ”a creep” by women. They experience women competing with them like women to with eachother. I also noticed that a lot of Lilith dominant men are more on the feminine side(what society considers feminine) than other men and more likely to be attacked by women. Other men either dislike them because they are seen as the ”Im gonna f*ck your wife” kinda guy or like them because they are not seen as husband material by women so they are not a threath. Some Lilith men are extremely disloyal to other men and dont understand the ”bro code”. These are the kinda men who have their instagram full of pics with no shirt showing their d*ckprint.

Then there is the last kind of Lilith guy that learned to fit in. The popular guy. The typical preppy hot guy you see in american movies who is extremely promiscuous. Matty McKibben kinda guys. They are usually more abusive towards women and usually grew up with a hate towards their mother who plays the role of Lilith for them. These men are usually successful but have a very psychopathic personality and mind and can be all about success. You see these type of guys on youtube and tiktok a lot. Usually into fitness or fotball. These men are more seen as husband material then the first type. They can even have a ”daddy” look.

© 2022 Zeldas Notes

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #ascendant #lilith aspects #lilith in the houses

[thepotentialof2007]

But who made Lewis do it, to bet on a Ferrari that's been losing for almost two decades?

Leo Turrini interviews Aldo Costa about working with Hamilton and Schumacher

A vegan menu is already ready at [Ristorante] Montana. Guess for whom.

While waiting to enjoy it in the company of the person to whom it will be dedicated (the menu), I chatted with a gentleman who has known those two up close and personal. Aldo Costa, my dear friend.

Costa: "Michael Schumacher and Lewis Hamilton have a lot in common. But there are also significant differences between them. However, it is beautiful that the two most successful drivers in F1 history have chosen to link their name to Ferrari."

Aldo Costa, now technical director of the wonderful Dallara ("From the Parma hills we deal with 17 automotive projects, from IndyCar to Formula E"), Aldo Costa, I said, is the only Top engineer to have worked with both Schumi and with Hamilton. At Maranello he was part of the Dream Team of Montezemolo and Todt. In Mercedes, he won everything and more with Lewis.

Engineer, who is better between the two?

Costa: "I refuse to answer, this is a provocation. I want to say right away that Michael and Lewis are less far apart than you might imagine. Both have always had a very analytical approach to things off track. They are meticulous, very professional. They know that at certain levels it's the details that shift the balance, that determine the outcome."

From the outside Schumi looked like a robot, an alien....

Costa: "Wrong impression! Michael was very human in the work. He would sit there with the engineers and calmly convey his feelings about the car he was driving. He was never obsessive, that's it."

In contrast, Hamilton?

Costa: "Same dough. Lewis I got to know better, because in Mercedes I had a role that put me in more direct contact with the driver. He and I were symbiotic. Hamilton, like Schumi, asks for trust and trusts you."

That must be why the two of them won 14 world titles.

Costa: "So. Then, of course, they are also distinct and distant from each other."

In what sense?

Costa: "You see, they belong to non-overlapping cultures. Can I give an example? Schumacher was the last driver of an era when cars were developed on the track, through continuous testing on the asphalt. And in this he was formidable, unique I dare say."

Hamilton was not.

Costa: "No. Lewis belongs to the time of the simulator.They changed the rules. In short: Michael was always behind the wheel, Hamilton almost never because he can't. Not surprisingly, Schumi when he returned to racing in 2010, with no more circuit testing, he had a bad time. He, the simulator, just really hated it."

But other than that, the substance, I mean as achievements and victories, has not changed.

Costa: "Indeed, because we are talking about two Phenomena! I will give you another example. Schumi determined tire development with his testing, because he could do it. In Hamilton's era, the tires are baptized first by the sole supplier, and the greatness of the driver lies in his ability to make the most out of tires right away that he does not know, that he did not have a hand in choosing beforehand. And in this he is an absolute master, as Michael was in his world."

But who made Lewis do it, to bet on a Ferrari that's been losing for almost two decades?

Costa: "Well, he is an instinctive one. He followed his heart. It's not a turn dictated by the God of money."

But what are the chances that...

Costa: "I won't answer here. In Maranello they know they have a lot of things to fix..."

Does he think Hamilton will pull in technicians he trusts from the Mercedes school?

Costa:"I don't know. When he came over to Mercedes in 2013, leaving McLaren, he presented just himself. They called him crazy, but you know how it went."

One last thing, dear Costa. Since everyone understood that in 2011 the Ferrari made an own goal by torpedoing you from the role of technical director, in short , yes, would you go back to Maranello with your friend Lewis?

Costa: "No. I am happily ... married to engineer Dallara, by the way we collaborate with the Cavallino on the Le Mans project."

Hamilton will win without Costa.

Costa: "For the good it brings him, I wish him well."

#lewis hamilton #michael schumacher #aldo costa #ferrari #f1 #red team signs lh #preseason #2024 #leo turrini #mercedes amg f1 #racecar design and engineering #translated from the italian via deepl

[suzdin]

Jackson: Redemption (Part Two)

(Joel Miller x female reader)

Summary: The conclusion to part one here.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mean Joel, dom Joel, smut, edging, spitting, rough sex, mentions of weapons, unprotected sex, mentions of loss

——

Joel is back to ignoring you. And truth be told, it hurts.

Hurts a lot.

You had a pleasant enough dinner that night, after he’d fucked you, sitting with not only the two of them, but Tommy and Maria as well. It was nice to not sit alone. It was so nice, you looked forward to it again at breakfast the next day.

Only, it didn’t happen.

You sat with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, sure. But Joel wasn’t there. And he hadn’t been to a meal in the mess hall for days.

At least he didn’t seem to hate you any more. He no longer glowered at you when you saw him, didn’t make a point to make you feel uncomfortable in his wake. Didn’t fret over you talking to Ellie anymore, either. In fact, you were almost sure he appeared sad in the off chance you saw him looking at you.

But you wish he would go back to hating your guts because that was at least better than…whatever the fuck this was.

So you go on with your life. Taking care of the horses, feeding them daily, cleaning their stalls, working them so they don’t grow restless when they aren’t being ridden. Helping out in the kitchen a couple days a week.

Patricia, a rugged older widow from Montana whom you admire, shows you how to butcher a deer the day one of the scouting parties drags a massive, 8-point buck back to Jackson. It’s as gross as it is fascinating to you, Patricia’s worn hands expertly breaking down the still-warm animal as she discusses all the parts and techniques. You mentally log everything for later, should you ever need it.

You have venison and cornbread for dinner that night and it’s fantastic. You gab on about town life with everyone, since they’ve finally started to accept you. To trust you. It feels nice, but…

It’s empty without Joel. He has a way of filling a room with his presence alone.

You’re pretty sure Tommy and Maria know. Pretty sure they could tell that night when you’d come to dinner, the way you were both so mussed and flustered, Joel wiping the blood from his face instead of cleaning himself up properly like he normally would have. The way you’d smelled of each other.

Maria has tried to talk to you about it a few times. “Are you okay?” she’d asked. “Is something going on between the two of you?”

“Nothing is going on,” you responded, and it’s the truth. Because nothing is going on. He hasn’t wanted to be near you in days.

It doesn’t surprise you when Ellie also clues in that something is off. She’s too smart not to. She’s the only person who can really read Joel, aside from maybe Tommy. She’s taken up Joel’s place for glaring knives into you, but it’s less intimidating when she does it, because she isn’t a big and burly emotionless wall of muscle.

“You remember what you told me?” she’d asked you. “‘Bout that girl I like? You said, ‘Don’t be afraid to say hi. Just go talk to her.’ But you’re over here pussin’ out about talking to my dad when I know you want to! What the fuck?”

“It’s more complicated than that, kiddo,” you’d told her. But was it?

You start having nightmares about your grandparents again. They had stopped for a while. A stress response to everything you’ve been going through with Joel, no doubt. Not that you’re going through anything…the man has made it obvious he doesn’t want you.

So you whittle down the days, doing the best you can to keep your head up, to keep moving.

Because it’s all you can do.

——

Late night. Most everyone in town is settled in their homes or sleeping, except for you and a few other stragglers, as well as night patrol. You know Joel has been on night duty lately—probably took it up to skirt you as much as possible.

You’re sat at the bar and you’ve been nursing a glass of twenty year old wine for the last half hour, rolling the stem of the glass between your forefinger and thumb. You’ve already finished off half the bottle by yourself so it isn’t as though you aren’t already wasted.

It’s red wine which isn’t really your thing, but it’s the only option available other than whiskey, which most definitely isn’t your thing.

It’s quiet in here and you welcome the silence. There’s a low whine of wind outside and the hum of the ice machine, but everything else is serene. You close your eyes. Your head swims from the alcohol.

That’s when a familiar and haunting sound breaks the otherwise stillness of the bar: boots scraping against earth and then wood, the heaviness of the footfalls an unequivocal tell of who they belong to.

Your blood stills. You don’t turn around, hoping that if you make no sound or movement, he’ll be on his way. Like a T-Rex.

You listen as the boots slow and then stop in the doorway behind you, and you purse your lips into a hard line.

Here we fucking go.

“Hey.” Baritone, dripping with that sweet caramel southern charm.

You turn and press the small of your back against the bar, elbows propped up on the wood. You see Joel standing in the dark, dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt that barely fits his wide shoulders with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark hair disheveled.

He looks fucking good, but you’re still livid with him for ignoring you. You need to steady your resolve—gain the upper hand.

“Hey,” you say in a monotone drawl in response, downing the remainder of your glass of wine in one swallow.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Joel says, taking a few tentative steps toward you.

He stops under the lights, casting him in enough shadow to deepen the lines of his face. His brows are drawn upwards into an empathetic countenance, his eyes large and glossy, lending him a wounded puppy appearance.

It’s almost enough to break you. Almost.

“Why? You think I’m an alcoholic?” you laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

He hesitates. “‘Course not. Just see you here a lot, s’all.” His voice is cool and even. Almost soft.

He gives you a once over that makes you swallow. You’re dressed not dissimilarly to Joel, or to anyone else in town for that matter, since you all share the same work loads. You’re wearing dark blue jeans that hug your curves, a light green scoop neck tee that shows the slightest hint of cleavage, and weathered dark brown cowboy boots.

“I just wanted to say—“ he starts, but you whip a hand up to cut him off. Surprisingly, it works, when he stops and looks at you.

“Don’t,” you clip.

“Look,” he continues after a moment. “I’m—“

“Joel, there’s nothing that needs to be said. Because this…” You waggle a finger between the two of you. “This is nothing.” It sounds a lot meaner than you intend it to, but you’re still hurt and you never handled your alcohol well. Especially when you’ve downed half a bottle of it.

He recoils almost like you’ve injured him. “You think this is nothing?” he asks in an accusatory tone, placing his hands on his hips.

“Isn’t it? I mean, you’ve made that abundantly clear, yeah?” you question. You can feel your cheeks heat, but you feel surprisingly brazen, even under the hungering stare he’s currently pinning you with.

He says nothing, but takes another couple of steps forward. You’re so close to breaking—so close—as you imagine him bending you over and ripping your pants down, taking you here right up against the bar. The alcohol coupled with the sight of the surly man in front of you is enough to make your cunt clench tight at the thought.

But you’re angry and hurt and you want him to hurt too. So you hold up your hand again. You know if he actually reaches you, you’d never be able to control yourself; part of you hopes he won’t listen.

But he does. He stops, his arms swinging pendulously at his sides as he comes to an abrupt halt. His countenance twisting into a sneer.

“Fine,” he tuts in that dark, gravelly drawl. “‘F that’s what ya want, then so be it.” You see something in the lines of his face that resembles pain, and then he turns.

He balls his hands into fists and leaves you there, stalking out of the room like some twisted, angry thing, in so few strides that for a few moments you can’t actually believe that he’s there one instant and gone the next.

“Joel! Wait!” you call out, but it’s too late. He’s already gone—or maybe he’s lost interest.

And then you feel empty. Sad. Full of regret for lashing out, thinking maybe you’ve just ruined the only chance you had with Joel Miller. That maybe you should just leave Jackson and go find an abandoned cabin in the mountains and eke out some kind of existence on your own there, away from him.

You think that maybe that’s the right thing to do since being in such close proximity to Joel but not able to have him is madness and you’ve only made it worse.

You re-cork the wine bottle and leave it behind the bar for someone else to finish off, and you make a vow to never drink again.

——

A few more days go by, and Joel has reverted to his usual angry, sullen self. The Joel that hates you and by the way he looks at you, you guess still wants to kill you.

Yeah, that Joel.

You’re okay with it because at least it brings a sense of normalcy to your life, but the more it drags out, the more you begin to seriously consider leaving Jackson for good.

Would they let you? You hadn’t left the walls since you’d been filtered in, and hadn’t really shown any interest in doing so…until now.

It’s currently early morning. The sun isn’t even above the mountains yet, the air still sharp and chilly. You’re dressed unceremoniously in a black hoodie, light colored blue jeans and the same cowboy boots you always wear, because you’re on your way to start taking care of the horses with the help of Chen today.

You get to the stables and greet Chen, who has already begun shoveling hay into a wheel barrow to distribute around to the herd. Chen is about your age and decidedly handsome, and you think he might like you, but you aren’t too sure.

You’ve flirted casually with him and even thought about asking him out, to get your mind on someone other than Joel, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to actually do it.

“Hey,” he greets back. “Rats got into the grain again—we need to do something about that,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll talk to Maria or Tommy about it after we’re done today.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name alone, you hear a familiar voice chime from behind you. You jump.

“I’ll have Tommy put down poison again,” Maria says.

You turn to face Maria, who’s smiling the same bright smile she uses when she expects something of you, causing your skin to creep with worry. She says hello to Chen and then turns back to you.

“You’re needed elsewhere,” she says to you. “Patricia will help Chen out today.”

Your eyebrows lift, but you don’t question it. They normally tell you ahead of time when you aren’t doing stables, so it catches you a bit off guard, but you’re okay with that. Anything that gives you a break from routine.

“Pick out two horses and get them saddled up,” she says. “You’re going on patrol today.”

This time you do question things because you’ve never been sent out on patrol—much less beyond the walls—before. That usually wasn’t your thing.

“Patrol? With who?”

She only smiles. You know exactly who.

“Maria! No!” you protest.

“Chen, can you excuse us for a few minutes? Girl talk,” Maria says. He nods and exits the stables.

Once he’s out of earshot, she turns back to you. “You have to. Tommy’s under the weather today. Flu, I think.”

“Maria, there has to be someone else. Surely there’s someone else?” you question in earnest.

“Maybe. But Tommy and I think you two should spend the day together. You know. To chat.” She smiles innocently. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Joel hates my guts. You know that, right?”

“No, actually, because he doesn’t. I don’t know Joel the way Tommy or Ellie does, but I’ve come to know him well enough to see that when he’s angry and broody, it’s because he’s trying not to feel anything at all. And he’s been…weird, since the two of you came to dinner together the other night,” she says. “You’ve been weird, too.”

You laugh. “I’ve been weird?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been distant. Distracted. Something on your mind?” she accuses.

No. Nope. Only a fifty six year old man who fucked you senseless and you’re pretty sure you already have feelings for. That’s all.

“Not really,” you answer.

“Right,” she replies, completely unconvinced. “Well, you’re still going on patrol today. Final decision.”

The barn suddenly grows a little darker and you look up to see Joel, the whole expansive frame of him blotting out what little bit of light has managed to spill in. He leans one arm on the doorframe and his eyes sweep over you, slowly.

You can’t help the way your heart skips when you see him.

——

Joel seems as nonplussed about the arrangement as you are.

It surprises you when he doesn’t put up much of a fight about it; however, he often tends to cow when it comes to Tommy’s orders, and by extension, Maria’s.

You’ve been riding in complete and utter silence for about an hour. The sun is peaking over the mountains now, warming the morning and you’ve already shucked off your hoodie, draping it across the neck of your horse. Joel’s eyes stare straight ahead, unmoving, as you remove the bothersome article of clothing.

You steal glimpses of him when you think he isn’t paying attention. He’s also discarded his black and gray flannel overshirt, leaving his torso adorned in only a snug fitting, dark gray tee.

Said shirt beautifully accentuates the curve of muscles beneath the threadbare fabric, and his arms…you don’t think you’ve seen them before, but his biceps are enormous and unbelievably toned for a man of his age. You squirm when you imagine them wrapping around you; pinning you.

He’s wearing black jeans that somehow grip the tree trunks he has for thighs like they’re hanging on for dear life, and on his feet are the same dark brown Elk Tracker boots he always has on. His hair is unbrushed as usual.

He had picked Amarillo, a handsome buckskin quarter horse; the same one he always takes on runs. You had to admit the two of them shared a bond, the young gelding often listening to Joel better than anyone else.

It annoyed you that a horse held more of a place in Joel’s heart than you did.

For yourself, you had taken out Dakota, a lovely and gentle appaloosa mare whom you’d ridden around town a few times. She snorts as she takes in the surroundings, her ears flicking this way and that as she listens to the songs of the early morning birds.

You grow sick of the silence after a while, so of course you’re the one to break it first. You’ve never been one to be super chatty, but Joel takes not talking like it’s some kind of religious vow.

He could probably go the rest of his life without speaking. You, on the other hand, need to be assured of things on occasion, so you speak up.

“So, what do we do on these patrols?” you ask him. He shoots you a look like you’re stupid, and you probably are, his eyebrows pinching together and his lips parting slightly.

“We patrol,” he answers flatly.

“That’s it? We just ride around all day?” you ask. He shoots you another look and sighs.

“We look for anythin’ that might be out of the ordinary. Signs’a life or tracks. Shoot anyone who seems like a threat,” he expounds.

“How often does that happen?” you ask.

“How often does what happen?”

“Shooting people.”

“Not often. Usually don’t see anyone ‘t’all.”

You recall the night he had returned to town covered in blood. Someone else’s blood. Your fingers curl into the reins, trying to shake the image—and associated feelings—from your mind. Not the time or the place.

You nod and ‘mmm’ softly in confirmation. His eyes return to the trail and you glance at the rifle slung across his torso.

“I don’t have a gun,” you say, as if it’s some big proclamation.

He looks at you again.

“Ain’t givin’ you a gun,” he says. “Said yourself you’re a shit shot.”

“Then how am I supposed to shoot people?” you ask. You’re just trying to get under his skin at this point.

“I’ll shoot ‘em,” he replies.

You hold a hand up in mock defeat. “Ooookay,” you say.

He glares at you. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he chides. “Should cut you loose.”

You know he’s being facetious—at least you think he is—but it doesn’t prevent the words from stinging deep in your gut when you hear them coming from Joel’s mouth. The same way your words most likely did to him a few nights before.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you remark. He tilts an eyebrow.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he asks, incredulous.

“Leaving,” you answer, intentionally keeping your response vague. He scoffs.

“You wouldn’t last the first winter on your own,” he replies. “Or even the first month. Can’t shoot, can’t hunt.”

You hate to admit it, but he’s right. You were young when outbreak happened, barely a teenager, and your grandparents coddled you; shielded you from the darkness the world had become.

Your grandfather did all of the hunting and gathering while your grandmother tended the garden, so you learned very little about survival during those formative years in the cabin. You had probably learned more in Jackson than you ever had with them.

Although they weren’t good men, you had been lucky at the time to be taken under the wing of the group who’d found you hapless and wandering the roads in Colorado, half-starved and dehydrated. You didn’t mind that they used your body. You welcomed it, in fact, because it meant you earned their protection, though you always knew they weren’t good people by any stretch of the imagination.

In spite of yourself, you decide to postulate with Joel anyway. “I would be just fine on my own,” you assert.

He smiles—like, actually smiles—to that. The first time you’ve ever seen anything from him that was more than just a sarcastic smirk. “Sure,” he drawls.

You’re trying to think of a good comeback when he pulls back on Amarillo’s reins. “Whoa, boy.” His dark brown eyes fix on a patch of soft, pock-marked mud.

You also stop Dakota, who shakes her head and lowers her muzzle to the earth, munching on the fresh spring grass.

“What?” you ask, oblivious. Joel points to what he’s seeing before dismounting to get a better look.

You dismount as well when you see it. There are three sets of similar tracks, the first being heavy and deep; the other two are barely visible, hardly heavy enough to make an indent in the mud at all. Round and fat, with with four corresponding digits on each track.

“Puma?” you ask. Joel nods.

“Looks that way,” he answers, and there isn’t a hint of snarkiness to his tone this time. “Mama and two babies, by the looks of it.”

“Awww,” you can’t help but say. He looks at you and raises his eyebrows, causing his forehead to crinkle in an endearingly adorable manner.

“Ain’t cute,” he grunts. “This is a problem. This is the closest set of puma tracks we’ve found t’town.” He runs a finger along the inner wall of one of the mother cat’s prints. “Fresh tracks, too. Probably from last night.” He scans the area for any signs you’re being watched, particularly the trees.

“She’s just trying to live, like the rest of us,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“She’s a potential threat. Babies too, when they’re grown. To the horses, the livestock—us,” Joel retorts. “You think those walls can stop a puma?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Well, they can’t. She gets any closer, she’ll need t’be dealt with,” he says.

“That’s kinda fucked,” you say. He smirks—dry and mirthless—and shakes his head.

“I change my mind. You wouldn’t last a week on your own with that kinda mindset,” he says. “Don’t know how you survived this long already.”

Your chest swells with anger, but you have to admit that, once again, he’s right. You had only been on the road three days when those men found you, and you’d been lucky to find a fresh stream to drink from until then, which you’d stumbled upon by happenstance rather than skill.

Though you don’t know it yet, Joel admires your softness—your naïveté—for what it is. It had been a while since he’d known someone like you and it made him miss the old days. He wants to protect you. To teach you. He won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want you to leave, either. He thinks, if you left, he’d probably have to leave with you, if nothing else but to ensure your survival.

He stares down at you with a mixture of longing and annoyance in his eyes. All you happen to notice is the latter.

“Exactly. I have survived all these years. There’s a reason for that,” you say.

Yeah. Your grandparents. Those men. Tommy and Maria.

“‘F you say so,” he responds, rolling his eyes. That lights a fire in your belly and your skin heats at how flippant he’s being.

“Fuck off,” you snarl.

He laughs, pleased with himself that he’s managed to get under your skin finally, and the satisfaction of it goes straight to his cock. He wants to push your buttons a little more to see just how much he can get you worked up.

What he doesn’t know is that you also want to get under his skin even more than you already have. You aren’t sure how, since he’s seemed to trap you with his words, but you’ll figure something out.

He turns to clamber back up his horse and you see your opportunity. It’s childish. It’s stupid. It will most definitely piss him off, which is what you want. But you need to regain control, and swiftly.

He lifts his arms to grab the saddle horn in order to propel himself upwards, and in doing so, exposes about an inch of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. You need to act fast, before he’s actually on the horse, lest he hurt himself—or you—in the process.

You slip your fingers under his shirt and skate your finger tips up his spine. His skin is surprisingly soft to the touch, and you want to hold them there in reverence of the warm, silken flesh, but he obviously doesn’t give you the opportunity.

He reacts like a spooked animal—which is not too far off once you stop to think about it—startling the horses in the process. He grabs your arm and twists you against him, pulling you close, contorting his lips into a gnarled sneer.

“Just what the hell you think you’re doin’?” he snarls in your face.

You should be satisfied with your victory since this is exactly how you wanted him to react, but you still feel a ripple of fear go through your chest, your breath hitching in your rib cage. His brow furrows into a dark line, his lips stretched thin in a frown.

“Well?” he asks, and his grasp on your arm loosens, but he pulls you closer with his other hand at the small of your back. “Manage t’finally shut you up?”

You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, but your core is rife with heat and your underwear already on the verge of soaking. What you don’t know is that Joel has been half hard in his jeans most of the morning, staring at the back of your head whenever you happen to glance away, thinking about that night.

That one night.

But he’s also been thinking about the night when he found you in the bar, and subsequently the pain you’d caused him by pushing him away. He was there to apologize, and you wouldn’t even give him half a chance.

You maintain eye contact as long as you can, but you’re forced to look away when his dark eyes overwhelm every sense in your body.

He uses his free hand to drag your face back to his. “Asked you a question, pretty girl,” he says, and that’s when you feel the hard line of his cock digging into your thigh. You swallow.

“Just um—just wanted to piss you off,” you answer meekly. “Couldn’t let you win.”

He smirks, keeping your gaze forced in his grip to look at him. “Well, it worked. Now what?” he asks you.

You attempt a shrug, but you’re barely able to hump your shoulders when his mouth is on you, ravenous, starting at the delicate dip of your collarbone and working his way up to your lips, bit by bit, until your mouths collide, teeth and tongues lashing.

You chirp with satisfaction—relief—that he’s finally touching you, kissing you, again, his hand that was at the small of your back moving up to tangle in your hair. He rumbles in his throat, baritone and needy.

He kisses you deeply, deft tongue working the inside of your mouth, latticing his tongue over yours as you suckle back with equal fervor.

Using the hand currently fisted in your hair, he drags your face away from his, your lips parting in a satisfactory smack, to stare into your eyes, while the other hand roves your body.

“This what you want?” he asks you, stopping at the swell of your breast to massage it against his palm, feeling the hard peak of your nipple. He digs his fingers firmly into the pillow soft flesh.

You can’t nod quickly enough, your desperation with which your body moves against his, with his, more than evident.

He sweeps his hand down your body, slow, slow—agonizingly slow—eventually settling between the soft apex of your thighs, hooking his middle finger against the seam of your pants.

“How ‘bout now?”

You nod even more desperately than before, a minuscule whimper sounding in your throat at the contact, even through the layers of material separating you.

“Use your fucking words. Talk to me,” he snaps, your name falling from his tongue.

“Yes, Joel,” you answer, your voice wavering with need. His expression is stoic, unreadable. It’s hard to know exactly what he’s thinking.

Both hands move to your front now, undoing your pants just enough to slip a single hand inside, his middle finger pressing against the sensitive bud between your folds, causing your hips to jerk into his hand at the sudden invasion.

He drags said finger down your seam, gathering your slick on the pad of his finger, and you grind against him, chasing the feel of his rough digit against your skin. Your breathing is erratic now; labored.

“Fuck, baby, already so worked up,” he says. “Bet you’d let me fuck you right here in the woods, wouldn’t you?”

There’s no use denying it. It probably isn’t the wisest choice with a mama lion running around and god knows what else in those woods, but you’d already let him take you in an alley between some buildings in Jackson—the least romantic place you can think of—with a high probability of being caught. There really isn’t much juxtaposition here.

Besides, he can already tell by the way your body bends to his touch that you would salaciously agree to any of his demands.

“Yes, Joel,” you admit, swallowing the lump cresting your throat.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he snarls. “Knew ya’d say yes. What else would you let me do t’you?”

He drags your jeans further down your hips, exposing your cunt to the cool spring air, your arousal so evident that you can actually smell yourself.

He fixes his hand in your hair again, screwing his fingers in deep until they tug at your scalp, jerking your gaze up to meet his glare.

“Asked ya a question, sweetheart.”

You blink, your mind misty as you struggle to recall what he’d just asked you, overburdened by every towering inch of him.

“Any—anything you want, Joel,” you answer when it finally hits you, and it’s the truth. Joel’s lips crook into a lopsided smirk.

“S’what I thought. Little slut, letting me take her an’way I see fit, in the middle of these woods.”

He notches two fingers at your entrance with his other hand, collecting your wetness on the pads of his middle and index fingers. Your eyes slide down to where he’s currently cupping your pussy, and he whips your head back up for the second time.

“Keep your eyes on me. Wanna see you,” he rumbles.

You obey. At least for a moment.

He glides both fingers through your opening, pushing deeper, slowly stretching you around thick, calloused digits. You keen and gyrate against his touch, eyelids fluttering shut.

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” he barks, feeling the heat of his breath on your face. Your eyelids fly back open.

“S-Sorry, Joel,” you reply.

“Sweet girl,” he praises, smirking. “All bark and no bite, ‘specially when I’m full fuckin’ knuckles deep inside of her.”

His words make you moan and you curl your body against him, craving more, more, your cunt clenching to pull his fingers deeper.

He obliges, crooking them against the soft, spongy material deep within your walls, sending you into a shuddering buck, your arm shooting out to steady yourself on his broad chest.

“So needy, baby. Do you think about me when you touch this cunt?” he asks, not giving you a chance to respond. “Or do ya think of your little boyfriend, Chen?”

Your brows knit together, and you shake your head fervently. “Don’t think about him, Joel. On— mmf— only y-you.”

His fingers fuck into you at a gingerly pace, palm brushing your swollen clit on every pass.

“Faster, Joel, please—“ you plead, chasing his fingers with your body. The hand in your hair moves down to your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“Stop movin’.”

His lips find your neck, teeth biting sharp against your pulse point, causing you to yelp with pleasure at the small amount of pain. He grins against your flesh and soothes the mark with his tongue, nipping roughly up your jaw, uncaring that it’ll most likely leave marks, groaning deep in his chest when he feels you tightening around his fingers with every scrape of teeth on skin.

He finally picks up the pace and you keen, breathing hard in his ear.

“Who’s this pussy belong to?”

“Y-you, J-Joel—only you,” you say.

“S’right, angel. All mine. And you’re not gonna let him have my pussy, are ya?” he growls.

“No, never—just—fuck—just you,” you say.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your skin, snaking his free arm around to encircle your back, keeping you solidly in place against him as he continues his ministrations with his fingers, repeatedly nudging your g-spot. You feel the pressure building deep in the pit of your abdomen.

Your eyes move from Joel’s visage to his bicep, admiring the way it flexes as he’s pumping deep into you with his fingers, and you realize that Joel is still completely clothed, not even palming himself over his pants despite the ever present erection bearing down on your hip.

“Eyes up here, darlin’,” he says quietly, but there’s a hint of edge to it.

You suck in a breath and obediently shift your eyes back to his, unblinking, as your fingers wrap around the prominent outline of his cock through his jeans.

The arm that’s currently holding you in place moves so fast you don’t register the movement at first; not until his hand is already ensnaring your wrist, pulling you away, his dark eyes flashing with something as if he’s annoyed he doesn’t have enough limbs to keep you where he wants you.

“No. Not yet,” he commands lowly.

You swallow back a whimper.

Finally, his pace reaches the crescendo that you were so desperately needing, a single trickle of perspiration rolling down Joel’s forehead, the combined effort of pumping into you with his fingers and holding you in place making him break into a sweat. His lips part and his nose crinkles, dark eyes drilling holes through your skull as his gaze remains fixed on your face.

You’re so close.

The sound is obscene, slicked wet skin slapping against slicked wet skin, both of you nearly out of breath.

You keen, biting your lip, wrapping a hand around Joel’s sweat covered neck to steady yourself. He lets you.

“You ‘bout to come for me, sweet girl?” he asks. You whimper and seek out his mouth with your lips, but he denies you access.

You pout.

“Come on my fingers, darlin’,” he says, a dastardly grin widening his features.

He can feel you clamping around him, that familiar feeling of pleasure building in your core, the dam on the verge of breaking at any moment.

You’re about to come, your chest heaving in tandem with Joel’s, a loud, throaty moan escaping your lips.

You’re about to come and then Joel stops.

“Jo-Joel? What?” you ask, breathlessly, searching his face for answers. Your eyes dart around, thinking something is wrong. Your core throbs, aching for release. You try to move against him, but he stops you.

“W-why?”

He pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and actually licking them clean right in front of your face.

“Pull your pants up and get back on the horse, sweetheart,” he commands softly.

“But—“

“Do it,” he says, leaving no room for protest.

You pull your pants up and fasten them as you watch Joel. He has a triumphant look on his face, and that’s when it hits you.

Joel is denying you an orgasm because he is punishing you.

Punishing you for what? For taunting and poking the bear? For touching him? For pushing him away a few nights ago?

Maybe all of the above?

Angry tears threaten to breach the levy, your hands twisting into fists, nails digging so hard into the soft flesh of your palm you break skin.

Fury licks like hot embers at the backs of your eyes. You see red.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you snarl.

“Get back on the horse, or I’m leavin’ you here,” he threatens. “Ain’t gonna ask again.”

Your cheeks heat. You want to punch him. He stares you down, daring you to defy him, jaw clicking to one side as he plants his hands on his hips.

You want to. You want to defy him so badly, but you believe him when he says he’ll leave you behind.

With a deflated snarl, you turn and clamber back up your horse, refusing to look at Joel.

You finish the rest of the patrol in silence.

——

Despite being on a horse most of the day, your legs are surprisingly sore from keeping you balanced in the stirrups for hours. Not to mention your ass is numb and your back hurts like hell.

And Joel. Fucking Joel.

You can’t even look at him without wanting to strangle him.

You think you catch the occasional cocky smirk playing on his lips, but you can’t be sure; the man is so hard to read sometimes. Either way, you somehow maintain composure despite wanting to slam your fist into his jaw, and that alone deserves a medal.

You return to Jackson approximately six hours after you left. The rest of the ride was uneventful—boring even—and Chen is there to greet you at the gate.

“Welcome back,” he says, taking Dakota by the reins as you dismount. Your legs shake with the effort, causing you to groan.

“Hey,” you greet.

“You okay?” Chen asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The way Joel’s eyes clock the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Joel dismounts next to you, bumping Chen’s arm with his elbow in the process. You know it wasn’t an accident.

“Sorry,” Joel says. “Slipped.”

You glare at Joel. He pretends not to see.

Chen clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he just witnessed, reaching for Amarillo’s reins next. “I’ll just take the horses back to the barn, then.”

“Hang on. I’ll help you,” you announce, trailing after him. You’re barely able to make it a few steps before you feel a familiar hand surround your wrist.

Chen turns just in time to see Joel rooting you firmly in place.

“S’okay,” Joel says to you, but his eyes are currently burning holes through Chen. “Think he can handle it.”

You look up at Joel, your brows knitting together. You then turn to Chen, apologetically.

“Is everything alright?” he asks you.

“Everythin’s fine. She’s needed elsewhere,” Joel responds before you can. Chen passes the much larger man an incredulous glance, before sliding his gaze back to you.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” he asks you again, sensing the tension churning between the two of you.

You swallow, briefly toying with the idea of ripping your arm free of Joel’s grasp and telling him in no uncertain terms to fuck right off.

But you don’t, because you can’t help but feel a small amount of giddiness that Joel Miller is actually touching you in public. The way your body thrums under his spell doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel, either. You swear you see a ghost of a smirk gracing his naturally pouty lips.

You’re also more than a little curious what he could want with you.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just forgot that…Joel wanted me to help Ellie with her homework today,” you lie, hoping it sounds convincing enough to be be true. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods, casting his gaze where Joel’s large hand still loosely encircles your wrist. His thumb skirts the meat of your palm.

“Yeah. Okay. See you tomorrow,” Chen says.

——

You walk in silence in the direction that you know leads to Joel and Ellie’s small cottage. Joel doesn’t move his hand from your wrist, and you get more than a few stares from the townspeople of Jackson who have probably never seen the two of you together aside from that one dinner several long nights ago. And even then, you had Ellie separating the two of you.

You imagine that from a distance it must look pretty intimate, as if you’re two lovers linked hand in hand. Your fingers brush over his, teasingly, but he doesn’t falter.

He’s a man on a mission, making a beeline straight to his house. You try not to let yourself get your hopes up, but it’s difficult not to. What does he want?

“Joel,” you say, and he looks at you with a frown. “Slow down, please.”

Surprisingly, he does.

“Why are we going to your house?” you ask. You think you know—maybe—based on prior events. But you don’t want to make assumptions.

“To talk,” he answers vaguely.

Well, that clears things right the fuck up.

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Joel,” you retort.

“Jesus,” he says, followed by your name. “Can’t wait five fucking minutes?”

You huff, but don’t press the issue further, falling into yet another palpable silence.

——

You’re standing in Joel’s living room.

You’ve never been in here before, with all the times you’ve seen the outside of the small cottage. It’s cozy. The furniture is a mix of new and old, rustic and mass produced. It’s decorated like a woman lived here once, long ago, the few feminine touches here and there making you smile. Making you remember your grandma.

Joel strides in from the kitchen, clutching a bottle of alcohol by the neck in one hand and two short, clear glasses between his fingers in the other. He perches them on the coffee table and leans into a sit on the couch, pouring the brown liquid into each glass.

“Sit down. Ain’t gonna bite,” he says.

“With you? I’m not so sure about that,” you joke, hesitantly scooting next to him on the couch. You intentionally leave about a foot of space between you.

He smirks.

He slides your glass closer to you on the table. You think by the color that it’s whiskey. Smells like it, too.

“Ellie?” you ask him. You don’t need to elaborate more than that; he knows what you’re getting at.

“Stayin’ over at Tommy and Maria’s place tonight,” he responds.

You swallow.

“Oh,” you say. Oh.

Your cheeks flush. You vowed not to drink alcohol again, but you find yourself reaching for the glass anyway. You definitely fucking need it now.

“Don’t have ice like at the bar. Sorry ‘f it’s warm,” he says.

You down the contents of the glass in one go. The heat blooms hot in your chest all the way up to your throat. You hiss at the way it burns.

Joel shakes his head at you. “Lightweight,” he criticizes, downing his glass without even making a face. He pours two more glasses; you wring your hands nervously, watching him.

The veins in his neck pulse as he leans over the coffee table; his biceps flex as his arms reach. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat.

“So you wanted to talk,” you say, attempting to stay focused.

“When you got here. To town, I mean. I didn’t like you,” he says like it’s some kind of revelation.

You purse your lips and hum lightly. “Yeah. I know. Everyone knows,” you reply. “You still don’t. Right?”

He scowls at you sidelong and rolls his eyes, bringing the whiskey to his lips and sucking down the second glass.

“Thought you were too soft. Didn’t think you’d ever integrate into the community.”

“So you brought me to your house to insult me? Real classy, Joel,” you berate, putting your hands on your knees as you stand to leave. A single hand—broad, thick, warm—wraps one of your legs.

“Sit down,” he says sternly. “Ain’t done.”

You flounder. Eventually, you sit back down, and you notice you’re considerably closer, this time.

“Didn’t think you could do it, but ya proved me wrong. Can’t deny you’re a quick learner and a hard worker,” he admits. You relax…a little.

“The reason I came to the bar the other night…” he begins, raking a hand through his stubble, “…is ‘cause I wanted to apologize for bein’ an asshole to you.” He looks at you directly this time, and you can see the barest hint of warmth in the dark pools of his brown eyes.

You peer back at him. You want to say something, but you aren’t sure what, exactly. You want to trust him, want to kiss him, fall into his arms, but you still have reservations. This isn’t a side of Joel you’ve ever seen before. This isn’t even the Joel from this morning.

“And I forgive you. For Diana. Know it wasn’t…your fault,” he continues. You hear him swallow, watching his adam’s apple make a pass along the line of his throat.

You feel your pulse quicken and you rip your gaze away, reaching for your glass on the table to swallow it in a single gulp. Somehow, it burns even more than the first.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, your voice cracking. “How did you know her?”

You don’t think it could have been a romantic connection; she seemed quite a bit older than Joel. Then again, who knows. It isn’t like Joel doesn’t have about twenty years on you.

“When I first came to Jackson, I was a nobody. Just some angry old man who happened to be related to Tommy. Ellie was having trouble adjustin’, too. People didn’t like us. But Diana took Ellie under her wing, same way Patricia has with you. Little by little, people started accepting us. I was forever grateful to her for that. For helpin’ Ellie.”

You nod slowly, taking in this new bit of information. You aren’t sure what to do with it, if you’re being honest.

Part of you wants to thank him for the booze and flee back to the safety of the barn or the mess hall. You can feel the alcohol working its way through your system already, heating you from the inside out. Your thoughts thrumming high like a fever pitch between your ears.

You want to flee. But an even larger part of you wants to stay.

You settle for placing a hand on his knee, consolingly, because you’re afraid to touch him any other way right now. He tracks the movement like you’ve just dropped a cobra into his lap. And then he’s on you.

The broad expanse of his hand wraps the back of your neck and his lips crash into yours, devouring you like a man starved. His other hand slithers around to the small of your back, tugging you into him.

You let out a moan while his tongue explores your mouth the moment your lips part. You moan a second time and he swallows it down, rumbling in a deep timbre as he tastes you.

Ellie’s stayin’ over at Tommy and Maria’s tonight.

Is that an open invitation for you to stay? You can’t even begin to imagine sharing a bed with Joel for an entire night. You can barely envision a bed at this point, after sleeping on that uncomfortable cot for so long. The idea makes your head swim. You can’t help the way your body begins trembling like a cornered mouse.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel. “You alright, darlin’?” he asks. “Shakin’ like a leaf.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. Truthfully, you’re still wrung tighter than a bow string after this morning, and you’re more than a little concerned that history will repeat itself.

You tell him in as many words.

“Won’t happen again if you’re a good girl this time,” he rumbles. It goes straight to your core.

Oh, fuck.

He stands, pulling you up with him in the process. “C’mon, darlin’,” he says. “Bedroom’s this way.”

——

You’re in Joel fucking Miller’s bedroom.

You’re in his room.

It’s sweltering in here. You aren’t sure if it’s because the room is already warm, or the alcohol, or both. You feel a bead of sweat roll down the plane of your back.

Joel’s already shucking off his jeans. You look at his face and that familiar scowl has returned, the distinct line of his visage darkening predatorily.

Won’t happen again if you’re a good girl this time.

His words buzz through you, making you shiver. Making you sweat harder.

“Take off your clothes, sweetheart,” he orders.

It would probably help with cooling you down. At least for a moment. You sit on the edge of the bed and pull off your boots, tossing them to the corner next to an unfolded pile of laundry. You remove your shirt and pants next, joining your boots on the floor.

“Can we open a window?” you ask, fanning yourself lazily.

Your back is still to him. Although you’ve already fucked once, and Joel has been face and fingers deep in your pussy, you’re still mostly afraid to turn around.

You haven’t seen each other fully naked yet.

“Neighbors are gonna hear us,” Joel replies lowly. You hear the window open soon after, and a cool breeze slips over your body. It’s exactly what you need.

“Thanks.”

You turn nervously to face him, heart fluttering like a caged bird in your chest. Your breath hitches when you take in the sight of the man before you—he’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, the long line of his cock straining against the thin fabric.

For his age, he’s fit. You could tell he was muscular before, but you didn’t realize the extent of it since he’s always covering himself up in flannels and jackets.

His shoulders are wide and square, easing down into the corded musculature of his chest and arms, sweeping to a barely pooched stomach marred by a healed over, ugly scar, and hips that are just slightly more narrow than his shoulders. A dark swathe of curly hair disappears into the waistband of his shorts, and you’re impervious to stop your eyes from fixating on the bulge there.

Your breath damn near stops when his gaze rakes over every inch of exposed skin. He looks at you like you’re the only person he’s ever bothered to see.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” he asks you.

“You, Joel. J-just you.”

“C’mere,” he says with an outstretched hand.

He meets you halfway and snakes an arm around your back, the other hand moving to loosely collar your neck. He bends his face to the hollow of your collarbone, swiping at a line of sweat on your skin with the flat of his tongue. You keen, feeling the vibrations of your throat against his palm.

“Y’gonna be a good girl for me?” he queries. You nod, your heart rate quickening at your pulse points still in his grip.

“Then prove it.” He pushes you into a sit on the edge of the bed in front of him, spreading your legs with one swift motion of his foot, slotting himself between them.

His face is hard and expressionless. He says nothing, but you already know exactly what he expects of you.

Your fingers are shaking. This is ridiculous—it’s not like you’re some wide-eyed, innocent virgin. But as you reach for the waistband of his shorts and pull them down his thick legs, large cock springing free right in front of your face, you can hardly prevent yourself from vibrating with need.

“S’okay, angel. You’re okay,” he soothes, cupping your cheek with a weathered hand.

It’s not like you haven’t seen his cock before. But not like this, inches from your face, the head an angry shade of pink and leaking precum.

You steady your nerves as you fist the base of the shaft in your hand and bring him to your lips, sliding the tip into the heat of your mouth and slowly inching yourself down onto him, your jaw gradually adjusting to the girth. He grips your shoulders and releases a ragged breath.

“That’s it, baby girl. Jus’ like that,” he praises.

You relax your throat muscles as you take him deeper, breathing through your nose, hollowing your cheeks.

“Doin’ so good. Takin’ this cock so well. Not even a single tear.” He moves a hand from your shoulder to your hair, brushing it aside so he can watch you. “So fuckin’ pretty with my cock buried in your face.”

The head of his cock bumps the back of your throat and he moans, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation, causing you to choke. He pulls out of you, letting you catch your breath.

“Doin’ so well. Know you can take it, though, can’t you?”

You hum in affirmation and take him back into your mouth when you feel you’re ready, better adjusted to his size on this go around, taking him almost all the way to the back of your throat in one go. He rumbles deep in the barrel of his chest and twists his fingers tightly in your hair.

You reach the end of his cock and hold there as long as you can, tasting the salty tang of sweat and precum on your tongue. You pull back off of him when you feel like it’s too much.

“One more time for me, baby. Prove to me what a good little slut you are,” he growls. “Be a good girl f’me.”

You slide him back into your mouth, the vein that runs the length of his cock pulsing against your tongue, the dark curls at his base tickling your nose when you reach the end and he bottoms out again. You take long, even breaths through your nose, holding him in your throat.

He doesn’t give you a chance to break away this time. He grips either side of your head and holds you in place as he begins to slowly fuck into your face.

“Mmmf— fuck yes, baby girl, doin’ so well…”

His pace quickens when you proffer no resistance, rutting at a heedy crescendo into you. Rivulets of drool dribble down your chin.

It doesn’t take long before it becomes too much, your throat tightening and jaw aching something fierce. You make a small sound of surrender as you tap his forearm, and he stops almost immediately, gazing down at you, his lips parted into an arc. He cups a hand under your chin and tilts your head back, eyes shifting from brown to black.

“Open up for me, baby. One more time.”

You oblige, his thumb and forefinger pressing gently into the hollow spaces between your upper and lower jaw. He runs the thumb of his free hand over your bottom lip, dragging it down, and spits directly into your mouth.

You blink up at him in surprise as he gently clasps your lips shut.

“Good girl. Think you’ve earned it now?” he asks you.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you answer as you swallow him down.

He moves away from you, grabbing a pillow from higher up on the bed and positioning it at your back.

He crouches in front of you, wrapping your hips with his muscled arms and dragging you to the edge of the bed, lifting and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, sweet girl. Fuckin’— fuckin’ soaked,” he growls.

If it’s possible, the attention makes you even wetter, causing you to cant your hips and clench around nothing. He chuckles.

“So needy, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”

You lean back onto the pillow and the way it smells like Joel makes you swoon. He pushes your legs together briefly to drag your panties down and off, tossing them onto the dresser pressed to the wall behind him.

“I’m keepin’ those,” he says. You don’t dare to question it.

He lifts himself slightly higher and reaches your breasts, gripping your bra in both hands, and before you can say anything, he rips it free from your body, leaving it in tatters on the bed next to you.

You want to say something. It’s not like bras are common nowadays, having to get them custom made most of the time, or be lucky enough to find one in a derelict store.

But, once again, you don’t question it. Your desperation for the release Joel is about to give you overrides the logical portions of your brain. You can worry about the scrap of fabric later.

He must read what you’re thinking on your face, because he says, “I’ll replace that for you. Panties, too.”

You nod. “Thanks.” You don’t know what else to say, but you forget about thinking soon enough anyway, because his mouth is on you in an instant, tongue parting your seam as he swipes up your slit.

You’re still so sensitive from the orgasm he denied you earlier, your back coming all the way off the bed when his tongue reaches your clit, your hand darting out to grip his hair for purchase; to ground you.

“Fuck!” you cry out.

He drags his teeth with the lightest pressure he can manage over the delicate bundle of nerves, keeping you spread open with his hand. Each pass has you mewling and writhing against him.

“You that desperate to come, sweetheart?” he asks, his lips glistening with your slick as he locks eyes with you.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“Poor baby,” he jests, burying himself back into the hot apex of your thighs. He takes your clit between his lips, suckling it. You grind against his mouth, shamelessly chasing the high he denied you earlier as retribution.

He slips two fingers between your soaked folds, sinking them all the way to the hilt and crooking them against your g-spot, fucking into you with both fingers as his mouth showers your clit with much needed attention.

He can already feel you bearing down on his fingers, and he can’t help but grin as he fucks into you faster.

“Gonna come for me, angel?” he asks softly.

That’s all it takes; suddenly your orgasm is ripping through you, and you’re falling to pieces beneath him, the flood of your release dripping down and soaking the bed sheets below. He doesn’t pull away immediately, riding out your high as long as he can, murmuring at the taste of you on his tongue, his lips, until you indicate that the stimulation is too much. He stops, lifting his eyes to yours.

You’re a mess. An absolutely wrecked, fucked out mess.

He stands, motioning for you to move back. You do your best to climb up the bed at his behest, but truth be told, you’re absolutely weak from how hard you just came.

“Take your time,” he says, trailing a hand up your spine. It’s almost affectionate.

You eventually make it to the middle of the bed and he places the pillow behind your neck. You settle into it, situating yourself as best you can. He’s on you an instant later, caging you down into the sheets, his massive frame pressing you into the mattress as it groans under your combined weight.

The first time you fucked was not intimate, with you facing away from him in a dark alleyway as he railed into you from behind. You’re almost shy to be face to face with him like this.

He gnashes his teeth over your earlobe, bearing down on the soft flesh. “Gonna make you come again on my cock, darlin’,” he drawls in that sweet southern lilt in your ear. “Think you can take me all at once?”

You nod. “Yes, Joel. Know I can.”

“Know ya can too, sweetheart,” he agrees, shifting his weight on top of you as he lines his hips up with yours, slotting his head at your entrance. “Ready?”

You hardly have time to incline your head in a nod before he’s spearing into you, hips snapping roughly against yours as he enters you in one long, hard thrust. You cry out, arching beneath him at the intrusion.

“Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight,” he groans.

He angles your legs up, tilting them back so he can push himself further into you. He bottoms out, bumping your back wall with the head of his cock.

The stretch is almost too much. He’s almost filling you too much. But you’ve taken all of him before and know you can do it again.

He snaps into you one more time, making you keen. You’re both slippery with sweat, the breeze through the small window hardly providing any relief at all, but it doesn’t matter.

He props himself up on his elbows, hovering over you as he presses the flat of his hips into yours, rutting into you slowly. You shut your eyes and roll your head into the pillow.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me,” he growls. You don’t test him, your eyes flying open and making contact with his a second later, the ridge of his brow pinched in concentration. “Good girl,” he praises.

Every press into you, no matter how languid, is heavenly. No one has ever split you open like this before, made you ache like this before, and you don’t think anyone will compare ever again.

Not like you would ever want to be with anyone else after Joel.

“Joel…” you whimper, skating your fingers up his biceps. “Harder, fuck me harder,” you plead.

He smirks, twin dark eyes sparkling. “Not yet. Goin’ to enjoy you,” he replies, leaning back onto his calves so he can watch the way you swallow him. “Such a needy little cunt.” His words would make you drip if he wasn’t currently stuffing you full of him.

He lowers himself onto you, lips skirting your neck as he peppers the occasional kiss up the line that extends into your jaw. It’s surprisingly soft—for Joel, anyway—until he bears down with a sharp sting of teeth along the curve of your cheek, making you moan. He feels you clamp down on him in reverence to the small hurt.

“Such a dirty little slut,” he rumbles, soothing the area with his lips. “Only for me.”

You nod in agreement, shuddering beneath him, writhing with desire as he continues to pump steadily into you, nudging your clit with his lower belly on each pass. “Yours, only y-yours,” you agree.

He fists a handful of your hair and presses his lips into yours, your mouths merging in a clash of tongues and teeth, pausing on occasion to administer soft nips to your lips, making them puffy and swollen with use.

He’s marking you; claiming you. A stark contrast from only weeks ago.

You match the motions of his hips with your own, desirous to feel more of him, chasing the sensations of his cock driving into you, craving more. He’s still going so slow—agonizingly so.

He places a rough palm into your hip, preventing you from moving. “Tell me what you want,” he says.

“Need you to fuck me harder, Joel,” you beg.

“Only ‘f you ask nicely.”

“Please, please, fuck me harder,” you plead, slinking your fingers into his sweat-soaked hair. “Need to come again.”

“Okay, angel. Since ya asked so nice.” He grabs you just under your thighs, hiking your legs up above his hips, deepening the angle. You keen and buck against him at the added depth.

He begins slamming his hips into yours, your keening moans matching every wet and squelchy smack of his hips into yours, your combined utterances of pleasure filling the small space.

Each thrust threatens to knock every breath, every sense out of you; you feel the familiar pressure starting to flower deep in your core. His name becomes a chant on your tongue, which only spurs him on.

“Gonna come for me, angel?” he asks you, feeling your walls tightening around his length. You barely manage a nod, your head going swimmy at the thought.

His lips contort into a snarl, and he gives you everything he can, railing into you so hard the head board is slamming roughly into the wall. There’s a feral, hungry look in his eyes, seeing you and seeing through you all at the same time.

Suddenly, your vision turns to white stars and your head slumps back, hitting the pillow, crying out as a second orgasm crashes through you like a freight train.

“Fuck, Joel, yes—“

Joel isn’t far behind, his breaths becoming more ragged—more erratic—in the broad barrel of his chest, jaw going slack as he clamps his eyes shut in concentration. His hips stutter into you and stall out for a brief moment and then he’s pulling himself free of your soaked folds, gripping himself in his fist and pumping a few times before he’s spilling thick rivulets of cum across your stomach and mound, your name departing his lips multiple times as he milks out the last few drops.

He stays perched over you for just a moment, admiring his work; you’re both breathless and drenched in sweat, and he falls back onto the sheets next to you, his chest heaving as he sucks in as much oxygen as he can.

“That was—“ he begins, lungs shuddering in his chest. “Fuck, baby. Thank you.”

You smile, propping yourself up on your elbow next to him, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his temple.

“No, Joel. Thank you.”

He looks at you. There’s a gentleness in his eyes, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this soft and vulnerable before. It makes your heart sing.

You fall back onto the bed next to him, still in the process of catching your breath, a cool breeze spilling through the window just in time to fan over your sweat-slick bodies. And you lie there in silent worship for who knows how long, basking in the afterglow.

——

You shower together to conserve the limited usage of water. As soon as the last of the shampoo is rinsed from your hair, he reaches behind you and cuts it off.

You didn’t expect Joel to let you shower at his place. You had been showering daily at Tommy and Maria’s for so long—practically living there for the most part aside from sleeping arrangements—that you had half expected to do the walk of shame to their house afterward.

You’re relieved when Joel offers to let you use his instead.

You both step out of the shower in tandem, dripping onto the bath mat as you stand shoulder to shoulder in the small en suite. He passes you a towel, and you both dry yourselves in silence.

You aren’t talking as usual—Joel being a man of few words—but it isn’t tense as it usually is. It’s a peaceful, relaxed silence, one that doesn’t make you second guess your every minute gesture.

Together, you go back into his bedroom. When you’re done with the towel, he takes it from you, tossing it onto a second pile of laundry in the opposite corner.

“Classy,” you tease. He smirks, and you think you might hear a faint chuckle.

You don’t expect to take this as anything other than face value—just sex—so you aren’t going to assume that he’ll want you to stay. You wonder how long he’ll ignore you this time before wanting to fuck you again.

You bend to the floor to retrieve your pants and shirt, not exactly thrilled to be slipping back into soiled material that stinks of sweat and horses, but it’s all you have available. Joel stops you the moment your fingers graze your jeans.

“What’re you doin’?” he asks.

You arch a quizzical brow at him. “Getting dressed?”

“Not’n that. You can wear somethin’ of mine to sleep in.”

You lift both brows, this time. “Sleep in?”

“Didn’t figure you’d want to go back to that uncomfortable cot,” he says. You balk.

First he asks you to shower with him and now he’s asking you to stay?

For how long?

“Sure.”

He tosses you one of his shirts—Miller Contracting, Austin, TX, it reads, and you think to yourself that’s an odd coincidence, slipping it over your head and shrugging into it. It swallows you, falling about mid-thigh.

Joel strips off the soiled bedding and replaces it with freshly cleaned linens, which he pulls from the dresser, and to your surprise they’re actually folded neatly. Maria or Ellie must have done that for him.

You fix dinner for the two of you in his kitchen—which doesn’t consist of much—namely some leftover rabbit and root vegetables from the community garden, and some slices of unleavened bread.

You had done the bulk of the cooking at your grandparents’ cabin, and what had once felt like a chore now made your heart feel full as Joel cleans his plate in front of you.

You spend the rest of the evening sharing the bottle of whiskey, laughing and swapping stories, reminiscing about the days before outbreak.

When the night grows long and the inevitability of sleep settles like a fog over both of you, you climb into bed together, but not for sex this time.

The idea of actually getting to sleep in a real bed in as many months fills you with a type of elation you had forgotten exists.

Joel pulls the blanket up over you, kissing you between your eyes before dragging your arm across his torso as he rolls the opposite way, his back now facing your front. You’re confused for a moment until it dawns on you—it’s strategical positioning, placing himself between you and the door, should a need ever arise from it. Hopefully it never will.

It makes your heart thrum happily in your chest. You kiss his exposed shoulder blade, and he damn near purrs.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“G’night,” he repeats, saying your name sleepily. There’s a short pause. “Hey.”

“What?” you ask.

“Don’t want you to leave Jackson,” he states.

You smile, hugging him tighter, burying your face into the curly strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

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