#pls protect tommy

[parameddic]

here is the question, the question is "would your muse consciously decide to let go of someone (a stranger)'s hand, if that someone slipped over the edge of a building/cliff/etc, and if they did not let go, they'd both go over the edge together?" would you muse let go if the options were 'we both die' or 'just one'. that's the question

#controversial: #in the heat of the moment and without time to find any alternatives and rapidly cascading toward the edge and #with only milliseconds to spare and with so much apology and so much guilt. tk would let go #(controversial: Tommy would actively Order him to let go ''that's an order'' style because she would want to protect him #from having to make that decision himself. he loves his captain. he would make it himself if he had to.) #but i do think there is space for self-preservation and in fact Demand for self-preservation in the role and TK is willing to die #trying to save someone and he is happy to and Would stay in a burning bus to give cpr to a woman underwater #he is very no holds barred. but there is a difference between 'backup has to be on the way' or 'just a little longer' and #the acute 'there is no time' and he cannot Buy time and he is not Strong enough and the options really are A or B #in that scenario. and that is a very bare bones scenario. in most versions of this scenario he would hold out and find an alternative #PS pls don't. pls no 'my muse flatly rejects the premise' answers #that's nice but ksjdflksj it rejects the premise of my question and my question. Is Entirely The Premise

[freelancearsonist]

make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.” 

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this. 

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in. 

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

[heartpascal]

you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin’ a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

“Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn’t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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[thegettingbyp2]

could you pls do a fic of a jealous/protective tommy shelby?🫶

You're Mine

Thomas Shelby was always going to be protective of you; after what had happened to Grace you couldn’t really blame him. But what you didn’t expect was for him to get jealous because of his own brother.

When you and Tommy first started dating, heads would turn in shock when the two of you would walk down Watery Lane with your hand firmly clasped in his. He would always make sure that he had at least one hand on you, if your hand wasn’t holding his, he’d have a hand on the small of your back or resting on the back of your neck if you were sitting and he was standing.

The two of you had arrived at The Garrison to join Arthur, John, Michael, Polly and Finn for a couple of drinks. Once you were settled in the snug little private room with the rest of the Shelby’s, Tommy pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder before heading out to the bar to get you both a drink, leaving you in the company of his brothers, his cousin and his aunt.

‘Is that brother of mine keeping you locked away?’ Arthur said teasingly, moving to sit next to you and throwing his arm around the back of your seat. ‘We’ve not seen you in a while sweetheart.’

You laughed, used to Arthur’s teasing when it came to Tommy’s protectiveness of you. ‘I’ve just been busy at the house,’ you replied. A couple of weeks ago, you and Tommy had moved in together and you were still unpacking your things and making yourself at home in the huge house.

‘Well you make sure you join us a bit more, you hear me? A pretty face like that shouldn’t be hidden away,’ Arthur said mock-sternly. It was at this moment that Tommy walked back into the little room and his eyes zeroed in on your and Arthur’s cosy position, Arthur’s arm curled slightly around your arm as he brought you in for a small side hug and pressed a firm kiss to the side of your head, making laughter bubble from your throat.

Tommy sat both of your drinks in front of the chair he lowered himself into and you looked at him with nothing but love in your eyes as you thanked him and even though Tommy could see how much your eyes had lit up when he walked back into the room, there was still something niggling at the back of his mind that he didn’t like.

‘(Y/N),’ he called, catching your attention immediately, ‘come and sit here,’ he said, cocking his head to gesture you away from your current seat. You instantly, stood up and made your way around the table only to be pulled down until you were sitting on Tommy’s lap, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

‘You okay?’ you asked, running your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek with your palm. He nodded but you still noticed how his jaw seemed tighter than usual. A smirk grew on your lips as you realised that he was glaring at Arthur. ‘Mr Shelby are you jealous?’ you asked low enough so only Tommy would be able to hear over the ruckus that the rest of the Shelby’s were making.

‘You’re mine,’ he said, pressing another kiss to your shoulder.

‘Thomas Shelby, you have nothing to be jealous about. I’m yours, nothing’s going to change that.’ You told him, squeezing the arm that was wrapped around your waist slightly.

Deciding to show his family who you belonged to, his free hand came up to grasp your chin, turning your head to face him as he roughly pressed his lips to yours, claiming you as his in front of his family.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Oᴜʀ Wɪɴᴅᴏᴡ (Jᴏᴇʟ Mɪʟʟᴇʀ)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Joel Miller × Male Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4,3 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: After saving Ellie, Joel and her went back to Jackson. They established themselves pretty quickly —actually from the very first day after they arrived, Joel was already going on patrol. You were one of the many friends they made, or at least you were friends until the day Joel invited you to have a drink at his place.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 10ish age gap (i guess?), awkward flirting, teeth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol, smut, fighting for dominance, masturbation, blowjob, riding, rough sexy joel, no physical descriptions of reader (just slight allusion to him being shorter than joel), no use of Y/N. (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: im so bad at writing smut pls dont hold that against me :( and well happy bday to me. enjoy <3

𝕡𝕥 𝕚: 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚: 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚𝕚: 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

"I'll go see you when Ellie and I are back".

"Right. See ya tomorrow".

"See ya".

You replayed the conversation you'd had with Joel the previous night once more, his voice sweet as honey resounding in your head as you searched down a house you and Ellie had found on your patrol. She could tell you weren't paying attention to anything, too absentminded to even care about patrolling. She had already told you to get your shit together and search things down properly.

"Yeah, sorry", had been your answer. But you were too busy thinking about Joel and what awaited you that night. So Ellie was constantly behind you, calling your attention when you missed something and picking it up herself when she got bored of that.

They had been living in Jackson for more than half a year, and Joel and Ellie had already made a name of themselves. Especially Ellie was very liked in between the people of town, while Joel just did his job and tried to keep her safe —though she was doing pretty much everything on her own— without attracting much attention, which made many people in town talk about him and his low profile. Maybe that was something you ended up liking of him as well: his only purpose was to protect his daughter. It was actually one of the things that made you like him back before breakout, and the fact that he was still just as a caring father as before, despite having grown cold and a little depressed, touched your heart in a deep, beautiful way.

The first days you talked with him when he got back to Jackson had been a little uncomfortable, since you were just starting to know each other. He tried to be funny, and he was, but when you tried to be funny you seemed to touch something inside him that he didn't like too much. That was until he told you about Sarah. You already knew some things of her from what Tommy had told you, and Joel told you how her loss brought him to a point of wanting to end his life... And then he told you that he didn't tell anyone about that part of him, that he trusted you enough as to keep it between you two and never use it against him.

He trusted you with his life.

Looking back to all that, you thought there was no way you didn't know he liked you. You were the only one —aside from Ellie and Tommy— who he talked, really talked with. Seriously, how could you have been so blind?

From that day on, he started taking your jokes a little less seriously and laughing with you. He also told you a lot of things about how Sarah was and how they had their life back in Austin.

Shit, is this kid really dead?, you used to think. You could see how Joel talked about her so happily, and you would've liked to meet her. In times like this you regretted the most not introducing yourself to them the day you moved to the neighborhood.

You also went on patrols together —from the very second day he and his kid came back, actually. You usually spent your patrol time immersed in a comfortable silence. Many times you even sat to eat and drink something together as you admired the landscape. Especially this time of year it was all more beautiful, covered in snow. It was one of the reasons why you loved winter. And getting to enjoy it all with him gave you the most satisfaction you had ever felt. If only you could get what you wanted most and feel his heat in the midst of all the cold—

"Hey", Ellie called you again. "Ammo", she tossed a box of rifle bullets in your direction. You almost didn't catch it.

"Shit, thanks".

I'll leave those thoughts for tonight, you said to yourself.

After that, you were finally able to put an ounce of actual concentration into patrolling and started searching the house thoroughly. Ellie looked proud, as if she had done all the job by herself, and as if getting you to finally focus had been her doing. In part it was, but you wouldn't let her get away with it and tell Joel that the mission had been a success thanks to her because you had been all the time thinking about him. Maybe, just maybe, you would affirm it if things got further that night.

"It's getting late", Ellie said when you exited the house after a while, looking at the sky getting darker. "Maybe we should go back".

"Yeah, you're right", you looked at the sky as well. "Wanna take the reins this time?", you smiled at the girl.

"Fuck yeah!".

She ran to the horse and saddled him immediately after you said that. She patted his neck a couple times to make sure he was ready to trot back to Jackson. Then you mounted and held onto the girl's arms for some support. She was able to take you both back to town, riding the horse like you had taught her earlier that day. Man, you had never felt so proud of something.

It was almost completely night dark when you finally got back to Jackson. You accompanied Ellie to let the horse back into the stables and made sure she got home safe, then you went straight to Joel's.

You had to knock on the door a couple times before he opened. His hair was even messier than usual and he could barely open his eyes.

"Gosh", you blurted out almost automatically at the surprise. "Mornin', princess", you laughed. So did Joel.

"Sorry", he tried to fix his hair as better as he could and rub the tiredness off his eyes. "Couldn't sleep tonight, was doin' it now".

"Too excited to try out that wine, huh?", you mocked at him.

"Sure, yeah", he chuckled again, leaning on the doorframe. "How was patrol? Did Ellie behave herself?".

"Y'could say that", now you chuckled. "She tells ya anythin' 'bout me bein' off, 's not true", you gave him a sly smile.

"I'll give ya the benefit of the doubt", he smiled back. "Wanna come in? Y'look like you're freezin' ".

"Nah, 's good. Gonna go take a shower n' then we can go grab dinner. Sound good?".

"Yeah. Can ya get home on your own?".

"I think I'll manage", you said with a mocking tone. "Though it'd be nice havin' ya make sure I make it to the canteen later", you crossed your arms.

"Gotcha", he smiled at you.

You found yourselves again immersed in a comfortable silence. None of you said nothing for a while, as you were both staring into the other's eyes and scanning your features. When your eyes met again you realized this had happened before, but it was no longer uncomfortable, so you smiled at each other once more.

"I'll see ya later", Joel was the first to speak.

"Yeah", you stepped away from the door. "See ya later", you smiled at him one last time before walking away.

The first thing you did when you got to your house was taking off your clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water burned your freezing body for a moment before feeling nicely warm. You let out a heavy sigh, your hands and legs shaking in anticipation. You were so happy that things with Joel had gotten better, and you only hoped they wouldn't get worse that night.

You put on the most decent clothes you could find —which weren't too hot, but it was the best you had. Deep inside you, you were hoping Joel's clothes wouldn't be much better than yours, though you knew he'd look good anyway.

A knock on your door made you jump for a moment. You finished putting on your pants and immediately went to open it for Joel. 

Man, did he look better than you expected.

He was wearing the same green plaid shirt he had on when he first came to Jackson a year or so ago. He had fixed his hair a little, not losing its usual subtle dishevelment. He had put on the pair of boots you had given him a couple days before and some jeans that made him look even better.

"Wow", the word escaped your lips involuntarily. You immediately realized and cleared your throat. "Wanna come in? Gotta put on my boots n' I'm ready to go".

Joel seemed too busy inside his own world —in which he was scanning you and thinking of taking all those nice clothes off of you— to answer when you first asked.

"Joel?", you called him again. This time he looked int your eyes and cleared his own throat before coming inside.

"Sure, sorry".

You sat on the couch and started putting your boots on.

"Didn't think you'll take that wear somethin' nice shit so seriously", you chuckled nervously. You tried to hide the way your hands were shaking at the fact that Joel was in your house, and you were later going to be in his.

"You're not bad yaself", he leaned back on the wall and crossed his arms.

"Fuck, I feel like a teenager", you whispered to yourself. "Doesn't that happen to ya?".

"Yeah, been feelin' like that all day", he chuckled. 

"Ain't that a bit stupid?", you looked up at him.

"I dunno. I mean, we're just havin' a drink, but... If we're both feelin' the same, then it can't be that stupid, right?", his logic made you laugh.

"Alright", you checked your boots before getting up from the bed and looking up at him. "Then I won't feel stupid", you walked towards the door. "D'we go?".

"Sure", Joel nodded. Hell, he liked you even more than he thought.

This time, you spent the whole time —walking to the canteen and eating dinner— talking with each other. In fact, Ellie had to come to you two to say goodnight even before you were halfway through your food. Neither of you gave it much importance and just kept doing your thing.

After dinner you went straight to Joel's, like he had said the night before. You took a seat beside him on the couch as he opened the first bottle of wine. You clinked your glasses and took the first sip together. You both had the same reaction: your noses crinkled and you pursed your lips before swallowing. Then you looked at each other as if saying "It's not that bad". Joel took it as a sign to pour one more glass for you both, and you gulped it down again.

"I prefer Tommy's whiskey, but this ain't half bad", he said.

"Shit, Tommy", you covered your face with both of your hands. "Forgot to talk to him today", you grunted.

"What happened with Tommy?", he looked at you with frowned brow.

"Uh... 'S a long story, jus'...", you stopped talking. "Can I ask ya somethin'?".

Joel nodded.

"What made ya wanna ask me to come have a drink at your place?", you leaned back on the couch.

"Um...", a light was turned on inside his head. "Tommy talked to me", he chuckled in disbelief. "I see where this's goin' ".

"That fucker...", you laughed and crossed your arms. "Well, long story short, I gave him shit for tellin' ya...", you stopped again and cleared your throat. 

Joel didn't say anything, once again. You both knew what you were doing there, but didn't say a word to not make things uncomfortable.

But that is why you were there. To push things further, as uncomfortable as they could be.

You left your glass on the coffee table in front of you and turned to Joel. He looked scared for a moment, but then looked back into your eyes, leaving his glass on the coffee table, too.

"Can we stop bein' awkward n' talk 'bout what we're both thinkin'?", you said with all the seriousness you could pull out. "D'you like me, Joel?", you tried to say it slowly to not give him a stroke. Joel thought for a moment.

"S' it weird if I do?", he held back a smile. You chuckled.

"Well, 's it weird that I like ya?".

"A lil' weird, yeah", he chuckled as well.

"Then yeah, 's a lil' weird that ya like me", you laughed together. "Luckily for you, I like weird", you smiled at him.

"Luckily?", he chuckled and sat closer to you. "You're the lucky one for havin' me to protect your back".

"Y'mean the way ya did back at the village a couple days ago, when you almost got bitten at that cabin? Or before that, when I had to warn ya 'bout infected up ahead 'cause you're too deaf to hear?", you also sat closer to him.

"Ya ain't lettin' go o' that, are ya?".

"Well, you almost got yaself killed that day, so—".

He stamped his lips on yours to keep you from talking any more, his hands moving up your arms to reach your face. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself and stop shaking, fighting against the rough beating of your heart. But it all went down when his tongue inside your mouth made you melt even more, and you couldn't help but to moan at the feeling. You hadn't kissed anyone in so long, it felt... good. Soothing. Warm...

"Shit, I didn't mean to get ya goin' like that", Joel's voice brought you back to reality. It took you a moment to process what he had said, then you realized your pants were starting to get a little too tight.

"Fuck!", you whispered. You also realized you were sitting on his lap. You tried to move away. "Goddammit, I'm sorry, didn't mean t—".

"Hey, 's okay", he grabbed your hips to pull you back onto his lap. "I'm the same".

You gulped. Your hand moved on its own until reaching his pants. You touched his groin in curiosity, then you felt it.

He was hard. And he was hard because of you.

"God...", he threw his head back. "Don't ya think we gotta do somethin' 'bout it?", he stared into your eyes. You couldn't hold back a smirk.

"How long's it been for ya?", you started undoing his jeans.

"Hey now", he grabbed your hands before you could go any further. "This couch is so hard, we should go somewhere more comfortable", he smirked, too.

"I like how ya think", you got off his lap. "Lead the way".

You didn't expect him to grab your hand to lead you to his bedroom, your heart jumping at his touch. Still, you returned it with no hesitation.

As soon as you entered the room, he grabbed you by the jaw and kissed you roughly, his tongue attacking your mouth and tearing another moan off your throat. He groaned as well and threw you onto the bed somewhat softly.

"Ya make such sweet sounds...", he grunted before kissing you again. You grabbed his arms and rolled on top of him.

"I thought ya said somethin' 'bout solvin' your problem".

"I said—", he rolled back on top of you. "We should do somethin' 'bout it", he started undoing your pants. "Been all night wantin' to take these damn things off o' ya".

"Damn, your old man libido's gotta be hella high if you're—".

Joel's hand inside your underwear made you gasp loudly, half in surprise and half in pleasure. He smirked, taking that as a sign to keep going. He slide your pants and underwear down your legs and tossed them somewhere on the bedroom's floor. His fingers wrapped around your hard dick, making you gasp again. That gasp turned into moans as soon as he started moving his hand in slow movements. You found yourself clinging to his arms with nails and all as your hips bucked into his touch, seeking more of it.

"How long's it been for ya?", he repeated your question from before.

"Too... Too long", you managed to say between moans. Joel chuckled.

"Good thing's not gonna be too long anymore", he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "Told ya you're lucky to have me, didn't I?", he quickened the pace of his movement.

"Joel...", you thrusted you hips farther into his hand, your head thrown back in pleasure.

"Don't get too ahead of yaself".

He moved his hands away to give way to his mouth. His lips wrapped around your dick and his tongue swirling over the tip gave you goosebumps. Your fingers tangled in his hair and pressed him lower onto your member with a loud moan. You shut your eyes closed when your head was again thrown back at the sudden pleasure. Joel stopped his ministrations and grabbed your jaw to put your head back down.

"Eyes on me", he ordered. You didn't dare to disobey him, his voice —though sweet as honey, like it always was— being too intimidating and demanding for you to even think about it.

It didn't take long until you were begging him for release. His darkened eyes never left yours as he kept bobbing his head and swiping his tongue around your dick. You tried to take control of the situation, take his head and thrust into his mouth, but he didn't let you. Instead, he grabbed your hips to keep you still and moved his head even faster. He only had to groan once to send vibrations up your body and make you cum as hard as you never had.

That was the best blowjob someone had ever given you.

You stayed laying on the bed, trying to get some air back into your lungs. Joel, in the meantime, laid next to you and started leaving small kisses all over your face. If there was something you never ever expected in you entire life was Joel being such a cute lover. Damn, he'd been giving you the best fucking head of your life a minute ago, even giving you orders! How come he could turn into such a sweet thing in such a short time?

"You okay?", he asked. You nodded, still half dizzy.

"Yeah, 'm good", you looked at him. "You're a fuckin' beast".

Joel chuckled.

"Thought I'd be way more tired", he wrapped his arms around you and kept giving you little kisses. "Been a couple years since I did anythin' like this".

"First time with a man?".

"First time with a man".

You grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it, looking intently into his eyes.

"It wasn't half bad", you smiled at him. "That was the hardest I've ever come in my life".

"Fuck, really?", he laughed in disbelief. "Can't fuckin' believe it...".

"Maybe I should return the favor", you positioned yourself on top of him, your dick getting hard again.

"Hell, man. Can't take a break for a couple minutes?".

You palmed his groin with firm grip and lowered yourself until your mouth was leveled with his ear.

"I wanna have you inside me", you whispered. Your words immediately vibrated through his body and straight to his own dick. If he was already rock hard, now he was sure he was going to explode at any moment.

"Fuck", he groaned. He put himself up and started taking of his shirt. "You better get ready 'cause—".

"Stay down", you pushed his chest down onto the mattress. "You've just put me under ya. I think it's only fair if I do the same", you continued what he was doing and took his shirt off. He looked up at you with eyes full of enthrallment.

"Alright ", he managed to say, even though he was already too lost inside his thoughts —which consisted on you riding him down to town as well as you rode your horse. You smiled at that.

"Good boy", you whispered involuntarily.

You undid the rest of your clothes, discarding them to the floor, and got ready for the action. You made sure you two were fine and clean before you actually started. You gave Joel the beginning of a blowjob to make sure he would slip inside you with no problem, and since there was no lube nearby that was the best you had.

You positioned yourself over his dick. Looking into each other's eyes, you both nodded to give green light to the other before you slid down on him, his member entering your hole in one smooth thrust. A moan escaped from your mouths at the same time. Joel's eyes rolled back into his skull as he felt your tight, warm walls enveloping his manhood. You gripped the sheets tightly between your fingers to hold back the need of destroying yourself with him, trying to fight the incredible sensation of pleasure mixed with delicious pain. He looked up at you to make sure you were fine. You just nodded.

After a short while of getting used to having his length inside you, you started moving slowly. It didn't last much, your desire too much to bear for you to keep going so little quickly. So you started riding him, really riding him. Your walls clamped down onto his member, as if trying to milk him dry. His tip hit your prostate constantly, each time deeper and giving you more pleasure. He tried to reach out and grab your own dick, but you grabbed both of his hands and didn't let him move.

"S... Stay down", you repeated, this time between moans and heavy breaths.

Now desperation was killing him. Being inside you felt too good. He was going to come at any moment if you kept it up. But still you were going way softer than what he wanted. And you wouldn't let him move... That was fucking hell for him.

In an attempt to calm his desperate need, he started thrusting up into you, meeting your movements halfway. You liked that way too much for someone that was trying to establish some sort of dominance over Joel, but you didn't complain either. You just kept going at it, doing your thing as he did his. Though, as a response for what he was doing, you contracted your hole, your walls clenching down on his dick even tighter. He let out a loud moan at that.

"Fuckin' hell", he chuckled between more groans. "G'nna kill me if ya... Holy shit...".

"Inside... Do it inside...".

Your words sent him over the edge. He thrusted up even harder, chasing his release with wild desire. His dick kept hitting your insides in just the right spot and didn't leave you time to breathe before pleasure took over you. 

Joel was the first to come, and you kept riding him until you spilled your cum all over his stomach. He chuckled at the warm feeling, almost tickling him.

"Shit", you breathed out, laying beside him. "Y'all grandpas are somethin' else", you looked down at his cum dripping down your thighs. "Got a towel or somethin'?".

"Bathroom", he pointed to a room on his right, inside the bedroom. You got up and walked to it as well as your shaking legs allowed you to. You grabbed the only towel you saw and wiped Joel's cum off your thighs, then went back into the bedroom to wipe yours off his stomach. He smiled at you. "Thanks".

You tossed the towel to the floor with the rest of your clothes, then laid back next to him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you once again and kissed your forehead.

"I'll get it washed for ya tomorrow", you kissed him back.

"What, the towel? No need, I'll do it".

"Shut the fuck up, I'm takin' it to my place tomorrow. I'll let you borrow one o' mine until I have yours cleaned".

Joel chuckled.

"Fine, dad", he mocked at you.

"Who ya callin' dad? You're the one with kids here, grandpa", you turned around to look at him. You saw something that caught your attention on the wall behind him.

"Grandpa my ass", he laughed. He saw you lost on your thoughts and looking behind him. He turned around to see what you were checking. It was a handmade calendar.

"Ya count the days?", your eyes fell on the only day that wasn't marked with an x —December thirtieth.

"Uh, Ellie does. Then she made me do it, too —did that thing for me. She said countin' days is fun and that I should keep track of how time goes by, also to know how much of a grandpa I am", he laughed. "Why?".

A smile appeared on your lips and you looked at him again.

"It's my birthday", you giggled in excitement. Joel turned to look at you, then back at the calendar, then back at you.

"Shit", he frowned. "Didn't get ya anythin' ".

"Ya kiddin'?", you looked at him in disbelief, your smile still plastered on your face. "Ya got me some alcohol, fuckin' confessed to me n' gave me the best fuck of my life", you stopped to breathe. "If that's not one hell of a birthday gift, I don't know what to get ya for yours".

He laughed and hugged you once more, giving you a sweet, slow kiss. You grabbed his shoulders, wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer to you.

"Happy birthday", he whispered. You chuckled.

"Thanks, Joel", you whispered back.

You stayed in each other's arms until you two drifted off to sleep. After many sleepless nights for the both of you, that one night you could finally sleep soundly. For once, Joel had no nightmares and he didn't wake up once. As for you, you couldn't think of somewhere better to be.

That had been the best fucking birthday you'd had in more than twenty years.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou joel miller #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x male reader

[supervillain-smut]

How do the slashers react to orgasm denial?

You’ve managed to get the jump on them and successfully restrain them. How you did it, you don’t know, but now that you think about it, they’re kind of hot, and completely under your control… It’s your turn to torture them. Give them a taste of their own medicine, in your own special way.

(THIS WORK FEATURES NON-CON ELEMENTS (MOSTLY SLASHERS RECEIVING), CURSING, DUBIOUS CONSENT, AND ORGASM DELAY/DENIAL. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!)

FEATURING:  BO & VINCENT SINCLAIR, BRAHMS HEELSHIRE, BUBBA SAWYER, GHOSTFACE (GENERAL PERSONA, WHICHEVER YOU FANCY), DR. HANNIBAL LECTER (ANTHONY HOPKINS), MICHAEL MYERS, RUBEN “RUVIK” VICTORIANO, STEFANO VALENTINI, THOMAS “TOMMY” HEWITT, AND HARRY WARDEN/TOM HANNIGER

AO3 LINK

If you like this, please consider commenting and/or tagging, it helps a lot. Tipping is optional and helps support me as a creator, if you’d like me to continue these send an ask to my inbox, and commissions are open and pinned if you’d like something all for yourself!

Bo Sinclair: He’s at a loss for words.

“F…Fuck! Will you just lemme… Ahhh! God…”

The man who was just about to torture you in this dingy little basement, who’d seemed like such a sweet-talker only hours ago, could not form a complete sentence. The anger was still in his eyes, oh was it ever, but he’d given up on getting out around an hour ago and had only focused on convincing you to let him cum.

He wasn’t about to beg, oh no he was far too proud of that, but if he wasn’t going to before he is sure as shit he might now.

You could tell he was getting close again, the time it took was becoming shorter and shorter, as he leaned his head back, his breath came in short gasps, and his hips strained against the rope you had used to tie him down after he couldn’t stop bucking into your hand in a vain effort to reach completion.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry from hanging open, panting, and attempting to talk for the last half hour, his voice beginning to sound hoarse. “Pl… GOD will you just let me cum? FUCK it hurts… Aaarrggh!!” He growled as you took your hand off his cock again.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should think about it.” Bo’s eyes widened in fear at your words, and he began to fight his restraints again desperately.

You walked away to the beginnings of his screams of threats, the last one fading in volume as you shut the door.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING WALK AWAY FROM ME! DON’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!!”

Brahms Heelshire: He begs.

You didn’t really have to restrain him at all. More like telling him to stay like a dog and he reacts like he’s bound. Even still, you’ve tied him to the headboard, and not once has he fought it. He’s been surprisingly good.

“I’ll be good, I promise!” He whines as he tries to buck his hips into your hand. “I won’t hurt you! I would never! I wanted to protect you! He hurt you!” He cried out as he let his head fall back into the pillows. You could see him swallow thickly and feel his hips still in an attempt to ‘be good’ for you.

You almost felt bad for the last four times he was close. Almost.

You stilled your hand again and heard him whine. He was almost pathetic with how easily he submitted to your demands, how he’d let you tie him up and tease him for this long, even though you could see it in his body that he wanted to fight back, to take control back, and yet he didn’t. Not once.

You watched him steady his breathing and pick his head up to look at you. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes; the biggest brown puppy dog eyes looked straight into the empathetic part of you. He was so patient, and he was being good… You resumed your pace, running your thumb over the head of his cock and he keened in return. His hips thrust forward just slightly, and you corrected him.

“Ah-ah! Be good and you can come. Don’t move.” He groaned, but still, you felt his hips stop.

You pressed just behind his balls and his back arched before he slammed back down onto the bed, remembering your order; he was really trying, you could tell. You felt him pulse and twitch in your hand, signaling he was close as precum oozed from the tip. You didn’t stop this time and watched as thin, watery jets of cum erupted from his cock, coating your hand and his stomach as he cried out again and again.

“Good boy, Brahms. Such a good boy.”

Bubba Sawyer: He’s obedient.

“So you’re going to be good, play nice, and help me out of this place, right?” You needed to make sure he was going to help you, but at this point, you were pretty sure he’d do anything, probably including chopping off his own hand just so he could come. You pressed your foot harder into his erection and he moaned, hanging his head as the ropes that bound his hands behind his back and around the metal pole took his weight.

He was drooling and bucking his hips into whatever touch you gave him. You knelt down and tipped his head up. His eyes pleaded with you. You slowly slid your hand up and down his shaft, and he began to hit his head on the pole in frustration. You quickly brought your free hand to the back of his head and did your best to stop him.

“Hey, hey! Don’t do that. I’ll let you come, and then you help me out of here, okay?” He met your eyes and nodded frequently and mumbling something you could never understand. “Okay, then.” You picked up the pace and he was breathing hard, his noises were getting louder and louder. Finally, he came, his sounds muffled in your hand covering his mouth, his cum blending in with the rest of the mess that covered his apron.

“There. Now, your end of the bargain.”

Ghostface: He screams for hours.

You needed earplugs or something. What started out as a good idea in your mind now that you had the bastard that had tried to kill you tied up in a chair and completely at your mercy had eventually turned into a goddamn banshee of threats and insults. He sounded like the one being murdered now.

“You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to gut you like a fish and skip rope with your intestines!”

Yeah, you stopped having fun a while ago. Around the third time you didn’t let him come.

“You know what?!”

“What?!”

“You can fucking stay here and rot for all I care. I’m grabbing a drink from the store, and you get to stay here. Scream all you want, you’re caught red-handed by the security cams trying to kill me, and I stopped them before I started to have my fun, so as far as they know you were just some pervert that was trying to kill a defenseless person!”

Silence. For the first time in two hours, complete silence from both of you. He sat there and, what you assumed, was staring at you. You grabbed your bag from the floor and pulled on your shoes.

“Wait, where are you going?” You didn’t respond. “You’re not seriously leaving me here, are you?” You continued towards the door and opened it, turning to look at him. “You wouldn’t dare. You get back here!” You backed out of the doorway. “Don’t do it you little bitch!” You slammed the door. “GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!” He was muffled from down the hall and behind the door, but not by much. Man, that guy could scream.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter: He acts unfazed.

You had stopped him from coming four times now. You wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, the only evidence you’d even so much as started to have your way with him was the slightly red flush to his cheeks and the small beads of sweat on his forehead.

“How?” He lifts his head to look you in the eyes, his baby blues as stubborn as they were intrigued at what you’ll try next.

“How, what? Be specific, otherwise, I can’t answer the question.”

“How have you not gone crazy yet? Surely you want to come.”

He stayed silent for a moment before answering, looking you up and down. “Why? Would you have? Besides, if I admit what I want you’re just going to keep taking it from me. Best to keep you guessing whether that’s what I want or what my body wants.” You tilted your head in confusion.

“What’s the difference between what you or your body want?”

He smirked at you. “The difference, my dear, is that your body merely reacts to stimuli, meanwhile your consciousness and your wants make all the difference as to whether it truly affects you.”

You thought for a moment. “So you don’t want to come?” You smirk back at him, leaning into his game. “I didn’t say that. Then again… I didn’t say suggest anything to the contrary, merely stated a fact.”

As he was talking you began to stroke him again, running your thumb along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. You finally noticed something you hadn’t before; he gasped when you did.

You paused everything. “Thank you for that fact, Doctor Lecter. It’s given me a great deal of insight.” It was his turn to tilt his head at you, as much as the hand truck dolly he was restrained to, as well as the mask to keep him from biting you, would allow him.

“You do want to come.” He stayed silent, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Clever girl.”

Michael Myers: He never stops trying to escape.

You had dodged death many times on Halloween night. Once by avoiding death via The Shape, otherwise known as Michael Myers, and about seven more times since you’d somehow, by some miracle, managed to restrain him. If you weren’t dead before, you’d absolutely be if he caught you. He hasn’t stopped struggling since he noticed he was trapped, wrapped up in extension cords and strapped to the table with his arms pinned at his sides.

You’d been taking advantage of this new and exhilarating scenario heavily, starting with merely feeling him up while you had the chance, then palming him through the mechanic's suit, until you were jerking him off and had even dared to deny him release. He was not happy about that. Not at all, given the amount of struggling he was really doing now.

You were hypnotized by every muscle, every muffled grunt of effort, frustration, and fury that escaped his lips that you couldn’t see, obscured by his iconic mask. You moved to take it off, and you could’ve sworn he’d nearly given himself whiplash with how hard he jerked his head away from you. He began to struggle again, and you leaned back in your chair, expecting it to be another fruitless endeavor of his. That was until his arm came shooting out toward you, stopping just before your face.

You launched out of the chair, unsure what to do; you couldn’t restrain him again. You thought too long about it, and by the time your mind had caught back up with reality, his hand was around your throat. Finally, as he brought his face centimeters away from yours, could you see his eyes. Something in them told you he wanted revenge. How he was going to get it was the terrifying part.

Ruben “Ruvik” Victoriano: He threatens.

“Let go of me. Now.”

That was how it started, anyway. His voice was as calm yet deadly as the sea. Now, however, it shook with desperation.

“Once I get out of this… I’m going to… Ahh! Fuck!” You started to stroke him just as he began another empty threat, staring him down as those icy blue eyes glared a hole straight through you.

“We both know you either won’t do anything, or you can’t do anything. If you could’ve, you would’ve by now. I’ve got you right where I want you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” You spoke calmly as you stopped moving your hand, opting to instead circle the head of his cock with your thumb, watching as his chest rose and fell as he watched you, a moan rumbling from his throat. The gurney wasn’t the most ideal thing to strap him to, but unfortunately, the only thing you had.

“I can absolutely get out of this. This is my world. You’re in my world!” You raised your brow at his words, feeling his cock twitch, threatening you of its release.

You let go of his cock and walked away as Ruben gawked at you from the gurney.

“Alright then, get out. Or off.”

Stefano Valentini: He bargains.

“Oh, tesoro per favore non fermarti*!” Stefano whined from under you as you held the knife to his throat, pressed your knee harder into his chest, and stroked his cock at a fast and relentless pace, watching as his face scrunched up in pleasure. His mouth was agape, panting and pouring honeyed words in Italian as he gave in to your demands at knifepoint.

You had somehow managed to get his knife off of him and his camera lay forgotten, at least for now, a good five feet away from you both, unharmed. You had left him on the edge of euphoria three times now, and the view was incredible. He sat in front of you with his back pressed to the wall as you held him steady with his own blade, your knee pressed flat to his chest as if he needed any further reinforcement not to move, and your other hand was on his cock.

“You know, if you let me go I can really fuck you properly. I won’t lay a finger on you that you don’t want to be there, I swear.”

You couldn’t lie that his propositions weren’t making you incredibly wet; you wanted him, of that there was no doubt, but you did doubt if he’d hold up his end of the bargain. You considered his offer, slowing your pace, but hardening your grip on the knife. You had decided as you removed the knife from his throat, much to his delight evident in his eye, and you slid it across the floor far away from you both. He smiled earnestly at you, and then he was on you in a flash.

*Honey please don’t stop

Thomas "Tommy" Hewitt: He glares.

His body shudders violently and he groans as he nearly reaches his peak before you take your hand away and pull harder on the ropes tying him to the chair he had in the basement. You can’t look at him and those chocolate eyes filled with hate and murderous intent, solely for you. He hasn’t taken that gaze off of you since you managed to tie him up.

You let him sit for a little while before working his cock again, pulling an animalistic growl out of him as his hips desperately tried to thrust upwards into your hand, but his position wouldn’t allow him. You ran your thumb over the head, causing his head to fly back as he moaned hoarsely. Maybe if you stopped teasing him, he’d stop glaring at you like that. 

That was your plan as you worked him over the edge, as he gasped and whined, jets of cum hitting his apron and oozing onto your hand as you gave him a few moments to catch his breath. Once his breathing had slowed back to normal did you lift your gaze to his. He was still glaring at you like a big cat in a cage, unrelenting in the slightest. You couldn’t let him go or he’d absolutely kill you, so you tied the ropes into knots behind him and began working on your escape.

Vincent Sinclair: He writhes.

He despised the fact that he was currently strapped down to his own bed, in his own workspace, with his twin brother just upstairs, completely unable to hear him, and completely unaware the person he was looking for was just below, torturing him. Vincent couldn’t help the way his body was reacting, begging for release as all he could do was let out hoarse moans and pleas. His hips desperately chased his release as you stilled your hand once again, causing him to throw his head back and arch his back as much as the restraints would allow him as he cried out.

His legs and arms were working desperately to free themselves, to no avail as you left him on the edge over and over again. He was beautiful, you had to admit; his one blue eye silently pleaded with you as his pitch-black hair lay sprawled on the bed, some strands stuck to his sweaty forehead as the heat of the basement and the heat building inside him proved too much, his mask was removed long ago when it had started to lose its form.

He attempted to buck up into your hand once again, and he wailed as you completely removed it, his body still writhing, although he was unsure why anymore. Was it to escape and end you, or a vain attempt to find some other way of release? He had all the time in the world to figure it out.

Harry Warden/Tom Hanniger: One hates it, the other loves it.

When Tom was in control, it was a consensual bit of fun, edging him until he couldn’t take it anymore and gave in. He loved those times with you, seeing how long he could last, sometimes beating his previous record, other times giving in much earlier. But when Harry was in control, when that mask was on and all you could hear was his heavy breathing, it was a whole different game, a whole other test.

Tonight was one of those nights. Instead of Tom coming home to you, Harry Warden stood at your doorway, had forced his way inside and onto you, still feeling the adrenaline of what seemed to be a fairly recent kill given the amount of blood that dripped from his pick, which he leaned against the door frame.

He had made it clear exactly what he wanted as he forced you onto your knees, but what he didn’t anticipate was your rebellious nature as you had seemingly obeyed, taking his cock into your mouth and eventually down your throat, until you felt him twitch, his breathing heavier than before, his right hand digging into the wall behind you as his left clenched into a ball at his side.

You could hear the gasp and groan that escaped him when you stopped completely with his cock down your throat, your hands on his hips to keep him from thrusting into your mouth. He stood there, eerily calm as you waited until his breathing slowed again before you returned to swallowing him.

This went on twice before he’d had enough, gripping your hair at the back of your head, pushing your hands away, and relentlessly fucking into your mouth, forcing himself down your throat until he came down it. He pulled himself out of your mouth as you gasped for air, and he gently wiped the tears that had fallen, before he roughly picked you up and threw you onto the couch; apparently, he wasn’t finished with you just yet.

#smut #slasher smut #slasher fandom #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire #bubba sawyer #ghostface #hannibal lecter #dr hannibal lecter #michael myers #ruben victoriano #ruvik #ruvik the evil within #stefano valentini #thomas hewitt #tommy hewitt #harry warden #tom hanniger #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #the boy 2016 #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #scream #silence of the lambs #hannibal 2001 #halloween #the evil within #the evil within 2

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader

A classic tale of fucking your ex at your friends wedding. We’ve all been there, I think.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls, minors will be blocked! Not proofread which is defo a warning, lmk if you spot anything ive missed. Smut. Oral f!recieving and protected pinv. Alcohol and drugs are mentioned slightly.

Little authors note sorry: Hey everyone i am actually alive lol. 5 months later i return writing for someone new… not out of character for me. I watched succession for the first time recently (late asf to the party i know) and i read some amazing stewy fics so i thought i’d add my piece because i’m obsessed with him. Sorry to all my tommy miller babes on here, i swear i tried writing for him again but my inspiration for tommy fics seems to have gotten lost. I really struggled when i tried finishing my half way done tommy series lol. But when i started writing this one it just floooowed and i finished it in like a few hours. Maybe my tommy love will come back someday but for now…. This. Hope someone out there enjoys lol <3

You’ve felt eyes on you all night. Everywhere you go you end up meeting his eyes across the room. Eveytime you look over at him, he’s already looking. He should be the one that's embarrassed, you’ve caught him looking at you multiple times, but you’re always the one who ends up looking away first and feeling your skin heat with the embarrassment of being caught. While he shamelessly stares at you over the rim of his glass, that awful fucking smirk gracing his lips and he watches you squirm. Honestly, it’s kinda creepy. And you almost hope he approaches you so you can tell him that.

Towards the end of the night he starts to close in, starts inching closer to you. He starts making conversation with the people around you, people at the bar next to you, and eventually your friends. Asking them how they are, how it’s been such a long time. Then, he finally gets to you. He takes his time looking you over before he speaks and you’re determined not to be the first one to talk, so you let him stare. Both of you standing in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks.

“You look great.”

”Thanks.” Keeping it simple seems safe. You want to tell him he looks good too because fuck, he does. He always does. He notices your eyes drifting over his suit and tie and he chuckles.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Uhm,” He trails off - pretends to think. “I’m at a fucking wedding, and i’m enjoying myself.”

”Yeah?” You ask, he nods in agreement. The way his eyebrows raise tells you he’s still being sarcastic, still mocking you. “Watching my every move all night is how you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes.” He confirms. “Watching you squirm all night was pretty fun.”

”I wasn’t.” You attempt to defend yourself, downing your drink. “I was just-“

“I’ll get you another.” He cuts you off, snatching your glass out of your hand - not even bothering to ask. You almost try to protest, but you don’t see the point. You know him too well, you know how stubborn he is, once he gets an idea it’s hard for him to let it go. If the idea he’s got tonight is paying for your drinks, then so be it - who were you to complain. You sit down on the stool next to you, watching as Stewy makes the bartender laugh as he orders your drinks. You're kind of pissed that you still can’t figure him out sometimes, you know him better than most people - maybe better than anyone, but he still confuses you. It has been a while since you last saw him, but you conclude that he hasn’t changed much.

When he comes back with your drinks he puts yours down in front of you and asks: “Still your favorite?”

You nod, kind of pissed that he got it right. You try to convince yourself that he didn’t actually remember that small detail. That he’s just been watching you order them all night during your staring competition.

“So, how’s your family?” You ask, cringing at how lame you sound. You just don’t want to let him start a conversation you don’t want to have.

He smiles, because he knows what you're doing. “They’re fine. I still don’t see them much, but they’re good.”

”You’re still too busy to see your family?” You joke.

“Mhm,” His smile almost looks genuine as you joke with each other. “I’m always busy.”

“Busy stealing people's money?”

He laughs then, a genuine laugh that makes you laugh as well. God, you don’t want to admit that you missed him. But everyone else just seems so boring after him, you’ve never found the same thing you’d had with him with anyone else.

“You never really understood business did you?” He laughs.

“I understand perfectly.”

“Sure,” He agrees. “I explained it to you enough times.”

“Yeah, and bored me to death.”

”Is that why you broke up with me?”

His question completely catches you off guard and you almost choke on your drink. You almost want to ask him if he purposefully said that while you were taking a sip, but you’re too busy trying to supress your coughing.

“Jesus, it was just a question.” Stewy laughs at you again, his warm hand coming to rest on your back as he watches you almost choke.

“Fuck you.” You say pointedly, after getting yourself back under control. ”You know why we broke up. Also, I broke up with you?”

”You did.”

“Stewy, it was amicable.”

“Was it?” His face goes serious again and you instantly miss the sound of his laugh. You just sigh, taking another sip of your drink. This was exactly the conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I thought you said you were enjoying yourself,” You say after a few moments of silence. “Don’t ruin it now.”

”I lied.” He says. “I always hated those two, I can't believe they actually got married.”

”Match made in hell.” You agree, both of you laugh softly again.

“You know I also lied earlier when I said you looked great.” He says, surprising you. You brace yourself for whatever joke he’s going to make about you, you shouldn't have pissed him off, he can get mean when he’s pissed off. It’s not his fault, it’s just his defense mechanism - but nevertheless you brace yourself for his comment - and he surprises you again by saying: “You look fucking incredible.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You opt for another sip of your drink instead and he watches you in amusement.

“I only came because I hoped you would be here,” He continued. You still can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, that damned smirk on his face makes you think he’s making fun of you, but those big brown eyes look so sincere.

“Stewy, stop.” You sigh.

“Come on, baby.” He murmurs, he leans forward in his chair and places his hand on your knee. The nickname makes you tense up. Makes a familiar heat spread through you. “Let me get you another drink and take you up to my room.”

Fuck. He’s fucking good at this, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to get you. You’re trying to think, but the alcohol and the way his thumb is rubbing your knee is clouding your mind. He waits patiently, watching as you look down at his hand and back up to his face. Your eyes stop at his lips before meeting his gaze.

“Alright,” You say, you swear you can actually see his eyes light up. “Go get me another drink and show me your room. Then I'll decide.”

“You got it.” He grins and practically jumps out of his seat. When he returns he holds out his hand to help you off your stool, the heels you decided to wear and the drinks weren’t a good match. He hands you your drink, although you don’t really want it now. His hand finds its place on the small of your back and a fire lights up somewhere inside of you. His touch feels so familiar - comforting. He leads you out of the bar and to the elevators. Punching in the right number before the doors close, leaving you both alone in the small space. It suddenly feels too quiet.

You want to touch him, but once again you don’t want to be the one to make the first move. You don't want him to know how desperate you are for him, although you think he already knows. He’s watching you in silence, his eyes dark and wanting. A look you’ve seen a million times before - a look that makes you excited. The elevator ride is short, Stewy isn’t the type to kiss you in an elevator, and you know that, so you’re not disappointed when the doors open and he hasn’t touched you or said a word.

He gestures for you to leave first, putting his hand on the door so they don’t close on you, or him. Some people would find this strange, the silence, but it’s a game you’ve both played with each other before. A game you both enjoy. He guides you to his room with a hand on your back, just like before. When he unlocks the door and opens it for you, you suppress a gasp. As usual, Stewy needs to have the best of the best. The bride and groom's room probably isn’t even this nice. They probably couldn’t afford it - Stewy can.

“Well?” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Hm?”

”What do you think? You said you would decide when you saw the room. Is it good enough for you?”

”Uhm,” You pretend to think as you set your drink down on the dresser, turning around to dramatically inspect the room. It earns a playful eye roll from Stewy. He knows what impresses you and he knows he already has you. He already had you down at the bar.

“I think it’s okay.” You conclude, turning to face him. He hums in sarcastic agreement, looking you up and down. He’s playing the game again, who is going to end it first. Who is going to lose. You don’t like losing, and neither does he. But honestly, haven’t you already lost? He has you in his room for christ sake. He has you standing in front of him, already dripping and all he’s done is touch your leg a little and look at you the right way. So you put aside your pride and step towards him, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and roughly bring his face down to your, finally connecting your lips.

His hands immediately find their home at your hips, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss immediately turns from an innocent kiss to a hungry and passionate one, his tongue dominating your mouth. You both know each other's bodies so well, there's no need for taking it slow or asking questions.

“Fuck, Stewy.” You sigh as he backs you towards the bed, gently setting you down and climbing over you. Kissing every inch of your skin.

“God, I missed that.” He groans, marveling over the way you sigh his name. “I missed you, baby. I can admit it. I want you so badly.”

You moan softly at his words, at the way his lips feel on your neck - at how right this feels. You had missed him too. He catches you off guard when he pulls away to ask, ”Have you been fucking other people?”

“Sorry?” You giggle, “Why are you asking me that now?”

”Have you?” He presses.

“I ju- maybe.” You stutter, already missing his lips.

”Maybe?”

”I know you’ve been fucking as well.” You accuse, suddenly defensive. You push yourself up onto your elbows, despite still being trapped underneath him.

“Yeah, I have.” He says coolly.

“So?” You ask, irritated. Why was he doing this?

“So, none of them were as good as you.” His words earn an eye roll from you. “Nothing can compare to this pussy.” He adds, his hand sliding down to roughly grip your thigh and bring it over his waist. Oh, shit. His half hard cock is pressing perfectly against your pussy in this new position, the material of your dress and his suit pants keeping you apart. “And, i bet none of those guys fucked you the way i do.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin, his other keeping him above you. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he asks, “Did they?”

“No.” You practically squeak. “None of them were like you. No one is like you, Stewy.”

You’re not even lying, after having sex with Stewy for so long nothing compared. You had gotten accustomed to a man who knew what he was doing, to a man who was generous in bed. You had gotten used to a man who could make you cum. No one had achieved that after him. Your answer obviously pleases him, he grins and leans down to kiss you again.

He ends the kiss and stands up leaving you spread out on the bed, you whine underneath him, chasing for more. He ignores you and slips off his suit jacket. He makes a show of undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening his sleeves in order to push them up to his elbows. Fuck, he looks so good. You almost want to tell him, but you don;t need to. He can see the way you're watching him, that look in your eye. He knows what you look like when you’re turned on - and this is it. He grabs your thighs and pushes your dress up to your waist, getting a good look before sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder somewhere.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, baby. I know what you need. I can’t wait to taste you.” He rambles as you whimper in anticipation, he presses a kiss to your ankle as he watches you buck your hips.

He has his mouth on you before you can respond. Just as you remember, he is painfully and infuriatingly good at it. He still eats pussy like it's his second nature. He still looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes as he traces your clit with his tongue. He has to hold back from grinning against you as you writhe and whimper. He groans as you sigh his name and run your hand through his hair. You remember how much you love it when he’s like this, when he's animalistic and loses his composure.

Your legs tighten around his head as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. It’s fucking embarassing how quickly you barrel towards your climax, but it has been a while. And no one else devours you like this, no one else is this good. You should have expected it. He recognizes it immediately, breaking away from you for a second to speak.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Stew.” You moan, your hands grabbing at his hair attempting to push him back down. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips as he watches you.

“God, I love it when you beg for me.” He mumbles before diving back in, allowing you to push his head down and maneuver him.

"Please make me come," you groan, arching your back. “I'm so close, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, he continues to lap at you and work you though your orgasm as you come against his mouth. His beard delightfully scratches your sensitive skin, leaving behind a delicious burning feeling. He’s painfully hard now, after watching you come and hearing you moan his name. You begin to push at his head when you come down, usually he would tease you a little now, knowing how sensitive you are and make the most of it. But he’s so fucking desprate for you, he has been all night. He’s been dreaming about being inside of you for hours now.

He’s instantly on his feet, undoing his belt and undressing. You follow suit, weakly sitting up - doing the best your legs can do when they feel like jelly, you lift your dress over your head and throw it on the floor with his clothes. He’s climbing back on top of you, kissing you hungrily. His lips and chin are still wet with your juices and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his lips.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, fully prepared to submit to him- to do whatever he asks.

“Fuck,” He groans at your words, having to pause for a second. “Can you turn over for me?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him one more time before turning over and crawling to the middle of the bed, pushing yourself up onto your knees and holding yourself up on your elbows, so your back is deliciously arched the way you know he likes. You grin as you hear him groan behind you, his hand petting your ass before he delivers a light slap to it. He steps away from you and you hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, did he have that in his fucking pocket? His words from earlier repeat in your head, ‘I only came because I hoped you would be here.’

“Plese fuck me, Stewy.” You moan softly, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I need you.”

”How bad?” He teases. The head of his cock is ever so slightly pressing against your entrance, he’s hardly holding back as he waits for your answer, pushing in slightly.

“So bad,” You sigh, pushing back on him so he slips easily inside of you. You both moan loudly, you love that he’s so loud and shameless in bed. He stays still once he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Please move. I need to be fucked properly, only you can do it.”

The sound he makes behind you is heavenly, you knew that would work. He pulls out of you before pushing back in slowly. He always does this, he starts slow and then builds up to a bruising pace. All you can do is whimper beneath him and beg for him to fuck you faster. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.

“You take me so fucking well. Like you were fucking made for me.” His voice is deep and raw.

”I think I am,” You moan. “You feel so fucking good!”

“Are you gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Gonna soak my cock?”

All you can do is furiously nod your head and moan beneath him, the sounds of your pussy squelching as he fucks you is almost embarassing. You don’t have time to think about it because he’s pulling out of you and gently flipping you over onto your back. He lifts your legs and rests his knees on the bed, throwing your feet over his shoulders and he leans over you. He guides his cock back into you and dives down to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips in a messy kiss. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths, not minding when your teeth momentarily clack together.

“Come on gorgeous,” He groans, he’s breathless - pressing kisses to your face between his words. You can tell he’s close too. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me fucking have it.”

He feels you tighten around him as you come, his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. Your hands tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it. You look so beautiful, baby.” He talks you through it, still fucking you as you come around him.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Come inside of me, Stewy.”

You know he’s wearing a condom, but the dirty talk is hot. He thinks so too, because that's all it takes for him to come. His head is buried in your neck, his teeth biting into the soft skin under your ear. No doubt leaving a mark, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now all you can think about is how hot he sounds when he comes, you love that he isn’t quiet, that he isn’t afraid to groan your name into your neck.

He stays still for a second, lifting his head and kissing you - gently this time, before he pulls out. You rest for a minute while he discards the condom. You hear rustling and sniffing while he’s in the bathroom and you almost want to yell out to him - this is why we broke up. But you ignore it, getting up from the bed and breezing past him as he leaves the bathroom. You close the door behind you, taking the hotel robe off the back of the door and cleaning yourself up, doing what you need to do. You wonder if you should shower, but decide you should probably go back to your own room to do that.

When you leave the bathroom he’s sitting in the bed under the covers, the tv remote in his hand. Your dress and underwear have been picked up and folded on the chair beside the bed. It makes you smile, how can someone be so thoughtful but so selfish at the same time. That’s why you broke up, you need to keep reminding yourself.

“So, I guess I'm gonna go back to my own room.” You say as you gather your things. You’re on your way back to the bathroom with your clothes when he speaks up.

“Okay,” He says, respecting your decision. “Why?”

”Why?” You repeat, stopping your tracks. “Don’t you want me to go?”

”No. I want you to watch tv with me.”

”Seriously?” You laugh before you realize he’s being serious.

“Yeah, seriously.” His face is impassive, and hard to read. But you can’t resist those big brown eyes and you drop your clothes back onto the floor and slip into bed with him.

“Hey,” He whines as he looks at your dress. “I picked that up and folded it for you and you just threw it on the floor again.”

“Sorry, how rude of me.” You laugh at the mock pout on his face. You’ve sat pretty far away from him and he eyes the space between you.

“Come here.” He says lifting up his arm so you can cuddle into his side. God, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should have left. But he smells good and this bed is so comfortable.

“Will you stay the night here?” He asks quietly

”I shouldn’t.” You sigh.

“I know.” He agrees.

Of course you end up staying the night, Stewy is very convincing. With his promise of round two and a warm shower in the morning, it’s hard to resist. He also promises an expensive breakfast after the shower, but he says, ‘only if you behave yourself.’ You spend the whole night talking and laughing with him. Not only is he the best fuck you’ve ever had, he’s also the funniest person on earth. He’s got the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen but he’s also the biggest assole you’ve ever met. He’s so confusing, but that night you decide that maybe taking a little more time to try and figure him out won’t be so bad - only time will tell.

#i couldnt think of a title btw so…. yea #im RUUSSTTYY i havent written in months lmao #apologies in advance i guess #if anyone even reads this lmao #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x fem reader #stewy hosseini fan fiction #stewy hosseini smut #succession #succession fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #female reader #x reader

[mariatesstruther]

thinking about how truly mf triggering jackson was for joel, in so many ways:

- seeing tommy for the first time in however long & dealing with the overwhelming emotions that come with that

- tommy having a wife and a BABY ON THE WAY

- all the reminders of sarah. the woman, tommy, the pregnancy, seeing that there’s someplace she could’ve grown up and been safe. seeing that little girl’s room, that ellie was staying in, which reminded me so much of sarah’s when they showed it

- having a drink/access to alcohol for the first time in almost a year(?). as an alcoholic, this must’ve impacted joel immensely and probably put him in a headspace where he was more easily triggered and emotional. MAZIN PLSSSSSS DONT LET JOEL GO BACK TO DRINKING IN S2 LETS SEE SOME ACTUAL RECOVERY FOR HIM PLS I HATED THAT HE EVEN DRANK IN 1x06 LIKE HOMIE YOU HAVE ELLIE TO PROTECT

- seeing kids in jackson being happy and celebrating the holidays. definitely contributed to his dream of decorating the tree with sarah

- being in a functioning town and a comfortable house which both he and his daughter ellie have rooms in was probably very jarring for him too, as i imagine it would be for anyone coming into jackson after being outside for so long. it’s a transition that i dont think joel was prepared for at all

- talking about tess for the first time in however long. the fact that he just instantly lied about it, and couldn’t admit the truth to tommy until he was broken down

idk just thinking abt the psychology of joel miller. i could write abt his lil brain for days

#psychology of joel #joel miller #tlou hbo #tlou hbo 1x06 #tlou #tommy miller

[bbyhellfire]

Best friend!Eddie Munson who is secretly in love with you, but doesn't have the guts to do anything about it. Instead, he takes every opportunity to remind you that your ex is a dirtbag whenever he can.

eddie munsion x fem!reader, previous reader x male oc 890 words no major warnings; unrequited love, jealous eddie, oblivious reader, pls excuse any typos!

If Eddie has to hear you mention your ex one more time, he is going to scream. Scream and scream until his rage could be heard in the deepest parts of the ocean. Fuck, maybe even aliens in another galaxy would hear how jealous Eddie Munson is.

If ever there was a physical embodiment of what it means to be a lying scumbag, it's your ex. Eddie doesn't know much about Rob (the Knob), but he's enough to make his blood boil at the slightest mention of him. And rightfully justified. Your ex, Rob, is a certified manwhore, fucking his way through half of Hawkins all while making you fall in love with a fantasy of you and him.

When you caught him with his dick shoved down Carol Perkins' throat, Eddie thought that'd be the last he would hear of him. You cried and cried, and he was there to glue back the pieces of your shattered heart. Just two months ago you had a ceremonial bonfire to burn the last of his possessions and now you're bouncing on your feet, giddy at the news that your ex is back for the summer.

It makes Eddie want to put his head through the wall.

You're hardly looking at him or else you'd see the annoyed look on his face. You're fluttering around his room, smiling and giddy even though you're trying to stay so casual about it. Your hands run over the various knickknacks and trash that cover his bedroom as he sits on his bed, counting his baggies in preparation for tonight's party.

"Do you think he'll be there tonight?"

Eddie groans, his hand flying to rub his face and he lets out an exasperated "Jesus Christ." Not that you hear him. You're too caught up remembering the good times with Rob. Granted there weren't exactly many happy memories, but enough for familiar happiness to spread through your veins. You don't even realize you're smiling

"Unless Harrington is making friends with lying scumbags who break their girlfriend's heart, I doubt it. But he used to be friends with Tommy Hagan so who knows."

He's not jealous. No, not at all. He's just protective. There's a difference.

Diverting his attention back to his black lunchbox, counting the baggies again just to distract himself. The green-eyed monster inside of him is making his stomach feel is a liter of Coke and you just dropped in a Mentos shaped like your shitty ex.

"He's changed, Eddieee," You whine, turning to face him. "You know he's studying business? That's like...really serious. Totally mature and grown up. You know, like what CEOs and accountants study."

That cuts deeper than Eddie would like to admit. He knows you don't mean to hurt him - you're just trying to justify wanting to see the person who shattered your heart - but it still makes his jaw clench.

Eddie wouldn't have the chance to go to university and get some stuffy degree that he wouldn't even care about. If clean up his act now, he might become a shift supervisor at the plant by the time he's 40. Maybe 35 if he cuts his hair.

He shakes his head, shoving the rest of the baggies into his lunchbox and locking it shut. Whatever. It doesn't matter. Not when you're hoping to run into Rob at tonight's party.

"Hey, come on now," He doesn't notice you've sat down across from him until you're holding his hand, your fingers fiddling with his rings. Your voice is more timid than before, "He's changed. He's maturing, he's not the same person he was. I know it."

It's like you're trying to convince yourself. He should say something comforting, but Eddie Munson doesn't do comfort if it means walking you towards another heartbreak like you're pig heading towards the slaughterhouse.

"Sweetheart, banging your university professor so you don't flunk your second semester is not how you mature."

"That's just a rumor," You dismiss, dropping his hand much to his dismay. You cross your arms over your chest to protect you from the truth. Deep down, you know Rob hasn't changed. Eddie's snark is justified no matter how much you wish it isn't.

"Maybe. But he and O'Donnell were awfully close, just saying."

Your face churns in disgust, which makes him chuckle. "Gross, Eddie."

"Just reminding you in case you forgot."

You groan, turning around so you can fall back ontothe bed, "No, you're right. You're always right." You cover your eyes with your forearm for extra dramatics. "I'm going to die alone."

"Not true," He chuckles, placing his lunchbox on his nightstand so he can lay down next to you. "I bet if you keep feeding those strays, you'll have your own army of stray cats."

You groan despite the smile spreading across your lips. "That's even worse! Who the hell wants the crazy cat lady?"

Me, I do. That's what Eddie wants to say. He wants to hold your hand and tell you that he'll take you with our without an army stray cats. He'd take you in any way you'd have him.

It's what he should say.

But that means potentially ruining your friendship and that scares him more than you and your ex reconnecting. So instead, he cracks another joke at Rob's expense and this time you laugh and Eddie thinks another time. He'll tell you another time.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #stranger things fanfic #bbyhellfire

[summerslashers]

Dinner: Thomas Hewitt x Reader

PART ONE | PART TWO

Summary: You have dinner at the Hewitt House. (takes place during tcm the beginning well before the cannibalism)

Warnings: Charlie/Hoyt, Swearing

Author’s Note: This took so long pls forgive me. This is the end of this short series but I will write more small stories that are based off of this series where you live across the street from Tommy :)

You stood on the porch of the Hewitt home with two thick oven mitts protecting your hands and a hot apple pie fresh out of the oven. You just barely had enough time to make a nice dessert without being late, but you didn’t want to show up empty handed after the polite invitation you received. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out how you were going to knock on the door without a free hand to do so. Suddenly, as if someone had read your mind, the door swung open to reveal Thomas.

He was dressed nicely in a button up shirt with a striped tie and a pair of khaki pants. He looked clean, his curly hair soaking wet as if he had just stepped out of a shower. You looked up into his soft blue eyes, a blush warming your cheeks as he gazed at you gently.

“Hi Thomas.” You smiled up at him. “You look really handsome.”

Tommy felt his cheeks grow warm at your sweet compliment, his eyes glancing off to the side and fingers twitching at his sides anxiously. You always made him flustered with your pretty smile and kind words. It was nice.

He stepped aside politely to give you room to come inside, a silent invitation that you gladly accepted. He used a strong arm to hold the door open for you and you joined him in the house, thanking him for the kind gesture.

The inside of Thomas’ home seemed just as big as the outside. It was huge- much bigger than your own small home- with tall ceilings and a large, open foyer. Immediately, there was a delicious, garlicy smell in the air that made your hungry stomach growl, and you could hear the clattering of pots and pans coming from the kitchen in the distance.

“Your house is so nice.” You smiled at Thomas, but before you had the chance to say anything else, an unfamiliar man rounded the corner dressed in a pair of blue jean overalls and a plain baseball cap. He was old- much older than Thomas.

“Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned, Tommy! You didn’t tell me you had a fuckin’ girlfriend!” He grinned, giving Thomas a firm pat on the back. “And she brought dessert too! Shit, I like her already!”

You laughed, and Tommy was sure he had never heard a more beautiful sound in his entire life. Your eyes met his and he swore his heart skipped two beats. It wasn’t a mocking laugh- no. It was a happy, joyful laugh. He couldn’t help but look away again, a cute pink tint to his cheeks that peeked out from behind the black leather mask.

“Oh, mama’s gonna want to meet you.” He smiled, and there was something just a bit off-putting about it. “Mama! Our guest is here!”

“Now I done told you to quit yellin’ in the house, Charlie.” A woman came from what you assumed was the kitchen, scolding the man who simply rolled his eyes in response, muttering a half-hearted apology.

The older woman was dressed modestly, her blonde-gray hair pulled up into a gentle updo and a pair of glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. There were deep wrinkles on her face, her expression stern with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead- a result of working in the hot kitchen you were sure. Her expression seemed to soften when she noticed you standing next to Tommy shyly, still holding the hot pie.

“Now aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” She smiled warmly. “You must be y/n.”

“Yes ma’am.” You returned the kind smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Luda Mae.” She looked down at the pie in your hands. “Come join me in the kitchen and we can set that down.”

You nodded, smiling back at Thomas before following Luda Mae into the kitchen and setting your apple pie down as instructed. You were relieved to finally take the hot oven mitts off of your hands, and you set them off to the side where they wouldn’t get in the way. It was then that you noticed the small vase with the wildflowers you had gifted earlier that day with a soft smile on your lips.

Luda Mae turned away to stir a pot on the stove, adding what looked to be salt and pepper to whatever it was she was making. It still smelled wonderful.

“Not often we get new folk ‘round here,” she spoke as she made her way around the kitchen, working quickly to finish things up. “Almost didn’t believe it when word got out that someone moved into that house-” She chuckled softly before continuing.

“And you’ve been so kind to my boy, Tommy.”

You smiled brightly. “Thomas is wonderful. I was so nervous to introduce myself earlier, but he was really sweet about everything.”

“He’s a real nice boy,” Luda Mae gushed, happy that someone else could appreciate her son just as much as she did. “Been treated poorly his whole life- nothin’ but cruelty and ridicule from folk that don’t take the time to know or understand him. Never did nothin’ to deserve it either. It’s nice to see someone finally treatin’ him the way he ought to be.”

“I could never be mean to Thomas.” You spoke fondly of the man, your brows furrowed sadly at the thought that he had been mistreated. “He’s too kind.”

Luda Mae smiled softly and hummed in agreement, turning off the stove and setting the pot aside on a cold burner where it could cool down a bit. She turned to face you, her eyes wandering down to the apple pie you made. It turned out just shy of perfect. The crust was golden brown and it had a crunchy cinnamon sugar crumble on the top.

“Thank you for providin’ dessert.” She smiled at you warmly. “Nice of you to go through the trouble of doin’ that.”

“I didn’t want to seem rude,” you smiled shyly. “It wouldn’t feel right showing up with nothing after your nice invitation.”

“Well that’s awful’ polite of you.”

You smiled, looking around the messy kitchen for a moment. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“You really are just the sweetest thing,” she said. “How about you help Tommy set the table while I clean this mess in here.”

You nodded in agreement, glad that you could be of some help.

“Thomas Brown Hewitt, get in here and go help set the table,” she said firmly as she set a stack of wide rim soup bowls, silverware, and napkins down on the countertop beside you.

The man lumbered into the room, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled at him softly as he walked over to you, picking up the bowls and silverware that suddenly seemed a lot smaller in his large hands.

“I’ll get these,” you grabbed napkins before turning to face the large man. “Will you show me where the dining room is?”

He nodded, waiting and making sure you were ready before leading the way. He guided you through the house to a large, open room. In the center was a large dining table with an elegant table cloth and white lace table runner. Above the table were high ceilings and a chandelier style light. There were six chairs around the table, and at each spot at the table there was an empty glass. You silently wondered if there were one or two more people you hadn’t met yet.

You moved to stand next to Thomas as he set the bowls and silverware down on the table. You did the same with the napkins. You both reached for the stack of bowls, your fingertips brushing together for a moment. The two of you looked up at one another and retracted your hands slightly, a small laugh escaping your lips as your cheeks grew warm.

“Sorry,” you smiled and awkwardly gestured for him to go first.

You and Thomas spent the next few minutes working together to set the table in comfortable silence, exchanging glances every so often. Each time your eyes would meet you would smile at him warmly, something that made his heart flutter and cheeks turn pink.

As the two of you finished, Luda Mae called for Charlie and another man named Monty, letting them know that dinner was ready before entering the room. She set the large pot of what you could now see was stew onto the table. Neither Thomas nor Luda Mae had taken their seat yet, and you were still waiting for Charlie and Monty, so you stood politely to the side near Thomas to wait for further instruction.

After a short moment, the unfamiliar man, Monty, entered the room. He looked to be close to Luda Mae’s age with lots of deep wrinkles on his face and gray hair peeking out from beneath his baseball cap. His eyes met yours from behind his glasses and you offered a small wave.

“Y/n, this is my brother Monty.” Luda Mae said, noticing your silent interaction.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered a polite smile.

“Somethin’ smells damn good, mama!” Charlie announced loudly as he entered the room, standing above what you assumed to be his chair at the head of the table, resting a hand on the polished wood. “Now everyone take your seats and bow your damn heads so we can say grace.”

Luda Mae shot him a disapproving glance and shook her head, but said nothing as everyone began to take their seats. You ended up sitting between Thomas and the empty chair at the end of the table, silently grateful that Thomas had put himself between you and Charlie.

“Now,” Charlie said, still standing tall and proud at the head of the table. “Let us give thanks for this meal which the Lord has provided us. Bow your heads.”

After the short prayer, everyone passed their bowls to the front where Charlie put a generous helping of stew in each one. Soon, everyone had their food and a tall glass of water in front of them, and it was finally time to eat. You were so hungry after a long day of unpacking at home and the stew looked absolutely delicious. It was steaming hot and contained large chunks of meat, plenty of vegetables, and potatoes all sitting in a thick broth. Everyone began eating and as expected, it was delicious.

“Thank you so much for dinner.” You said to Luda Mae, who was sitting across from you. “It’s very good.”

“Why thank you, dear.” She smiled. “It’s a pleasure havin’ you here with us.”

“Thank you.” You smiled back shyly. “It’s really nice being here.”

The two of you continued to make small talk over dinner, the men at the table remaining mostly quiet as they ate their food. The only exception was the occasional comment or question from Charlie who always seemed to have something unpleasant to say. Even then, you were happy with how well everything was going with your new neighbors.

After everyone had finished their meal, you and Luda Mae went to the kitchen where you brought out dessert and plates to serve it on. You gave each person a large piece of your apple pie and everyone seemed happy to indulge. You were given several compliments. Even Monty told you that it was good and he hadn’t said a word for the entire meal. Thomas, on the other hand, didn't need to say anything. You could always see the gratitude in his eyes when he looked at you. It made you smile.

Soon, everyone was done with dessert, and the table was littered with dirty plates, crumpled up napkins, and empty cups. Charlie excused himself from the table, and Monty did the same, both carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen. It was just you, Luda Mae, and Thomas.

“Would you like me to help you with the dishes, ma’am?” You asked Luda Mae as you placed your own dishes, silverware, and napkins into a neat stack in front of you.

“Don’t you worry about that, dear.” She said appreciatively. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure.” She smiled, standing up from her seat. You and Thomas did the same. “Besides, it’s gettin’ late. Tommy, how’s about you walk with her ‘n make sure she gets home safe.”

Thomas nodded his head with sincerity in his eyes and body language. Of course he would keep you safe. He wanted to be by your side, to protect you and care for you.

You smiled up at him. “Thank you, Thomas. That would be really nice.”

You stood in the foyer at the front door with Thomas at your side, and Luda Mae returned your cookie platter, empty pie plate, and oven mitts.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you smiled at the woman. “It was really nice meeting everyone and the meal was wonderful.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s been a pleasure havin’ you here with us.” She looked at Thomas. “You get her home safe now.”

With that, you and Tommy were on your way, walking side by side down the long driveway towards your house. The sun had just gone down, the orange sunset fading away and darkening into the night sky. It was peaceful, the only sound was the gravel crunching beneath your feet and the insects chirping in the distance. You liked being by Thomas. It was nice.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence until you reached the front door of your small house. You turned to look at Tommy with a content smile on your lips.

“Thank you for walking me home- and for having me over. It was really nice.”

Tommy looked at you fondly, with that usual softness in his eyes that brought warmth to your cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. He didn’t need to speak, because you could always understand what he was trying to tell you simply by the way he would look at you.

“I hope I see you again soon.” You smiled, though you were sad that the night had come to an end. “You’re welcome to come over here any time... I really like spending time with you.”

Tommy felt his cheeks grow warm, his hands fidgeting at his sides and his weight shifting just slightly. You were so kind to him and he was sure that he would never get used to your sweetness. It made him feel so warm, so happy inside. There was a twinkle to his eyes as he looked at you, a joyful expression shown only through his eyes and nothing else. That was all you needed.

You stepped inside of your home, not yet closing the door as you looked so fondly at the man on your porch.

“Goodnight, Thomas.”

Tag List: @ostricx @sagis116 @motomamita @dij-ology

#thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #tommy hewitt #leatherface x reader #leatherface #tcm the beginning

[penvisions]

garnish {chapter 8}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: A routine gets settled as you spend more and more time of yours in Joel's home. Sharing your lives in a new and exciting way. But of course, your streak of bad luck continues in a way you never could've expected.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: stress, stressful work environment, secret relationship, power dynamics (due to work hierarchy), past trauma, family trauma, academic language, reader is in college, age gap, stalker, stalking, ultimatums, reader is so stressed, talk of pregnancy, braxton hicks doing the lords work of stressing everyone out, tommy makes an appearance, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, allusions to cheating, dishonest language, racy photos, sexting, cigarettes, tobacco, outburst, sexual content, smut, unprotected p in v, reader has an iud, secret sex, sex in the workplace, oral, f receiving oral, cum eating (!), joel is a sexual menance, dirty talk, sweet talk, um if i missed anything let me know?

A/N: so, the first week of this year has thoroughly kicked my ass, but i've been distracting myself with finishing up this fic. i hope y'all like this new chapter, pls don't be mad at the ending, feel free to (kindly and not really)yell at me in the comment or even message me c:

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

Joel carried your unconscious form up the stairs, the weight of how different this time was compared to all the others before. Before you weren’t broken. Before it was all desperate kisses and the peeling off of clothes to get to the skin underneath. Before it was all sleepy mumblings as you had insisted on a movie only to fall asleep against him within the first half hour. Before it had been a quiet shadowing of each other after a long day of work. A refuge found in his room, all warm tones and soft sheets, softer skin underneath wandering hands.

But this time, this now, was so unlike all the times before. It was heartache and worry that permeated his very skin. Had been consuming him from the second he got that call you would be late because of a meeting with the man who visited you at the bar, who sent warning bells ringing within his mind.

It was after.

After the distance you had put between them for three days that he tried to respect. After the times he didn’t ask about the meeting, knowing you would tell him on your own if you wanted to. After he chased away an intruder that was determined to take what they wanted from you. After he fired that inane cook for his behavior toward you, citing all of instances he had failed to mesh into the atmosphere and environment he had painstakingly created in his restaurant. After he rushed to you, only to find you looking so small and alone in your apartment with a set of stitches he felt at fault for. After he saw you crumble in on yourself and reveal the broken pillars you had been trying to maintain.

You had seemed to calm, so quiet as you talked about your childhood. About a woman who tore you down before you could even begin to build yourself up. About a man who let her, who was supposed to care for you and protect you. A family that saw you as a burden to pass around. About a professor who was sworn to teach and provide a safe environment for his students. Who was abusing that power to protect the man who was targeting you now.

He tried to connect all the puzzle pieces that fell from your mouth in such a calm, matter of fact manner.

He tried to make sense of it all, his head pounding and his heart thudding as he laid you down in his bed and fixed the blankets around you the way he knew you liked. The softest one that normally rested over the comforter, slipped in between the sheets so the plushness of it brushed against your skin. A softness you craved in every aspect of your life but could only seem to find in the comfort of a measly blanket at the end of each day.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cradled your face in his hands and wiped away the tears that had made tracks down your cheeks. Silent ones that had alarmed him as you fell apart in such a controlled way right in front of him. And he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to help. His words had fallen on deaf ears, on resolute thoughts that this is what you deserved.

Joel sat there, silent tears of his own falling from bleary eyes as his heart ached for you. Resting his forehead against yours, he peppered kisses all over your face, he tried to make it right. He could only hope he was doing right by you, doing you more good than harm. You’ve had enough of that in your life, he was slowly learning.

Thinking back on his own girls, the ones he protected from bullies over not having mothers. The ones he protected over accusations that they weren’t wanted, that Joel was a poor substitute for a guardian. The ones that he cared for the second she was born and the second he realized one had been abandoned at a park. A mother that had been ill, hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, hadn’t wanted her daughter to know. A mother who had seen how Joel interacted with his own daughter and left a note in a coat pocket for him to find. Asking him to care for her like his own. A folder with all of her official papers loaded in the backpack she had left behind on a bench, hoping for the best of a situation she hadn’t revealed to anyone.

He ached.

For his girls. For the woman who saw him for the man he tried to be. For you.

The clock on the beside table displayed that it was late in the afternoon, bleary eyes looking around the darkened room. Joel was nowhere to be seen, no sign of him having been beside you, the covers wrapped around you and the other side of the bed cold to the touch when you reached out a hand.

Oh.

Trying to tamp down on the feeling of abandonment, you slipped from underneath the covers. The house was quiet, the ticking of a clock in the living room the only sound greeting you when you descended the stairs. The trilling of a phone the next thing to signal that you were alone. Joel’s phone left atop a counter in the kitchen, but his boots and wallet were missing. Tommy’s name flashed across the screen and you set your own down beside it and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Oh finally! Someone is answering, Maria’s at the hospital now. Said she had a crawling feeling over her stomach, so we rushed in. Waiting on the doctor now.” His voice was frantic, his anxiety palpable over the line.

“Tommy, I’m sorry. I have no idea where Joel is, he left his phone behind.”

“Dammit, old man always forgetting it’s the only thing that let’s me talk to him.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“…you okay, hon?”

“I will be, do you want me to…come sit with you?”

“No, no, you just stay put. I’ll call if we need you to, okay? You’re so sweet for offering.”

A ding from the phone had you pulling it from your ear and the notification of a text peeked at you before disappearing. Then another and another. You couldn’t see anything other than the nondescript display of ‘new text message’, Joel opting to hide the details in case anyone glanced at his phone if he set it down at work.

“Okay, Tommy, everything is going to be okay.”

“Alright, hon, be in touch. Oh, and yell at my brother for me will ya? Old man leaving two important things behind in his rush for whatever pulled his attention.”

“Sure, Tommy.” You felt a small tug at the corner of your mouth. 

Making coffee in Joel’s house was a start to feeling more like yourself, you enjoyed it in the backyard, watching the way the sky reflected in the pool he had installed there. Cup half empty and cell phone in hand open to an email that sent your heart racing is where Joel found you when he returned home. The sound of his tires hitting the drive not registering even as you sat outside.

His warm hand cupping your shoulder focused your eyes to the way he was kneeled in front of you with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, darlin’,” His lips quirked up, trying to comfort you any way he could. He leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. As if waking from a dream, you lunged at him and wrapped yourself tight around him at the touch. He huffed out as his butt hit the ground but it arms encompassed you all the same, his face buried in your hair as you tucked yours into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Joel. I just got so overwhelmed and-and-“

“Hey, woah, hey now, it’s okay.”

“T-tommy called your phone while you were gone. Said Maria had to go to the hospital.”

“I know, called ‘im as soon as I got in. Said he spoke to you and to keep an eye on you as well. Everythin’ is fine with them, false alarm.”

“He-Joel, he told me it was his brother.”

“Who told you what now?”

“My professor, the guy who’s been doing all this to me, is his brother. Said that the internship I applied for is mine if I drop the charges and ‘play nice’.” Sardonic tone coated your words as you confessed to what had happened the other day, swallowing down the shame and embarrassment to talk to the man trying to take care of you, trying to look after you.

“What the f- oh darlin’, no.”

“He-he said it was my fault because of how I was dressed and interacted with him while he was a patron at the bar. How I interact with you, playing a victim but that the attention I’m getting is deserved.”

His silence was heavy, tension coiling in his muscles as he stayed wrapped around you. Anger and the need to protect rolling off of him in waves.

“We’ll fix this, okay. We’ll…we’ll reach out to the dean, take in copies of the two three police reports we have against the guy. They can’t argue with that paperwork, and I don’t know what your professor can do other than deny it, but they have to look into it if you bring that to their attention. They have to sweet girl, we’ll make this right. I’ll help you. I’ll go up there with you.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, when he shifted a little to hold your weight more evenly, his back cracked, and he tried to muffle the response of a groan. One of your hands stretched out to caress his back, hoping to alleviate the ache there.

“Got you some stuff for the house, to make yourself more comfortable. That fancy body soap you like so much, some of your favorite candles, supplies for lil Sweet Pea, stuff to make easy meals if you feel like cookin’. Was also gonna leave a card, ‘n I know you got your own money, for takeout if you wanna do that.”

All you could do was nod and press a grateful kiss to the column of his neck.

The rest of the week goes by smoothly, you finish your finals with passing grades and go to register only to find out that there’s a hold on your academic profile. You walked into work with a weird sense of reality, everything oversaturated and too bright. Sounds too loud, stomach clenching around what little you were able to eat that morning. Nervous about being back at work, nervous about signing the paperwork that Joel had drawn up for Mary to approve of. Nervous of how everyone would greet you after your rather embarrassing departure the last time you had been in the restaurant.

The sound of the backdoor opening garnered everyone’s attention, service beginning in about half an hour. You had your stitches removed but were deemed expo for the next two weeks to work at a lighter, easier pace to get back into using your hands to full mobility. You had been so worried about losing feeling or movement in your hand, due to how the knife had dug into your skin, but the doctors had eased your worries.

Joel was just now exiting the office, Mary on his heels as they called attention for the preservice meeting.

“Alright, now, we’ve had quite a few changes happen recently.” Joel started off, nodding to you as you sidled up to the last station and gave your attention to them both. Millie rushed to your side and took her arm in both of hers and pressed the side of her body to yours in greeting. You smiled softly at her, happy to see that she wasn’t too ragged looking after what Joel had said been a challenging week.

“As you know, we had a couple of incidents leading up to the firing of a recent hire. He didn’t mesh well with the team, as y’all were witness to. It is never okay to move about the kitchen or floor without using safety words. Communication is key, it allows us all a safe place to work and move in. Please proceed the way you’ve always done so, with respect and mutual understanding toward your fellow workers.”

“And it’s been brough to my attention that there is a shift in dynamics,” Mary cleared her throat, eyes glancing at you before she announced the one thing you were the most worried about. “Joel here and our bar manager have filed the appropriate paperwork declaring their relationship status. Now, that is not to say that anything will change around here. Work is work, personal life will remain outside of the premises, but this does not give anyone the right to retaliate against either of them.”

A soft hush of murmured words broke the silence of the kitchen, eyes raking over you and then over Joel. Millie’s arms tightened around your own, her eyes looking to you with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“Now, I know this may make a few people uncomfortable.” Joel spoke up, stepping forward to get the attention of the room back. “But I assure you, everything will remain professional and appropriate. There have been no promises or conditions of this, there is nothing but the blossoming of something that warranted such an announcement. To cover my butt and hers, it’s the right thing to do and that’s why it’s been done. I know we have two other couples employed here and it’s just the same paperwork they filed.”

Well into the service of dinner, Millie kept glancing at you any time she was in the kitchen. Her eyes training from your concentrated look as you made sure food was pristine before going out to the tables and Joel who was working away behind the stove stop and grill, the furrowing of his brow and the slight downturn of his lips as he focused on his dishes being perfect to hand off to you.  

“It’s lulled, gonna take a smoke break. That okay with you, chef?” Your eyes found his through the line, fingers tapping on the metal on the metal top, hands warm underneath the heat bars tucked up on the shelf. His eyes softened when they landed on you and he nodded an affirmation at you before turning back to one of the only two tickets that hadn’t been worked.

You barely light the end of your cigarette before a squealing Millie was approaching you from the closing back door.

“Oh my god, you bagged the chef!”

“Millie…”

“No, no, he’s like so ruggedly handsome and those eyes? Girl, you didn’t tell me you even liked him! Y’all been at each other’s throats but now it all makes sense! You wanted him, and he wanted you back.” She smirked over at you, hands lighting her own cigarette.

“Oh hush, dirty girl.” You tossed back, genuine smile pulling at your lips.

“But seriously, he’s good to you? I mean, he’s obviously serious about what y’all got drawing up the paperwork ‘n all.”

“He’s good to me, promise.” You take a long drag, holding in the inhale for a beat before exhaling it out in a deep sigh. “He’s helping me figure out this shit with my professor who’s telling me I can’t get the internship I’m qualified for unless I drop the police report and arrest out for his brother who attacked me.”

“No fuckin’ way, the guy who attacked you was your professor’s brother? That lowkey creepy guy who sat up at the bar with you a few times?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do…do you think if it all gets sorted out that you’ll leave the restaurant to do it?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, a full time internship and your last semester, that’s going to be a lot to juggle. You’re a TA too, right? To get teaching credits.”

“Oh, um, I haven’t really thought about it. I was maybe considering just going down to weekend nights?”

You both talked and gossiped, tossing the butts of your spent cigarettes into the pail beside the door before going back in to finish the shift.

“Fuck.” You moaned, the sound filling the cool air of the walk in, back arching as you tried to push back against the man who had sheathed the entirety of his hard length into you with one smooth, drawn out move so attuned to your body. His grip on your hips was bruising, the feeling of him gripping tight to your shoulder even more so, but he didn’t move.

He seemed frozen, head bowed down and forehead connected with the back of your head, hands gripping tight, chest heaving with each deep breath and brushing hot against your back. Murmured words falling from his plush lips too quiet for you to catch, but you were sure if he could safely do so, he would be praising you in that filthy way he was prone to do. His large thighs were pressed to the backs of your own and the feel of his chef pants was rough on the naked skin of your thighs where he had pushed up the skirt of the dress you had worn for your shift.

“Please, Joel, I need you to move.” You circled your hips, grinding back on the entire length of him and you could feel yourself clench. A guttural moan sounded from his lips, puffing out in a misty breath.

“What did I tell you about bein’ a good girl f’me?” The hard line of him twitched deep inside you and your knees wobbled. The hand on your waist curled around your middle to help keep you upright, lest they give out on you completely. He pulled out nearly all the way only to slam back in, it took everything in you not to scream from the pleasure as white sparked across your vision. Your teeth digging into the hands that were grasping desperately onto the edge of the metal storage shelf you were pressed up against. Trying to hide the sound in an effort to keep the secret that had become your personal life just that, at least from any prying ears as your relationship had become common knowledge within the restaurant.

“Such a dirty girl, getting’ me all riled up in that lil dress. The skirt flippin’ up when you walk through the door to the floor.” He growled into your hair, close to your ear. His scruff tickling against your skin in the best way. He moved against you in quick movements, chasing his high and drawing you closer to yours.

“Ngh, Joel, please.” You whined quietly, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Come on, now, give it t’me,” He punctuated his words with pulling you closer to him, the backs of his thighs slamming against you so hard he was enamored with watching the way your ass jiggled. And you heeded his words, body tensing around him and clenching with the force of your release. Joel grunted at the feeling, reveling in the way that he could make you into such a crumbling mess, that you let him do it.

He followed after you, tingling in his spine at the way you clenched so tightly around him. Grinding his hips into you, he painted the inside of your walls with hot spurts, filling you up. You could feel some of the mixture of you both dripping down from where it collected around the base of him as he slowly moved against you as he rode out his release.

“Hmm, can’t take it all, can you? ‘m too much for you, huh, baby?”

You could only hum in response as he pulled out, wiggling your hips at him as he caressed down your waist and hips You could feel him kneeling down behind you, though you were too out of it to register what he could possibly be doing. Head set heavily on the shelf you still clung to, panting as you tried to come back to yourself, body alight in a way that was all encompassing. His large hands splayed across your cheeks, thumbs pulling you apart to watch his spend pooled up inside you. He groaned at the sight and without a thought he leaned in and swiped his tongue through your glistening folds.

A startled shout pushed out your chest, core throbbing at the overstimulation.

“Lucky it’s closin’ time, sweetheart, otherwise we’d be given away with all your pretty sounds.” He bit at your folds gently, teasing you with a smirk you could feel against you before he delved his tongue into your entrance and lapped up the salty taste of you both collected there. The thick wet muscle felt amazing, and you pressed yourself back to get more of the feeling. His nose bumped against you, and you keened as it sparked new tingles at a sensation against the tight ring of muscle you seldom paid attention to.

His hands spread you open, exposing you more to his ministrations as he moved down to suckle at your pulsing clit.

“Gonna give me ‘nother, come on now.”

The overstimulation, the feel of his teeth nipping and suckling, the tight grip he had on you, it was all so much, and you gushed against his skilled mouth. His mouth moved to gather what had trickled down the inside of your thighs, cleaning up every last drop from your body. Loving the way your muscles shook and your shoulders shuddered. Body going slack as he gave you one wide swipe of his tongue before standing behind you. He carefully dragged your panties back up your hips.

“Did such a good job, f’me,” His belt tinkled as he fastened it back together, body draping over your prone form. He turned you in his hold, your head lolling back slightly as you tried to look up at him through heavy lashes. You smiled, dazed and satiated, hands coming around the back of his neck to pull him down for a passionate kiss that took the last of your energy.

 The meeting of your lips let you taste the remnants of what he licked from your core and you moaned as he licked into your mouth. His scruff damp and glistening where it brushed against your skin.

“I…don’t want to go back. It feels…tainted.” You stared at the email summarizing the rather…tense meeting you just had with the dean and your advisor. The police reports Joel had handed over spelling out the situation better than your stuttering and his forceful words as he sat between you and your angry professor who had silently fumed as his life went up in flames.

The cab of his truck was warm, turned on a idling while he waited for the AC to combat the build up while it had been sitting in the campus parking lot. He looked over to you, wanting to reach out to grasp your hand or thigh but you were closed off, overwhelmed. You knew he did, could tell by the twitching of his fingers as he gripped the steering wheel though the wasn’t actively driving.

“Okay, we can pack up your things and get you someplace that you’re comfortable in.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide the way you deflated slightly, at his quick offer to help you find somewhere as if your things weren’t already scattered around his home. Like he hadn’t made you feel the most welcome you had out of the times you’ve spent at anyone’s home. His soft wake ups, his lips ghosting over your skin any chance he got. “O-okay, sure. I can start looking after work today.”

“Was gonna say you could take the night off, it’s been…a lot today.”

Trying to tamp down the feeling of him wanting space, knowing he was doing so out of genuine care for your wellbeing.

“Work helps, I need to feel like I’m doing something.” You looked over to him, eyes wide and searching for comfort.

“Whatever you want, darlin’.” He finally reached out when he noticed you tuck your phone back into a pocket and began to stretch toward him. He kissed the back of your hand before starting the truck and driving off.

The next few weeks were spent focusing on packing your apartment up, carefully wrapping everything up and labeling boxes for each room. There hadn’t been any news on the applications you filled out for places around the city, a lag in the market as the fall semester neared and college students flooded the city limits.

You found yourself laboring over moving the boxes around, looking for stuff you needed for school, getting out a larger backpack to prepare for long days of TA work, classes, and then closing shifts at the restaurant. Millie taking over for four days during the week and you on weekends. The worry of waiting for them to announce the recipients of the internship following the firing of your professor and the arrest of his brother a low hum in the back of your mind.

Joel stepped through the door and melted your worries with his attentive lips and wandering hands.

A text. A photo. A question if he was hard for her. Another photo. A wall of notifications streaming on the screen of his phone. A woman contacting him, her first name only. And Joel Miller was a man adamant about his contact information being first and last names, with business, neighbor, or restaurant identifiers. Only his family and you were saved in his phone with first names only. Only his family and you and this woman.

Anger and betrayal came alive inside of you, making your every move seem as if it was life or death. Each breath sucked in between clenched teeth burned in your lungs as the taut pull of tears constricted your throat and made your face feel too hot. Fingers trembling you tossed the phone back onto the bed, the screen continuing to light up. The shower was barely turning off when you called out to him, voice strong despite the shaking of your hands.

“Joel, who the fuck is Valerie and why is she sending you naked photos?”

“What?” He popped back into the bedroom, hair wet from his shower. He had been toweling off before coming back into the room to change.

“Valerie is sending you naked photos and racy texts.”

“God dammit,” He rubbed a thick hand over his face, hiding the expression he was making save for the furrowing of his brow.

“That’s all you have to say?” You asked, getting up from the bed, searching for your discarded clothes that had been peeled off by his own hands not even an hour ago. You pulled your jeans on with rough movements, worried about the way he wasn’t saying anything else and the stillness he adopted in the doorway. Steam wafted around him, stray droplets of water trailing off the ends of his curls and down his chest, looking like a sight that would normally have heat curling in your middle.

“It’s not-“

“It’s not what I think? Joel, every man in history says that line.” You shrugged the black hoodie back on, not bothering to fix the rumpled hood that bunched up in an uncomfortable way around the back of your neck and shoulder, hair half tangled in it.

He said your name, something he seldom did unless at work, preferring to use sweet names when alone together or out in public as things had blossomed. You turned to look at him from where you were shoving the errant items of yours that had found a home on the nightstand that mirrored his own on the other side of the bed. Phone, small wallet, keys, box cutter, rings back in place on shaking fingers. A hair claw that he had bought to replace the one you had lost nearly two months ago now. A special one in the shape of a butterfly made of muted teal and a shiny inlay for the wings. He had surprised you with it but now it felt like a punch in the gut.

“I don’t, Joel, I can’t do this.” You wouldn’t listen to the half-hearted mumbling falling from his lips, towel held up on his waist with one hand, still stood in the doorway across the room.

“She does this, every blue moon, Sarah’s mom. Gets lonely and reaches out in this way, it’s not-“

“And you haven’t told her to stop? That you’re seeing someone? That it’s inappropriate?”

“And this isn’t? You not hearing me out or even giving me the chance to explain?” The low timbre of his voice gave his growing frustration away.

“Obviously you like it, let her do it while I’m lying in your bed, in your house, avoiding talking about moving in with you even though my stuff is in boxes in the damn garage?”

A pause settled in the space between you both, eyes watching each other, waiting for words that might damn each other further or save this mess from growing into something unmanageable.

“I didn’t know she was going to.”

“But you didn’t tell her to stop the last time? When was the last time, Joel?” You turned to face him fully, eyes narrowed and a glint behind them told him how hurt you were, how much this was affecting you for you to shrink in on yourself. Question yourself, question everything you two had built over the last six months.

“When was the last time, Joel? Did you respond, send your own photos back?” His eyes met yours, determined to explain it all away. But it was making you angry, the secondary emotion to your hurt and insecurity.

“It was before, before the meeting when you asked about the fall menu.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers raking through it in a nervous fashion you knew he displayed when overwhelmed and trying. But it hurt, the messages that had popped up.

Been missing you, big boy.

Need a response like last time, when you showed me how much you wanted me.

Can you call, I need to hear your voice, tell me how you like me.

“Before you smiled at me for the first time.”

“Before and now. She seems to think you’re gonna engage with her.”

“’m not, I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t be unfaithful to you.”

“Go ahead, no one’s stopping you.” His features hardened, hand holding the towel clenching tighter.

He was about to respond when his cell phone dinged again. And then rang.

The doorbell downstairs sounded in the air.

“She’s awfully eager, when was the last time?”

The doorbell sounded again, followed by a knock.

Tension crackled between you both, the knowledge that she wouldn’t be so adamant if the last time was over four months ago. His gaze broke from yours and to the carpet at your feet.

“Okay, that’s fine. That’s…perfectly fine, deny it. Don’t tell me the truth. I get it, you both have history. She’s not someone who works for you, she’s not as young as the daughter you both share. Don’t know what the fuck I was thinking falling for you anyway. You won’t even ask me to move in despite not having anywhere else to go.”

You bolted, falling back on instincts from when you had been in a similar situation last, from your emotions that were clawing their way out of your ribcage and fueling the words rushing from your lips.

“It was before we talked about doing this, before we kissed,” His small voice followed you out the door, but that was….that was too close to the dance you two had been engaged in around the restaurant, too close to not feel like a betrayal.

Muffled footfalls on the stairs echoed in your ringing ears as you left Joel standing in his bathroom doorway. The thud of you throwing your bag over your shoulder and woosh of the door opening underneath your hands. The woman from the photos was on his doorstep, her eyes glassy under the influence of whatever she had indulged in that night.

She seemed momentarily shocked as you shouldered past her, leaving the door wide open for her to see into the house that had been set up with a soft light in the living room for the evening.

“Who’re you?” She slurred, words jumbled together and voice honey sweet.

“Nobody.” You grunted at her as you marched down the walkway and toward your truck. The engine roared to life, and you didn’t look back to see if she had gone in of her own accord or if Joel had finally moved from his spot upstairs.

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taglist: @jessthebaker @clevergirl74

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

#dev writes #fic: garnish #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou au #the last of us #the last of us au #restaurant au #chef! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #restaurant world #restaurant lingo #food industry #triggers associated with the food industry #smut #hurt and comfort #angst

[red-write-hand]

Rainfall

pairing -> thomas shelby x f!oc

warnings -> not much, tooth rotting fluff

summary -> Tommy thinks about how much he loves his wife, not much else

AN: I may or may not have written this at an ungodly hour of the night so there might be some mistakes so just pls be nice to me :)

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The rain was going sideways and the trees outside of the Arrow House had started to bend. Usually these were conditions that would make Tommy groan because he wouldn’t be able to get to work but today? He welcomed the torrent of harsh weather. It meant he could hold his sleeping wife for longer. He shifted his hold on her to make sure she was comfortable. She looked so peaceful while she slept. Like a goddess who had decided in her infinite wisdom to grant him her hand in marriage. She was so perfect, everything about her was perfect to him. All he wanted to do was spend the morning kissing each one of her freckles. His cornflower blue eyes were so full of adoration. He pulled her closer to his chest. He wished he had a way to truly show her he loved her. No matter how much money he spent on her, no matter how many hours he spent with her, no matter how many times he had loved her body until she fell asleep in his arms, no matter how much he showed he cared, it would never be enough for him. He had too many emotions. It was all too much. It was bursting out of him every time he saw her. After the war, he barely smiled. He barely laughed. He barely took joy in anything that wasn’t his family. It was like a total eclipse of the sun. The moment he saw her.

Obviously, he had put on the attitude that he hated her, but deep in his heart, the romantic part, the part that still smiled or laughed loved her. That part still loved her until they finally had realized that they both truly loved each other. It felt like they had been together. Neither of them remembering that they had ever hated each other. It was like one day they just appeared in each other’s arms. The thing was, neither of them cared. Tony was content to lay in his arms and pick apart every speck of his eyes and he was at his happiest when he was allowed to just hold his adoring wife and count every single freckle on her face, keeping his tallies with kisses. It was still so dark outside. He smiled and kissed her hairline. He wished he could freeze time and keep her here forever, in his arms, safe, cared for. He put on a facade of not worrying about her but that was the biggest lie he had.

He worried about her every day. He always worried about his family’s safety but most especially his wife. He knew that it was a little silly to worry about the most powerful woman in Ireland who could, and would, kill anyone at a point blank range if she felt the need to. He also knew that she had been in this business longer than he had, but he still worried. He worried about the way Kimber looked at her, he worried about the way Changretta talked to and about her, and he worried about the business she did. He knew he shouldn't but he always does. He wanted to keep her in his arms forever, this way he could make sure that she was safe, but he also knew that she would never let him. She was her own person who could protect herself, so he resigned himself to be the place she would come home to.

The warm pair of arms that she would wrap herself up and fall asleep in. The place she felt the happiest. The place she felt the safest. He pulled her even closer. It was like she was absolving him of every sin he had ever committed just by being with him. It was like God was finally granting him peace. He had never been one for organized religion, but after loving her for over a year, he would go to church with Aunt Polly and praise the Lord for letting him have her in his life. He sighed, wishing the rain would continue for the entirety of the day, keeping him and his wife in bed. He could feel her breath against his bare chest. Something that he had realized about having real love was that even though his gorgeous wife was completely naked, completely against him, he didn’t feel the urge. He just…loved her. Love wasn’t even the best word for it. It was worship. He truly did worship her. He could spend hours upon hours just picking her apart. She had once decided that she should try and bake something. Of course, she had never baked anything up until this point so he supervised to make sure she didn’t burn anything down. It turned out that Tommy was content with just watching how she moved. How her body worked. How everything about her worked. He was happy just to sit on the countertop behind her and analyze her mannerisms.

She always thought it was so funny. She would catch him staring at her with this look of curiosity and adoration and she would stand between his legs and kiss his nose. Only she could do something like that. Another example of how she had changed him. He had somehow allowed himself to become more romantic with her. He let himself want the things he had wanted before the war. Small kisses on his face, designs traced into his chest, random acts of affection. He had started to notice that she did all this. He also had noticed that he had wanted all of this before he had gone to France. His brothers would laugh and joke about how soft he would get the moment she would enter a room. One of his brother’s favorite stories was the time Tommy had forgotten his phone on his bedside table and had come to the betting shop. He had gone to check the time but he couldn't find his phone. He had panicked until a very sick Tony had come all the way from the Arrow House to give it to him. His brothers would recount the ‘stupid fucking love sick puppy look’ he had plastered on his face when Tony had handed him his phone and ghosted his cheek with a kiss. He had been lost in memories and a stream of thought that he hadn't even noticed that a hand was running lazily through his hair.

“You were supposed to go to work almost an hour ago. I assume neither of us are leaving this bed today?” His wife’s voice was tired but still had that Irish edge to it. He chuckled and nuzzled his face into her neck. She shifted so that she could kiss his hair. Her smile was full of love and tenderness. The smile she had worn on their wedding day. The smile that appeared on her face whenever she was around him. She started to laugh as he started to plant kisses on her neck. He kissed and nipped at her neck which led her to gently push him off her.

“Neck kisses should only be used as apologies and seduction methods.” He laughed a little as he pulled her in again, this time kissing her soft lips. Even after almost two years of their marriage, he still figured things out about her. Today’s realization was that she somehow always tasted like strawberries. It was faint, but it was there. He had always loved strawberries when he was young, but as he grew, he neglected eating fruit and food all together. This solidified her in his mind as being sent from God. He kissed her again, this time, tenderly, with as much love and gentleness as he could. He could feel her hand come up to his jaw, her soft hands, her inexplicably soft hands gracing his face. He felt unworthy of them. He smiled again. He always smiled around her. She smiled too. This moment was perfect. Two broken people in love, in each other’s arms, healing, loving tenderly. It was rare to have mornings like these with both of their jobs but they held onto these fleeting hours for dear life. He pulled her in tight and kissed her hair. She kissed his jaw and whispered a soft ‘I love you.’

“I love you too my darling, more than you’ll ever know”

#thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x oc #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #tooth rotting fluff #fluff. nothing else.

[unamused-boss]

Good energy

Okay. This is my first ever fic on here, so I do appreciate polite criticism pls! Plus I've read almost everything for every character I am unhealthy obsessed with... sooo here we go!

Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader

(Billy might be a bit OC in this)

Warnings: strong language, under age drinking

Summary: When Billy moved to Hawkins Indiana he expected rednecks, hicks, and cows. Which he did see and was very much disappointed with. But that was until he sees some color pop out of no where one night in Hawkins.

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Billy was spending his time in Hawkins as patiently as he could, which was close to none. The people were bland, the school was bland, and the weed was bland. 'God I want out of here' was a common thought that crossed his mind through out his day. Between having to deal with his shit-bird of a step-sister Max and with the ass kissing wannabes that do nothing but stick to his ass. All Billy wanted to do was go back to California. The sunsets, the beaches, the waves, the girls, all of it he wanted it all back. The only slight enjoyment he got was when he took the title as 'King' from 'King Steve'.

Currently Billy is walking out to his camaro, wait on his bitch of a sister, drive as fast he can home, hopefully avoid everyone in his house, then go out and get drunk in someone else's backyard. But the universe had other ideas... those idea's being Tommy fucking Hagan. He saw him running up to him from a mile away.

"You gotta be shitting me." Billy muttered irritatedly leaning against his car. Billy to a long drag of his cigarette, hoping for some relief.

"Hey Billy!" Tommy slightly shouted, he seemed somewhat winded from his short run. " You got plans tonight?"

"No, what's it to you?" Billy replied, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Well there is gonna be a party down by the quarry tonight." Tommy said with a grin on his face.

"Okay? So what's that gotta do with me?" He was getting irritated now. Not only was Max running late but Tommy was still here.

"Harrington's got some girl coming with him, probably his rebound from Princess Wheeler..." That perked Billy's interest, making Steve miserable is his favorite thing to do. "So, what do ya say Hargrove?"

Billy stood still for a minute. No expression on his face only throwing his cigarette on the ground and snubbing it out.

"Count me in... Can't wait to steal Harrington's new girl." Billy laughed as he moved to the driver's seat of his car.

'little shit can skate home' He thought as his car roared out of the parking lot.

On the other side of town at the Chadwick (that will be your last name... sorry not sorry) residence...

Steve was pacing a hole into the floor as his childhood best friend went through her clothes.

"Do you seriously want to go with me tonight? I mean you moved away when you were in sixth grade now you're back... and I mean NOTHING has changed!" Steve was stressing way to much about one party, that being your first party back in Hawkins.

"Steve I'll be fine, the energy that you are putting off right now is not good." You smiled to him. "Good energy will come to you if you let it, you love parties what's got you so worked up plus you've changed for the better."

"That right there! This hippie shit is what is wrong!"

"Steve. If you're gonna worry about me like some mom don't come with me then okay." You didn't want to hurt his feelings but you wanted to have fun. "I get they are all judgy and whatever other adjective you used on the car ride over here, but I don't care. I like who I've become, so "this hippie shit" is trying to decide on the flowing warm skirt or the flowing purple pants!"

"I just don't want you to get mixed into the wrong people." Steve retorted.

"And I won't. I get the you broke things off with all of your old friends and who ever this Billy guy is but you don't have to protect me." You reassured.

"Fine." Steve sighed. "And go with the skirt it will look better with the top."

You smiled to him. "Thank you Steve... now get out I gotta change."

Steve made his way to get out of your room for you to get ready. "Yeah Yeah whatever."

. . .

The time was currently 12:39 am. While the party in the quarry has been going on for quit some time now. Many of the familiar faces of the so called popular crowd made their way in, those faces being Tommy, Billy, Tina, Carol, and among a few others. Billy was buzzed. It may not be a back yard but at least he'd get drunk at the end of the night. Music was blasting from some dude's portable speakers. There was a bonfire lighting the night away. Everyone was either dancing or talking, a few were some were throwing up in the bush. Billy was about to down another drink when Tommy came hurdling right into his back.

"What the hell Hagan." Billy shouted not only for him to hear him but also out of anger.

"Harrington's here with his new girl." He laughed. "You gotta see her, Carol come over here!" Tommy ran and in quick follow so did Carol. Billy sauntered his way over, with what little drink he had left, to where the two love birds perched themselves. And that is when Billy Hargrove saw a burst of color. There she was. She didn't dress like anyone else in Hawkins (Think Stevie Nicks Style). 'She couldn't be from this shit hole. Her hair was frizzy and a but unruly. Her skin glowed with the warm light. The clothes held to each curve of her body but flowed so elegantly as she walked. Who is this babe, not chic she's to pretty to be called a chic, and why was she with Harrington.' All these thoughts pondered Billy's mind.

"Holy shit." Carol said. Tommy and Billy can bot clearly see the shock on her face.

"What?" Tommy questioned, "Do you know her?"

"That's Y/N Chadwick! She moved in the sixth grade!" Slapping Tommy's arm. He gave no response only to be in more shock than Carol.

"Ain't no way... she looks great." That comment got a direct and aggressive response from Tommy. To which he responded with a vocal "Ow!?".

With you and Steve, you guys were just strolling by the bonfire. A cup of jungle juice in your hand with Steve was cupless due to being the driver of the night.

"So first party back in Hawkins, how does it feel?" Steve asked.

"Pretty far out, kinda better than any party from the city." You answered joyfully. To be honest you were happy to be back in Hawkins. City life was fun but it was getting to be to much for you.

"STevE!" An uneven voice yelled out across the rocky yard from us. You saw a girl with bangs and a bob cut calling over to Steve. Clearly she has had her fair share of alcohol.

"Hey Robin!" Steve responded. " You don't mind if I go talk to her do you?"

"No, go have fun!" You cheered. " Go flow, relax!"

"Good energy." Steve gritted through his teeth with a smile as he made his way over to this Robin girl. While you stayed right by the fire with your drink.

Billy saw his opportunity, you were alone and he could talk to you with Steve out of the way. Billy made his way over to you by the bonfire. You look to the guy that has just appeared beside you in the moment.

"Hey." He said it very smoothly.

"Hello." You respond with a sweet smile. Billy could just stare at you smiling. 'Come on man... you just met her get it together.' Billy thought.

"I've never seen you around before, I'm Billy." As Billy introduced himself, he took a step forward to close some space between the both of you. You ,however, stayed where you stood just smiling to the guy Steve was telling you about.

"So you're Billy." You grinned to him. 'God why do the jerks have to be so pretty'. "Steve mentioned you a few times but he didn't tell me how handsome you were."

"Well at least you get the in person experience." Billy answered, " So from what I've heard you have returned to Hawkins."

"Yes I have, what's it to you?" You questioned with a grin.

"Well sweetheart I wanna get to know you, I get you moved back but I am no longer the new kid on the block."

"Well what do you wanna know?" He is trying to be sly. You wanna see were this plays into. His eyes glance behind you.

"If you're gonna ask me if I'm dating Steve you would be wrong." You stated. "He was my best friend as a kid that I kept in contact with, plus he has a lot of stressed energy."

"So you're a hippie girl?" Billy said it as if he was fascinated by you. " Could you tell me what my energy is?"

"You're very hostile." You answered. "You are very tense, you have not relaxed since you have started talking with me. If this is some front you're putting on... I don't dig it." Billy was stunned.

"I'm not putting up any front." He retorted.

"Billy you seem like you have a lot of inner conflict with yourself, and don't try to say other wise." You said. "I already know about the stuff you've done around here and to Steve."

"What?" Billy is confused. "I thought you were into me but now you're giving me this psychoanalysis shit." Billy was clearly getting frustrated with you. So much so it was able to catch Steve's attention.

"Listen, I get some of the stuff I say is weird but I'm not wrong and you know it..." You said. "And I am into you but not if this front you're putting is what I'm getting."

Billy could not believe it. He was getting rejected, rejected by a beautiful girl. ' What the hell'...

"Billy." She cuts him out of his thoughts. "I would love you get to know you if you let me." She stepped closer this time, gently placing her fingers into his. She looked to him, he wants to answer but words aren't coming out of his mouth. 'Say something stupid... anything.'

"How about next Saturday, at 6... good for you?" He said this more gently this time. His frustration and building agitation was gone now.

"I would like that Billy." You answered with a smile, a smile that caused Billy to return. It was like a moment was set in place for you both. Billy could no longer hear the laughing or music, all he was looking at was you. There was something different about you, in a good way. Billy wants to know what that is. Your somewhat romantic moment was busted when a certain head of hair popped up next to you.

"Do we have a problem, Hargrove?" Steve asked. Not only did he get too distracted that Billy walked up to you but he seemed to have been in a sort of deep conversation with you. If you can call it that.

"No. No Harrington we're all good here, right sweetheart." Billy answered, he grinned.

"Yeah, we're fine Steve... I'll see you later Billy." You walked away with Steve. Well more like Steve dragging you to his car to leave after the interaction. You gave a small wave to Billy as you were dragged away.

"What was that all about?" Tommy asked drunk and confused.

"I think I got a date." Billy answered still looking off to were you left. In that moment Billy Hargrove had a thought he never thought he would have... 'I hope this works out.'

When you and Steve reached his car, he instantly went to mom mode.

"What was that about!" Steve shouted, frazzled at the look and thought of the two of you interacting.

"I think I have a date." You giggled. Steve paused...

"WhAT!"

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

Okay so I'm gonna end it right there. Please tell me what you think, I would love to hear feed back. As well as what to do to improve myself.

Thank you so much for reading!

#billy hargrove x fem reader #fem reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eleven hopper #demogorgon #vecna stranger things #x female reader #hippie #80's

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Nineteen

Brushing Teeth - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Grief is cruel and just because you and Joel live in the safe haven that is the Jackson community it does not mean you're immune to it.

Possibly the saddest (but also kinda best) thing I have written so far.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2400

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, jackson era, No use of y/n, Crying, past trauma, Survivor Guilt, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Tooth Brushing, This is like seriously sad pls beware, Author has already scheduled a therapist appointment

AO3 LINK

notes: a huge thank you to my beta babes maria and aura for reading this a month in advance. i love you both so much.

this is a really, really sad fic. it's likely not gonna go the way you think. please continue with caution <3

_________________________________________

Circles

He died just after sunrise.

It had been supposed to be a simple shift, guarding the perimeter from one of the high posts along the fence that stretched around Jackson. The wood had been icy, slippery. There had been a railing. But when his heart had failed and he had collapsed to the ground, slipping over it like an ice rink, it hadn't been able to stop his body from falling.

There was nothing that could have been done. He had been old, older than most. Even with modern medicine, his condition would have caught up to him sooner or later.

Fate had decided on sooner.

Word hadn't reached Joel before he had left for patrol and so he had spent the day clearing Infected and checking the lookouts, unaware of the tragedy that had, for once, struck within the very borders of home. It wasn't until he came back in the early evening, that he noticed something was off.

There were no children bustling around on the playground, no adults studying the notice boards to see which movie was on tonight or who offered guitar lessons. Curtains were drawn shut. It was quiet.

The somber look on Tommy's face, who was waiting for Joel at the stables, was enough to send him into a panic.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

Tommy must have seen it coming because he had already raised his hands, as if surrendering to his brother, ”They're both fine.” Joel nodded solemnly as Tommy explained, repeating the events of the day in a few words.

He could live with that. As long as it wasn 't Ellie. Or you. Never you.

Ellie had spent the day with you, trying to look after you, doing the best she could. She was waiting in the large armchair in the living room, as close to the front door as she physically could.

Joel practically barges in, his gaze quickly checking the adjacent rooms. When he sees Ellie, he immediately relaxes a bit, knowing that at least someone has been here. Someone who kept watch.

“How is she?” He asks, disregarding any need for a greeting towards the teenager. She doesn't seem to mind, instead hopping up from the seat and walking with him, the pair quickly moving through the hallway.

“I gave her some food. I don't think she ate any of it. She wouldn't talk to me either. I'm sorry, Joel, I-'' He quickly shakes his head. He'll take care of Ellie, reassure her that she did a good job, which he undoubtedly knows she did. But Ellie is not the person in this house who needs him the most right now. Ellie is not the person who lost someone today.

“Later, okay?” Joel demands softly. His voice carries an underlying, stern tone that he rarely uses anymore. In other circumstances, Ellie would get mad at him, but she understands. He is in survival mode. He is making sure the people he loves are still there. He is scared.

Joel remembers your form that he had left behind this morning. Still in bed, sleepy, only reluctantly pressing a small kiss to his lips, the sweet promise of a few more minutes of sleep too tempting to ignore. He remembers the night before, the bubbly, talkative personality you usually have, that is a just little too much for him sometimes.

Your world had changed in just a few hours, a few minutes. And he hadn't been here.

Why had he not been here?

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks hesitantly and only then Joel realizes that he's stopped in the middle of the hallway. He continues his steps.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Ellie gives a shrug next to him but Joel barely notices, still too caught up in his thoughts.

He needs to see you. See that you are fine, just like Tommy had promised. Not truly fine, maybe, but alive. Breathing.

As they reach the old, wooden staircase, Ellie stops, taking in Joels gaze, that to her, still seems miles away, ”She wouldn't leave the bed. I barely recognized her.”

Joel just nods, his worry growing with every word. His grip on the banister tightens slightly, knuckles turning white.

“Go see her,” Ellie whispers and gently nudges him.

“Right.” That finally gets Joel to move again, his voice a little higher than usual and trembling slightly. Ellie knows he is close to crying. She presses her fist into his back a little harder and he nods again before he hurries up the stairs two steps at a time.

It's not until he reaches the end of the landing, until he is two steps away from the bedroom door that he slows down. Once again, uncertainty takes over his body. What does he say? Do? He's not equipped to handle this, he's not good with emotions, much less sad ones.

He's not sure what happens. An instinct takes over, steering his body steadily towards the door and pulling his fingers towards the brass handle. Maybe it's some old, parental instinct from before the outbreak, that he still carries buried in the back of his mind. Either way, he sends a silent, thankful prayer that it's there, that it allows him to continue putting one foot in front of the other despite having no idea how to.

The wooden door creaks slightly as he pushes it open. It's a familiar sound, more comforting than unnerving.

Joel is greeted by cold and darkness. He shivers as he steps into the room:'' Jesus Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He doesn't have to wait until his eyes adjust to the light. He can find his way in the darkness. 

He quickly turns the radiator higher, another familiar noise flaring up. Familiar is good. Familiar is safe.

He doesn't want to turn on the big light but he finds the switch for the small lamp in the corner and finally, he can take in the scene before him. His gaze is immediately caught by the bed in the middle of the room.

Whenever he goes out on patrol and you get the bed to yourself, you make use of his absence by occupying the entire bed, sprawling yourself out in the middle of the worn-out mattress. More than once, he had to physically fight you if he wanted his side of the bed back.

Now, however, you aren't in your usual position. You are curled up, tucked into the far corner of the bed, blankets and pillows wrapped around what Joel can only assume to be your body, some of them resting against the headboard.

It almost looks like you are trying to protect yourself, shield yourself from the grief that is knocking on the door downstairs, that is coming the same way he just has, slipping into the dark, cold room. A nest, to fend off the grief. Joel knows it wont work. He has tried.

A few of your limbs poke out from holes in the fortress of pillows and blankets and Joel softens slightly as his gaze wanders over them. He suddenly wants to run again, but he is afraid it'll startle you so instead, he approaches slowly, softly, like one may approach a wounded animal.

The bed dips slightly beside you as he sits down, his strong arms immediately wandering under the covers, searching for you. He finds the fabric of a shirt first, and then there's skin. Soft, gentle skin and he wants to cry with the familiarity of it. Looking down, he isn't surprised to see the shirt he had discarded last night, his favorite green flannel, now wrapped around your trembling body.

The thoughts come back. A small body, wrapped in a flannel shirt. He has seen it often enough to fill several lifetimes. He doesn't mind it anymore.

He knows it's a lie. He does mind it.

They had wrapped Sarah in flannel.

He can still see her. Still see the shirt, stained with blood. There had been so much blood.

Joel thinks about his daughter, his everything, his whole world, taken from him, wrapped in a shirt and buried in a backyard under a tree somewhere in Texas.

Joel knows he can't have these thoughts right now. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're bursting. He pushes the thoughts away. Later.

His right arm finds your hair and you finally make a noise, whimpering softly at finally, finally having him here with you.

The blanket is gently pulled to the side, allowing Joel to see your face. Your hair is messy, your cheeks tear-streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. You look like you have just been through hell.

Joel reminds himself you probably have.

His insides clench as he pushes down his own tears. And then you open your mouth.

“It was supposed to be my shift.”

That's all it takes. He hates himself because he's supposed to be there for you, he's supposed to be strong. But the fear is stronger, the knowledge that he could've lost you today gripping him again and not letting him breathe.

He leans forward in an attempt to hide his tears, his face, his own sorrow and you break too, shamelessly sobbing into his chest. You stay entangled like this, bodies pressed tightly together, you crying loudly and him crying silently. It feels like a long time. Your voice becomes hoarse but the sobs wont stop. You're not sure they ever will.

Joel moves, eventually, kneeling down on the floor so that his face is level with yours and he can study your face. His hands remain on your skin, not once breaking contact. He rubs small circles into your skin, caressing every part of you he can reach. 

Nothing can touch you as long as he does.

“Gonna help you a bit. That alright, darlin'?” He mumbles softly. Your answer comes automatically, the same one you've given Ellie throughout the day, ''I'm not hungry.”

“I know you ain't,” Joel mumbles. He lets it slide:” But we should clean you up. Just a bit.” He promises as he leans forward and kisses your cheek. You don't struggle as he picks you up more carefully than ever, hoisting you onto his hips and wrapping his arms around your legs to keep you upright against his chest. It's almost like being carried by a father.

Joel takes you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. There is a bald patch on the wall where a mirror used to be until he gave it to Ellie. He always gives.

Patiently, he waits until the water is lukewarm and then begins wiping your face with a washcloth. You probably smell but you can't bring yourself to care and neither does Joel.

He moves on to your hair, untying the knot that once resembled some sort of hairstyle and brushing through it with his fingers for a moment before tying it back again. His movements are so gentle, so smooth. You watch as he grabs your toothbrush, gently wetting it and putting some toothpaste on, his left hand all the while remaining on your thigh.

Joel gently nudges the toothbrush against your mouth and you dutifully open up, allowing him to start brushing your teeth, still as gentle as he can.

He can feel the sadness again, threatening to overwhelm him. He brushes in small circles.

The last time he had done this was with Sarah. She was eight. She had been sick then, caught a stomach bug at soccer camp and thrown up for days. Joel had dragged his mattress to her room, sleeping beside her.

He moves on to the other side of your mouth. More circles.

Sarah had vomited on him, in the middle of the night, staining both the carpet and his pants. He hadn't batted an eye, just stripped the beds and taken her to the bathroom to clean her up. All he had needed was for her to feel better. And if him enduring it would lessen her suffering, he would have chosen it time and time again.

He doesn't say this. He thinks he may, some day. But not anytime soon.

Circles. Joel brushes in circles.

When he's done, he holds a cup to your lips and you lean sideward, spitting into the sink. He is still caressing your thigh, a constant, reassuring touch. He brings his other hand up to your face, using his thumb to wipe the last bit of toothpaste off the corner of your mouth.

“Let's get back to bed, hm?” You don't trust your voice again yet so you just nod and sniffle a bit. As he picks you up again, you feel another wave, a nauseous wave of grief coming down on you. You think he feels it too because he grips you a little tighter. You start crying again.

You return to the mess of pillows and blankets that still cover half the bed. But now he is there with you. His too large frame under the covers next to you, watching with sad, brown eyes as you curl up against him. He pats your hair, leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It has been ages.

The small streak of light that falls through a hole in the blankets reflects in his broken watch for a split moment. He looks down at it, the motion so familiar still. And he knows. He knows how you feel.

“Get some rest, babygirl,” he whispers. He'll do right by you. He won't let you go through the things he did. You close your eyes, taking in his smell, his warmth. It feels different now.

It could've been her. It could've been her. Thank god it wasn't her.

You're still in his arms, you're still here, still breathing, chest falling and rising in a semi-steady rhythm. He makes the choice in that moment. Or, he realizes it. He feels like he has made it a long time ago.

He will endure it. He will endure everything if it just takes away a little of your grief, of your pain.

He doesn't need to say it. It's an unspoken truth.

Joel Miller will be there.

#joel miller #joel miller / you #joel miller / reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel / reader #tlou #the last of us #tlou part 2 #grief #hurt/comfort #ellie williams #tommy miller #fanfic #softpascalito #kinktober #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel / you #survivors guilt #brushing teeth #extreme hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort

[marshmellowjay]

Can you do any Fandom of your choice react to y/n as a vampire:3 pls

Mcyt react to Ancient!Vampire!Reader

ft- C!Technoblade, C!Lmanburg!NTT!Brutus/Orpheus, Platonic!C!Philza, Platonic C!Bench trio, C!Niki

(Im going for a old school type vampire who loves their tea-cups)

(e/c) - eye color

C!Technblade

You and Technoblade met wayyyy back before the dream smp. This was when Techno still had millions of followers.

You both eventually fell in love and ruled his empire together.

Techno noticed your odd diet and tendencies long before you both started dating so he wasnt surprised when you told him you're a vampire.

He is actually quite happy about it since hes the blood god after all.

He loves the blood filled rubys that you give him, even though your already dating.

he also likes how your eyes can change from red to (e/c)

By the time the dream smp comes around you both are married so he is more protective then when you were dating, He makes sure no-one finds out what you are.

He loves how you are so fancy even after millions of years and he laughs when you complain about Tommy touching your ancient and fragile tea cups or when you ripped your favorite dress/suit.

He doesnt mind the blood at all, Just make sure to not spill it. Blood is hard to get rid of. (he loves your sharp teeth)

He may even try to convince you to turn him. hes thought about it.

C!Lmanburg!NTT!Brutus/Orpheus

Now during the beginning of L'manburg he had no idea, He was too busy building and doing is president duties.

But during the wars it became more visible, Orpheus noticed your eyes flashing red from time to time due to you not having time to get your fill.

After the first war had calmed down a bit he finally asked you if you not human. You explained and he was a bit scared but he brushed it off and asked a bunch of questions.

He loves your aesthetic and thinks its funny how you hate when people touch your tea cups. he does get a bit queasy when you drink your fill in front of him.

He tries to think of it as wine when you drink from your tea cups but the iron smell gets to him sometimes. (he did try to convince you to turn him once though.)

He got a blood filled ruby from you and was confused before he figured out you were trying to court him

He was so flustered and flattered

Platonic C!Philza

He is such a papa bear when it comes to you I swear.

He met you one day during his adventures when you were still a fledgling and he never let you go.

He always makes sure you get your fill, he once tried to give you animal blood and it did not go well

He does like your aesthetic though, he has his own set of ancient tea cups you gave him as a gift.

He has them locked up in a display case and only takes them out when you guys have tea time. The rest of sbi know not to touch them. (they figured that out the hard way)

He isnt really fond of seeing your glowing red eyes in the dark but he still thinks they are pretty cool.

He wasnt fond of the teething when you were a fledgling and still has scars.

Platonic C!Bench trio

Now Tommy knew from the start. He caught you drinking from your tea-cup and knew immediately. He grew up with wilbur and techno for gods sake.

He was not shocked nor scared, he sees you as a big-sister/big-brother figure so he is glad you can protect yourself and him if needed.

He once tried to steal your cup and it did not go well.

Tubbo thought it was cool when he found out.

He asked to be turned one time but you talked him out of it.

He likes that you have superspeed and asks for piggy back rides all the time lol.

He doesnt mind the blood at all. Hes seen many things.

Ranboo found out from tommy and tubbo so he was a bit calm about it but he was still scared.

He tried to get over it but he just gets the hebejebes

He still hangs out with you but please keep the blood to a minimum.

he does like your teacups though, he thinks the glass ones are pretty.

C!Niki

Niki didnt know until you told her

She was to busy baking and trying to kill Tommy with Jack manifold.

When she found out she was honestly terrified. Shes heard rumors of vampires before and how they were violent and crazy.

But when she realized you were nothing like that she was chill.

She tried to get you to help her kill tommy a couple of times but you always refused.

She loves your dresses/suits so much.

If you ever ask her to become a vampire she will turn you down so fast. she wants to stay mortal thank you.

Drinking your fill around her is fine but dont spill any blood.

she has her own limited edition tea cups, just not nearly as ancient.

#jessiesworks #mcyt reaction #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza x reader #tubbo x reader #ranboo x reader #niki x reader #NTT!Brutus/Orpheus

[runnning-outof-time]

‘there’s nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you.’ From the protective prompts for mr tommy shelby for your 2k celebration pls?

Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! 🥰 You can never go wrong with some protective Tommy Shelby!!

Thank you for helping me celebrate hitting 2K followers! Want to read more blurbs from this celebration? Check out this post!

The Last Time

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: mild language, mentions of robbery, mentions of violence (typical to series)

(Y/N) is sitting at home with Polly when she hears what can only be Tommy’s car come tearing into the driveway.

“That has to be Tommy,” (Y/N) said as she heard the sound of the car’s tires screech to a stop.

“I’m sure it is,” Polly commented from where she’d been sitting for the last few hours, watching over (Y/N) to make sure that she was ok.

“(Y/N)?!” came Tommy’s panicked voice from the foyer of the home.

“She’s in here, Thomas,” Polly answered for the younger woman, who now felt like the air had been stolen from her throat.

The sound of rushed footsteps on the hardwood were heard then as Tommy quickly entered the sitting room. “(Y/N),” he breathed as he made a b-line to the couch she was sitting on. (Y/N) only looked at him as he dropped to the floor in front of her, taking her hands into his as he looked over her frame for any visible injuries. “Are you ok, love?” he asked her, worry now apparent in his voice.

“I’m ok now,” she told him, “Pol was able to clean out this wound, and everything else is just surface level,” she then explained as she lifted her blouse to show him the bandage that now adorned the right side of her ribcage.

“It was deep, but not enough for stitches. I cleaned it out and made sure that it was sealed. It should heal over the next few weeks,” Polly filled him in on how she’d taken care of his fianceé.

“Thank you, Pol,” he said to his aunt, sending her an appreciative glance before putting all of his focus back on (Y/N).

“It was a close call, Tommy…she got lucky this time,” Polly stated in an ominous tone as she stood from the couch, then leaving the room to give the two some privacy.

“I’m so sorry this had to happen to you, (Y/N). If I’d known that they would have come to the shop I… I wouldn’t have let you go there today.”

“It all happened so suddenly,” (Y/N) started, taking a deep breath as she got ready to recount what had happened to her earlier that day, “one second everything was fine and then the next, they’d come in and started demanding money…” she trailed off then, her words rolling into a choked back sob.

“Bastards must’ve known that we were away…that we go out with the changing of the seasons,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, “we won’t go out as a group anymore. I’ll make that one of us stays behind.”

“You shouldn’t change your traditions, Tommy,” she said, referring to the stag hunt that he and his family embark on once summer finally turns to autumn. It was started when their family needed something that would be able to get them through the winter months without going hungry, but now they just continued it to honor their past.

“We’ll stop it if it means that it’ll keep our livelihood, and the people who run the shop, safe,” he insisted, his words coming out in a definitive tone, “this is the last time, (Y/N).”

“You…you can’t promise that this is the last time something like this will happen, Tommy, because you can’t possibly stop any and everything like that from happening,” (Y/N) pointed out, desperately wanting to believe what he was saying, but at the same time, she knew the risks of the world that her fiancé worked within.

“There’s nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you, (Y/N),” he stressed to her, tightly holding onto her hands as he spoke, “I will change whatever I need to, we’ll rearrange things, I’d lay down my life to make sure that you are safe,” he told her, saying his words with the utmost sincereity.

(Y/N) held his gaze after he was finished with his statement. She could see the amount of fear that he was so desperately trying to hide behind his stoic gaze. She knew that it was there though…she’d always know when it was.

Silence hung in the room for a few moments before Tommy spoke again, “you don’t need to worry about anything happening to you again, understand?”

Although there was a voice in the back of her mind telling that this wouldn’t be the last time something of this sort happened, she nodded her head in agreement with his statement. “I understand,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Good,” he nodded as well, breathing what she perceived to be a sigh of relief. “Let’s…let’s get you up to bed, eh? It’s getting late now,” he said as he then allowed her to place her hands on his shoulders so she be able to use them in helping her stand and steady herself.

They walked out of the sitting room and slowly up the stairs with Tommy holding onto her waist and making sure that she wouldn’t lose her balance. Once she was comfortable in bed, Tommy leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve got to go to my office for a moment, love,” he told her as he stood upright again, “‘ve got to make a few phone calls, but then I’ll be back in and we’ll go to sleep.”

(Y/N) nodded in response, already feeling the effects of her tiredness starting to take over. He sent her a soft smile before moving back over to the door. It wasn’t even five minutes after he left that her eyes started feeling too heavy to keep open. She really wanted to wait for him to return, but ultimately, sleep won the battle that she’d waged against it. Her sleeping figure made Tommy smile as he re-entered the room about an hour later, and he was also able to fall asleep rather easily knowing that he’d now be able to do a better job of keeping her safe…so that this would be the last time something of this sort ever happened to her.

———

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