#we must comfort Tommy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychedelic-ink · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling.

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy.

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it.

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way.

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up.

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs.

Liam folds.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants.

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat.

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.”

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.”

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak.

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?”

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.”

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.”

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes.

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.”

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.”

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.”

“You should’ve thought of that before.”

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.”

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?”

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.”

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.”

“You can’t leave, where would you go?”

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world.

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes.

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing.

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color.

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded.

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate.

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart.

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything.

And it seemed like you were no exception.

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners.

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear.

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.”

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there.

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam.

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much.

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self.

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another.

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel.

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down.

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.”

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you.

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.”

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?”

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow.

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.”

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.”

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue.

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?”

“God, yes.”

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard.

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most.

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh.

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.”

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion.

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed.

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?”

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?”

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.”

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage.

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue.

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight.

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin.

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.”

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?”

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.”

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You sink to your knees immediately after that.

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek.

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks.

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.”

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.”

“Get on with it then.”

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock.

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth.

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.”

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass.

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—”

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses.

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.”

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.”

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.”

“Is this pussy mine?”

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.”

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning.

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?”

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!”

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking.

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger.

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?”

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust.

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words.

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously.

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?”

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.”

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.”

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him.

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.”

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.”

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!”

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you.

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!”

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself.

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.”

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful.

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone.

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—”

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out.

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips.

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls.

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.”

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss.

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss.

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?”

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you.

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm.

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides.

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together.

“I think he left, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.”

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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josephquinnswhore · 7 days

Text

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk Part two > testament to you.

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened – he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fluff #joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x slow burn #joel miller fanfic #game joel miller

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harrysfolklore · 5 months

Text

husband and wife - harry blurb

those harry pics gave me major new husband!harry vibes so here we are, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The Caribbean sun, the man you loved and your friends. There was definitely no better way to start the year.

In good old fashion, you decided to travel down to Anguilla for New Years, just like you did back in 2019 and it ended up being one of your best trips ever.

You were soaking up some sun, laying comfortable on a beach chair and occasionally sipping on the fruity drink Harry provided for you earlier, totally blissful as you enjoyed the moment.

That was until a muscular body that you knew too well blocked the sun for you.

“Enjoying yourself, gorgeous?” Harry asked, in his shirtless glory and wearing just some black swimming trucks.

“I was a few seconds ago,” you teased, “You know, before someone interrupted me.”

“Heyyyyy,” he used his topical fake hurt voice, “That’s not a nice way to talk to your husband.”

You smiled at this, feeling butterflies on your stomach as he called himself your husband.

It happened after the end of the tour and before his infamous haircut. Your weeding took place on your Italy villa and all your close friends and family were there to celebrate your love. It was a beautiful and intimate ceremony that everyone always would hold close to their hearts.

The public and fans still had no idea about it and you loved how much you were enjoying your marriage with that kind of privacy.

“That’s right, you’re my husband now,” you said as Harry squeezed himself next to you on the beach chair, “I can’t bully you like I used to.”

“Mr and Mrs Styles, come join us!” Jeff’s voice interrupted was Harry was about to reply and made you turn your heads his way, noticing that your friends were gathering around to watch the sunset.

“I think we’re good mate,” Harry replied sassily, “Don’t feel like sharing my wife right now.”

Your friends laughed at this, yelling some stuff like “you’re whipped!” and “she must be sick of you.

“You’re mean to them.” You joked, closing your eyes and leaning into him, feeling his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“They deserve it, they haven’t let me be alone with you all day,” he shrugged, making you roll your eyes and look up at him, holding his jaw and rubbing the stubbled skin of his chin, “Besides, an I mean for wanting to love on my wife?”

“You’re not,” you said, grazing his bottom lip with a smile on your face, “You drive your wife absolute mad.”

Harry smirked, throwing his head back at your words and grabbing your chin to kiss your lips.

“I love to hear you call yourself my wife,” he smiled widely, his eyes full of love and glee, “I still can’t believe we’re married, It’s the best thing that happened this year.”

You only smiled, connecting your lips again before Jeff’s voice interrupted you one more time,

“Seriously lovebirds, get in here. You already had your honeymoon!”

Harry groaned as he let go of your lips, standing up and facing your friends.

“Fine, we’ll join you,” he grabbed your hand to walk towards them, “Don’t you hate when lonely people ruin the moment for happy couples?” Harry said to you, making the entire group laugh.

“We’re literally married!” Glenne said, pointed to herself and Jeff.

Harry only shrugged with a smug face, sitting down beside Tommy and pulling you to his lap, laying his chin on your shoulder.

The sun sank lower, painting the sky pink and golden. Harry's arm was around your around your waist and he occasionally placed kisses on your shoulder as you engaged in conversation with your friends.

"This is perfect." You leaned back into him, whispering so only he could hear him, his heartbeat steady against your back and his breath hitting your neck.

"Absolutely perfect," Harry whispered back in agreement, his lips grazing your skin as he nestled closer.

You were starting the year at one of your favorite places, surrounded by your friends and as husband and wife, and you couldn't wait to see what 2024 had in store for your perfect life together

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queenshelby · 28 days

Text

AMERICAN GIRL (PART ONE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo

On a brisk autumn day, you and your younger sibling Emma sailed into Liverpool harbor. You each carried a large, old-fashioned cart filled with towering brown suitcases, with a satchel casually slung over your shoulders.

The journey had left Emma exhausted, clinging to you as she marvelled at the unfamiliar sights of the port with wide eyes.

"I'm afraid," she confided in you, her words barely audible as they grazed your ear.

"I understand Em, but we have each other, and I will always look after you," you comforted her, putting on a smile. You promised to always take care of Emma, and true to your word, you have been her guardian angel since the day she arrived in this world.

Shortly after Emma was born, your mother sadly passed away due to unexpected complications during the pregnancy at her age.

It was a shock to everyone and left you to step into the roles of both mother and sister to Emma at the young age of 12.

Even in your youth, you held onto the hope that your father would one day find love again. Little did you expect that it would come in the form of Grace Burgess who was a young Irish woman with no money to her name after fleeing England in a haste. Grace had cleverly leveraged his wealth and power to her benefit despite their significant age difference.

Your father fell head over heels for her the moment he laid eyes on her at the corner grocery store in New York, just after your 13th birthday.

Their romance blossomed quickly, leading to marriage in less than a year.

At the tender age of seventeen, your father's love for her tragically transformed into heartbreak as she started a romantic relationship with a man from England - the very same man you were about to start living with.

Thomas Shelby was a name that sent shivers down the spine of those who knew of him - an enigmatic and formidable figure who held significant sway in the depths of England.

In the streets of Birmingham, he controlled his own illicit kingdom, bending the rules to his liking. And yet, your stepmother Grace couldn't help but be drawn to him, just as she had been to your father all those years ago when they first crossed paths.

Just before ending his life due to a broken heart, your wealthy father decided to cut ties with his second wife, leaving all his possessions to you and your sister for your 21st birthdays. This decision left Grace boiling with rage.

Soon after, she vanished to be with her lover in England and the two of you were forced to reside with a cruel family member instead as you had not yet turned 21, being the age of adulthood in America.

Within less than a year of living with this man however, you brought about his demise with a single bullet to the head, all because he dared to touch your sister Emma. It was in that moment that your entire world began to shift.

After a series of run-ins with the law leading to stints in juvenile detention, your father's lawyer came to the rescue, securing your freedom at the age of nineteen, albeit with the catch that you had to leave the country for good.

Of course, you gave your consent, but you were taken aback when it was revealed that your grandparents had struck a deal with Grace, out of all people, to care for you and Emma until you turned 21 and inherited half of your father's wealth.

What also came as a shock was the discovery that for the past two years, your family had been colluding with the Shelby Family, smuggling liquor into the United States without your knowledge and you knew that this must have been Grace's doing.

Grace had always been fascinated by the concept of wealth, much like your grandparents and uncle who shared her passion. Therefore, it didn't come as a shock to you when you recently stumbled upon the name 'Shelby Company Limited' in multiple transaction records within your grandfather's office.

While you understood the reasons behind everything relating to the business deals between your family and the Shelbys, the mystery still lingered as to why Grace decided to take you and Emma in after all the turmoil she had caused. After all, she had found herself entwined with a man of considerable wealth, so she had no need for the money that your family would have been willing to pay her for looking after you and your sister unless, of course, she was worried it wouldn’t last.

After two years had passed, this man still hadn't made her his wife, leaving you to ponder whether she harboured any doubts about his commitment to ever tying the knot.

Your stepmother may have been anxious about her partner abandoning her once the business arrangement in the US came to an end, a deal that she likely orchestrated and this, in itself, made you think that, perhaps, you would now finally have the upper hand.

As any young woman in your situation would, you nurtured a deep-seated anger towards Grace. She was the last person you wanted to rely on, let alone live with.

But you shoved those emotions down as you and Emma disembarked the large ship, weaving through the bustling crowd, ready for what lay ahead.

Just as instructed, outside the dock, you were greeted by a young man named Finn.

Finn, in his early twenties, extended his hand to take your luggage with a friendly smile as you approached.

"I am Finn, and you must be Y/N and Emma, right? Tommy has sent me to pick you up," he told you and Emma clung to you tightly, before peering at Finn suspiciously.

"Nice to meet you, Finn," you replied, offering a warm, polite smile.

Once your luggage was stored securely in the back of the Bentley, the three of you set off on the two-hour journey from Liverpool to Birmingham.

Emma's head rested on your shoulder as she slowly drifted off to sleep, her energy depleted from the journey, while Finn was attempting to make small talk with you while, occasionally, looking back through the rear-view mirror.

It was obvious to you that he had already taken a liking in you, but his youthful charm and charisma was not enough to sway you, not after everything that had happened in the past.

You acknowledged his attempts with brief responses, unable to fully engage in the conversation until he brought up the fact that you had killed a man.

"So, my brother mentioned that you had to leave New York because you killed someone. Is it true?" Finn questioned earnestly and without any filter whatsoever.

Your heart raced as you contemplated the best way to respond to his question.

"Yes, it's true," you finally admitted bluntly, looking straight ahead, not wanting to engage in a detailed conversation about it.

Finn, seemingly surprised by your response, paused before shifting the Bentley into a higher gear.

"Did you shoot him?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

You nodded, your jaw set.

Finn didn't press for more details, for which you were grateful. But you could sense his intrigue as he glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

Emma stirred in her sleep, mumbling softly, drawing your attention back to her peaceful face. You smoothed her unruly hair back, your heart swelling with protectiveness.

You would do anything to keep her safe. After all, you had already lost so much in your life already, so you could not lose her as well.

***

Eventually, the streets of Birmingham came into view, appearing as a striking contrast to the glamour and elegance of your hometown.

"Wow, this is different," you murmured to yourself, your gaze locked on the sprawling slums that lay outside the car window. There were workers fighting each other and whores selling themselves on the cobblestone streets, while children ran in all directions, many of them ragged and filthy.

"Don't worry. I am taking you somewhere nice," Finn assured you, seeing the look on your face and you could only hope that he was right, because if this was what Birmingham looked like everywhere, you wondered how you could possibly survive here for the next two years.

Despite Finn's enthusiasm, something about the place left you feeling uneasy, like a predator lurked in the shadows and you could see the appeal for criminals to operate here.

Before long, the Bentley turned into the private road of a luxurious home outside of Birmingham .

The driveway was long, shielded by trees, and it wasn't until the last bend that you caught a glimpse of the mansion at the end.

The house was stunning, with intricately carved mahogany furnishings, rich velvet curtains framing large bay windows, and marble floors polished to a high sheen.

The structure exuded opulence while maintaining a cozy air with its plush décor.

Upon arrival, Finn hopped out of the driver's seat and opened the back door for you and Emma.

You carefully stepped out onto the cobblestone driveway, feeling the weight of this new world pressing down upon you. Emma rubbed her eyes and slowly emerged from her drowsy state, taking in the splendor of the ornate mansion with fascination and open admiration.

Finn led you through the imposing oak door, which creaked slightly as he pulled it open. As soon as you entered, you were met with a grand foyer adorned with chandeliers that cast an amber glow upon the walls.

"You made it," Grace 's stern voice eventually echoed off the marble tiles, causing you to turn around.

She stood there in a long-sleeved maroon blouse and black pencil skirt, her piercing blue eyes sizing you up like some sort of puzzle she couldn't wait to solve.

Emma, seemingly intimidated by her appearance, slowly retreated behind you as Grace approached with determination.

"You look well, given the circumstances," she then said to you, her voice laced with a noticeable hint of sarcasm, causing you to roll your eyes.

"I was hoping not to see you again, but here we are," you murmured under your breath, drawing Grace's ire as she narrowed her bright blue eyes infinitesimally.

"You should be grateful that I took you in," she snarled sharply, causing you to chuckle.

"How much are my grandparents paying you to have us?" you said, unflinching, watching Grace's face for a reaction.

Grace's expression barely changed, merely raising an eyebrow as if amused before replying scathingly, "Nothing. At least not until you make it to 21, so you better behave," she warned.

You took a deep breath, realizing that this was not the time to engage in a war of words with your stepmother. You turned to Emma and noticed that she was trembling slightly and you could see the worry etched into her delicate features. You slipped your arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Let's get you settled in," you said softly to Emma, who managed a weak nod in response as Grace turned and led the way down the grand hallway.

"The maids will show you to your rooms. You will be staying in the staffing quarters," Grace snapped as she pivoted and strode through an arched doorway, leaving you and Emma with two young women wearing crisp white aprons who appeared in your line of vision.

You watched silently as Grace disappeared before you turned to Emma, smiling despite the tension thickening in the air, and whispered gently, "She can't hurt us, Em. She needs us. So just ignore her."

Emma nodded slowly, but it was clear that she wasn't entirely convinced.

You couldn't blame her - the past few years had been nothing but a series of harsh lessons for both of you, leaving you both vulnerable and wary. But deep down, you knew that things would be different here. This was a new beginning for the two of you, away from the cold-hearted family members who had mistreated you, and into the care of someone who, while intimidating and unpredictable, was bound to follow your father's final wishes for financial reasons.

You were determined to make the best of this opportunity, no matter how difficult that might be considering your complicated history with Grace and, with that in mind, you unpacked your suitcases and settled in.

The rooms were modest but comfortable, with the staff quarters being clean and well looked after, much to your surprise.

Soon enough, your first day in Birmingham was drawing to a close and after you put Emma to bed, you decided to have a warm bath before venturing out to explore this somewhat opulent mansion.

You put on the satin robe which once belonged to your mother and strolled towards the grand staircase with bare feet, looking at all of the incredible paintings that lined the walls, showcasing various landscapes and portraits of people whose names you did not yet know.

As you reached the second floor, you came across a door which seemed slightly ajar and upon pushing it open, you discovered a library.

Your eyes widened at the sight of thousands of books neatly arranged on wooden bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling before, in the room next to it, finding a large piano.

You walked over to the piano and gently touched its surface, marveling at the intricate carvings before looking back at the books surrounding you.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards settling. You moved further into the room, running your fingers along the spines of various titles.

There were novels from authors you recognized like Charles Dickens, Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters but there was also an array of non-fiction texts ranging from science, philosophy to mathematics and history.

There was also a section dedicated to poetry where you spotted a few works by Lord Byron, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth which intrigued you.

Despite the vast quantities of books in this room, the smell of old leather-bound volumes filled the air as if it was just yesterday when they were placed on these mahogany shelves.

Just as you were about to pick up a book of poetry, the door creaked open, and you heard a dark voice behind you.

"It's quite sad, really," the man said, his tone heavy with contempt. "The book, I mean," he clarified as you turned around, meeting the stranger's gaze.

"I am Thomas Shelby and you must be Y/N," he introduced himself, approaching you with a confident stride.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of the man who stood before you. He was handsome, there was no denying that, but it wasn't just his chiseled features or his magnetic blue eyes that caught your attention. No, it was the air of danger that surrounded him, like a cloud that warned others not to get too close.

You composed yourself, extending your hand towards him. "Yes, I am Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shelby," you greeted him with a polite smile, determined to maintain your composure.

"Please, call me Tommy, eh," Thomas replied, his cockney accent more pronounced than you'd expected.

He took your offered hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go and stepping back to study you with his intense gaze which lingered a little longer on your bare legs than it probably should.

"Thank you for letting me and my sister stay here, with you," you said almost professionally , breaking the silence. You had to admit, Thomas was an intimidating man but you held your ground without flinching under his scrutiny.

"Well, it wasn't my choice," he chuckled. "Grace practically begged me and I find it rather difficult to say no to her these days," he admitted, his tone softening.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his candidness. "Well, my stepmother can be persuasive, I give her that," you told him while putting the book back into the shelf.

"You could say that," he replied, offering little insight into their relationship. "Do you drink?" Thomas asked in a manner so casual that the question caught you off guard, but your curiosity was sparked, and you wanted to know more about him. Despite his intimidating presence, he struck you as an intriguing puzzle you couldn't wait to solve.

"I wouldn't say no," you responded with a slight tilt of your head, smiling coyly.

Thomas chuckled at your response before turning around to pour two glasses of whiskey from a crystal decanter on the leather-topped table nearby. With an elegant grace, he handed one to you.

You took it with a slight nod, allowing your fingers to graze his before taking hold of the glass. The warmth spread from your fingertips and up your arm, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.

"There you go, now you can keep me some company," Tommy said with a sly grin as he took a sip of his whiskey and sat down.

"Why don't you get Grace to keep you company?" you asked as you followed suit, feeling the alcohol burn your throat and spread through your body, warming you from the inside out.

"Because, by now, I would assume that she is sound asleep," Thomas replied, chuckling wryly.

"Well, it is midnight already, which brings me to the question of why you are still up," you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Because I can't fucking sleep, Love," he replied in a tone of voice that made your heart race, "there is always business on my mind, day and night."

You stared at him for a moment, contemplating whether or not to ask more about his life. After all, you had heard stories about Thomas Shelby and his criminal empire.

"Well, the booze doesn't export itself to New York now, does it?" you replied, a small smirk playing on your lips.

Thomas chuckled at your response, finding amusement in your wit. He appreciated a challenge - it was something he hadn't encountered in a while. Grace had always been so timid around him, obedient almost. But you, on the other hand, didn't cower in the face of his daunting presence.

"So you know what I do, eh?" Thomas agreed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Did Grace tell you?" Thomas questioned, a slight glint in his eyes as he studied you intently. His gaze was unwavering, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort at his scrutiny. However, you refused to let him intimidate you, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Oh god no. My stepmother would not discuss matters like this, not with me anyway. She very much dislikes me," you told Tommy as he lid himself a cigarette, his gaze never wavering. "But I know more about my family's business interests than one might think," you admitted, reluctant to speak ill of Grace.

Tommy's lips quirked upwards before he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "That doesn't surprise me, Love. A little birdie has told me that you had some run ins with the law recently, which is why you are here now, in fucking Birmingham of all places," Thomas said, his tone laced with an underlying hint of mischief.

He leaned back against the leather armchair, his eyes never leaving yours as he took a long drag from his cigarette.

"Well, it's safe to say that I had made some mistakes in the past," you admitted, holding his gaze firmly. "But I had my reasons for doing what I did," you explained, and Thomas chuckled at your response, finding your confidence endearing. He had always admired a strong-willed woman - and you were undoubtedly that.

"We all have our reasons, Love," Tommy agreed, his tone softening.

You took another sip of your whiskey, the fire in your throat becoming increasingly comforting, and you let out a sigh. The truth was that you had always been impulsive, driven by emotion rather than reason.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "I suppose you're right," you admitted, swirling the amber liquid around your glass before raising from your seat.

"It's getting late and I should probably get some sleep," you said before thanking Tommy for the drink.

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment, studying his features as he did the same with you. There was a spark of curiosity between the two of you, but you quickly tried to push your intrusive thoughts away.

"Good night, Y/N," Thomas murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting moment before you turned around and walked towards the door, hiding your body's reaction to his intense gaze.

"Goodnight," you replied softly, taking one last look at the library before stepping out and closing the door behind you.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of uneasiness that clung to you like a second skin. You shook your head slightly as if to clear the thoughts away, telling yourself that you were only imagining things.

But the way he had looked at you, the slight hint of something deeply sensual in his gaze, lingered and left you with a curious sensation.

You made your way to your guest room, undressing slowly before slipping between the smooth sheets. Emma was already fast asleep, her gentle snores barely audible as you switched off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness, leaving only the faintest gleam of moonlight to cut through the curtains and cast thin stripes of silver upon the walls.

You stared up at the ceiling, the alcohol swimming lazily in your veins and causing your thoughts to swirl with unclear notions.

As much as you tried to fight against the growing allure, Thomas Shelby had intrigued you. There was no denying it. He possessed an air of mystery and darkness that called out to that impulsive part of you like a siren's song which was a part of you which you knew you had to suppress.

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tan1shere · 20 days

Text

Bent Over

Ellie williams x female reader !

A/n: YES ANOTHER AM SONG INSPIRED FIC !! but I was listening to teddy picker and the lyrics are just 🤌🏻 and I ofc had to do this with Els cuz she fits Arctic Monkeys the best

Summary: you have to go out for a small family dinner with your girlfriend, Joel, Maria, and Tommy.

Warnings: smut ! Mdni. Bratty reader ? The reader just doesn't give up on trying to tease Ellie. Soft dom Ellie yall !!! 🥰 (I'm so obsessed with soft doms oh my) sub reader, oral (r receiving) swearing ?? Orgasm denial - think that's it <3

Masterlist

You wouldn't consider yourself a very fancy person, but considering you and Ellie had only been going out for 4 months, it was probably about time you met some of her family. The flowy black dress that hug your curves was gorgeous, you had to admit but you weren't use to it at all. Even tho this was Ellies family she still wanted to dress right. She had a lovely suit on. Its one thing you loved about her, how comfortable she was. It's not that you didn't feel comfortable in this dress, you loved it. You hardly got to wear them. You just felt a little unusual. "You look-" Ellie couldn't find the correct words. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning? She wanted to use them all quite frankly.

"Els you look even prettier." You say sweetly, going over, fixing her tie and her hair just a little. "Youre perfect." She blurts out. And thats all it took to ease all those nerves in you. You had made a plan not to drink too much tonight either. Lightweight was an understatement, one drink and you were gone. So you had to be careful you couldn't fuck this up. Especially when you could get a bit intense when you were drunk, even a little bratty. So it was a must that you didn't do that infront of them.

You and Ellie had arrived to the restaurant not too long after. Seeing, Joel, Tommy, and Maria already there and seated. "Sorry if we are a bit late." Ellie says apologetically, hugging Joel first. "We were just early kiddo, no need to be sorry." He says hugging back. "Well guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/n." She says motioning for you to go over. You give them a smile, giving each a polite hug. "It's nice to finally meet you." Maria smiles. "It's nice to meet you all too." You begin to sit down looking at the menu. "Ellie wouldn't stop braggin 'bout you, didn't even know if you were real." Tommy states, to which Ellie kicks his foot under the table. "Ow-" "But it's so good to finally meet you hun." Joel gives a kind smile. You return it but your attention turns to Ellies you could tell she wanted this to go smoothly.

The drinks were coming around, and it's not like you weren't going to have atleast one. Ellies mistake, which she was going to do was monitor it. When she soon saw how fast you were drinking on your second one her eyes widened, grabbing it and setting it down. "Slow down there babe." She whispers slightly, then giving you quite the look. You blink slightly, hadn't even realized the pace you were going at. Oops. "So Y/n, how long have you been living here." Maria asks, to which your beginning tipsy self, didn't hear. "Ehem." Ellie coughs out, bringing you to reality again. "Oh- pardon, uhm since I was about 2." You smile at her. "And have you always lived around here?" Tommy pipes up. "It differs, I haven't lived around here my whole life but different areas." You go for another sip of your drink.

That feeling started to creep up on you, and you hadn't really shown it. Making Ellie oblivious. But you had no control over your next move. Your hand moves to hers that's resting on her thigh, you go to grab it placing it on yours instead. Normal right? Until you smirk slightly. Your hand moves up, and up- "Ellie?" Joel inquires as she suddenly chokes slightly on her food. "Im good I'm good." She gives him a reassuring smile. "But you're not. - Y/n. Stop it." Ellie whispers in your ear, trying to get you to stop drinking anymore, you knew you'd hate yourself tomorrow. She looks at you, her whispering got lower. You just shrug. "Don't." She mouths. But that only made you want to do it more.

Next move was to put your own hand on her thigh, it flexes as soon as she feels it. She lets out an annoyed breath. "How's everyone's food?" Tommy then asks. "I love mine." You say in the most sickly sweet voice. This makes Ellie bite her cheek. "A word?" She begins to get up, grabbing your hand. "Excuse me, you guys. I forgot to ask her something before we left." They all nod. "Alright babygirl, take your time." Joel gives a sweet smile yet again.

"What the hell are you doing." She speaks, all too calmly for your liking, figuring she'd be more pissed off. You knew that's not how Ellie was. She never had to yell to get you to shut up. "Huh?" You think. "I dunno." You smile at her. "You just look so good Els." She scoffs slightly. "Behave." She goes to walk away. "Well maybe you should've kept an eye out." Her movements still, she doesn't say a word. Uh oh. You shut up for a second til her head turns. "Hey baby?" You hum. "Dont be surprised when you get bent over."

Your hands scramble to grip the couch. "I-" She tuts. "Nuh uh, you started this pretty girl. Why don't we just finish it." You go to sit back up but that was clearly no use. "This is basically your fault." You speak, voice muffled by the cushion. Her laugh echoes throughout your guys living room. "Oh, baby, baby baby. I wasn't the one making a fool of myself was I? Hmm?" You stay silent, unable to find the words, as you feel her hand come in between your thighs. Your mouth hangs open slightly. They squeeze together, making her hum. "I told you, but you were dying for it-" "No, i-" her finger slips inside your underwear, slipping into your entrance making you shut right up. "What was that?" Her tone was soft, but her intentions were definitely the opposite. "Nothing, I swear." You let your eyes shut, letting out a slight moan as her finger goes deeper.

"That's what I thought." Then all of a sudden her finger was gone. And just like that, she had you wrapped around her finger. You curse at yourself but it turned you on more how easily she could shut you up. It was hot nonetheless. You sit up, facing her now. Grabbing onto her collar and bringing her in for a kiss. Falling backwards her hands land beside your head, keeping her upright. The kiss got more heated by the second. You slowly begin to grind up into her, knowing she can't resist you. "God you're foul." She smirks against your lips. It only transfers to your lips, but wider. "Know you love me." She just shakes her head, that smirk never leaving.

Her hands pin yours above your head so effortlessly, keeping that kiss going. Until she moves to your neck, then lower. Reaching your cleavage. Her soft fingers go for the straps of your dress and pull them off your shoulders. They move down to the bottom, getting a good grip and tugging it off you. Your nipples harden at the cool air. Ellie bites her lip slightly. "This should be fun." That confused you tons. But oh boy were you not ready for what she had in store.

"Ellie.." You breathe out as you arch your back. "Hmm?" She was antagonizing you. The need to cum had been relentless and she denied it everytime. You were overstimulated to the max, making her enjoy eating you out for the longest time. "Do you know how much-" Suck. "I fucking love you and-" Suck. "This God damn pussy." Your head falls back at her words, her movements. "Ellie just please!" Your begging voice only turned Ellie on more. Her face comes into view. She gives you a fake pout. "But my baby, why should I?" Her smirk was evident and she was awful at hiding it. "Please Ellie just let me cum please." You finally felt slight tears at how desperately you craved it.

Bingo. "Alright, ok. I suppose-" You sit up so fast giving her a look. But it subsides as she almost pulls off all together. Your eyes turn pleading. "You can cum baby, I promise." And Ellie never, broke a promise. You let out a breath of relief as her tongue gets back to work. "F-fuck!" You scream out as you felt your most likely 4th orgasm of that night. But finally she was going to give you that relief. And God did her tongue do absolute wonders. She knew how to get you squirming. "Come on baby, I got you. Let go."

Your breathing was increasing, moans, whimpers were all that could be heard. "Ellie-" You gasp as you feel her fingers enter you. "You're so tight. Fuck." Her words only encourage you more. "Fuck, Ellie!" She hums against you, and youre seeing stars. "There you go good girl, cum on my tongue. Just like that." Your eyes flutter close as you finally do so. Feeling so worn out as you slowly come down from your high. There was some silence as she sat back up. "Gotta say. You were the yummiest thing I had tonight." She smirks down at your tired figure. You let out a dry laugh, having no energy but still finding her funny.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Els."

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams the last of us smut #soft dom ellie williams

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dandelionprints · 9 months

Text

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him.

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt.

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision.

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected.

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers.

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning.

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day.

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm.

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself.

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim.

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her.��

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck.

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion.

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling.

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men.

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral.

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest.

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him.

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came.

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time.

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room.

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife.

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out.

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold.

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows.

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual.

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed.

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain.

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers.

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly.

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital.

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks.

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction

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mellowsaturns · 1 year

Text

starry nights

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: late at night in the middle of nowhere, you and joel talk about the past… and the future

warnings: soft!joel my beloved, fluff, tiny bit of angst, heart to heart talk, idiots in love, mutual pining, friends to lovers, slight mentions of violence and loss

wc: 1.3k

— — —

It’s Joel’s turn to keep watch when a low gentle voice brings him out of his concentration.

“Joel,” it whispers ever so softly. “Joel. Joooel.”

Turning his head, he meets your eyes from below.

“Why are you still up?” he gruffs.

You shrug your shoulders. “Can’t sleep.”

He pokes at the dwindling fire. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“I know,” you sigh. Snuggling out of your sleeping bag, you pivot your way over and sit next to him. “I think I’m just excited that we’re almost at our destination,” you say as you lean your back against the rockbed. The past three months have been rough—so much loss that you didn’t know how much more you could take.

Closing your eyes and tilting your head back, you take a deep breath in to savour the moment of peace and quiet before opening it back up again. “Hey,” you whisper while nudging Joel's arm. “Look at that.”

He follows your trail of sight and when his eyes adjust to the light, he couldn’t help but exhale in incredulity.

Because deep in the mountains, miles away from the nearest human civilization, a cluster of stars are shimmering above the two of you against the night sky.

The both of you admire it for a moment before you speak. “When was the last time you ever saw something so beautiful?” you ask breathlessly, turning your head over to him.

Joel doesn’t answer, just simply looks at you and you see that glint in his eyes again—a look you can’t decipher but never ask him about.

Ignoring it, you continue, “You know, this is actually kind of romantic.”

Joel’s forever thankful you don’t have some kind of super sonic hearing. Because the rate at which his heart’s beating was truly embarrassing.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You ever been stargazing before? Like… on a date?”

You laugh, “God, no. No one ever did anything that romantic for me. How about you? I bet you were a real ladies man.”

He lets out a low chuckle thinking about the old days. “I was not.”

You snort. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Well, that’s the honest truth. Never really paid attention to them.”

“Oh, so you were the hard-to-get type, huh?” you tease.

From the small ember of light, you see a flush of pink creeping over his cheeks and you smile in triumph. It’s hard to get Joel flustered and you take in the moment to revel in that small victory.

Maybe it was the serene surroundings and the rare moment of safety but there’s a calm and comfortableness between the two of you—almost like the world wasn’t in ruins and you were on some camping trip pre-outbreak having a chat hours before dawn.

“I’m just teasing,” you say. “But do you think I would’ve had a chance?”

He perks up at your comment. “What?”

You can’t deny the fact that you had a crush on him. Have carried this feeling ever since Tommy first introduced you to the group. And that feeling has only gotten stronger ever since you embarked on this journey with him.

You bite your bottom lip nervously. “I mean…” you gulp, “If we met before the outbreak… Do you think you would have looked my way?”

Joel freezes. Completely freezes in his spot.

Reading his expression your heart races in panic. “I—I don’t know why I asked you that,” you stammer. “Jesus—I must be out of my goddamn mind,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. “It’s probably the lack of oxygen up here. My brain isn’t working. I’m sorr—”

“Yes,” he blurts out.

You snap your head up. “What?”

Swallowing a nervous breath, he admits, “I… We… Of course I would’ve.” A pause. Then, “I already do.”

“Really?” you whisper with that same glint in your eyes.

After spending years working together, he’s surprised you haven’t caught on yet. He’s not the best at expressing his feelings and tries to lock it up, but it slips sometimes—more times than he liked, because in spite of everything, his heart’s defenceless with you.

He had so many things he wanted to say. Like if he had met you then, he would’ve been the happiest guy on fucking earth. That he’d bring you your favourite flowers and take you out on unprompted dates—like seeing the stars in the back of his pickup truck. Afterwards, he’d take you home and shower you with his love—if you’d let him.

And Sarah would have loved you too.

It sort of pains his heart to think about the Joel from another lifetime ago. But if the conditions were a little better and the two of you weren’t trekking in the wilderness day and night, he’d still want to do the same, if you’d give him the chance too.

But he’s unable to get the right words out. After years of rough survival, he isn’t exactly the best at this romance thing anymore.

So he just nods slowly, hoping you’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

Your attempt at stifling your grin fails. Even though Joel never elaborates on his comment—borderline confession—you wrap it around your heart because nothing more needs to be said.

Something shifts in the cold mountain air and your heart beats with joy.

But at the same time, your heart aches at the memories of the past.

“Do you think the world could ever go back to how it was before?” you wonder.

The question falls silent between the two of you.

In truth, Joel doesn’t know if the world was ever going to get better.

But in that moment, for the first time in many years, it’s different from all the other times you asked. Because for a split second, there’s a lingering feeling of hope between the two of you—at Ellie who’s sleeping a few feet away, whom the both of you care for greatly, more than the two of you would like to admit.

Once everything goes according to plan, maybe he’d actually be able to do all the things he wanted to do with you. He’d have to make up for all the years missed, but it would be easy, Joel thinks, because there wouldn’t be a need to constantly look over his shoulders anymore.

“It could,” he says curtly.

You smile at him. At his optimism. So different from the Joel you met years ago. He was always hard-headed. Always a pragmatist. But ever since the three of you left Boston, his heart’s gotten softer and you see flashes of the version of Joel that Tommy always talks about. It doesn't help your heart at all.

“The first thing I’d do is retire,” you announce, stretching your legs dramatically. You were sick of being a smuggler.

Joel lets out a tired laugh, no doubt thinking the same thing. “... I’d want an old farmhouse, some land… a ranch. I would raise sheep.”

You chuckle at his words. “Ah. Like a true Texan.”

Maybe there was something waiting for you in Wyoming. Maybe the two, perhaps three, of you could live that sought after idyllic life together.

That dream was still days away but you don’t deny the good feeling brewing in your chest. All that loss and violence must have been for something, right?

“You should get some sleep,” Joel says, pulling you out of your little reverie.

“Already told you, I’m not tired,” you reply, but minutes later, you’re fast asleep on Joel’s shoulder.

He looks at you fondly, then back up at the flickering sky and wonders if a shooting star had passed by earlier unbeknownst to him and heard all his desires.

Pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head, he goes back to guard duty, a little more Joel Miller than before.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Not-So Formal Introduction

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: M (talks of sex but no explicit smut here, just a lil awkward situation fluff here)

word count: 1.7k

joel masterlist

It had been one blissful month of seeing him, your carpenter-turned-maybe-boyfriend? Joel Miller. He was a walking dream with his brown waves, gentle eyes, winning smile, and that damn accent that only seemed to work for him. On top of his obvious physical beauty, there was also a beauty from within that drew you in. He was so tender with you, treating you as though you were a prize when all you’d ever been treated like before him was a piece of meat. And while he wasn’t perfect—he liked to snore and had a bad habit of showing up late—he was damn near close to it.

Though things were going beyond well, you still had yet to stay the night at Joel’s place, his 13-year old daughter Sarah at the forefront of both of your minds as you began to get more and more serious. Joel wanted to ease her into it little by little rather than all at once and you couldn’t have agreed more with the approach. Bur last night, the two of you finally took the plunge when Joel invited you over for dinner and a “sleepover” since Sarah was off at her grandparent’s house for the night.

As expected, you practically ran over, Joel’s smile greeting you at the door. He showed you around, made you feel comfortable, and cooked you a surprisingly decent meal before pounding you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning.

Which brings you to the present, your limbs tangled in his sheets, his warm body sprawled out beside you. You smiled as you woke up to his snoring, your fingertips desperate to reach out and trace the lines on his forehead as he slept with a scowl he wore for everybody but you and Sarah. You resisted the urge to wake him, deciding it would be more romantic to wake him up with breakfast in bed. Sneaking out of the bedroom in just your underwear and the white, practically see-through tank top you’d worn to sleep, you tiptoed your way downstairs with a smile, determined to impress him with your romantic gesture, until—

“Dad, you forgot to buy eggs again!” Sarah called out into the house before nearly running into you as you rounded the corner to the kitchen, both of you wide-eyed as you wrapped your head around the other’s unexpected presence. “Woah. You’re definitely not my dad.”

“No, I’m…I’m—“ Suddenly, your grasp on the english language disappeared completely, leaving you standing there barely clothed and shocked to the point of stupidity.

“Your dad finally awake?” A man you recognized from pictures as Joel’s younger brother, Tommy, walked in from the garage, his feet squeaking to a halt on the tile floor when he saw you. “Oh—my God. You, uh, must be my brother’s…girlfriend? Or a robber? I’m not sure which one is more unbelievable.”

“Not a robber. And we haven’t…officially—“

“Thought you weren’t gonna be home until this evenin’,” Joel’s groggy rasp surprised you as he stomped his way down the stairs in a pair of sweats, his t-shirt being squeezed on as he walked.

“Uncle Tommy stopped by Grandma’s and I just caught a ride with him,” Sarah filled her father in as you snuck off back to his bedroom, the embarrassment you were filled with making you sick in the stomach.

After a few minutes of inaudible chatter, Joel’s heavy footsteps climbed back up the stairs and found you curled up in bed with a look of mortification and dead on. He chuckled as he shut the door, shrugging his shoulders as he crawled on top of the blanket you were attempting to hide away in forever, his broadness caging you in as he laid on top of you.

“Well,” he chuckled again, his chin resting on your chest. “That didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m sorry, I feel so bad,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted to make you breakfast and impress you and instead I scarred your daughter for life.”

“You didn’t scar her,” he laughed and peeled away your hands so he could see your face. “Sure, it ain’t how we wanted it to go, but it wasn’t too bad.”

“I was in a thong, Joel.” Joel’s eyebrows raised and he tried to sneak a peek beneath the blanket, earning a swat to his hand. “I’m serious! It was embarrassing.”

“I assure you Sarah’s seen worse from back when Tommy used to live with us, and if it’s him you’re worried about, he had nothin’ but good things to say about you,” Joel finished with a cheeky smile, earning an eye roll.

“Oh, I bet,” you chuckled. “And Sarah? Beyond me being half-naked, are you sure she’s okay? I mean she went from knowing nothing about me—“

“Who said she knew nothin’ about you?” Joel asked as he moved to cuddle you from behind, his chin tucking in the nook of your neck.

“You told her about me?” you asked with a growing grin. Joel nodded and moved to place his lips against your pulse. “Like what?”

“Like I met a someone I really like,” he smiled against your skin. “And someone I think would fit in just fine with us.”

“Yeah?” You turned in his arms, facing him. Your finger traced his grin as he nodded before leaning in to peck your lips.

“So baby, you got nothin’ to worry about,” he nuzzled his nose against yours until you were giggling. “But maybe we should get you a robe or somethin’.”

“I could just put on pants,” you suggested and Joel reacted as though it was blasphemy, gasping and leaning back to look at you seriously. “Pants and a turtleneck sounds good I think. Maybe even throw a chastity belt on if I’m feeling saucy.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” You giggled as he rolled you onto your back and pinned you with his weight as he began to tickle and poke at your side until you were breathless from laughter.

When Joel finally let you breathe and climbed off of you, you beat the desire to stay in bed all day and quickly got dressed so that you could formally meet Tommy and Sarah. You gave Joel a nervous smile as he opened his bedroom door and gestured for you to lead the way, an amused look on his face as he watched you slowly creep down the stairs in front of him.

“They don’t bite,” he husked in a whisper as you stood frozen just around the corner to the kitchen and dining room. “Need me to hold your hand?” he taunted playfully with a smug grin, earning an eye roll and chuckle.

“No,” you affectionately swatted his hand away as he held it out for you and rounded the corner with a breath of confidence. Two sets of eyes immediately found yours as you walked into the dining room, your smile growing more and more nervous the longer they remained silent and staring. “Hi,” you waved timidly as you introduced yourself by name, “It’s nice to finally meet you both after hearing about you for so long.”

“All good things, I hope,” Sarah replied, a small but friendly smile appearing on her face. Her eyes followed Joel as he passed behind you and placed a plate of eggs, bacon and toast on the placemat in front of you before seating himself beside you.

“No, I told her all the bad shit and that really sold her,” Joel snarked and Sarah instantly mocked him but he got her back by stealing a piece of bacon from her plate.

“They do this often,” Tommy warned with a smile. “I just try to stay out of it and eat my food before they start pinchin’ at it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t pinch at your food,” Joel leaned over to whisper to you as Sarah and Tommy entered into their own back and forth. “Might pinch at somethin’ else, though.”

You turned to him with a playfully mortified glare and he grinned as he resumed his meal.

“So,” Tommy cleared his throat. “How was last night?”

“Ew,” Sarah gagged while you felt your cheeks heat, your eyes turning to Joel’s to watch as he fought a smile that was no doubt brought on by memories of the all-night romp you shared, eventually settling on a tight lipped glare.

“Tommy, I swear to god,” he loosely warned, the tips of his ears turning red as the embarrassment seemed to finally dawn on him.

“Well, I think I’ll go to the library and try to not throw up,” Sarah chuckled and stood up with her plate, but paused to look at you. “It was really nice meeting you. You clearly make my dad happy, and if he likes you, I like you too.”

You turned to Joel with a soft smile, finding him already watching you from over the lip of his mug, a smile of his own on.

“I’ll drop you off at the library so these two can get it out of their system,” Tommy stood up and announced as Sarah grabbed her backpack from the ground.

“Get what out of their system?” she asked innocently as they made their way out of the house and into the garage. You and Joel snickered as you overheard Tommy stuttering out a response faintly in the distance.

“That went well,” Joel beamed at you, reaching over to pull your chair closer to his. “I guess you’re one of us now.”

“I guess so,” you grinned, pinching his chin as he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. When he pulled away and looked into your eyes, you felt overwhelmed with love for the man in front of you, your lips already forming the letters of those three precious words for the first time before you could even think to stop it. “I love you.”

“Huh?” He almost choked on his sip of coffee, his fist pounding firmly against his chest a couple times as he cleared his throat.

“I love you, Joel. I love you, and it’s okay if you’re not there yet, but I am and I just had to let you hear it—that I’m in love with you.”

Joel’s eyes turned soft and both of his hands reached for you, calling you into his lap. He scooted back enough to give you room to sit before his hands found your face.

“Baby, I love you. I’ve loved you for a while now—probably since I laid eyes on you,” he chuckled and so did you, but then he grew earnest, shaking his head as his eyes darted across your features. “I’m so in love with you.”

“I love you,” you whispered the sentiment one more time to really drill it in as you leaned in to kiss him, his hands falling to your waist. “Mm, we should take this upstairs before I get caught half-naked twice today.”

“Good idea.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

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rxmqnova · 4 months

Note

Hi. So this is based on something similar that happened on a family holiday once.

WandaNat mums and kid reader.

R is half asleep when we arrive at the airport. Mums are busy with Yelena and the twins so we get quickly sat on the suitcases and wheeled inside.

Everyone enjoys the first day on holiday, until it comes to bedtime. R can't find her baby blanket anywhere. The whole family look and nothing. Until Natasha thinks back and realises it's still in the car.

Knowing we can't sleep without our blankie Natasha calls in a favour and makes the 8 hour round flight to pick the comfort item up.

The next morning (where we're super grumpy and demand that mummy Wanda carries us around) we shuffle into the living room to find both mama nat and blankie curled up on the sofa.

Totally exhausted we curl up with mama and sleep almost straight away.

We never realise what mama had just done for us. But Mummy does. And she falls more in love with her for it.

Please and thank you 😊

The pink bear blankie

Y/N: 3 years old Billy and Tommy: 10 years old Wanda: Mommy Natasha: Mama ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "Sleepy, mama" Y/N whines, burying her head into Natasha's neck as the redhead only just took her out of the car, one of Y/N's small hands playing with Natasha's ear piercings while the other one is wrapped around her mama's neck tightly.

"I know you are, sweetheart. You can sleep on the plane, yeah?" Natasha smiles, pressing a kiss to her baby's cheek while rubbing her back.

"Boys, you got everything?" Wanda asks her two sons, raising an eyebrow as they've been arguing about something.

"Yes, mom" Both answer.

"Yelena, do you have everything?" Natasha asks her sister, knowing she's the one who's most likely to forget something.

"Yes, yes, Natasha. I have everything" Yelena rolls her eyes, taking her suitcase and walking inside just behind the boys and Wanda.

"And now you, детка" Natasha sits the tiny girl that's been in her arms on her suitcase, getting a tired smile in response. "Is that fun, Y/N/N?" She asks with a chuckle, looking at her daughter who's tiredly smiling and looking around. (baby)

———

The flight was fine. Y/N fell asleep as soon as Natasha sat down with her on her lap, the boys were busy with watching a movie, Yelena was listening to some music and Wanda with Natasha had finally some time to talk and just enjoy each other's presence.

As soon as the family arrived to the holiday house they're staying at and unpacked some of their things, they went on the beach.

Everyone had a great time, especially Y/N as she got to build a sandcastle with both her mommies while Yelena was doing silly things with the twins.

"It's bedtime for Y/N, baby. Come on" Wanda smiles, lifting her daughter up with a playful groan. "Say night night"

"Ni-night" Y/N says, resting her head on Wanda's shoulder and giving everyone in the room a wave.

The tiny girl would normally complain about going to bed, but today has really worned her out. Natasha smiles, pressing a kiss to her baby's forehead and telling her goodnight along with the others.

Wanda carries Y/N into the bedroom, placing her down on bed, but the tiny girl sits up immediately.

"Where's my blankie, mommy?" Y/N questions, not seeing her little pink bear blankie anywhere in bed.

"I'm sure it's somewhere around, baby" Wanda assures, looking for the item.

She's one hundred percent sure Y/N had her blankie when they left their house, so it must be somewhere around, right?

After minutes of looking around, Wanda just sits her daughter on her hip and carries her back to the living room where is the rest of the family playing uno.

"Everything okay?" Natasha asks, noticing her wife and daughter's presence in the living room.

"Have you seen Y/N's blankie? " Wanda asks, getting a no from everybody. "Can you help us find it?"

"Alright, let's go, boys" Natasha smiles, standing up.

Every single person starts looking for Y/N's blankie. They search through every single corner of the house, but the baby blanket is just nowhere.

Natasha goes through her mind, trying to picture the whole day and then it clicks. Y/N last had her blankie in the car, so they must had left it there.

"You can stop looking, I think I know where it is" Natasha sighs, walking over to Wanda who looks at her with hope the blankie is found. "I think it stayed in the car"

"Oh no, what do we do now? Y/N won't sleep without it" Wanda sighs.

"Mommy" Y/N whines, making her way over to her mothers. It's already way past her bedtime and she's extremely tired, but without her blankie she just won't sleep.

"I know, honey" Wanda sighs once again, lifting Y/N up and sitting her on her hip. "How about you try to sleep without your blankie tonight, hm?"

Those words are enough to make Y/N cry and Natasha volunteers to try to put Y/N down as it's time for the boys to go to sleep too by now.

So while Wanda's tucking in the twins, Yelena's occupying the TV and Natasha's walking around the whole place, rocking her crying daughter back and forth while humming her a lullaby.

But after two hours of not making any progress, she gives up. If they want to get some sleep during the vacation there's only one thing to do.

"Nat, are you sure? It's so late and the flight is so long" Wanda sighs.

"I am. Y/N obviously won't go to sleep without it. I'll just grab it and be back by morning" Natasha smiles and pecks Wanda's lips before placing a kiss to Y/N's head who is now in Wanda's arms. "I love you"

"I love you too" Wanda smiles back, stealing one more kiss from her wife and then watching her leave.

———

Y/N slept for like 3 hours in total during the night. Both, her and Wanda, are absolutely exhausted, but if there's no blankie, there's just no sleep.

"Noo, mommy, no" Y/N whines, lifting her tiny legs up, so Wanda wouldn't be able to stand her on the ground.

Wanda doesn't have the energy to deal with another tantrum, so she just goes with it and somehow manages to make a quick breakfast for her and Y/N with her grumpy daughter attached to her hip.

Y/N eventually decides to watch a cartoon in the living room after breakfast. And because she refuses to walk once again, Wanda carries her there.

"Mama" Y/N whispers to herself, a grin appearing on her face when she spots her mama curled up with her blankie on the couch and sleeping. "Mommy, down!" She immediately orders, trying to wiggle out of Wanda's strong hold.

And as soon as Wanda manages to stand her daughter on the ground, Y/N runs to the couch, climbing it and cuddling up to Natasha and the blankie.

Wanda can't help but smile on the sight. She still can't believe Natasha just flew all the way to New York and back just to pick up Y/N's blankie.

Her smile widens when she realizes Y/N's already fast asleep, curled up into her mama's side with her blankie secured in her arms.

Y/N is still just a little girl and surely won't realize what Natasha did for her, but Wanda knows. And this is exactly why she fell in love with the redhead in the first place.

Natasha would do anything for their children and that's what Wanda adores the most. And every single moment like this just makes her fall more and more in love with her wife.

----------------------

WandaNat masterlist

Masterlist

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likeshipsonthesea · 1 month

Text

you make me

bucktommy ficlet. had a convo about love. had some feelings. gave them to buck. enjoy~

The entire loft is soaked in the hazy blue light of pre-morning. Buck can hear the mechanical thrum of garbage collectors, a handful of singing birds, quiet but steady breathing. His body is sore, from work and then from Tommy, a satisfying reminder of a yesterday well spent. Everything is warm and soft like Saturday morning, even though he's fairly sure it's Tuesday.

The clock on his bedside table tells him it's much too early to get up for a Tuesday, so he turns over to get comfortable and ends up face to face with Tommy's sleep-slacked expression.

Buck watches him in that way that's only creepy if you're not in love. Takes note of his eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks, his lips shadowed by the slant of his nose, how the dawning daylight catches on the angles of his face. He wants to touch, but not enough to disturb the serenity of sleep on his boyfriend's face.

Eddie tells him he says that a lot. My boyfriend. "We all know his name," Eddie says, tone harsh but a creeping smirk giving away the joke.

When Buck brought it up with Dr. Copeland, she asked him why he thinks he says it so much, but it was towards the end of their session so they didn't really get into it. Buck thinks it's probably something to do with his self-image problems, or maybe his abandonment issues? Dr. Copeland's better with the answers than he is.

Calling him Tommy is fine, but saying my boyfriend says my meatless lasagna needs more starch just reminds Buck that Tommy's his and, even more novel, Buck is Tommy's.

Buck likes being Tommy's boyfriend.

Tommy's boyfriend knows Tommy's coffee order, and drops it off along with a savory treat for him at the start of a long shift. Tommy's boyfriend always knows exactly where Tommy left his blue-light glasses and grabs them before they head to bed so Tommy can read another chapter of the cheesy historical fiction novel on his tablet. Tommy's boyfriend is the one Tommy goes to after a hard shift, to talk to or hug or just sit in the same room with until the rest of the world is less heavy.

As Tommy's boyfriend, Buck is still all the things he was before--firefighter, brother, friend--but knowing there's someone who trusts him enough to sleep beside him and let him stare at their face like a creeper in the early hours of the morning--there's this unfathomable freedom to it.

It's like--if Tommy loves him, he must be worthy of it. It's a truth and a prophecy, self-fulfilling. It's this ever-turning cycle that bolsters Buck to be the best version of himself, and none of it feels like work because it's all tangled up with joy.

"How long have you been staring at me?"

Buck startles out of his internal monologue to find Tommy's left eye open. The right is buried in his pillow along with the lifted corner of his mouth.

"Probably a little too long," Buck admits, staring fixedly at that corner of Tommy's mouth.

Tommy's lips part to release a sigh before settling into a smile. "Evan. Go back to sleep."

"In a minute."

Tommy shifts closer on the pillow, his nose nudging Buck's, his morning breath awful and his eyes so close Buck thinks their eyelashes might tangle. "You worked a 24-hour shift yesterday. You need to sleep. You can stare at me tomorrow."

"Promise?"

Tommy brushes their lips together. "Promise."

Buck finds Tommy's hand between them and laces their fingers together. "Alright," he says, settling back into the mattress and letting his eyes shut as he brings their hands to his sternum. "Tomorrow."

#bucktommy #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck #9-1-1 #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #look i have a lot of feelings okay #also have no idea how to tag this for the ship names #do i now wanna write a 20k fic where buck contextualizes himself #using/in terms of tommy's love for him?#perhaps #u couldn't prove it tho #also yes it's 3am we don't need to talk about it

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ghouljams · 6 months

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Build Me a Castle of Memories Rating: M Word Count: 6.8k Tags: hurt/comfort, christmas fic, Ghostxf!oc/f!reader, background Pricexf!oc, dissociation, anxiety, grief, 09 Ghost's backstory, Ghost reconciling with his past, dad!Ghost, baby oc Summary: Ghost has never had what you would call a happy Christmas, but you have and that chafes more than he wants it to. He wishes it didn't, but he doesn't know how to stop it. Maybe he was doomed from the start.

“Simon, wake the fuck up, we got chores.”

Ghost folds his pillow over his ears and rolls over, away from the pounding of your fist against the door. There’s nowhere to escape the noise in the little one room house, but damn if he can’t try. He presses the pillow more tightly against his ears, squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like a kid again, your insistent knocking filling in holes in his memory he’d rather forget.

His father banging on the door, screaming as he tries to shield Tommy. His mother’s voice attempting to pacify him. The crack of skin against skin, the soft shocked noise that comes from being struck. A sharp yelp, a plea, but the banging on the door doesn’t stop.

Ghost jerks awake again. His mind struggling to disconnect from the past and focus on the present. How long have you been trying to wake him? He tosses the quilt off and grabs his mask. He needs to get away from this memory, and you’re just in time to help. The mask is pulled on as he goes to yank the door open.

You stare up at him, unapologetic for the early hour. Actually you look a little annoyed it took him so long to get up. Your eyes drop down, and Ghost leans against the door frame to let you look. One nice thing about Texas he supposes, it’s still warm in the winter. Warm enough he doesn’t need more than a pair of shorts to sleep in.

Your eyes pull back up to meet his and he cocks a brow.

You’re cute in an oversized jumper and shorts. He wonders if you’ve started chores, must have since your boots already have mud on them. “Is it a Ghost day today?” You ask, referring to his mask. He hums.

“What do you need, Princess?” He’s already tired of the direction this conversation is taking. Better to keep you both on track and avoid unnecessary topics. December is starting to chafe despite the climate. The feed store had giant candy canes out front the last time he passed it, and a tree lot has already been erected by the church. Must be a merry time of year, not that Ghost’s ever enjoyed it.

“Momma wants the Christmas tubs, and I need another set of hands with the trailer.” You explain, dangling the keys from your fingers. Ghost hums again, you shouldn’t have trouble with a few boxes of decorations, not enough to need his help at least. It’s a good excuse to grab some time alone with you though, one he’s happy to take.

You’re always a welcome distraction from the tightness in his chest.

“Lemme get my boots,” He grumbles, turning back into the house. He leaves the door open for you, knows you’ll follow him in and make yourself at home. It’s charming, you’re charming, if a little annoying.

Sure enough the door clicks shut behind him, and he hears you fussing in the kitchen with the kettle. Ghost is tightening his belt when you offer him a to-go mug of tea. It always tastes better when you make it, the thermos is warmer, the bitterness a little softer, the sugar a little sweeter.

He burns his tongue on the scalding liquid as you pluck his hat from the coat rack by the door and settle it on your head. You toss a smile over your shoulder at him, and it’s like a sunrise over the hills.

The darkness of memory scurries back where he can lock it. The house feels gentler somehow, he feels gentler. Softer around the edges when he rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Come on ya big softy,” You laugh, patting his chest, “The quicker we get started the quicker we get done.”

Ghost huffs, “They’re Christmas decorations, how long could they take?”

Ten tubs in Ghost decides your mother is insane.

The shed that they’re all in seems dedicated solely to Christmas decor. There are light up reindeer and inflatables, boxes overflowing with lights, and tubs. Tubs upon tubs of heavy ass decor. You hand him another box to find space for on the trailer and Ghost is forced to reconcile with the fact you’re hardly breaking a sweat. You give a soft noise of effort when you lift a tub from the floor or pull one off a tower, but otherwise… Ghost spends a fair amount of time on the walk between the shed and trailer thinking about it.

Maybe they’re not that heavy.

He comes back to the shed to see you stripping your jumper off, the dark tank top underneath hits him like a train. You fold your jumper neatly and place it on top of the tub you lift off the ground with a huff. You blink at him when you turn to take it to the trailer, and a smile creeps over your face.

“Pick your jaw up baby, you’ve seen worse than this,” You tease, shouldering past him just to bump his arm with yours. Baby. You could call him anything you wanted and he’d have to stop himself from following after you. How can one little word make his chest swell and tighten?

How could he ever want to raise a hand to someone that made him feel like this?

Fifteen tubs, nine light up reindeer, and more lights than Ghost has ever seen. He boxes you in as you’re locking up, leaning heavily against his arm on the shed door. You turn to lean against the rough wood as you tuck the key back into your pocket. He holds your chin with his fingers, thumb rubbing against your skin as he takes you in. You give him a confused sort of smile and settle your pretty hands on his chest.

“You ok, big guy?” You ask, your voice light to disguise your concern. Ghost tips his head, quiet. It’s the season, he wants to say. It’s bitterness and resentment that creeps in every year at this time. It’s the smiles of kids swinging their parent’s hands and chattering about santa. It’s the sun shining and the wind blowing without a chill, like it would hate to ruin a perfect December with snow.

“Fine,” Ghost tells you. Your brows twitch down like you don’t believe him. He kisses you quick before you can ask again.

“Swear you got more of this stuff every year,” Price gripes back at the house, his smile telling Ghost he truly doesn’t mind. Your mother eagerly pops the lids off each tub to inspect the contents before telling Price where to take it. It’s a slow process, slower than the initial loading, but easy enough. Ghost takes a huge tub from you, this one clearly labeled “garlands.” It’s unwieldy, but not too heavy. He shifts it up over his shoulder to get it up the steps to the farm house’s front door.

“Thank you for helping Simon,” You mom smiles at him, her hand light on his arm. Something about her touch sears against his skin, her smile chokes him, he’s glad for his mask as he holds her gaze. He nods and continues into the house.

Outside he can hear your mom arguing with you about something. A well meaning sort of tone that carries through the air without yelling, never yelling. Your huffing and whining hardly seem to break the atmosphere. No harsh words, no physical altercation, no familiar ending.

Price passes Ghost on his way out and pauses. His eyes dart to him as he brushes past before he’s out the door again. Ghost sets the tub in the living room with the others. He pats the top, stares at the red lid, pats it again. His stomach twists. He pats it again.

Why can’t he move away?

He pats it. Job done. So why is he still standing there?

He pops the lid off the tub and stares at the pine green garlands, nestled in with fake snow and little red baubles. Christmas-y. His fingers skim the fake needles. Plastic, of course, crushed and bent in places from years of wear. Where do these go? Ghost glances around the room, it feels smaller with all the tubs. The first garland has been lifted from its place by the time you wander by with your own tub, and your jumper on.

“Better leave it, Momma’s particular about her decoratin’,” You tell him, setting your box on the dining table. Despite your warning you tug your tub open and pull tablecloths and centerpieces free. Apparently you’re allowed to help past moving boxes.

Ghost drops the garland back into its tub and presses the lid shut. He goes to grab another box.

For how many tubs there were, the actual decorating goes fast. “Plenty of hands,” You mum, Duck, she told him to call her Duck, tells him with a smile.

There’s a heavy weight on Ghost’s chest, something too large to wrap his arms around. He doesn’t say much as he helps get reindeer plugged in, and fluffy cotton snow tucked around ceramic houses. He finds himself outside with a cigarette between his fingers more often than he’d care to admit. The choke of smoke in his lungs is more familiar an ache than the other one. Nameless, because to name it would mean acknowledging it.

Ghost watches the wind rustle through the dry grass, his eyes trained on the wide horizon. He wishes he could change the shape of his shadow, knock off the parts that dig into his skin. He’s tired. Maybe he should find somewhere to go for the next few weeks, get away from the festivities. Just for a while. Just until it stops hurting. The screen door knocks against the frame behind him.

“You’re quiet,” You lean against the porch railing, eyeing him. You’re so damn observant it kills him. Ghost snubs his cigarette on the ashtray next to him and lets the last of the smoke leave his lungs.

“So I’ve heard.” He tells you, turning to push past you and back into the house. If he stays around you too long he might say something he can’t take back. It’s better like this.

Price is busy enough with the upstairs decorations that Ghost doesn’t feel bad making a beeline for the living room. Red and green cover the place. The mantle over the fireplace hosts a christmas village, the couch boasts flannel throws and christmas pillows, miniature christmas trees in various styles are set on every horizontal surface. Somehow the room feels warmer, the twinkle of fairy lights giving everything a soft glow.

How could he have anything to say around this? All this- Fucking hell why do you have to be one of these families? A happy family. You don’t even have a proper tree yet but there are already presents set in the corner Price partitioned off as the “tree spot.”

Ghost rubs his thumb against one of the garlands hung up around the entryway. So this is where they went. Your- Duck waves him over when he makes eye contact, offers him a baby of a hammer and a few tiny nails.

“Make yourself useful and tack up the cotton,” she smiles at him. He gives a short nod and follows the line of her fingers to the line of cotton circling the room, nestled neatly over a thick garland. Duck surrenders the step ladder to him and Ghost is quick to take over. He tucks the cotton into place and pushes the little nail into it, taps it with the head of the little hammer.

“We have to re-plaster every other year or so,” Duck says behind him, filling the silence with her voice.

“I can tell,” Ghost grumbles, eyeing the little holes that dot the wall. He tacks another length of cotton snow to the wall, squishes it up against the ceiling and drives the nail in. He looks back down at Duck and holds his hand out for more cotton. She’s already holding the next batch of it, apparently well versed in this whole decorating business.

“You should’ve seen the wall before we started fixing it,” She hums, “years and years of holes.” Ghost says nothing. These holes are nothing. Years and years of holes knocked into walls, covered by picture frames and curtains. “Most of these decorations have been in the family for years,” She tells him, background noise to the drone of his thoughts, “We still use my mom’s plates for Christmas dinner.”

“You ever broken one?” He asks, feeling his throat tighten as soon as the words are out. He squeezes his fist, the points of the nails digging into the meat of his palm.

“Of course,” Duck’s tone is alien to him, it’s all alien to him, “that’s what happens with old things, but I don’t need the plates to remember her.”

Ghost stares at the wall, the plastic needles of the garland, the red bows and white cotton. He bounces the weight of the hammer against his fingers, unseeing. There’s something at the edges of the statement that feels targeted, that speaks to an understanding he wishes she didn’t have. You don’t know me, it says, but I know you. Something wet tickles his fingers, he can feel the warmth of it dripping from his grip.

Remember when you had things you could carry with you? He asks himself. Pictures, smiles, something more than a memory? When’s the last time he visited their graves? Are they clean? Has anyone brought them flowers?

“They’re just things Simon,” his memory whispers, voice watery, like it doesn’t want him to see it cry.

Someone touches his arm, and asks, “Simon?” in a voice so close to his mother’s that he jumps, and nearly topples off the step ladder. A pair of hands press to his back to keep him steady.

“I’ll be alright,” his memory finishes, like a hand stroking his hair. He feels small. It hurts.

He drops the nails from his hand, lets the hammer fall free as he grips his wrist with a shuddering breath. Shit. Small puncture wounds dot his palm, nails still clinging to the meaty base of his thumb. He focuses on his breathing, pushing the pain down into its tightly lidded container as he steps down off the ladder.

Duck grabs his hand before he can shoulder past her towards the bathroom, inspecting the damage. Damn doctor. She clicks her tongue, the same way you do when you’re upset. She spreads his fingers out, opens his hand as she prods around the blood.

“Doesn’t look like any permanent damage done,” She smiles up at him, a mother’s smile where he’d hoped to see a doctor’s, “Just needs cleaned up.” Simon swallows.

“Let’s get it over with.” He responds, the same way he always does to medical.

Ghost studies his bandaged hand in the quiet of his bathroom, water patters against the tile of his shower in the silence. Plain gauze and bandaging, the same as it always is. No stitches needed. No permanent damage. Just plain gauze. And bandaging.

He rubs his thumb against the rough bandage, feeling its familiarity.

He sighs and leans back against the sink, presses his hand over his eyes to block the buzz of the overhead light. How much longer does he have to wait before it all stops hurting?

Things quiet down after the house is decorated. The holiday lulls into something almost palatable. You’re over less. In the week following Ghost finds himself sleeping alone three days in a row, finds himself unable to sleep when he does have you in bed with him. You hug close against his chest, your legs tangled with his and your breaths soft and even. He can’t lose the time he has with you to sleep, his lips press against your forehead as he feels like an outsider in his own skin.

“You should come stay in the main house,” You offer over your coffee, “until the holiday is over.” Ghost hums.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb the Christmas cheer,” He sips his tea, scrolling through the news on his phone. Never anything good, never anything that makes him happy he left the service.

“I want you there,” You press, “we want you there.” You always do that, make it sound like you aren’t enough to convince him, like he needs more than you to ask for something before he grants it.

“I like my space,” He looks up from his phone, and his heart twists at the sadness in your eyes, he fixes his eyes back on his phone, “I’ll think about it.”

“Maybe closer to Christmas? I know it’s not-” You hesitate, he hates hearing you hesitate, it doesn’t sound right to his ear when your confidence wavers, “With my parents around, I know it’s not ideal, or romantic, but-”

“I don’t like sleeping alone either,” Ghost finishes for you, swallowing his own feelings down, “I’ll think about it princess, promise.”

“Ok,” You smile, and kick your feet up into his lap under the table.

He spends the whole day thinking about it. Spends the day thinking about sleeping in a guest room, about seeing Price in the morning outside the bathroom, about family meals, about waking up surrounded by cheer when he feels anything but cheerful. He walks into the kitchen to grab lunch and finds the counters covered in unfrosted Christmas cookies, sprinkles and colorful icing laid out with joyful care. It makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, his memory working overtime to remind him of the clatter of baking sheets and the shouting that comes after the smell of burning flesh.

He skips lunch.

There’s something broken in him, Ghost knows that better than anyone, but he can’t stop the sharp edges of it from cutting. There’s something angry clawing at his ribs, licking his scars until they itch, choking his throat with dirt and earth. He snaps at Price while the cattle files past, and wishes his captain wasn’t so damn sturdy. “I know son,” Price tells him easily. It hurts more than it has any right to. All of it hurts more than he knows it should.

He holds you in bed at night and stares at the wall, tracing the path of the moon by the light it casts through the windows. He just needs to make it through the holiday.

Easier said than done.

Christmas seems to take over the ranch the closer the holiday gets. Presents appear piled under the tree, cookies tower on plates just out of reach of the dog, carols seem to always be playing, and the television happily hums with every holiday movie he could think of. You catch him under a mistletoe and Ghost feels like he’s quickly reaching a boiling point. Your joy, usually so infectious, now seems tailor made to destroy him.

He’s not mad at you, he knows he isn’t, knows exactly what this feeling is. It’s the same feeling he had in primary school watching other kids excitedly chatter about Christmas plans. Jealousy. Why did the universe see fit to give everyone else a happy family but him? He was just a kid. Kids don’t deserve that. Why did he have to go home to hell when you came home to Christmas carols and twinkling lights?

He tried so hard to be good,

And it never mattered.

Still, he doesn’t want to ruin the holiday for you. He follows you around town while you Christmas shop, smiles when you smile, offers you new jokes to hear you laugh, stops to look at the little display in the antique store window. Somehow it cheers him up, buying you a gift. It feels small, but genuine. He tucks the little felt lined box into his pocket and rubs his thumb against it when his thoughts start to drift away from you.

You squeeze his hand, your fingers intertwined as you walk. It feels reassuring for the first time in days.

With your gift in the back of his mind Ghost finally feels like he’s getting a handle on the whole Christmas situation. He can do this for you, he can give you a good holiday. You deserve a good holiday, even if he feels like a recruit getting pushed into action without so much as a vest. It still chafes at him, but Ghost has gotten good at ignoring uncomfortable feelings over the years. He shoves down the green eyed monster, and tries to throw a tarp over the old wounds that threaten to reopen.

He ignores the twitch of your mother’s brows, the clench of Price’s jaw, your hopeful smile. It’s strange how… easy it is to join the holiday, like you’d been waiting for him, holding a place for him to slot into. The warmth of it sinks into him, wraps around him gently where he’d thought it would try to pierce him.

He still hasn’t worked up the courage to take you up on your offer. He can’t look at you when he leaves, can’t see that tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It feels colder when he goes back to his little house. You’re so busy with your family, and he’s been holding himself back from you. He’s never been a coward before, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than letting you know how hurt he is, how broken he is to be jealous of your happiness.

Ghost tugs the towel off his mirror and stares down his reflection. His fingers squeeze the edge of the sink, knuckles white as he leans against the porcelain. It’s the season, he tells himself for the hundredth time, but it isn’t, is it? There’s a piece of his father lodged in his soul, dark and cloying, desperate to get out of the cage Simon shoved it in. The little voice in his head that asks why anyone else should have something nice if he didn’t get to.

He grips the sink tighter, keeps his eyes focused on their reflection.

The world is unfair and cruel. That’s why he joined the military, to even the scales. It’s his mum’s fault really. He swallows the lump in his throat. God she would have loved this, loved all this Christmas bullshit, pushed him to enjoy it, pushed him to stop holding you at arms length. She would have loved you, and you would’ve gotten on with Tommy like a house on fire.

The sink cracks under his hand.

It’s shallow, but he hears the break like a bell. It pulls his attention from the mirror as he rips his hand away and inspect the damage. He shoves down the guilt that tries to bubble to the surface. This is exactly why he’s keeping his distance. He wouldn’t be able to survive hurting you, can’t stomach the thought. He’s not his father, he can give you a good Christmas. He’s going to give you a good Christmas.

He’ll kill himself before he puts you through the sort of holidays he had.

Christmas eve creeps up without Ghost realizing, and all of a sudden he can't escape the warmth of the main house. There are no chores for him to do, you and Price having gotten up early to finish them. There's no help he can offer, Duck shoos him out of the kitchen. Every time he attempts to leave you drag him back to the couch. It's suffocating. Price follows him out to the porch to smoke, and he realizes he hasn't had a moment to himself in hours. Ghost can't turn a corner without bumping into someone. You're all just… hovering.

And yet no one has said anything. That almost makes it worse. The atmosphere inside the house is warm and festive, but Ghost can't help being reminded of a funeral. It's the sort of long dirge that seems to have no end in sight covered in a Christmas carol. There's plenty Ghost can ignore, but this is pushing it. He's both scrutinized and ignored.

You laugh and make jokes, Price snags cookies off the plate, Duck asks about santa. The dog is handed a bone and jumps around excitedly. The lights twinkle and carols ring through the house. Ghost doesn't think he's said a word in an hour, there's no point. “Big family syndrome” Soap had said once, “makes ya louder even when there's just the two of ya.”

It's too loud. It's too normal. It's too happy when he feels like he's going to break. All of the anger and hurt in his chest that wants so desperately to explode only makes it that much worse. He can't do this.

Ghost pushes back from the table when you settle your hand on his knee. He balls up his napkin and tosses it onto the table, turning to leave as your chair scrapes against the floor. He hardly hears when you call after him.

He just needs a minute of silence, a moment for his grief. He just needs two Goddamn seconds where he doesn't have to pretend he didn't lose everything. Where he can hate Christmas in peace.

Ghost presses his hands against his eyes, he can’t stem the stream of anger and hurt that pounds at his ribs. Why? Why can’t he push this down like he always has? Why does it feel so much bigger, so much meaner? It's never been this bad before, he's never had grief boil like this.

He doesn’t raise his head to the crunch of hay underfoot. You’re coming to try and comfort him, he supposes. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

“Go away princess,” He grits, as you take a seat next to him.

“Oh that’s cute,” You mother hums, “she is like a princess isn’t she.”

Ghost looks up from his hands, glares at Duck to try and dissuade this line of conversation. Somehow this feels worse than if you or Price had come after him. He doesn’t know your mother well enough to anticipate her script. Open water without a life vest.

“I like to come out here when I’m upset too,” Duck smiles, looking out the open barn doors. The texas sky is darkening, the first pinpricks of starlight starting to make their appearance. Somehow it feels like Christmas, even without the cold.

“I’m fine,” Ghost looks towards the doors too, clasps his hands together where he leans over his knees. Duck hums again, quiet and patient. So assured that Ghost would spill his heart to her that he almost wants to. When he glances at her again she isn’t looking at him, her eyes watching one of the barn cats sleep with a soft smile.

“You know the first christmas I had with John was two years after Goose was born,” She tells him, “he was still in his fatigues, fresh from the airport, and I was so mad at him-” She laughs, “-because he didn’t want to hold her for a picture.” Something in her smile strikes Ghost as sad, he can’t take his eyes off of her. “He said he didn't want to get blood on her, and I-” a shaky breath “-I don’t know. Eight months in combat and he couldn’t touch his daughter, I just wanted to make him forget about it.”

“That’s your sob story?” Ghost raises a brow.

“That’s why our Christmases look like this,” Duck turns to him, “I’m sure your mother had the same thought.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Ghost grits, squeezing his hands tighter, “There wasn’t any- We never had a happy Christmas, the old man wouldn’t have allowed that.”

His father always felt so big. Always stood so tall and hit so hard. He was impossible to go against, impossible to ignore, the threat of him always hanging over Simon’s head. Christmas especially he seemed to haunt, a monster around the corner ready to pounce. He delighted in others' misery, it was no wonder he seemed to take such joy in destroying the holiday.

There was no father Christmas, no meal good enough, no decoration that didn’t end up destroyed. Good china smashed and ornaments shattered. Just things, his mum would say wiping snot from his nose, not worth the tears.

“It couldn’t have all been bad,” Duck tells him quietly, “your mum wouldn’t let it all be bad,” her grip on his hand tightens, “I wouldn’t.”

“It was all shite,” Ghost assures her with a harsh chuckle. “Just about the only Christmas that went well was-” Ghost stops, frowns as he stares out of the barn. Duck is quiet next to him, letting him sink into the memory. The first Christmas after he kicked his dad out. The first Christmas after Tommy had Joseph, his pudgy little fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments on the little tree they had. His mum had baked cookies. It was the first time she’d actually managed to get them all iced without anyone storming in to scream at her, or throw the tray on the floor. They’d sat on the floor playing Father Christmas, passing out presents with smiles. It was warm, and quiet. Just how he’d always wanted it to be.

Duck’s hand cups his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek with a startling gentleness. Simon looks at her and she smiles at him, something warm and watery in her eyes. He feels the tightness in his throat reflected back to him, feels the wetness tracing lines over his cheeks brushed away with care.

“You two would’ve gotten on like-” He shakes his head, looks away from the ache in his chest, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“She would’ve been proud of you,” Duck says, and it hits him like a bullet through the heart, “I am. We all are.”

And he realizes where you get it from, realizes why you change your ‘I’s to ‘we’s. It’s not a worry that you won’t be enough, it’s an assurance that he has more than just you.

Simon looks at his hands, unclasps them to rub his thumb against the pinprick scabs that dot his palm. It hurts, the ball of grief in his chest bounces around hitting nerves and making everything feel bigger and scarier than it is. It eclipses everything, impossible to ignore. Duck settles a hand on his shoulder and grief presses too hard against his throat. His vision swims, and a tear falls into his hand. Duck squeezes his shoulder, an ever present warmth at his side as Simon tries to stem the flow.

“It gets easier,” Duck's voice is soft, sympathetic, “but the good times always hurt worse than the bad ones.” Simon shakes his head, and looks at her over his shoulder, she swallows down the sadness in her smile. “I'm sorry baby,” she tells him, her sincerity hitting him the same as Price's, “I'm so sorry.”

Simon nods, he feels small and far away. He's too big to want to be held like a child, too old, yet Duck pulls him into her arms and he can't do anything but curl into her grip. His hands grip her jumper tight, keeping her held in place as he takes the offered comfort like a starving child takes grapes from the pale man’s table. There’s no judgement as tears stain her sweater, no harsh words or calls for him to “be a man”, only the quiet of the barn as Simon lets himself feel the grief he’d been avoiding all month. For years really. Ever since he found his family dead, felt the cold grasp of understanding wrap around him that he’d never have the sort of Christmas normal people have.

Not when his gifts were soaked in blood, not when he burned the last good things in his life.

“Why don’t you stay with Goosey tonight?” Duck offers, cutting through the tears, “The guest room is a mess, and I know she won’t mind.”

Of course you won’t, you’ve been trying to hold onto him all month. Trying to pull him out of the past as desperately as he was trying to avoid it. The first good thing in this chapter of his life. He should’ve been holding onto you, not pushing you away.

“You’re a good man Simon,” Duck mumbles, her voice quiet enough that he almost doesn’t catch the end of her sentence, “they wouldn’t blame you.”

He says nothing, just curls a little closer, and imagines it’s his mother saying those words.

The house is quiet when he and Duck walk back inside. Price sits on the couch reading, and opens his arms for his wife when she wanders over to him. His captain pulls her onto his lap and brushes her hair off her forehead, a quiet moment of affection in front of the fire that speaks to years of familiarity. He can only hope to have that with you someday, but first maybe an apology is in order. Simon bypasses the happy couple to go upstairs, following the lights to your room.

He pushes the door open as quietly as he can, watches you look up from where you're sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes water, but you smile for him. Simon steps inside, and closes the door behind him with a soft click.

“Momma finally convince you to stay here tonight?” You ask. Simon hums, and holds his arms out for you. It's entirely too endearing how quickly you rush into his hold. You press your head against his shoulder and Simon does the same, burying his nose against your neck to breathe in your familiar scent. Somehow it settles in his bones like coming home. God, he missed you. Missed the way you feel in his arms, the way you melt against him with a sigh like he’s all you’d ever need to be happy.

“You were waitin’ on me,” Simon says looking at the still made bed. The room is bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, and you stare up at him with a funny sort of smile, the kind that makes him think he’s said something colossally stupid.

“I’m always gonna wait on you,” You tell him, like it doesn’t mean the world to him. Always, you tell him, and Simon wonders again how one little word from you can make his heart feel like it will burst. You reach to cup his face, stroking your thumb over his stubble with a fondness he’s never seen before. It makes him want to tell you he loves you.

“I have something for you,” You say before he can spill his heart. You lean out of his arms to swipe a present off of the dresser next to you. You hold out a flat parcel, wrapped in brown paper with a neat red bow. It’s simple, but the way his name is written carefully on it, far flung from your usual chicken scratch, speaks to the care put into it. He lets you go to take it gingerly, turning it over in his hands to check the seams.

“We’re more of a presents on Christmas family, but I thought you might like this early.” You explain as Simon carefully slides his finger under the tape holding the paper together, gentle not to rip it as you watch him. He turns the picture frame over in his hand and freezes.

Grainy and just barely colored is a photo of Tommy’s wedding. The happy couple smiles up at him, with Simon and his mother standing at his brother’s side, while their new in-laws stand with Beth. His fingers trace the smile on his face, the way his mum holds onto his arm, happier than he'd ever seen her. He looks up to meet your eye, your unsure smile.

“Where did you get this?” Simon asks, looking back at a life he'd buried years ago. You step closer, settle a hand on his.

“I called a couple genealogy places in Manchester,” you explain, “figured your mom might've put an announcement in one of the local papers. They faxed a couple photos over.” You pause, unsure as Simon looks at the photograph. He looks back at you when you've been quiet a moment too long. “I have one of Joseph under the tree, I can go get it.” Your nerves bleed into your voice, your tone softer than Simon's ever heard it.

“I gotta have something to open tomorrow,” He tells you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to his side and kissing your forehead. “Thank you.” Simon feels quieter, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze.

“I know it's not much,” you murmur, and Simon cuts you off.

“It's perfect.”

Somehow looking at the photo makes his heart feel lighter. It’s tangible, physical proof of the life he lived, and of the people he lived it with. He wonders if it was really so easy to find, you must have gone through a lot of effort to find this picture. The kind of effort you only put in for someone you love.

“Got something for you too,” He sniffs, settling the picture back where it had been.

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon flicks your forehead, and you swat at his hand. He grabs the little hinged box from his coat pocket and tosses it to you. You barely fumble it, popping the lid open with a smile. He almost worries you hate it the way your face screws up, your lips pouting and your nose wrinkling.

“I love it,” You tell him with a wavering voice, pulling the necklace free of its velvet prison. The little porcelain charm hangs gently from the silver chain, a tiny white goose with an orange beak and a blue scarf painted on it. You hold the charm in the palm of your hand, studying it. “Can’t believe you got me jewelry,” You joke, trying to cover the water brimming at your lashes, something Simon is happy to brush away with his fingers.

“Thought it was cute,” He supplies, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” You unclasp the clip on the chain, and hold it out to him, turning so Simon can pull the two ends around the back of your neck.

“I ever tell you that the bartender no-showed the reception?” Simon asks, helping you clasp the necklace. You laugh, trying to keep your voice down.

“No time like the present,” You smile over your shoulder at him, the sun peaking over the mountains just for him.

Simon holds his daughter up in front of the family Christmas tree, her little pudgy fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments as her eyes reflect the lights. She kicks her feet excitedly, cooing at the display and letting out eager huffs as she attempts to escape her father’s arms. He’s never seen anyone so excited about a few decorations, but the glee that radiates off of the baby is enough to lighten anyone’s mood.

“Don’t let her grab anything,” You call from the couch. Simon pulls Mary back into his arms and steps closer to pull a little fuzzy teddy bear ornament off a branch. He jingles it in front of her grubby little fingers with a smile.

“This one’s yours,” He tells her quietly, “don’t tell your mum.” Tiny fingers wrap around the soft toy, and pull it close. It’s amazing how different the holidays feel with a baby, it’s like experiencing everything for the first time all over again.

Mary holds onto the little bear and Simon holds onto the ornament hook, keeping it out of her mouth as she gums at the ornament’s ears. He’s almost tempted to let her keep it, except that the baby has more presents under the tree than any of them. The perks of being less than a year, he supposes. Having doting grandparents helps too.

Not that Simon can blame them. Mary smiles at him around the bear’s arm and his heart melts a little. Christ, how did he ever make something this perfect? “How many of these did you say you wanted?” He asks over his shoulder.

“As many as you can carry.” You hum. Simon bounces Mary in his arms, and pulls the ornament from her grasp when she switches her focus to him. Tiny fingers reach for his face, soft baby skin feeling over his stubble and giggling. He catches her hand and presses it to his lips, feeling the way Mary squirms in his arms, her chubby legs kicking excitedly.

“They’re all going to be good,” He promises her, “every Christmas-” he kisses her hand again, “-and every birthday-” another kiss, “-and everything in between. For the both of us.”

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theotherbuckley · 19 days

Text

I like you (because you're you) - bucktommy 2K

read on ao3

“Who was that?” Tommy asks, walking up to where Buck’s sat on the couch, phone placed down in his lap. They’d just finished dinner, Buck had cooked a delicious pasta dish that had Tommy coming back for seconds. He’d told Buck how much he liked it, and Buck had promised he’d make it again before his phone started buzzing and he’d apologised before taking the call.

Buck gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His cheerful self from earlier seemingly replaced with a faded version. He has this distant look in his eyes which he quickly blinks away before he speaks. “Uh, that was my friend Connor. He, uh, just wanted some of my medical records.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal. It isn’t. Not really. His brain is just being stupid, is all.

Tommy raises his eyebrows before frowning. “Why’d he need those?” He questions, coming to sit down next to Buck. He places his hand on Buck’s thigh momentarily, squeezing softly like he just knows that Buck needs a little bit of comfort right now even if he doesn’t quite understand why.

“Uh, their son was at a doctor's appointment, just having a check-up or something, and I’m well— they used my sperm so, you know, they just want to make sure everything is in order, I guess,” he rushes out the last part, desperate to get the words out like if he says it fast enough Tommy won’t even realise what he’s said and it won’t cause any issues.

Tommy’s brows rise further as he takes that in. Buck watches him process, afraid that his life will once again be too much for someone, and they’ll walk out. It’s what people do — when Buck inevitably becomes too much and when they decide what he’s offering, what he can’t give them, isn’t enough in return, they leave.

“Is that— is that a problem?” Buck hates the way his voice wavers as he speaks. Hates the way he can’t hide his emotions at all. He really likes Tommy, really wants him to stick around. He’ll do what he can to make that happen. He’ll make himself more useful so that Tommy won’t want to leave. He’ll—

“No, no, of course not.” Tommy says it like there’s no other answer. Like he can’t imagine anyone thinking that’s a problem. Buck waits for the inevitable ‘but’.

“But.” Buck braces. “But I’m just surprised I’ve never heard of this guy before is all,” Tommy says. Buck exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Oh uh, yeah, we— we aren’t really close.”

“But you donated sperm for him?” There’s genuine confusion in his voice.

“Yeah, well, I guess— he asked. I may not have spoken to him in a while but, I wasn’t gonna say no.”

“You have the biggest heart, Evan. I think what you did is incredibly honourable. How are they doing now?” Tommy asks gently, seemingly comfortable to move the conversation on.

“I’m—I'm not actually sure.” He sighs. “That was the first time they’d called since the birth. And that was only because they needed something.” He laughs at the end like his words don’t speak to some greater insecurity deep inside him. Like it doesn’t hurt that his friend hasn’t talked to him until they needed him.

“Ah,” Tommy says, and Buck can here the judgement dripping from his mouth. He’s not sure exactly what he’s done, but it’s always something. Maybe he should have been the one to check in on them, maybe—

“I don’t think he sounds like a very good friend,” Tommy states.

Buck frowns, he didn’t expect him to say that. The truth is, Buck sometimes wonders that himself. What he lands on instead is that there must be something wrong with him. Because it’s not just Connor who wants things from him and then doesn’t care about any other part of Buck. It’s just how it’s always been. People take, and Buck gives. He gives, and he gives, and it’s never quite enough, but he tries.

“Sometimes I feel like people only like me when I’m useful,” Buck admits in a whisper, letting the words stuck inside his head free. It’s not that he thinks it; he knows it. He knows he’s only worth something when people can use him, and he’s lived with that his whole life. He was born to save someone, and he failed, but that’s his whole purpose even now.

He saves people for a living. He’ll babysit whenever anybody asks, he’ll be your trivia partner when you need to win. He’ll let his friends use him for his sperm. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to. He does. He loves doing these things for his friends because he can. But sometimes it hurts a little knowing that it’s not him that they want. They just… like his ability to do things.

“Evan, I like you. Regardless of anything you can or can’t do. I like you.” Tommy emphasises the you like Buck being Buck is somehow special.

Buck can’t stop the wet laugh that escapes his throat. He shakes his head, sniffles before composing himself. “No, no,” he says, because it’s not true, it can’t be. “But—but it’s okay because I’ll make sure you don’t get bored of my I-I’ll cook dinner, and I’ll do the dishes, and I’ll make sure we always win at trivia and— and I don’t know anything about cars or Muay Thai, but I’ll learn.” Buck’s rambling, the words tumbling out of his mouth in one breath. He needs to make sure Tommy knows that he’ll do his best; even if it’s hard, he’ll be useful because then Tommy will stay, and he really wants Tommy to stay.

“Evan.” It’s that soft voice again. Placating, like he’s talking to a small child. Like he’s trying to get him to listen.

Buck shifts his gaze from the floor to Tommy. He looks sad. Buck wishes he wasn’t the one to make him look like that. He tries to smile at him, anything to bring those soft creases at the edges of Tommy’s eyes back, but his heart’s not really in it.

“Evan,” Tommy says again, locking his eyes on Buck’s. “You don’t need to be useful for me to like you. I like you because you’re adorable. I like you because you’re funny and you don’t care what people think. ‘Who cares’, right?” Tommy chuckles. Buck likes that sound. “I like that you were willing to try again with me, even if you bought me god-awful coffee with it.” Buck lets out a wet chuckle at that. “I look at you, Evan, and I see someone who cares so deeply about your friends. Willing to put your life on the line for others. But it’s more than that, I like the way you ramble about random things you find on the internet, and how you try out 100 different lasagna recipes because you need to find the right one even though you burn half of them.”

“Hey!” Buck says in weak protest. He’s right, though. There’s a warmth in his chest at the fact that Tommy noticed.

Tommy keeps going. “I like how big your smile gets when you talk about Chris or Jee-Yun. I like the way that your cheeks turn the colour of your birthmark when you’re flustered. I just— I really like you, Evan. You could— you don’t have to cook for me every day or give me the answers at trivia night for me to want you to stick around. I like you because you’re you.”

Buck can’t stop the tears trickling down his cheeks. His whole life has been about being useful, and it’s so hard to believe anything different but the way Tommy talks about him. Like maybe he really does see him. “I don’t know how to— I want to believe you but it’s just, every relationship I’ve had has felt like people want something from me. Abby needed help when her mom died, and then she just left. I always felt like Ali just wanted a place to crash when she was in town. I mean, she’s the reason I have this apartment in the first place. Taylor just wanted sex at first, and then she started getting insights into news stories from the firehouse, and she always valued that more than spending time with me. She’d ask me how my day was, not because she cared but because she wanted to know if there was anything worth writing about. Hell, she even published a book about me. Even after it was over, she used me as much as she could.” The tears are flowing faster now, and his voice cracks as he speaks. It’s stupid to get so emotional about this, but Buck can’t stop now. Now that he’s opened the faucet of this insecurity of his, it’s like everything he’s been bottling inside is bubbling to the surface and he can’t stop it.

“And Nat—Natalia,” Buck continues, hiccuping through his tears. “She just wanted to understand my death. Asked me a hundred— a hundred questions about what it was like, and at first, I thought maybe she could actually see me, but I feel like she was just using me for something too.” Buck wipes his face. He’s sure he must look like a mess right now — tear-streaked face, snot dripping down from his nose. Tommy doesn’t deserve to deal with all this. “Sorry,” Buck chuckles, the sound getting caught in his throat. “You didn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Hey,” Tommy says, moving closer towards Buck. He tucks his fingers under Buck’s chin forcing him to look Tommy in the eyes. He holds Buck’s face tenderly in his hand, always so gentle. “You can talk to me about anything, and I will listen, okay?”

“I don’t want to bore you,” Buck says softly, moving to look down at the ground once more but Tommy doesn’t let him get away, holding him firmly yet soft, like Buck’s something precious.

“You couldn’t,” Tommy replies sincerely. “If it weren’t for you, how else would I know that the Australians started a war on emus, huh?” He jokes.

“And lost,” Buck whispers because he can’t help it.

“And lost!” Tommy repeats. Buck had gone on a tangent about it just the other day. He’d gone to the zoo with Christopher, and they’d been having a lot of fun until they stood too close to the fence, and an emu had come up and startled them. Buck had decided in that moment that he needed to find out every single detail about them, which led him to discovering that in 1932, Australia declared war on emus —and then proceeded to lose. He’d met up with Tommy after and rambled about his findings because he thought it was absolutely hilarious. Tommy sat there smiling at him, evidently listening to every word that he said, taking it in and remembering it all.

“I like listening to you talk, Evan. I like you. And I’ll tell you that as much as you need to hear. Now,” Tommy claps his hands together. “Tomorrow, I’m cooking for you. You don’t need to do anything except sit there and look pretty. Let someone do something for you for once. Okay?”

Buck just nods, wiping at his eyes before slumping into Tommy’s now open arms and relishing in the comfort of his boyfriend. He doesn’t quite believe him, not yet. He wants to. It’s just prior experience has moulded his brain a certain way and now he just can’t believe any different. He wants to. He wants someone to like him, to love him, even when he can’t be useful. He hopes that maybe Tommy will show him that that’s possible.

For now, he tucks his head into Tommy’s shoulder, clutches onto him like he’s going to disappear and lets himself be held. Tommy kisses his birthmark like it’s sacred, holds him and tells him he likes him over and over. Buck thinks maybe he really does.

#911 abc #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #purple writes #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 show

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Easy Cowboy - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel Miller masterlist

The ladies around Jackson can’t seem to keep their eyes off Joel. While he seems oblivious to their advances, she’s prickling with a feeling she knows she shouldn’t be having. What’s a gal to do when everyone wants to take a ride on with her cowboy?

warnings | 18+ SMUT, angst, alcohol consumption, jealous and possessive Joel, and reader tbh

“You know, if you’re not careful your face could get stuck like that.” Ellie slaps a hard hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her eavesdropping. She’s been standing in the back of the makeshift town hall, watching folks trickle in for the weekly community meeting. She huffs at Ellie’s knowing smirk.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.” Ellie snorts, resting her head on her shoulder as she hangs off her arm.

“Oh, you don’t? You just always look like you’re about to strangle all the little housewives of Jackson?” She tries to soften her scowl, not quite sure how Ellie can figure her out so fast. She figures it must have been because of all the time they spent together on the road. Because the truth is, she would like to strangle some of the women of Jackson, at least sometimes. Like right now, as they’re eyeballing Joel, who’s standing at the head of the crowd with his brother, like he’s a goddamn piece of meat.

She had been listening in to their conversations, a few muttered desires of wanting to “ride that salt-and-pepper cowboy all night long” as well as some shared enjoyment of his “tight little jeans” that hugged his “equally tight little ass” just right. She hadn’t realized she had started shooting daggers at them until Ellie startled her out of her rage-induced reverie.

Ellie tugs at her arm, once again shaking her out of her thoughts, “you know, a whole gaggle of them has started coming around when we get back from patrol? They like to watch him dismounting. S’fucking gross, man. Can you imagine? Having the hots for Joel.” Ellie grins, tilting her head, “well, I guess you can imagine.” “Ellie, watch it.” The girl puts her hands up, muttering “alright, alright, geez” before she shuffles off into the crowd to sit with some of the other teens of Jackson. She’s been relieved to see her finding some companions in town, thinking back on that young boy, Sam, and how hard it had been on her to lose the sweet comfort of a fast friend. She on the other hand, has had less luck, all the women her age casting sideways glances whenever she comes around.

She’s heard the murmurings around town, mostly women’s gossip, calling her Joel’s “pet,” jealous scoffs at the way she and him move around each other, with each other, like magnets constantly coming back to contact. But she knows the truth. He’s not hers, not really. It’s mere comfort in closeness, familiarity. She had been with him since the beginning of this journey, been there for him. Through the loss of Tess, the trouble in Kansas City, and the whole road since. And even though there’s an understanding, an intimacy that runs bone deep between them, the sex has always been purely physical, just two bodies coming together again and again and again. She’d never ask him for anything more, the companionship is enough. But hey, who’s she to stop him from picking up a sweet little thing in town? Someone who’d cook him dinner, give him a back rub with soft hands that had never held a gun. Someone who wasn’t a whole decade younger than him.

She’s quick to block out these thoughts, bringing her attention back to the meeting that’s beginning. She watches Joel’s gaze scan the crowd as Tommy begins to talk about new security measures they’re working out. Even though she’s pressed up against the back wall, his eyes still find hers, but she’d be hard pressed to admit that her heart gives a tight squeeze when he offers her a sliver of a smile from across the room.

…

People are filing out of the hall, a few stragglers hanging around to talk to Tommy and Joel as well as the other leaders. She sticks at the back of the room, watching Joel look pretty uncomfortable in being forced to field so much conversation. Most of the people waiting to speak with him happen to come from the female half of Jackson’s population. She can’t help rolling her eyes at the way they hang off his crossed forearms. He keeps glancing her way, something pleading in his eyes, silently begging her to come give him an excuse to get the hell out of here. She’s enjoying watching him squirm just a little too much. Ellie sidles up to her again just then.

“You better go help him out, he looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.” She glances at the girl, fighting back a grin at her words.

“Suppose I should put him out of his misery.” She nudges into Ellie, earning a light laugh from the girl.

“You gonna go hang out with your friends tonight?” Ellie nods, they’re showing a movie in one of the old ski lodges.

“Alright, kid. Be good and–”

“Be safe. Yes, mother. I should be saying the same to you and the old man honestly.” She gasps at that, getting ready to chastise her, but Ellie is already slinking out of the building. That damn smartass.

She turns her attention back to Joel, who now has one of the women, she thinks her name is Katie, hanging on his shoulder and mumbling something in his ear. She scoffs, getting ready to shuffle over and save him from her mushy-gushy ramblings, but she pauses when she gets a better look at his face. He’s smiling. It’s small, but she knows it well. He glances at her briefly, but quickly shifts his gaze down to the floor, letting Katie continue to flirt shamelessly with him. For whatever reason, it’s enough to set her blood boiling. He’s a big boy, he can handle this himself. She quickly turns heel and stomps out of the town hall, heading straight to the bar.

…

She drinks way more than she knows she should. But, quite frankly, she’s too pissed off to care. Sure, she could put up with all the women throwing themselves at Joel, so long as he kept ignoring them. But it seemed like he had finally gotten the memo that he could have his pick of any of them, and that their little partnership, or whatever the hell it was, would soon be over. Well, fucking good for him then.

“You here alone?” She actually jumps a little off her stool at the intrusion before sighing and turning to whoever just startled her. She knows his name is Will, a young man who also works patrol shifts. He’s what people would have called a pretty boy, back before. Sort of floppy, sandy blond hair and soft blue eyes, dimples that crinkle when he splits into a smile. But she knows there’s more than meets the eye to this one, she’s been on a few shifts with him, and he can hold his own for sure.

She swallows another gulp of whatever it is they keep brewing before nodding.

“I suppose I am. Why? You wanna join me?” Her tongue has certainly been loosened by the drink and hell, if Joel gets to shop around, why shouldn’t the same go for her? Will smiles before sitting on the stool next to hers, turning so their knees are brushing lightly.

“How are you settling into town?” She quirks a crooked grin at him.

“Oh, just fine. Although I don’t think any of the ladies will be inviting me to their book clubs anytime soon.” Will laughs at that and it’s a sweet sound, one she thinks she could get used to. He leans in, whispering conspiratorially to her.

“Well, I think they’re all just a little jealous of the way you yank that man of yours around on an invisible leash.” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at that, a boldness sweeping through her that sends her leaning into Will even more, bringing her lips up close to his ear.

“Well, let me tell you, he’s certainly not my man.” There’s a heavy pause of silence.

“He’s not?” She leans back just slightly to look into his baby blues.

“Nope,” she pops the letter p, “but if you know anyone looking to be, what’d you say? On my invisible leash? You let me know, alright?” She’s going to regret everything about this when she’s sober, but for now, she’s letting her anger roll into lust. Will swallows thickly, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips.

“I think I might know someone, yeah.”

…

They’re a stumbling entanglement of limbs and sloppy kisses as they meander down the street towards her house. Her head is swimming in Will, drowning out the incessant chants of Joel’s name. It’s dark out as they near the porch of the house she shares with Joel and Ellie, none of the lights are on inside. He must be shacking up with Katie for the night, fucking good for him.

She leads Will up the steps to the front door, and as she fumbles with her key in the lock he presses up against her, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed smacks along her neck that makes her squeal. Will huffs a laugh, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door, licking into her mouth. She pulls away with a wet click of spit.

“Shh, we have to be quiet, someone might hear us.” They both giggle before diving in for another writhing kiss.

“Well, wouldn’t that be a shame.” She lets out a shriek that she quickly cuts off by clamping her hand over her mouth. Will jumps back from her.

They both whip around to see Joel sitting on the bench seat out on the porch. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans back, his legs kicked out and crossed in front of him. Even in the dim light of the evening she can see that he does not look very pleased with what he just saw. He stands with a sigh, slowly shuffling over until he’s standing right in Will’s space. He’s not much taller than him, but Joel still makes the other man look small with the way he’s scowling at him.

“Will, I suggest you go on home now.” Will’s eyes dart between Joel and her, hesitant to do anything.

“I said now.” Will jumps a bit at Joel’s harsh tone, taking one last look at her before shaking his head and stumbling down the porch steps and off down the street. She can’t believe what just happened.

“What the fuck, Joel?” He breezes past her, opening the door and turning around to look at her.

“The door was unlocked the whole time, by the way. Or are you really so drunk you couldn’t figure that out?” She’s dumbstruck by the venom laced through his words. He huffs before turning and going inside, her mutely following on his heels.

“Thought you’d be over at Katie’s, not lurking on the fucking porch.” It comes out as a grumble and he spins on her fast, looking totally confused.

“You must be real drunk, because you’re talking total nonsense.” She scoffs at that.

“Oh am I? So I didn’t see her practically chewing your ear off in the town hall?” Joel’s face falls, just for a moment, before he’s back to a furrowed scowl.

“Is that seriously what this is about? You’re jealous of some lady who I couldn’t give two fucks about?” They’re both up in each other’s faces now, arms crossed and pressing against each other.

“Fuck you, Joel. You seemed to be enjoying her attention just fine. And, for the record, I’m not jealous. But if you get to have yours I don’t see why I can’t have mine.” She sneers in his face but he looks like he’s about to explode, fists now clenched at his side.

“I am yours, goddamnit! And you’re mine. Not anyone else’s and especially not Will’s!” The tendons in his neck jump as he shouts at her, his eyes wild. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him like this, and suddenly she’s feeling really dizzy.

All she manages is a hoarse croak of his name before she’s keeling over at the waist and emptying the contents of her stomach all over his shoes and the floor. Through the dull ringing in her ears she hears Joel mutter a few choice curses before rather carefully toeing off his boots. He shifts over to her side and brings a warm palm between her shoulder blades, smoothing up and down the expanse of her back. She just hopes she got drunk enough that she won’t remember any of this the next morning.

…

Unfortunately, she receives no such mercy, waking up late the next morning with a throbbing headache and a very intact memory of everything that happened the night before. Joel had quietly helped her upstairs, shushing her groans as he cleaned her up, helping her out of her clothes and into one of his flannels that she had previously filched from him. He had even helped her into bed, the last thing she remembers before she passed out being him brushing her hair back from her face and muttering “get some rest, trouble.”

She’s completely mortified, and the only reason she feels brave enough to leave her room is because she knows Joel had a morning shift scheduled. When she creeps into the kitchen seeking a glass of water she finds Ellie leaning against the counter.

“Woah, so much for being good and being safe. You look like shit.” She groans, nudging Ellie to the side to grab a glass and fill it up.

“Thanks, kid. Feel worse than I look.” “Pretty sure that’s a statistical impossibility, but what the hell happened? Joel looked like he wanted to punch a hole through someone’s face this morning, like, more so than he usually does.” She glances at Ellie, choosing to take a long swig of water rather than answer her question. The girl huffs, stomping off with a muttered “no one tells me anything around here, jesus.”

Luckily, she has the day off from patrol, so she can spend it licking her wounds and avoiding Joel until he comes back tonight. She cleans herself up, taking a shower, still marveling that they get to have warm water. The rest of the day is spent simmering in a stew of her emotions. She goes to help out in the greenhouses, mostly because she knows Joel never goes over there. Unfortunately, that’s also where most of the women of Jackson work, and she can’t help but notice that their side eyes have transformed into blatant glares today.

She’s hauling sacks of soil when an overheard murmur makes her stop in her tracks. Did she just hear the word slut? She whips around, meeting the gaze of a pair of women.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” The women share a look before both clearing their throats, the one finally speaking up.

“Oh nothing, hon. It’s just, Laura here lives across the street from you and Joel. She was telling me there was quite a scene on your porch last night.” The woman raises her eyebrows at her, a snide grin sliding across her face. She’s stunned speechless by these two birds’ boldness, but Laura seems to have something to add.

“A word of advice, sweetie. A real man like Joel needs a real woman, not some silly girl who’s messing around behind his back.” She drops the two sacks she had been carrying and they thud heavily on the ground, causing the two women to startle. She doesn’t stick around to hear any more of their advice, mostly because she knows that beating them up isn’t an option. She trudges through town, trying to hold back the tightness in her throat and the heat behind her eyes. It’s a race before the first tears fall, trying to get home before anyone sees her completely lose her mind.

Unfortunately, she runs right into Tommy, literally, smacking into him as she rounds a block. He holds onto her forearms as she stumbles back. She feels her stomach drop, because if Tommy is back, that means Joel is too. He tries to ask her if she’s alright, but she just shakes her head, shifting out of his grip and continuing her beeline home, scrubbing harshly at her eyes to keep from fully dissolving.

When she gets to the house, she sees no sign of Joel on the porch, a small mercy. She quietly slips upstairs, and can hear the shower running, choosing to shut herself into her room before promptly burying her face in the sheets on her bed. There’s no holding it back now, and she begins to silently cry. No real thought behind her tears, just a general sense that she’s royally fucked everything up. She doesn’t cry often, not in this world, and so it’s a short-lived fit, leaving her drained and curled up across her bed.

There’s a soft knock at her door, the sound of shuffling boots. When she doesn’t answer he opens the door anyways, tentatively stepping inside. She refuses to look at him, sitting at the end of her bed and drawing her knees up under her chin. She hears him let out a sigh.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.” He huffs at that, walking further into the room and leaning up against the wall across from her.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m still pissed at you.” Her gaze jerks up to his face and she’s met with his steely expression.

“Why are you pissed at me? I was drunk, Joel, a-and really upset, ok?”

“No, it’s not ok. Christ– I– I thought what we had meant something, right? And you were just ready to throw that away? With Will? I mean– fuck– I-I don’t get that.” She raises her chin defiantly at him.

“What we had? That’s a load of horseshit. What did we have, Joel? Association by proximity? A warm body to curl up with? A half-decent fuck? No, you don’t get to keep me as your little hanger-on while you try out all the other flavors in Jackson.” He scoffs, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

“Well, that’s real rich coming from you, considering you were getting ready to spread your legs for the first boy who looked your way.” She’s on her feet in a flash, taking one long stride to get in his space and slap him across his face, jerking his head to the side. He looks stunned as he holds his hand to his cheek.

“Fuck you, Joel. I’ve already been called a slut once today. I don’t need it coming from you too.” His demeanor changes instantly, brow furrowing.

“Who called you a slut?” She sighs, turning her back to him as she holds onto her arms across her chest.

“Baby?”

“Don’t baby me, Miller. And who else but two bitchy members of your little fan club. Why don’t you go talk to them? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to give you their opinions of me.” There’s a hiccup of silence that passes between them before Joel’s gently reaching for her, turning her back to face him. She won’t lift her gaze from her feet.

“You gotta help me out here. I just– I don’t understand what happened for you to– christ– when I saw you with Will– you’re killing me here, baby.” She finally looks up at him, resisting the urge to thumb away the deep frown on his face.

“Look, Joel. I can admit that what I did was stupid. I just– fuck– I know what we are, what we were– and I had no right getting so worked up seeing you with those women. But please, don’t keep stringing me along. I’m not gonna wait for you in your back pocket until you find someone better than me. I can’t do that.” He’s looking at her like she’s grown a second head.

“What are you talking about? I’m not fucking looking for someone better. I’m looking at you, goddamnit! I want you. Thought that was clear.” She scoffs.

“I think we have two very different definitions of clear then. Joel, we’ve never talked like this.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“I didn’t think we needed to talk like this! You and me, we understand each other. Didn’t think we needed words for us.” Her brain can’t help the chant it starts up of us us us us.

“Well, just a little communication would have been nice.” He sighs, shaking his head as he sits down on the end of her bed. She joins him, looking at where their thighs are pressed up against each other.

“Look, I’m sorry. I guess I should have been more– clear, about how I feel about you.” She glances at him.

“And how do you feel about me?” He just shoots her a look, brow raised.

“I’m actually waiting for an apology too y’know.” She huffs at that, dragging a hand down her face.

“I’m sorry for almost fucking Will. There, are you happy now?” He lets out a deep laugh and it startles her, the baritone thrum.

“Goddamn, Ellie may be right. We really are a pair of idiots.” They glance at each other, and a laugh is shared that feels like a door opening, like something new. Joel carefully slides one of his hands to lace with hers, clearing his throat.

“Y’know you’re it for me. Only want you. Christ, these women around town drive me fucking insane, so goddamn handsy. If I didn’t think it’d bug you I’d keep you under my arm all the time, maybe then they’d get the fucking message.” What she says comes out as more of a mumble, but Joel still catches it.

“That wouldn’t necessarily bug me.” He grins, dipping his head to meet her gaze.

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” She rolls her eyes, but shakes her head no.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind.” He slings his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side and landing a kiss in her hair. It feels like the biggest relief ever. He huffs out another laugh, shaking her where she’s melting into his torso.

“Pfft, fucking Will.” She groans at him, trying to pull away but he just holds onto her tighter, muscling around her until she’s halfway sitting on his lap, twisting to look him square in his very smug face.

“ I think you would’ve been sorely disappointed by that kid. He wouldn’t have a clue what you like, what you need.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly do I need, Miller?” He’s got a cocky smirk on his face, it’s a look she doesn’t often see on him. He shifts her on his lap some more until she’s finally straddling his waist, arms wrapped around his neck and thighs framing his hips. She gasps at the heady contact.

“You need me, honey. Same as I need you.” And with that he’s drawing her in by her jaw for a harsh kiss. There’s nothing sweet about it, all clashing teeth and stubborn tongues. They’re both still cooling off from the mutual anger and it shows in how they grab onto each other, licking into each other’s mouths and swallowing each other’s groans. He presses his calloused fingers into the sliver of skin between her shirt and her jeans, dragging her hips impossibly closer until she’s grinding into his hardness. He lets out a low thrumming moan at the sensation. She grins.

“You need me, huh, Joel?” He grunts, trying to dip his head into her neck but she pulls him back by the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing a low moan from him. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Why don’t you lay back for me, cowboy?” She can see the flush creeping up his neck as he huffs out a low laugh, but she means business. She pushes hard on his chest, tipping him back onto the mattress with a soft “oof” as she gets to work on the buttons of his shirt while he toes his boots off. She laves her tongue over each new inch of exposed skin, and by the time she gets to the bottom of his shirt he’s letting out the sweetest little grumbles. She noses along the waist of his jeans and he huffs.

“Such a tease.” She grins up at him, finally unbuckling his belt and harshly tugging it out from under him in a way that makes him startle.

“That’s right, baby. And I can do whatever I want. Because this is all mine, right?” She rests her palm on his stomach, feeling his rapid breaths rise and fall. He swallows hard, looking down at her with his hands crossed behind his head.

“S’all yours, darlin.” She knows she’s got him when he starts talking like that, his southern drawl melting his words and dripping slow like honey. He shudders as she lays one more open-mouthed kiss below his navel before finally undoing his jeans and shucking them down his legs along with his boxers. His cock immediately springs up to his stomach, dribbling pre-cum in the tufted hair there. She lays between his spread legs and noses up the length of him, just barely letting her lips brush against the tip. He grumbles under her teasing.

“C’mon, baby. Why don’t you go ahead and take what’s yours already, huh?” She grins at his almost pained expression, the crease between his brows and the little huffs he keeps letting out.

“Always so bossy. Lucky for you I’m in a giving mood.” He goes to speak again but is quickly cut off by a broken moan when she finally licks a broad stripe up the heavy vein of his cock before taking the head into her mouth and giving an experimental bob. She finds a rhythm, taking him a bit deeper each time until she’s swallowing around him in her throat in a way that makes his toes curl.

“Fuck– s’perfect– perfect mouth taking all of me. S’good, so good for me, baby.” He reaches for her, trying to card his fingers through her hair and guide her movements, but she immediately stops, grabbing his wrists and pinning them up by his shoulders.

“Uh-uh, no touching, Miller. You’re just gonna lay there and take what I give you, got it?” He looks frustrated that she stopped, that she’s demanding so much control, but he just swallows thickly and nods. She smiles and lays a quick peck at the corner of his mouth before sinking back down and returning to work.

He’s a writhing mess under her as she sucks him off, digging his hands into his thick hair to stop himself from reaching out for her. She can feel his thighs tensing where her hands are splayed and knows he must be getting close. This time, she’s surprised when he interrupts her, yanking her back by her hair and forcing her to look up at him.

“Alright, think you’ve had your fun. S’my turn now.” His movements are fluid and startling in their quickness as he sits up and effectively flips them until she’s splayed out on the bed underneath him. She gasps as his mouth and hands wander everywhere, making quick work of the buttons of her shirt before not so gently shrugging it off her shoulders and tossing it on the floor. He mouths over the fabric of her bra in a way that makes her back arch, giving him enough space to undo the clasp and slide it off her before dipping back down and taking a peaked nipple into his hot mouth. His teeth graze over the sensitive skin and she sighs out his name at the sensation. He grins up at her in a way that makes her want to smack him.

“This all mine, right darlin?” She lets out a breathy “yes” and it’s all he needs to hear to get back to work, starting to suck and bite harshly at her skin, leaving mottled bruises in his wake as he travels further down her torso. He makes quick work of her pants and underwear, shuffling them down her legs and tossing them aside, working his way back up to her center by dragging his mouth along the inside of her leg, nuzzling into the plush of her inner thighs. She can’t help the whimpers that start to crack in her throat under his ministrations. He hovers his mouth over the heat of her cunt, each exhale sending shivers up her spine.

“You’re lucky, darlin, you know why?” She furrows her brow at him, he just grins.

“Because unlike some people, I’m not a fucking tease.” With that, he’s licking a flat stripe through her folds that sends her hips arching up into his mouth. He’s holding nothing back, a sloppy haze of slick dipping from her entrance up to her clit. The sound of him devouring her is obscene laid over her drawn out whines. Joel knows her well after so much time together. Knows how she likes it, what she needs when he eats her out, when she needs him to slide his fingers inside her and give her something to clench down around, right as she’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Come for me, baby. Just like this. Show me you’re mine.” His low murmurs send a thrum through her core that’s enough to snap whatever resolve she had left as she comes undone around his fingers, shivering as he continues to lick at her. She finally pushes his face away from her with a gasp, becoming too sensitive to let him keep working at her.

He crawls up her body, meeting her for a kiss and she groans at the taste of herself on his tongue. She draws her knee up to his hip, using the leverage to flip him under her, straddling his waist and soaking his happy trail with her dripping cunt. His hands are kneading at the meat of her ass and she lurches forward when he brings one down in a harsh smack. She scowls at the smug look on his face.

“Don’t give me that look, baby. Still pissed about seeing you with that fucking kid.” She rolls her eyes, going to say something smart but her voice dies in her throat when he lands another slap, causing her to gasp out his name and bury her face in his neck. He kisses her temple sweetly, a stark contrast to the sting as he smacks her ass again. She thinks there’s going to be marks left afterward, though maybe that’s the whole point.

He finally lets up, once again gripping her ass in a way that makes the tender skin smart. She tilts her head to hold his gaze, pressing in for another kiss. He pulls away first, his breathing a bit ragged.

“You gonna ride your cowboy, baby?” She lets out a gasp as he laughs at the look on her face.

“So you have heard what those women are saying. Goddamnit, Joel–” he cuts her off with another hard kiss.

“Don’t give a fuck about what they’re saying. Just want you, now.” She presses her palms into his chest as she shifts her hips back, lining the tip of his cock up with her entrance before slowly sinking down. They’re both a mess of sighs and whines as she settles with him fully inside her. It’s always a stretch at first. Joel traces his fingers down her arms before wrapping his broad hands around the plush of her hips. She gives a few tentative rolls into him that sets his eyes turning back in his head. She slowly finds her rhythm, sinking down on him with each bounce and twisting her hips until he’s a panting mess beneath her. She rests the flat of her palm along the base of his throat and doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen at her movements.

“Tell me how it feels, baby, s’good for you?” Joel grunts at her question, his fingers flexing where they’re squeezing at her waist.

“S’fucking perfect. You’re perfect– fuck– take me so well, darlin.” He bends his knees and plants his feet into the mattress, the shift causing her to press forward until their chests are smashed together as he starts to thrust up into her. She lets out a broken cry at the brutal pace he sets.

“Fuck, Joel– n-need more– need you– need you to–” he shushes her, already complying without needing her to say it as he flips them over so he’s caging her in. He drags a long kiss out of her before sitting up and pulling out of her, making her whine at the loss.

“Want you on your hands and knees for me.” She doesn’t need to be told twice, flipping over and getting into position as Joel palms his cock behind her. She shudders when he presses up against her, just barely dipping back into her. She whines at his teasing, trying to draw him deeper but he squeezes her hips harshly.

“Patience, darlin. I’ll give you what you want. But I gotta ask you something first.” She glances at him over her shoulder, brow furrowed.

“Need you to tell me. D’you think Will could fuck you as good as I do?” She huffs at that.

“Joel, I said I was sorry– christ– just fuck me already.” That’s not what he wants to hear and he acts like he’s getting ready to pull away from her entirely. She stammers on her words she talks so fast.

“No, no! H-he couldn’t fuck me like you do. No one f-fucks me as good as you– please, Joel.” That’s apparently enough of an answer for him as he lines himself up and thrusts into her in one long stroke, pressing his hips hard against the swell of her ass. She lets out a long preening whine as he starts to thrust into her, slow but deep movements that make the bed shuffle up against the wall. His hands are roaming over her back, her sides, down to her hips, rough calluses making her shiver.

“Fucking made for me, darlin. Nobody else, huh? S’just you and me.” She lets out a breathy “yes” to his low rumbling words, fisting the sheets below her as she feels the pleasure starting to spill over once again.

Joel seems to notice it too, snaking one of his hands down her front to bluntly swipe against her clit.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Just for me, right? Not for anyone else?” She nods frantically, pressing her hips back into his with each thrust.

“Y-yes, Joel– fuck– s’all for you– only for you– p-please don’t stop– so fucking close, baby.” He curls over her, his broad chest brushing against her back as he brings his lips to her ear.

“Give it to me, baby. Come for me, right now.” That’s all it takes for her to seize up in his hold, pulsing around his cock and tumbling over that blinding edge of pleasure, a broken cry of his name the only sound she can get out. She bows down onto her elbows, pressing her cheek into the sheets as he fucks her through it, making the pleasure simmer almost painfully as his pace starts to falter too.

“Fuck– s’good for me, baby– you’re perfect.” His voice sounds nearly pained and she immediately knows he’s close.

“Want you to come for me, Joel. Let go for me.” He presses his forehead between her shoulder blades, rutting haphazardly into her.

“Tell me you’re mine, darlin. Wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel– p-please come, baby– come for me.” He curses lowly, pulling out but keeping a hand on the base of her spine as he strokes himself a few times before he’s painting her ass with his spend. The only sound as he comes is his breathless gasps of words.

“Fuck– I’m yours, darlin– I’m all yours.” It’s silent for a moment as they both catch their breath, Joel flops onto his back next to her and she splays out on her stomach, shivering at the sensation of his cooling come on her skin.

He glances at her flushed face, the twitch of a smile at his lips as he wheezes out a laugh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, trouble.”

…

Ellie looks between the pair at dinner, seeming to be trying to figure something out.

“You two look pleased with yourselves. Something big must have happened between now and this morning when you were both so goddamn testy.” That earns her a glare from Joel. She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Hey, hey. I’m happy for you guys, seriously. It’s about time you stopped dicking around, gonna save a lot of ladies some serious trouble now that you’re officially together.” She quirks an eyebrow at the girl.

“What makes you think we’re “officially” together?” Ellie just shrugs.

“Well, usually you both make more of an effort to cover up the evidence, but from the looks of those bruises on both your necks I’d say you’re done hiding the obvious.” She swallows hard around her bite of food, glancing at Joel, sure enough spotting a trail of hickies peeking out of his shirt collar. She only feels a little guilty. Joel just huffs.

“Alright, kid, easy does it there. But, yes, just for the record. I guess, we– well, we– uh–” she stops his floundering, bringing her hand to rest over his on the table.

“You were right, Ellie. We’re together.” The kid gives them a smug look.

“I am both disgusted and happy for you.”

…

With everything finally out in the open, she feels no hesitancy in joining Joel in bed that night, curling up around each other in a tangle of limbs and settling on the brink of sleep. She glances up at him from where her cheek is resting against his chest.

“Joel?” His low murmur lets her know he’s listening.

“I wanna tell you something. And you don’t have to say anything back. But, I love you. You need to know that.” There’s a heavy pause of silence before Joel draws her into him a bit tighter, sighing over the top of her head.

“Feel the same way, darlin. Guess I’ve been in love with you for a while. Just a hard thing to say, in this world.” She breathes out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. He clears his throat.

“Hope you know I’m not letting you go now.”

“I know, cowboy.”

…

They both have a patrol shift the next morning, and as they step out onto the porch bright and early, she can see Laura across the street, sitting on her own porch and watching them pointedly. Just as Joel turns back to her after locking the door, she grabs him by the nape of his neck and spins them into an entirely too intense kiss for this early in the morning. When she pulls away with a lewd little pop, Joel’s face is painted with shock, his eyes darting from hers to her lips and back up again.

“What the hell was that for?” She just shrugs before taking his hand in hers and hopping down the steps. She waves to their neighbor with her other arm.

“Morning, Laura!” The woman doesn’t respond, primly looking away with a scowl on her face.

She doesn’t care though, not when Joel’s got his arm wrapped around her and his hand on her hip as they head off down the street for their shift. Might as well give the ladies of Jackson something to talk about.

#joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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wintrwinchestr · 8 months

Text

lather (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

moodboard by @iamasaddie

summary: you decide to try shaving your pussy for the first time on your first night settling into jackson with joel. he accidentally nicks you while helping you shave, but he makes sure to kiss it all better <3

warnings: 18+, smut, early jackson joel, established d/s relationship, porn with some plot (probably too much), oral (f receiving), innocence kink/roleplay, daddy kink (bordering on ddlg), shaving, a bit of insecure reader, blood (tried to keep it short & not very graphic), sprinkle of humiliation, pet names (darlin’, baby, babygirl, lil’ girl, honey, sweet girl, etc), joel refers to reader’s pussy as she/her, spitting, reader can be lifted by joel and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, implied *legal* age gap (reader went to school in the qz)

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this fic is based on an nsfw audio by u/organ_donor86 on reddit!! i went to reddit and found it again so i could properly credit them for the inspiration, but i haven’t heard the full audio in probably 2 years so this fic is only based on what i could remember of the premise <3 this is my first time writing smut, nice comments and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed!!

You were sat on the end of the first clean, comfortable bed you had encountered in twenty years, taking in the surroundings of the charming bedroom you now found yourself in: The deer antler lamp emanating a warm glow from the bedside table, the framed paintings of various Wyoming-native wildlife hung up on the walls, the earth-toned woven rug beneath your bare feet. You took a deep breath, savoring the smell of a house that had never known decay. For the first time since outbreak day, you felt safe. Truly safe. Of course, Joel did his best to protect you as you traveled together over the last year or so since you met him, but you were never really without a looming threat of danger nearby.

His familiar, comforting voice startled you out of your daze.

“Y’ alright, babygirl? Settlin’ in okay?”

You looked over to where Joel was standing in the doorway, freshly showered and changed into a clean flannel and jeans.

You smiled with a relaxed sigh, flitting your eyes around the room again. “Yeah, I like it here, it’s cozy… Can’t wait to finally get a good night’s sleep in this bed tonight.”

“I’m with ya, baby, Maria ‘n Tommy gave us a real nice place, huh? Speakin’ of which, it’s about dinnertime, I think they just started servin’ it up down at the dinin’ hall. Why don’t we all go get somethin’ to eat together, hm? I know you must be hungry, sweet girl.”

Your eyes widened and your smile dropped a bit at the prospect of socializing with strangers, especially after the exhausting day you’d had getting to Jackson. Joel clocked your expression immediately, approaching where you were sat on the bed with slow strides. He gently pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

“I know, my babygirl’s a shy one, huh? There’ll be a lotta people down there, I know…” He stroked a lock of hair behind your ear with his other hand. “Why don’t I go down there myself and see about bringin’ back some plates for us to eat together, just you and me? We’ll save the introductions for tomorrow, alright, darlin’?”

You nodded, your shoulders relaxing as your anxiety was soothed by his reassurances. He smiled down at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sit tight, honey, Daddy’ll be right back… We’ll have a nice lil’ night together.” Another soft kiss, to your lips this time, and he was gone from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You got up from the bed and padded over to the window. Peering out to the main road, you could see a crowd of people lined up outside the dining hall to get their evening meal. You figured you had at least fifteen minutes or so until Joel returned, deciding to take the opportunity to explore more of the house while you waited.

You wandered out of the bedroom and down the hallway, peeking your head around the doorframe of the first room you came upon. You reached out your arm and blindly felt around for the lightswitch, flicking it on once you found it. You were still standing in the doorway, knowing by now to wait a beat for the roaches to scatter before stepping fully inside. But to your surprise, there were none. The fluorescent ceiling light revealed the room to be a bathroom, a clean one at that.

You stepped over the threshold, immediately taking notice of the charming basket of homemade-looking toiletries perched on the sink’s granite countertop. It might as well have been Christmas morning, the overwhelming joy you felt at the idea of getting to take a bath in a clean tub with soap after all these years.

You picked up a white bar of soap from the basket and brought it to your nose, your eyelids fluttering closed as you inhaled its sweet vanilla scent. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed something even more enticing in the basket: a razor. The QZ school you attended had allowed the boys to have them in order to keep their facial hair under control, but deemed them a non-essential for the girls. Which, you supposed, was true, but you had still always fantasized about having a smooth, hairless body like the girls you had seen in wrinkled magazines and faded movie posters.

Your newly acquired shaving supplies planted an idea in your head: you were going to surprise Joel by shaving your pubic area for the first time. You imagined what it would be like to make a move on him after dinner, getting him hot and bothered, letting him carry you back up to the bedroom to have his way with you, and the wanton look on his face when he pulled down your cotton panties to find your pussy glistening and bare for him for the first time.

You practically tripped over your own feet in your rush to close the bathroom door. You quickly stripped off your worn jeans and underwear, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later. You plugged up the sink and began to fill it with warm water, hoisting yourself up onto the countertop.

You swished the bar of soap around in the water, then rubbed it on a small patch of hair to create some suds. You placed the razor onto your soapy mound, then dragged it upward along your skin toward your belly button. Removing the hair proved to be more difficult than expected, and you were surprised to find that it hurt. It felt like you had just ripped out the hair instead of shaving it clean off. Just as you had touched the razor to the same thatch of hair to try again, you heard Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching, returning with your dinner much sooner than you had expected.

He was slowly turning the knob before you had a chance to get up and lock the door. “You in here, darlin? I was callin’ your name but you weren’t respondin’, and you weren't in the bedroom…”

“Sorry, Daddy… I’m just, um… doing something…” you responded, not very convincing in your flustered state.

“Can I come in, baby?”

You hummed your permission and he pushed the door open. The concerned look on his face dissolved when he saw you, worried at first that you might have been crying. His eyebrows raised and his lips parted in realization as he took in the sight of you before him.

“What’re you doin’ in here, darlin’, hm?”

“I… I wanted it to be a surprise. Wanted to shave it for you…” you admitted with a defeated pout.

“Oh babygirl… you know I’ve never cared about what you look like down there, don’t you?” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze, beginning to regret giving in to your girlish idea.

“I know, but… just wanted to look pretty for you, that’s all… like the girls in the magazines…”

“Oh, baby… you’re already the prettiest lil’ angel I ever laid eyes on… But if you really wanna shave her, Daddy’ll help you, sweet girl, don’t gotta keep struggling…”

He pulled up the worn little wooden stool from the corner of the bathroom and took a seat between your spread legs, gesturing for you to hand him the razor and bar of soap. You gave them up reluctantly, placing them delicately into his calloused hand. Your lips were still formed into a little pout, upset that your surprise had been ruined.

He dipped the vanilla-scented bar into the sink again, then rubbed it back and forth along the same vertical strip of skin above the hood of your clit that you had tried to start shaving first. He took note of the shoddily clipped hairs and how the skin beneath them was already looking a bit irritated from your misguided attempt.

“Gotta shave in the direction of the hair first, honey… like this…” He swished the razor in the water, then demonstrated the technique. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out across your lower tummy, his thumb pointed down, tugging the skin up towards your belly button as he shaved downward with his right. “See, baby? Just like this…” He did a few passes over the area, rinsing the razor in between each one.

You were mesmerized by his movements, watching his expert fingers work to remove coarse hair, revealing velvet smooth skin underneath. His hands looked so strong and competent as they moved from one patch of hair to the next, his brows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his plush lips in concentration.

You felt your core becoming wet as he exposed more bare skin to the bathroom’s cool air, his warm breath ghosting over your clit with each careful stroke of the razor. As he pulled away to admire how his work was coming along, the focused tension between his eyebrows released, noticing your hole beginning to drip.

“Oh…” he breathed, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb and bringing it closer to his face, inspecting it. “What’s all this honey, hm? This just from Daddy helpin’ you shave your lil’ pussy?” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he savored the flavor. “Taste so sweet, babygirl… always so fuckin’ sweet f’ me…”

You nodded and whimpered at his words, heat rising to your cheeks at his slight mocking tone. “Can’t help it, Daddy…” Your hips started twitching of their own volition, rocking upward toward where his lips were now curled into a faux-sympathetic pout. You knew this was part of a little game he liked to play with you, the one where he made you feel a little embarrassed for being so easily turned on by him.

“I know, honey, I know… Lil’ girl can’t ever help herself, always gets wet f’ me so easily, doesn’t she? But you gotta hold still f’ me, let Daddy finish helpin’ you shave, okay?”

You gave another quick little nod and a hum of agreement that came out sounding more like a pathetic whine, and tried your best to control the movements of your pelvis as he got back to work.

But his big, warm hand was spread out over the delicate skin of your tummy again, and his lips were so close to being right where you wanted them, and what little self control you had been able to muster was quickly beginning to slip away. You were nearly able to contain yourself for the rest of his shaving, but your eager hips betrayed you on what would have been the final pass of the razor, giving a swift little buck toward Joel’s face despite your best efforts to keep still.

He wasn’t prepared for your sudden movement, and the sharp blades nicked the skin of one of your outer lips. You let out a startled cry as a little crimson pearl began to bloom on your sensitive skin. Joel gasped and was quick to apologize, even though your injury was really due to your own desperation. “Oh, Christ… I’m sorry, babygirl, I’m so sorry… here, gimme a tissue, baby.”

With a shaky hand, you reached over to the box of tissues sitting on the back of the toilet, plucking one out to hand to him. He dropped the razor in favor of the tissue, balling it up and gently pressing it to the little cut. His free hand quickly came up to the side of your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You okay, babygirl? I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean t’ hurt ya… told ya to keep still for me, baby…”

He wiped away a tear that had slipped from your lashes as you sniffled. “I’m okay, Daddy, jus’ scared me… stings a lil’ bit…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does… my poor girl. Daddy shoulda been more careful, knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, needy lil’ thing… But you know what, babygirl? Daddy knows somethin’ that’ll help, that’ll make it stop hurtin’...”

“What is it?” you asked, soft voice still wavering slightly.

“Well, I read somewhere a long time ago… that spit can help a lot with lil’ cuts and things…”

You could tell this was part of one of the other little games you liked to play together. The one where you pretended to be innocent and inexperienced, when in reality, Joel had made sure you were anything but. But you liked this game, it put butterflies in your tummy and made your weeping hole quiver when you played the part for him.

“It… it can?” you wondered with a naive-sounding lilt.

“Oh yeah, babygirl, you never heard o’ that before? Spit can help a whole lot, ‘specially Daddy’s spit, can make it feel all better, darlin’...” The stained tissue now discarded, his thumbs gently stroked the slick pink skin of your outer lips as he spoke, careful to avoid your little injury. “And your lil’ baby pussy is a real uncomfortable place to have a cut like this, too… Don’t want my girl hurtin’...”

Your eyebrows were knit together with need as you released a pathetic whimper, your breath hitching and heat rising from your fluttering tummy all the way up to your cheeks. He barely concealed a smirk as he noticed the change in your demeanor, knowing how this particular game had always affected you.

“Whaddya say, sweet girl, hm? You wanna give it a try? You want Daddy to kiss it all better?”

You nodded frantically, your mouth slightly agape as you began to pant out of desperation.

He was quick to deliver a small swat to your inner thigh at your unspoken answer.

“Words, baby, you know better…”

“Y-yes, Daddy, please, want you to kiss it better, make it stop hurting…”

“There you go, good girl. Spread your legs a lil’ more for me, honey, let me see her…”

You wiggled your thighs further apart on top of the counter, giving him full access to your now soaking cunt.

“There she is, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, ain’t she? Needs her Daddy to make her feel all better…”

He placed a few wet kisses to the afflicted area before looking up at you with apologetic eyes. “How’s that feel, babygirl? She still hurtin’?”

You nodded your head with a pathetic little cry, mindlessly chasing after his mouth with your hips. “Still hurts, Daddy…” you vocalized your answer this time.

“Yeah? Poor lil’ pussy… She need some more lovin’ from her Daddy? More of his spit to help make her feel good again?”

Another frantic nod, another eager mewl. “M-more… please, Daddy…”

“Alright, babygirl, don’t you worry, Daddy’ll give her some more…”

He latched his lips onto your swollen clit, alternating between sucking it into his mouth and giving it soft kitten licks. His large hands were firmly planted on the inside of each of your thighs, keeping you spread wide as he devoured you. You were already so sensitive from his teasing, it wasn’t going to take much more to push you over the edge. You were practically riding his face, your hips canting feverishly into his mouth with each expert drag of his tongue across your folds.

When he started fucking his tongue into your bitty hole, swirling it around and then licking back up to your clit to circle it, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Please, Daddy, please… feels so good, ‘s too much, gonna cum, Daddy…”

“Yeah? I dunno, babygirl, I don’t think she’s healed all the way just yet… might still need some more takin’ care of,” he murmured into your pussy before pulling his head away to spit directly onto your cunt. The lewd action was enough to launch you into your orgasm right then, his head still between your legs, slurping up the divine combination of his saliva and your sweet juices. As you rode it out, his tongue maintained a gentle, steady strum on your clit, eliciting breathy whines of please and yes and Daddy…

When you finally came down from your high, your breath catching up to you and your hips stilling, your pussy twitched one last time at the sight of Joel’s wrecked face. He was smirking up at you, his face soaked with your slick, thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs.

“Well, I reckon it worked, whaddya think, darlin’? She feelin’ better now?”

“Much better… thank you Daddy…” you sighed, still catching your breath.

“You’re welcome, babygirl, such pretty manners… Now, why don’t we get ourselves cleaned up and have some dinner, hm? I even brought back a slice o’ huckleberry pie for ya if you eat all your vegetables like a good girl…”

You lit up immediately at the promise, prompting Joel to reach into the basket and pull out a soft, cream-colored washcloth. He dunked it in the water, squeezing out the excess, and carefully cleaned up your now freshly bare pussy. When he was done, you took the washcloth from him, rinsing it in the sink before repeating his cleansing process on his own face. He helped you up off the counter before leaving the bathroom, returning promptly with a fresh set of clothes for you to change into. He helped you into a clean pair of panties, which you noted felt nice against your naked skin, then into a warm sweatshirt and comfortable leggings.

He carried you into the kitchen and sat you down at the little table set for two. You ate your dinners together by soft candlelight, relishing the feeling of having a sturdy roof over your heads and warm food in your stomachs.

You supposed tonight, and this little house in Jackson, represented a new beginning in more ways than one.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

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queenshelby · 7 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 20)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

A few hours later, when most of the guests had left and Edward had fallen asleep, you took the time to have a conversation with Robert who appeared rather anxious about recent developments.

Sitting beside you on the chaise longue inside one of the guestrooms, he expressed his concern regarding your involvement in this dangerous lifestyle shared by your family. According to him, there were mentions of drug trafficking and killings amongst some of the men and this worried him greatly.

"You knew about all this, didn't you?" Robert probed gently, searching your eyes for answers. You hesitated briefly, weighing whether to divulge your knowledge or maintain the facade. Ultimately, honesty won out, driven by a genuine sense of trust that developed between you two. Nodding solemnly, you confirmed his suspicion.

"Yes," you paused momentarily, pondering the best approach to discuss this sensitive topic. "I know that my family is involved in illegal activities, and I also know how dangerous these activities can be. This is why I did not want you to come here with me. This place is nothing but trouble." You confessed to Robert honestly, shaking your head slightly.

"So the fire at the hotel wasn't an accident then?" Robert asked curiously, recalling how much danger it put you in.

"No, it wasn't an accident. The fire was targeted at us. Shelby Company Limited owns the hotel and I...," you began to say without completing your sentence. "You know, don't worry about it. We are safe here with my uncle," you tried reassuring Robert, though deep down you weren't completely convinced either. You knew that Tommy would do anything to keep you safe but he cared much less for Robert's wellbeing.

"I do not like it here Y/N. Your uncle appears to be a dangerous man and whilst your father seems to have found God, I feel as though his past is rather dark as well. There are men with outside, with guns. There are at least ten of them and your uncle has been carrying a loaded weapon for the entirety of the evening. When he returned with you from the fire, his clothes were stained with blood. It worries me greatly, my dear," Robert continued expressing his concerns with a heavy heart.

Your expression fell, sensing the weight of his words, yet understanding where he was coming from.

"I know Robert, but we will go back to Boston soon and all will be fine, yes? In Boston, we will be safe and far away from my family", you promised, attempting to alleviate his apprehension.

"Yes my love, but you need to promise me that you aren't involved in anything dangerous, alright?" Robert insisted, placing a gentle palm on your shoulder, seeking reassurance. Feeling both guilty and relieved that he believed in you, you nodded your head firmly.

"Alright! Now get some sleep while I tend to the little hungry monster," you then said as you heard Edward screaming from the nursery next door. With a soft smile on your face, you glanced at Robert who nodded understandingly.

Standing up, you walked toward the doorway leading to the nursery, calling out softly, trying to coax the baby to silence before disappearing into the next room to pick up your son.

Gently rocking him against your bosom, your heart ached thinking about the uncertain future ahead for your tiny boy and, just as you looked for somewhere to sit down, Tommy's maid Frances entered the room.

"He looks a lot like his father, doesn't he?" Frances observed. She too heard the cries and offered to take you the reading room for sake of peace and quiet, allowing you to breastfeed your son comfortably.

"I suppose he does Frances," you responded absentmindedly, as you thought about your situation while following Frances down the stairs and into the dimly lit library.

"Would you like some help?" she offered kindly, recognising the strain on your face. "It must be hard having a young child in your care alone," she observed as you struggled with your dress.

Feeling grateful for her support, you smiled warmly and accepted her offer, but just as Frances was about to take Edward so that you could get comfortable on the sofa to feed him, Tommy came walking into the darkened room.

"I've got him. Thank you, Frances," Tommy spoke before gently taking his son from your hands.

"You may leave," he then told his maid while looking down at Edward affectionately and, immediately, his demeanor changed drastically upon seeing him as his heart filled with pride and possessiveness.

"Yes sir," Frances nodded respectfully, exiting quietly leaving only the three of you in the darkness of the library. As she closed the door behind her, the moonlight filtered through the windows casting eerie patterns across the walls and floor.

You sat down silently watching as Tommy cradled Edward close to his chest. By this point, he had stopped crying now, despite being hungry, which surprised you considering how demanding he often was.

The tender way Tommy held him seemed almost instinctual, hinting at what might lie beneath his harsh exterior as, now, there were moments when he showed compassion and vulnerability - qualities usually hidden underneath layers of bravado and brutality.

"He is quite similar to you in many ways, isn't he?" you commented, feeling an odd mixture of admiration and trepidation as you looked at Edward, your son, nestled snugly in Tommy's strong arms.

Without speaking, Tommy acknowledged your observation with a simple nod, studying the features of his son intently. His eyes traced every curve of the baby's round cheeks, captivated by the resemblance.

Edward had Tommy's blue eyes and full lips. His skin was covered in tiny little freckles that dotted his nose and forehead and you knew that these same freckles would eventually grow more prominent as he aged, becoming part of his distinctive charm.

As you watched Tommy hold his son, you felt a sudden surge of emotion flooding your heart, making it race. Despite the circumstances surrounding the conception of Edward and your complex familial connections, witnessing Tommy's paternal side made you realize again that even he possessed humanity.

Although deeply rooted in crime and violence, the bond between him and his son revealed something else entirely – something fragile, unspoken, and profoundly personal.

"I do have to feed him soon Tom," you remarked after observing the silent exchange between father and son for several minutes.

"Yes, of course," Tommy nodded graciously, handing the squirming infant back to you, his touch lingering around Edward ever so slightly longer than necessary while you lowered the top of your dress.

"I should give you some privacy," Tommy murmured, stepping away from you slowly, but you shook your head and smiled.

"You can stay if you like. It's not that you haven't seen my breasts before," you joked lightheartedly, trying to break the growing tension between you and Tommy. But instead of replying to your remark, Tommy remained silent and still, his gaze fixating solely on you and his son.

He looked at you in awe and disbelief, marveling over the fact that you gave birth to his son. The revelation struck him harder than he expected it to. For once, he couldn’t find any words to speak, lost amidst the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his brain.

Uncomfortable with the intense silence hanging in the air, you took the initiative to diffuse the awkwardness.

"I miss the days where we were close, Tommy," you whispered gratefully as you started to undo two more buttons of your dress.

Bending forward to make access easier for your son, you glanced upwards to see Tommy watching your movements, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. Unsettled by his piercing gaze, you cleared your throat nervously and continued, focusing on your task.

"I miss these days too, Love," he replied somberly, his voice hoarse with emotion. He shifted uneasily in his seat, unable to meet your eye directly.

Silence enveloped the small space once more, thickening with the tension radiating off both of you. Sensing the moment growing increasingly fraught, you broke the tension with another comment.

"If you missed the time we spent with each other, then why did you never write to me?” you ventured, hoping to gain insight into his changing behavior.

However, your question hung heavily in the air, stirring up waves of guilt, confusion, and regret within Tommy. Unable to face the truth himself, he chose evasion instead.

"Things changed. I knew we couldn't be together, so I needed to distance myself from you," he muttered dismissively, his eyes finally finding yours, conveying sadness and loss.

"Do you love Lizzie?" you asked suddenly, wondering whether Tommy was merely settling because of the expectations placed upon him due to his position.

His brow furrowed as you posed such a direct question. Taking a deep breath, he let forth a heavy sigh, choosing his words carefully.

"Love takes time," he began cautiously, "I love our daughter, Ruby and, maybe one day, I can love her mother too," he explained, causing you to chuckle, which was a gesture he willfully ignored.

"Do you love Robert?" Tommy suddenly countered, his tone turning confrontational.

"Well, no...it's complicated," you answered hesitantly, struggling to articulate your own feelings for your lover. "We met during difficult times, and I found solace in someone I didn't think I would ever meet," you explained reluctantly and with a shaky voice.

"Alright, then tell me Love, do you still love me?" Tommy probed further, his curiosity piqued as much as his jealousy. He leaned closer, searching for signs of weakness in your eyes.

Your heart raced as your pulse quickened. Swallowing hard, you tried to hide your emotional turmoil behind a facade of indifference. However, Tommy noticed your struggle instantly.

"It doesn't matter because, whether I love you or not, won't make a difference at all," you confessed candidly, your voice breaking as you uttered those painful words. The weight of them settled between you, causing your hearts to skip a beat simultaneously.

"What happened to us Tommy? Why am I sitting here, holding your son, yet I am so far apart from you?" you lamented sorrowfully, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. This confession hurt both of you deeply, reminding you of a connection that was irreversibly severed and, just as Tommy was about to respond to your statement, his fiancée Lizzie barged in.

"Come to bed, Thomas!" she exclaimed impatiently, oblivious to the delicate balance of raw emotions simmering in the room. Her presence brought relief to Tommy, offering a welcome distraction from his tumultuous inner battle.

Avoiding any mention of your conversation, Tommy calmly rose from his chair and bid goodnight, kissing Lizzie softly on the cheek.

Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he exited the room swiftly, eager to escape the palpable tension.

Watching him go, you bit your lip anxiously, struggling to comprehend the multitude of emotions coursing through your veins. You turned toward Lizzie, trying to gauge her reaction to your encounter with Tommy. Surprised by your display of familiarity, she raised an eyebrow curiously, seemingly confused by your interaction. However, deciding against prying further, she dismissed the situation altogether.

Closing the door gently behind her, Lizzie left you alone with your thoughts and emotions. With a sense of desolation, you gathered yourself and proceeded to prepare Edward for sleep. Nursing him until he fell asleep, rocking him gently in your arms as you hummed a melody passed down generations in your family. The comforting rhythm of the song calming not only Edward but also serving as balm to your wounded soul.

Meanwhile, outside the nursery, Tommy stood motionlessly, the events transpiring inside having left him reeling.

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