#Hit me in the gut with those Tommy feelings

[joelalorian]

Lost Cause

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

Word count: 2,594 oneshot

The hits just kept coming. Time after time, year after year, life just beat Joel Miller down. It started when he was young, always taken down a peg by someone who was supposed to love him unconditionally, no matter how hard he tried to build himself up. There was a brief respite when he had Sarah – those fourteen years were the happiest of his life, despite the sudden and unexpected nature of becoming a father so young, until it was all ripped away in the blink of an eye on that one horrific day.

Since then, he’d given up hoping for more. Life had completely shattered his hopes and dreams. He couldn’t even put himself out of his own misery, for fuck’s sake. Life hated him that much it wouldn’t even release its grasp on him. He was so damaged beyond repair, and he could do fuck all about it.

His latest hit was a sucker punch to the gut, though.

Just when he finally opened up his heart again, when he allowed himself to feel something other than misery again, that’s precisely when the hit came.

Ellie – sweet, feral child that she was – wanted nothing to do with him after finding out the truth of what happened to the Fireflies in Salt Lake City.

The fracture in his relationship with Ellie sent him spiraling out of control, resorting to old behaviors and vices – drinking too much at the Tipsy Bison, smoking pilfered cigarettes out back behind the bar, taking pills on the rare occasions he could get his hands on them. The nightmares returned no matter how blasted he got to chase them away and he was often moody from lack of sleep.

Joel still contributed to society in Jackson, but he did it in ways that he could keep to himself. Fixing things around town, building stuff in his workshop, taking the odd patrol shift with his brother. He avoided everyone but Tommy and Maria, and Ellie, if she didn’t flee from the very sight of him.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. What the fuck? Were you trying to get yourself killed? Because it almost worked!” Tommy was worked up, laying into Joel at the tail end of their patrol shift. He didn’t know if his older brother had a death wish or was just too hungover to pay proper attention, but Joel was nearly taken out by a clicker while they cleared their route. A clicker that he normally would have dispatched without much effort or thought. Joel cut it way too close this time.

Joel gazed at his brother with baleful eyes. He had nothing to say for himself. He did have a death wish, but how could he tell Tommy that?

Tommy knew Joel was struggling – his behavior was similar to what it had been after Sarah died, when he became a fraction of the man he had been. “Come on, let’s grab a drink at the Bison,” Tommy sighed. At a loss on how else to help him, Tommy often accompanied Joel to the bar despite already thinking his brother drank too much.  At least he could keep an eye on him that way.

They made small talk on the way, Joel’s responses little more that grumbles and grunts. Something needed to give, but what? Tommy didn’t know, but he sent up silent prayers for a miracle to save his brother.

Once they were seated at one end of the bar, Tommy ordered a round. “Joel, brother, what is going on, really? Is it just the thing with Ellie or something more?”

Two sets of deep brown eyes stared at each other for long moments, each waiting for the other to flinch or look away. Joel gave in first, clearing his throat, unable to meet his brother’s eyes as he spoke. “It’s… everythin’, Tommy. It feels like somethin’ inside me is broken, somethin’ that was just starting to repair itself until this thing with Ellie shattered it again.”

Tommy’s heart clenched. Life had done Joel dirty, even before the outbreak, and it seemed like it finally broke him beyond repair. “I know it ain’t been easy, not with… well, everything. Do you… would you ever consider talking to someone about it all? Like a professional, I mean. I know we got someone here who used to be a counselor.”

Brows pinched together, Joel’s stormy eyes glared at the bar top, avoiding Tommy’s searching gaze. “Fuck, no! I don’t want a stranger diggin’ into my psyche or whatever the hell they do, just so they can tell me I have daddy issues or some such shit. And talkin’ ‘bout it don’t help none, either. I’m talking to you and it ain’t doing shit but pissin’ me the hell off!”

“Damn, alright! Don’t gotta get all caveman on me.” Tommy held his hands up with a blatant roll of his eyes. His brother never did like the touchy feely shit and he should have known better than to bring it up. “Maybe you just need a sweet lil’ thing to take your mind off shit.”

That got Joel to laugh for the first time in a long while. “Oh yeah? You think getting my dick wet will solve everythin’?”

Tommy smirked. “Well, not everything. You’ll still be you afterwards. I’d pity whatever poor girl got stuck with you, honestly. But it couldn’t hurt none, right?” It was good to see his brother grin, nose and corners of eyes crinkling with the broadness of it, and they fell into a comfortable silence while people watching. Sudden movement at the entrance caught Tommy’s attention and Joel followed his eyeline.

You walked in with Maria, the pair of you had your heads tilted toward each other giggling madly about something. While Tommy only had eyes for Maria, Joel drank in the sight of you. New to Jackson, you arrived with a small group a few weeks ago and, while you were still settling in, you were eager to meet people and get involved in helping around town. Maria took an instant liking to you, and you spent a lot of time with her, quickly becoming part of the Miller group.

Catching a glimpse of his brother staring at you, Tommy slapped Joel’s back. “Speaking of a sweet lil’ thing. Maybe this is your chance, brother.” Joel scoffed in return. Girls like you don’t go for guys like him, at least not the guy he was now. It was the law of nature or some shit.

“Hey boys,” Maria greeted, taking a seat next to Tommy. With a knowing glint in her eye and an exaggerated wink, she gestured for you to sit next to Joel. You never should have mentioned to her how handsome you found Joel. She was becoming a menace with her not-so-subtle methods of teasing and pushing the two of you closer at every opportunity.

“Hi Joel.” You slipped onto the stool next to him, one hand placed on his shoulder for balance as you did so.

“Hey darlin’. Whatcha drinking?” he grunted, fighting to ignore the burning heat of your touch. When was the last time a woman touched him? It must have been Tess and that was… a long time ago.

“I’ll take a red wine. Cabernet or pinot noir, whichever kind is available, please.”

After relaying your request to the bartender, and with his brother’s attention focused solely on Maria, Joel turned his attention back to you. He was a miserable sod, but you were a beautiful woman – he’d be a fool to ignore the attention you paid him. “How are you settlin’ in?”

“Pretty good. This is some community.” You launched into a few stories about mishaps and people you’ve met so far, drawing a few chuckles from Joel with your interpretation of some of the townsfolk. You had a way about you that drew him out of shell of melancholy.

One drink quickly became two, then three, and before either of you knew it, Maria and Tommy left and the two of you were alone at the bar. The wine buzz left you feeling bold and brave, making a move you would not have normally.

“Do you want to go back to my place for a nightcap?”

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed, brows pinched, at once drifting back under the dark cloud of hopelessness and unable to meet your heated gaze. “You don’t want to waste your time on me. I’m a lost cause.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what and who I waste my time on,” you challenged.

Joel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at your tenacity. You were a beautiful young woman and for some unfathomable reason you were interested in him. He had absolutely nothing to offer someone like you, except for a one-night stand, at best. He was good at those – they didn’t require deep connections or feelings, two things he was avoiding like the plague. Maybe Tommy was on to something though – sex would take his mind off his miserable existence for a bit.

“Okay then. Let’s get outta here,” he replied, downing the last of the amber liquid in his glass, and leading you out of the bar with a large, warm hand at your lower back.

The journey to your house was cold and quiet and you began to wonder if you’d made a huge error in judgement. You weren’t a one-night stand kind of girl, preferring the comfort and security of relationships instead, but something told you that this would be the only way you’d get to have Joel. There was a darkness about him, a deep residing mass of regret and remorse, and you felt a burning need to fix him, to be his sunshine, even if only for a little bit.

Your hands fumbled with the latch when you finally reached your house. The warmth of Joel’s large hands suddenly overwhelmed your senses as he helped you, and you were flinging yourself at him before the door even closed behind you.

His kisses were anything but tender, all harsh presses of his lips, teeth, and tongue, like he was a man starved. There would be marks left on your tender skin come morning, but you didn’t mind, giving him the same treatment as you sucked at his neck, soothing your tongue over the spots you just sunk your teeth into.

“I have a bottle of wine. Do you want some?” you breathed against his lips, taking a moment to slow the momentum before the pair of you spontaneously combusted.

A smirk crossed Joel’s lips as an idea struck him. “Sure, why not.” He watched you open the bottle and pour two glasses before returning to him. Accepting one of the stemless glasses, he clinked it against yours before taking a sip. The momentum picked right back up after that first taste of the dark liquid.

Fingers frantically working to undo the buttons on Joel’s flannel with one hand, you walked backwards up the stairs to your bedroom, pulling him along with you without a spare thought about the wine spilled on the wood flooring as you went. Patience wearing thin, he tore your clothes from your body with his free hand, leaving you naked and yearning as you continued working on his shirt. Placing his glass of wine on the nightstand, his hands were everywhere, he could not get enough of your smooth, soft skin.

You were the antithesis of him, bright and bubbly where he was dark and brooding, soft where he was hard, adaptable and happy where he was rigid and sad. You were ripe like fresh fruit ready for plucking. You were everything he wish he could still be. Perhaps he could get just a brief taste of happiness being with you, inside you.

Once his jeans and boots were shed, Joel tossed you onto the bed, watching with hungry eyes as your tits bounced with the movement. He was on you in a flash, hands and mouth exploring every inch of your body. Sharp teeth scraped against your puckered nipples, making them impossibly harder, and the sensation shot a bolt of pleasure right down to your core, where the weight of his hardened cock rested, twitching for attention.

Nails scraped down his chest and belly until you reached his cock, slipping your slender hand around the heft of him. He was huge – both long and thick, a combination you’d not experienced before, and your mouth watered with the desire to taste him. If you only had one night together, you wanted to make it a memorable experience.

It took great effort to get Joel to detach his lips from your breasts, the whine that emanated from him as you did so had you downright aching for him.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” his deep voice rumbled, dark eyes rolling back in his head when you moved down his body and slipped your plush lips around the head of his cock. “Oh, fuck!”

After spending so long living in hell, your mouth felt like heaven as you licked and sucked on his length.

“Wait, doll, I wanna try somethin’.”

Sitting up against the aged headboard, Joel grasped the wine glass and brought it down to rest on his belly. Two thick fingers dipped into the dark red liquid and swirled, coating every bit of surface area from fingertip to second knuckle before he brought his drenched fingers down towards you. His hand hovered over his cock and you both watched as droplets of translucent ruby red liquid dripped onto his hardened flesh.

Your mouth watered as you watched him repeat the process, eager to taste the heady mix of the bitter tang of wine and his salty pre-cum. Ravenous, you slurped at the liquid trails running down the length of his cock before lapping at the bulbous head, leaving no hint of wine behind as you wrapped your lips around him.

Joel was a panting mess when you took him as far as you could, his weeping head hitting the back of your throat. The glass of wine was forgotten, slipping from his hand to stain the hardwood floor next to the bed. That was a tomorrow problem as you focused on devouring his beautiful cock. He was close to the edge within minutes, the sensations too much, and he pushed you off him none too gently, flipping you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

“My turn, darlin’,” Joel murmured, nestling his face between your legs. He’d been told that his current lifestyle was bad for his health, that all the drinking and smoking was hopeless. They weren’t wrong, but it felt like that was all he needed, the only thing that set him free from his sorrows. Now that he’d tasted you, he knew that was utter bullshit. You could so easily set him free if he got to have you, taste you every day. You were enough to change a man like him.

“Joel,” you mewled his name between long moans as his tongue teased at your clit, thick fingers exploring your folds before dipping inside you. He drew an orgasm from you effortlessly and you clawed at his back as the blinding flash of pleasure washed over you. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

He could refuse you nothing, shifting to hover over you. “Save me from myself,” he murmured against your lips as he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth. “You’re the only one who can.”

“Always,” you replied breathlessly, rocking your hips against his. Your mouths met in a kiss full of promise.

[scorpiussage]

Tommy Shelby + Age Gap

Pairing: Tommy Shelby/ Reader

Warnings: smut

For @peakyltd

He’s known you since you were little; you were always running about with Ada and your home life was worse than theirs so you spent an inordinate amount of time living in their house.

When he left for the war, you were still a child — skipping classes and causing mischief with his sister. When he get’s back, though, it’s to his own surprise that you grew up in the time he was away. You’re still young, barely 19, but those years changed you in so many noticeable ways.

It’s the day after he got back and he stumbles down the stairs of his home to find you sitting at their kitchen table, probably waiting for Ada to come down. He pauses at the bottom of the steps, almost not recognizing you but when you turn to look at him, your appearance hits him like a punch in the gut. God, you’re beautiful.

“Ah, y/n,” he rumbles after clearing his throat, “It’s been a while.”

You nod, your own eyes tracking over his form curiously as you take in his more chiseled features that years in a trench carved out.

You get up and carefully pull him into an awkward hug, “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

Tommy, feeling like a deviant, uses the hug as an opportunity to smell your hair. It gives him a strong sense of calm to take in your unique clean, sweet scent. He feels at peace for the first time in years.

He reluctantly pulls away from your arms and sets a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

Ada chooses that moment to come clomping down the stairs and Tommy quickly pulls away, turning tail and heading for the door without saying anything else.

…

After seeing you in the kitchen the other day, Tommy can’t seem to shake the thought of you. You absolutely consume his thoughts and even worse he sees you everywhere. The only place safe from your presence is his bedroom and only just, because he can hear you and Ada giggling away to each other through the thin walls. He feels like he’s going mad.

It all comes to a head one evening when you show up at dinner, presumably to spend time with Ada but she’s already left. Tommy tells you this and watches the way your cheeks flush prettily under his intense attention.

“Oh,” you say with a huff. Actually, now that he mentions it, you think you remember Ada saying she was going out with a boy and to not tell her brothers. You quickly try to wrack your brain for a decent excuse to give to Tommy while he slowly moves to where you’re standing.

“Silly me, she said we were going to meet at the dance hall,” You stutter as Tommy stands terribly close to you, the scent of his cologne making your thoughts fuzzy, “I should head out.”

Before you can turn fully, Tommy grasps your wrist in his big, calloused hand; his thumb reaching out to rub gently along your pulse point. That little touch is enough to make you weak in the knees. You’ve always fancied Thomas— he was the dashingly handsome older brother of your best friend. That was when you were a child, though, and you never really thought he’d ever see you as anything but.

“Tommy?” You question hesitantly, your eyes searching his. He doesn’t reply, instead his other hand reaches up to run along your cheek before he guides you forward into a sweet, testing-the-waters kiss. It’s a soft peck at first but you respond readily, your own lips chasing after his when he starts to pull away.

His arms slip to wrap around your waist and back, pulling you tightly into his chest as he ravishes your mouth. He tastes like tobacco and whiskey and you mewl whenever he nips playfully at your bottom lip. You feel like you could drown like this, in his tender mercies, and you wouldn’t care in the slightest. When he finally pulls away, you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling and your eyes hooded.

He reaches up and pushes your coat off your shoulders, and you barely register it pooling around your feet as he grasps your hand once more and begins tugging you towards the stairs. Feeling like you’re in a haze or a dream, you follow after him your eyes never leaving his. Every few steps he pushes you against the railing or the wall and kisses you until you’re practically shaking with a desire you’ve never known before.

He pulls you down the hallway and into his room, a sacred space you’ve never dared enter before, not even when he was away at war. It’s the largest bedroom in the house and scarcely decorated but there are a few personal touches here or there that paint an intimate picture of what kind of man Tommy is. Photographs are lined neatly up on his dresser with loving care and across the room you spot a small bookcase with worn books and a little tin horse figurine. He lets you inspect his space while he divests himself of his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him in a partially unbuttoned shirt and suspenders hanging loose around his hips.

His gaze is almost hungry as he makes his way to you; his gait like a lion stalking a rabbit. He’s quick as one, as when he reaches you and before you can say anything, he’s hefting you up into his arms and pushing you down onto the creaky bed. You manage to breathe out his name before he kisses you again, this time far more heatedly and desperate than when you kissed in the kitchen.

“‘Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers into your ear as he pushes your dress up. Nothing could get you to stop now, you think, you would die to keep what’s happening going. You try to keep up with him, your shaking fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He helps you along, practically ripping the shirt off of himself and the following undershirt. You’re likely staring in a most uncomfortable way but he’s so damn handsome. He’s all lean, corded muscle from his time in the war and is even decorated with a few tattoos that you trace curiously with the tips of your fingers.

As if he’s reading your mind, he smirks in that infuriating way of his and presses your hand more firmly to his chest, guiding it down to run over his abs and to the hem of his trousers. This is where you clam up. You tug your hand away and flush in what you’re sure is a terribly unattractive color and admit, “I’ve never done this before.”

It’s embarrassing to still be a virgin, you think, especially when compared to someone like Tommy who’s experience precedes him.

He kisses you again, this time not as hurried and tells you with such open honesty, “I’ll take care of you.”

His hands trace around to your back and he finds the ribbon holding your brazier with perfect accuracy. With a single, sharp tug, you’re breasts are barred to him.

He tries to be gentle as he runs his hands up along your sides, his fingers dancing out to graze over your breasts. You let out a soft gasp as he fully cups them both and rubs his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His gaze is reverent as he looks over you and he rumbles out a hushed, “God, you’re perfect.”

You have to fight the urge to cover your face in embarrassment, struggling to accept the compliment especially knowing how beautiful some of his past girlfriends have been.

“Don’t believe me, eh?” He asks, taking in your furrowed brow and red cheeks.

He leans down at begins placing nipping kisses along your collarbones, worshipful words leaving his mouth every so often, “Ever since I saw you that morning after I got back, you’re all I can see. All I can hear. You’ve ruined me, Y/N, absolutely ruined me.”

His kisses trail down to your breasts, his lips sucking in the first nipple he finds and laving at it like a starving man. When he pops off of it, he blows a teasing breath over the peaked nub and watches the way you squirm with rapt attention.

He slides his hands further south and carefully tugs your knickers down, leaving you fully bare before him. When you try to close your legs to hide yourself, he doesn’t let you, his firm hands holding your thighs apart with unerring strength.

“Don’t you ever hide from me, eh?” He orders you sternly, but his eyes never once leave the sight of your dripping core and he licks his lips as if he’s suddenly salivating. Without warning, he surges down and begins licking along your slit with avid enthusiasm, his tongue expertly drawing teasing swirls to your clit before dipping down to lick at your opening.

You let out a squeal and reach down to grasp at the longer hair on top of his head, unsure if you should push him away or tug him closer.

His chuckles vibrate through your core in the most confusingly pleasurable way and he looks up at you, “I want to be surrounded by you, by your smell and taste.”

With those seductive words said, he dives back down to continue licking you. He’s relentless in his exploration, his tongue leaving no place untouched.

Meanwhile, you’re sprawled out across his bed, your fingers yanking at his hair and your back arching lewdly. You’re building towards something you’re not sure of that has you feeling like a bow string pulled too taut. Tommy seems to know this and is apparently eager to encourage it.

One of his thick fingers trails up through the mess of your cunt and starts pressing into you. That’s what makes you come undone, and the most fantastical feeling washes over your entire body, making you cry out Tommy’s name in pleasure.

He works you through the experience, his ministrations gentling until you’ve gone lax in satisfaction. He sits up and looks down at you, his lips stretched in the first smile you’ve seen him give since he returned. Placing both hands on either side of your head, he hovers over you and tells you, “You’ll only get that from me, understand?”

You nod sleepily as all the adrenaline causes you to crash. You see that his trousers are tented and you ask, “Do you want me to-?”

He shakes his head. Standing up he shucks the pants off before crawling back into bed with you, drawing up the quilt to cover you both.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you when I got back,” he says to you, his fingers tracing up and down your bare arm. He leans forward and gives you a sweet, slow kiss that has you tasting yourself briefly before he pulls away and turns the light out.

He holds you throughout the night and is the first thing you see when you wake up; those blue eyes of his peering into your very soul. You’re his.

…

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[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Descriptions of an animal kill. Mentions and descriptions of suicide/self harm. Tiny mention of smut. You and Joel open up further, with a heavy chat.

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

Joel switches on the walkie-talkie and you both wait in suspended silence. 

He remains sitting forward; his left elbow on his knee and the other on the arm of the wicker chair. His fingers tap and fidget restlessly, you notice.

You sit back fully in your chair and keep your eye on the green light. Waiting for it to pulse. Waiting for it to crackle into life and deliver bad news.

You can’t help it, years of ingrained pessimism have bludgeoned your optimism down to a flat nub. 

It feels like an age before the time passes through midday and Joel switches off the walkie-talkie just after seventeen-past the hour.

“No news is good news.” He reminds you, glancing at your anxious face pulled tight, and you smile faintly, grateful for the ebb of reassurance, even though it barely makes an indent.

Your mind drifts to Kelper and Max in the main group, heading towards the horde with Tommy. To Sal, who’s in the second group bringing up the rear with the explosives. And to Guthrie locked down back in the commune, praying for you all incessantly no doubt. You wonder how he can still have faith, after everything.

You hope they’re hitting their marks, that they're okay and this God forsaken plan of Kelper’s goes off without a hitch.

You rub at the back of your neck and yawn and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Why don’t ya take a beat?” Joel nods over to the cot and the thought is too tempting; you’re tired and feel your eyelids become heavy and swampy.

“Mm,” you agree.

You stand and kick off your boots after unlacing them. The heat in the shack from the sun only makes you more sleepy, and you flake on the cot foregoing any blankets.

You roll onto your front, your head facing the wooden wall. Up this close you can make out the fuzzy fibres in the dark, splintered wood, and your finger runs over the rough surface, back and forth a few times.

“Did you miss me, Joel?” You put out there, pausing with the dull pang in your gut waiting to drop. “When I left, I mean.”

The question had been gnawing away at everything inside you. Now that you’d asked it, you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer.

You know it was a cowardly move; leaving whilst he was at work. Shoving your possessions into bags quickly and removing all trace of you from his life.

You keep your eyes closed, it's better if you can’t see his expression. Especially when his face is knotted up again, like you assume it will be.

You’re pretty sure it's a question that's winded him and it makes guilt sprout like moss somewhere when he doesn’t respond.

Why do you keep torturing him with this, and yourself?

“Sometimes,” he whispers, his voice travelling over towards you.

You hold your breath, your body tensing.

“Sometimes it felt like I never stopped.” You hear the wicker in the chair creak as he moves inside it. “Even if you drove me fuckin’ nuts.” Joel concludes.

You smile, opening your eyes. “I did, didn’t I?” You reply, your shoulders jostling a little as you chuckle. 

“I liked it. Kept me on m’toes.” Joel husks from the other side of the room. 

“I know.” You confirm, your smile dipping. "Do you..." You trail off and steady your breaths as they find an increasing pace. "Do you ever wish you could just go back, do it all over again?"

"Before the Outbreak?" He queries.

"Yeah. If you got a second chance, would you do it all differently?"

You hear him take in a deep, contemplative breath. "Some of it."

You hear more shuffling in the wicker chair and close your eyes again. You breathe out slowly trying to swim out of all the muddled thoughts pulling you under.

Were ya missin' me too, darlin'? 

You can hear him as though he's right beside you. Feel the warmth of his breath in your ear, his lips nipping gently on your earlobe as his scruff tickles the skin on your neck. Feel his swamping hand that’s burning on your thigh as he squeezes and then runs it up your hip, towards your stomach.

Thick, rough fingers trailing along your navel gently, leaving goose bumps and making your nipples peak as he strokes with a featherlight touch around them, under your top, in giddy, teasing circles. 

You moan out, biting your lip. Pushing back into him to be met with the swell of his hardness pressing into your ass, and his grunts braiding through your hair as he slowly grinds into you. 

“Joel…” You hum, burning up. You turn over in the cot to find his lips, searching for the heat of them.

But you’re met with nothing. 

You sit upright, dumbfounded and perplexed as you rub sharp, crusted sleep from your eyes.

You glance over to the wicker chair to see Joel slumped in it. His arms crossed over his chest and his head lolled to one side. His eyes are closed and he snuffles gently. He’s asleep. 

Licking around the inside of your cotton mouth, you glance at the clocks that all read past four in the afternoon. The light still floods the shack and it feels stifling. 

You sit forward, contemplating whether to wake him or not. Joel looks content, if not for an aching neck to suffer from later.

You smile, observing him and the way his mouth is downturned and pursed under the greying fuzz smattered above it. It suits him, you think. Ageing.

He appears more beautiful now than you remember, and you soon start to feel like you're burring up from the inside the longer you stare at him.

You stand, stretching out, reaching for a bottle of warm water, when you hear it. 

You stop, the sound of it rendering you frozen on the spot and your heart racing. 

It’s the sound of your own name passing from Joel’s lips in a soft, sleepy moan. 

It comes and goes.

Bleeding into your subconscious like a dream, or more of a hellish nightmare lodged between the sinew and muscle.

This time it's the blood from the buck that stirs that sleeping giant.

One moment you're focused on the task of deboning the flesh from a blunt hunting knife that you'd recovered from one of Joel's knapsacks. The next, you're frozen, hunched over the infant carcass of stained, wet fur and reliving through it all over again.

You see it all, hear it in surround sound. Even smell it; the ripeness of it, the rot. Drawn to it like a fruit fly to fetid garbage. 

You try to rationalise it; convince yourself that it's just some malignant trauma hovering over you, not done with roughing you up yet and that it’ll settle soon. But it’s hot, searing mercury in your veins, heavy mustard gas in your lungs that chokes you.

Nothing's affected you like this before, like this loss has. Well, that's not strictly true. Losing Joel is right up there. The scars of that run deep, deeper than the one on your wrist.

You glance at it as you carry on with the task at hand, physically shaking your head as though you could empty the incoming white noise out of your ears if you shake hard enough.

But it's still there. 

You regard your hands soaked and slippery in the claret. It's so bright, fresh. The metallic scent of copper is tasted on the back of your throat as you breathe in and swallow it down. 

You're not sure how it started, how it all went to shit in a blink of an eye. How you were complacent and allowed yourself a few moments of respite; to believe that everything could be alright. 

You can see it clearly as you scrunch your eyes tight; willing yourself not to go there, but you do.

It always pulls you under.

You're walking with a basket, laundry maybe. Or is it something else? You look into the basket in your hands, but you don't see it, there’s just a void. A hole where a memory should be. What was in that damn basket? 

You pass smiling faces, working hands and chatter. Laughter, such an alien sound, but full of promise and hope. These are your people, people who owe you their lives, but you're insistent they don’t. They really don’t.

The camp is thriving despite its lackadaisical appearance. Clusters of tents, makeshift tarpaulins wound around branches. Old RV’s being picked clean of pipes and bulbs.

It’s a good place to pitch up, rest for a while. Probably one of the better places Kelper has managed to settle you all. It's the longest time you've had to stand still, to soak in the peace. To let it all start to peel away in thin papery layers from your skin as you shed it.

Then you hear it.

Screaming. A single wail at first, but then more; more are mutating into a chorus of shrieks and panic that seem to be coming from all directions like sharp, precisely aimed arrows.

You drop the basket. Or maybe you throw it down, again, you can't be sure. All you know is that once you hear it, it's discarded.

You start forward towards the screaming, pulling your gun from your back waistband. Instinct fuels you to aid; it’s all you run on these days. 

Then you see it.

The blood. It's on their faces as they dash past you, scrambling. On their arms and legs. You don't realise it right now, but the blood is from bites; flesh torn apart by teeth that infect.

It spreads quicker sometimes. Other times it lies in wait, hours of slow torture as the fever turns you out.

You're firing. More gunshots are heard echoing tinny around you. You take a couple out, but more rear through the camp.

Then more, then too many. Herds of them. You've never seen a cluster this big, this co-ordinated. They just keep fucking coming.

You remember being paralysed as they swarmed in like locusts, devouring everything. Taking everything from you in literal moments. You watch helplessly as faces you know are pulled under, devoured.

You try to shoot them, knowing it's too late for them; to end their suffering as a last kindness. They would want that. They would understand.

But your aim is sloppy. They're getting closer. Your gun jams. Shit. There's too fucking many. 

Run.

Run.

RUN!

A hand yanks you backward, so hard that you're sure your socket has been wrenched out. You grip tightly onto Kelper who drags you away like you weigh nothing; a clumsy kite on the end of flimsy string.

Something clicks in you, brings you back as Kelper screams at the others to run. Some of them do. They scatter like marbles dropped from a little boy's pocket. No clear direction. They run straight into their deaths, with flailing arms and you can't save them.

Stop! You’re going the wrong way! 

You run too. Your lungs are on fire already as you yell at people you pass and can't hear your own voice. You reach out for them. You latch onto one, Guthrie.

You toss your gun in exchange for his hand and he keeps that frantic pace with you. He trips, falls and cries out as you lose your grip on his sweaty fingers. You go back for him as he scrambles up.

A bullet passes so close by your temple and hits the infected sprinting for you both. It's thunder cracking in your ears and leaving a tinny din.

You turn to see Kelper aiming and hollering at you; he’s all teeth and spittle at the mouth. A rabid rottweiler unleashed with hackles, barking crazed and panicked.

You run. You and Guthrie together. You follow Kelper, footsteps stampeding as he dashes towards the treeline. Losing them in the camouflage, good idea. 

You fucking run.

Your ankles are snapping at you to relent, every breath you suck in feels like liquid fire. You glance over your shoulder to see Max and Sal bringing up the rear. Their faces bloodied and you can hear Guthrie's exhausted moans as he keeps pace with you.

You drag him along. You make him work through the pain. He can't stop. You won't let him stop. You can’t lose another. You won’t. 

Stray infected chase you. Kelper points to a clearing where it dips a few yards out. An opportunity to take those bastards on.

He glances at you and you know. You just know it has to be done.

You shunt Guthrie down the hill and he slips, rolling and yelling out. Max dives down after him. Kelper pulls Sal to him. She practically flies around the trunk as he pauses with her in his grip.

You pick a spot and get ready. You reach for your gun behind your back to realise you don't have it.

Fuck.

Seconds. You have seconds to react. Blood thuds inside your ears.

You don't remember, but you lunge.

Teeth are snapping at you as you grapple with the infected. Skin a sallow grey and fungal rot in a sickly pale orange; even its scleras are a disgusting hue.

You remember the smell. The stench of its breath as it comes for you.

You slam it backwards, reaching blinding for something, anything. Your fingers graze a rock and you pummel its head with it and keep going, long after it's dead. 

Long after it no longer has a face to haunt you.

It takes Max and Kelper to pull you off as you scream ferally at it. The other infected that chased you have already met a similar fate, and the five of you are left standing there on the edge of the camp, hidden and listening to the sounds of your extended family die. 

You pull them away, with Kelper; the sounds of their screams whistling in your ears.

Max wants to be a hero, wants to go back for them. And you love him so much for it, but you can’t let him. He tries to fight against you both, a small tussel, but stops when Sal speaks.

There's no-one to go back for. Her voice is cold, empty. She knows it too.

You walk for hours.

Until the sky is darker and the ringing in your ears stops, or maybe you just learn to accommodate its petulant wail. You walk until the blisters in your boots are plentiful and burst.

Until Kelper spots an old farmhouse up ahead, isolated in the vast fields and valleys.

You and Guthrie keep watch whilst the others do some recon. His arm is busted up pretty bad from the fall down the slope. You apologise to him as you tear a strip from his shirt and create a makeshift sling, and he tells you it's alright; a broken bone is nothing in the grand scheme of things. That you did good. That God was with you.

And it's at that point you crack. Fissures start erupting inside you uncontrollably. 

You pace away, you don't want him to see it. Any of them. 

You don't know where you’re going. You can't feel your feet anymore and you're blinded by tears that won't cease. You try to remember your mantra. Try to remember how you're still here and they're not.

Eventually you walk into something soft, warm. Arms pulling you tight. Telling you he’s got you as you sob, and your cut to shreds and exhausted feet finally give way under you.

He falls with you, settling into the ground and mourns the loss with you. 

You don't know how long you and Kelper stayed out in the grass that night. All you know is that you never let go of one another. Even when you fell asleep amongst the tiny bugs. 

You stand up; your back aching from being crouched for so long over the buck's carcass, and stare down at the bloodied meat you’ve salvaged from it. 

And then it hits you and makes you feel unsteady on your feet. A renegade choke slithers up from the back of your throat and out into the open as your eyes mist over.

You know it with resolution, with utmost conviction.

The loss you suffered that day was insurmountable. The loss you suffered when Raiders came and took more than just scavenged possessions from your people still cuts deep.

The losses since the Outbreak have stacked up against you, that some days you don’t think you can physically take anymore.

Enduring and surviving is taking its fucking toll. The pain garnered from those losses will remain with you always. More scars.

But, as you stand here zoning out into abject realisation and determination, you know that there is a loss that trumps all of that.

And you feel wretched for even comparing them.

A single man for all that bloodshed and carnage? All those innocent lives lost? It's a heinous and selfish thought. One that rises bile to the back of your throat as you try to cough it away.

But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that losing Joel again would be worse than anything you've endured and survived through. Worse than anything else that's possibly coming for you next.

And you can’t lose him again now that you’ve found him.

You just can’t. 

After Joel’s annoyed rantings about you not waking him finally cease into incoherent mumblings, you both settle down to eat some of the venison that you’ve cooked. 

Whilst he was asleep, you took the opportunity to hack the buck up outside; a messy job that left your top splattered with blood and your mind stained with rattled recall.

You washed up discreetly in the alcove, replacing it with another simple, long sleeved top from your pack, and then later laid the meat into pans cooking it tenderly.

The sounds of sizzling as the meat cooks stirs Joel at just past six in the evening. 

You both sit down to eat as the approaching dusk begins to infect darker blues into the sky.

You share the remainder of the focaccia bread and you watch as Joel winces as his neck aches. He rubs at it listlessly.

“Ya should've woken me.” He pouts again, as he shovels in another mouthful of meat, chewing with a deep frown. 

“You needed the sleep.”

“I should’ve been on watch,” he grunts. “Not fuckin’ sleepin’ with a bent up neck.” 

You shouldn’t have been moaning my name either, is what you want to say, but you keep it to yourself. A secret that elates you as it thrills.

Your mind can't help but to wade into conjuring up images about what it was exactly that he was dreaming about. You try to contain the small smile ebbing as you chew, but it’s difficult - it pours renegade across your lips anyway.

“S’not funny.” Joel gripes. He reaches for some water still patting at his neck. 

“I’m not laughing at you.” You state with a flat mouth free of curves or bends. 

He eyes you carefully as he puts down the water bottle. 

You clear the chipped plates when you’re both finished, and put the remaining cooked meat inside the Tupperware box. It’ll keep for a day or two.

Joel gets up and disappears outside, and you make the most of the few minutes of silence. Silence that is always somehow interrupted by wayward thoughts or unflinching desires as of late.

You think back to your dream earlier of being wrapped up on the cot with him pressed up against you, and it suddenly feels hotter inside the shack, even though the cooler air of the evening seeps inside now. 

Your mind swims with his hands. His hands that were on your hips at the Hootie And The Blowfish concert he took you to as you swayed against him, mouthing the words of the songs into the air.

How his large palm would squeeze your thigh in the passenger seat fondly and you flare at the thought of him rising it higher and higher, until his fingertips would probe the edge of your panties that were always soaked for him.

The taste of his thick, salty fingers as you’d kiss and suck each one gently whilst he lost all his breath and sense of being, drowning in you.

A longing sigh settles in the back of your throat and chokes you. 

Joel returns a few minutes later, zipping up his fly as he pulls the door shut behind him, and you turn away feeling as though you’ve been doused in gasoline and set alight.

He slouches down back in the chair and sighs listlessly. His hand is rubbing again at the back of his neck as he peers out the small window. 

He tries to crack it out, bending his head from side to side and growls under his breath when it doesn’t release.

“Want me to massage it for you?” You offer after he grunts in frustration again. 

His brown eyes dart to you as though you just shot him in the gut.

Your own mouth is appalled at the suggestion, and the origin of it, but the mutiny in your chest spurs you on.    

“Might stop you complaining?" You suggest, standing and not giving him much of a choice. Or yourself, for that matter. Driven on drunk autopilot as you're there in a blink of an eye.

He caves, nodding hesitantly and scooches his chair forward a little.

"Ya sure?" Joel questions, a small voice that cracks like glass, flows out of him. His eyes are furtive, widening and he looks acutely terrified. His posture is suddenly more rigid, if such a thing were possible.

You nod like it's nothing, but it’s everything. A small reassuring smile greets him behind a skull of chattering teeth.

You step behind him, flooded with gumption, despite the fact your body is yelling at you that this is probably a disaster waiting to happen.

You feel him hitch a breath as soon as your skin makes contact with him. Yours does too. It stops time, space and gravity no longer exist.

Coherent thought dissipates and you're left with a head full of iridescent bubbles, floating with them. The sweat beads at your neck, you feel your spine pull tight. You clench between your legs.

His neck is hot and red from the constant pawing at it; the skin in his hairline feeling rougher and bobbly with large pores and coarser hairs, as your fingers sink slowly into it.

You press your thumbs at the base and wiggle them around in slow moving circles, applying gentle pressure. 

Joel groans out immediately; a noise that is all too familiar to you, and so uniquely new. His shoulders instantly deflate. 

“That’s the spot, huh?” You smile, wrangling it all out of him.

“Fuck,” you think you hear him murmur, as you knead and roll your thumbs across the top of his spine.

“Ya too good at this,” Joel says after a few minutes. You can see he has his eyes closed in the window’s reflection.

You beam, enjoying that he’s enjoying it, as you’re all fingers and thumbs, albeit with a tremor in them.

“Ya used to do this thing, you’d scratch ya nails into m’head.” Joel lets slip through a deep sigh.

“You remember that?” You ask, smirking. 

“I 'member a lot,” he groans, as you push your fingers up the back of his scalp, snaking to his crown and then dragging them down again. Letting your nails rake through his salt and pepper waves and scratch against his skin.

“Yeah... like that.” Joel whines; a long, laboured husk pulling from his chest that causes devastating explosions inside of you, ten million Hiroshima’s.

You continue circling around his crown, behind his ears, to the front of his forehead, and back down his nape where your fingers knot around his unruly curls.

You let your dexterous digits run through the silk of them. You see goosepimples flood across the back of his neck and you pulse.

You could just lean forward and plant a tender kiss there. You can see yourself do it in your mind's eye; taste his skin, and you lick your lips unconsciously.

“God, I fuckin’ missed this.”

It makes you fly to hear it, fireworks sparking inside your core. The hairs stand up on your arms and your own scalp tingles. A deep ache pulls on your clit as you squeeze your thighs together again and try to stifle your own groans. 

“Yeah?” You manage to swallow.

He nods slowly, pushing his head back into your fingers to get more of them. Chasing the sensations that leave prickles all over his scalp, running down his spine and into the end of his hardening cock. 

“Feels good?” You prompt.

“So fuckin’ good, darlin’.” He croons with his eyes closed and jaw slack. "I could fall asleep again."

Joel Miller is literal putty in your hands. A stark contrast from a few minutes ago when the grump wouldn’t stop griping into the air. Now he’s languidly panting into it with soft breaths that move up in octaves when you find a good spot that makes him melt further. 

Your hands slip down onto his broad, thick shoulders and knead with the pressure there, working him out. You’re no professional, but the amount of knots in his shoulders pains you a little.

He’s been holding on to a lot of tension for so long.  

Your brain wanders off to wondering about how he releases some of it. The back of your own neck becomes saturated as you linger in that wanton territory of Joel with those hands wrapped around his large, thick cock and grunting as he comes.

You wonder if he still makes the same face...

The sting of you biting down onto your lip pulls you out of that illicit thought. You can't help it; touching him again, finally having your hands on him, brings it all back and makes your need physical and corporeal. It's been so long.

Joel sighs out again; the sound speaking to the ache between your legs, communicating with it as you feel it more intensely.

More contented hums follow from him, putting invisible smooches on your skin as they land on you and flower.

And then Joel reaches for your right hand, pulling it round to his face and goes to run his nose against it, inhaling the natural perfume of your skin.

An action driven unconsciously in that dreamy moment of his hedonism and own need. You're certain he's going to kiss you there.

But he stops.

You hitch your breath at the contact of his hand on yours, so familiar, and yet so new. His hand is so warm, a little rough on the fingertips that grip gently around your wrist.

You close your eyes as you feel his breath waft over your palm.

Then you freeze when you feel his fingers push up your sleeve and catch him staring at the scar on your wrist as it’s revealed.

It’s long, puckered and massively obvious. The skinny, zagged pink line is vertical and was once dangerously deep.

Joel twists in the chair, the sound of the wicker slicing through you. His brown eyes are back in that alcove of his frown as they ward up at you questioning, swimming in fury, and it instantly becomes too much. 

You snatch back your wrist, breaking all contact with him as the dreamy spell shatters in reflective shards at your feet. 

“What happened?” He asks gently, tentatively.

You can still feel it, the strange lack of any pain sensation; just the release of pressure as the blade slid up and into your wrist with ease. You’d thought it would at least sear or burn. That you’d scream out in agony as it ripped apart the fibres of your sinewy flesh.

But you didn’t. Instead you just watched, with some acquired peace; peace that you’d longed for so desperately at the time, and welcomed it, as you slowly bled out. It felt like you were high, floating almost.

Kelper had saved you, the bastard. You’d beaten against his chest, crying and cursing him for doing so, but in hindsight, you know why he did it. It was so you could save him later. Save the others.

Even save yourself in some way.

And as you breathed life back into his body, you understood that it was just a cheat’s way out of this world. Although the world was scorched and desolate, there was still love and connection to be found.

And that was fucking worth living through it all. Had to be. Because there was fuck all else.

You swallow thickly, unsure of where to begin, how to revisit that fertile ground that you've dug up and re-soiled over again and again. 

“The same thing that happened there,” you swallow, tapping your right temple at him, and Joel senses the damage it would cause the both of you if he digs around that grave site, so he presses no further; just leaves withered roses on the ground before walking away.

Instead he sighs, and the frown that is so moulded into his features returns. “Ya needed me, so many times n’ I wasn’t there.” Joel utters. 

The scar, not leaving his sight, taunts him of his failures to protect yet another person he’d cared about from all the rot in the world. 

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” You sigh gently. "Supposed to, anyway."

You turn your wrist around and look down at the scar that you used to loathe. You try to remember what your skin looked like before it was there and you come up blank. It feels like it's always been a part of you, even before it was physical.

“I haven’t felt strong in a long time.” Joel whispers out, and your head turns to him. 

Jaded from years of craggy, cemented trauma, a hardened shell like the shirt pulled taught on his back sits heavy on him; even if it crushes him most days.

It's impenetrable, solid steel. Nuclear bomb proof. But you just witnessed him take the weight of it off for a second, lighten the load, and it leaves you paralysed to hear him say it.

In your head, you’re yelling at yourself to rush forward and scoop him up in your arms. But you sense he probably doesn't want that. Wouldn't know how to accept it and it pains you further.

“You’re stronger than you know. That’s why you’re still here.” You say, weakly. It's hard to believe that yourself some days.

He drops his head, his hands now a thick, clumsy ball of knots inside his lap and mulling over your words. He offers no words, but just the subtle shaking of his head as though you're wrong about that.

“Joel, I have to tell you something.” You begin with a little hesitation. But you can’t keep this from him. Not now.  

He looks up at you with some mild concern. “What?”

You roll your lips over one another; they’re dry, chapped and don’t taste like your own anymore. You feel your heartbeat quicken.

“Tommy told me about Sarah.” You reveal in a low tincture.

You see Joel's cheekbones flex by his ears as he grinds his teeth. “I figured he might.”

His own voice is toneless and it makes your bones ache to hear no music in it. 

“I know there’s nothing I can say-”

“I can’t,” he says, holding up a large palm and shaking his head. 

“You don’t have to.” You confirm. “You don’t ever have to. And I’ll never…” You trail off. Perhaps you should heed him and actually stop as you fumble around your words.

“You can say it.” Joel nudges you, his eyes sinking further back into his skull. 

You sit in the other chair beside him, dragging it close.

“I’ll never understand what it’s like. What it’s been like for you, without her."

"Ya never had any?" Deapite his warning, he asks you, and you shake your head.

"I bet she was incredible… But I do understand why-” you tap your scar, and he looks at it with a deeply etched sadness drawn on his face. “-Why you tried to make it stop.”

His expression makes your eyes water and you tell yourself to not falter, to not crack or break when he needs you now.

Endure and survive. Endure and fucking survive!

Joel reaches for your hand, resting it upright on his knee and trails his index finger lightly across the trench of the scar. It makes you shiver as you both watch him do it.

You feel the warmth flood through your body at breakneck speeds. Live through the way you shudder as your spine resets itself and you swallow like you're choking, dying.

He's killing you with a bare, featherlight touch and you can't abnegate yourself from heading to the light.

"Sometimes... it feels like we were never there. Was a dream, that life. I dreamt it. All of it. I dreamt her up... Must've, to have been so happy, so content. So fuckin' unprepared." Joel sniffs. "Then we just... lost it all. Everythin'. N' for what?"

His eyes find yours, his face softens and his fingers continue that gentle, heady contact. And you both sit there for what feels like an age, not speaking whilst he familiarises himself with your own pain. 

"This ain't survival. This is fuckin' Hell. And I couldn't even..." You hear him whisper to you as he shakes his head recalling his own failure. "I flinched. The bullet missed. I don't know why. Somethin' kept me here. Punishin' me."

You soon feel your fingers brushing against his wrist, and then interlocking with his digits. You both squeeze tightly against one another and neither one of you falters that grip.

Not even for a second.

Not even when your palms sweat and your fingers ache under the crush of him.

“I wish ya both could've met.” He utters, head bowed in the direction of your scar, and you see a single tear drip from his face and land on the thigh of his worn jeans. "She would've liked ya."

You squeeze his hand tighter, and he squeezes back. 

You don't say anything, because honestly, what can you say? Mere words are destitute. He carries more anger, more remorse; more guilt than a human being could ever drag the weight of behind them. It's crushing him on the daily.

Joel Miller had already crossed over into Hell and eternal damnation the moment Sarah was taken from him. He'd lost his baby girl. Ripped from his arms as he’d yelled at Tommy to help him frantically as she slipped away from her daddy's embrace; bled out all over him and he'd never felt more helpless. More alone.

He'd resided in that Hell on a daily basis; adding to his heavy life sentence with the onerous deeds he'd committed since. Heathen atrocities, blood stained hands, and stacks of faces haunt the darker trenches of his mind. Joel can never escape them.

There were things - depraved and animalistic things - you could never know about Joel, for he would never burden you with the horrors of their weight. Some of it's from a selfish point of view; he wouldn’t be able to stand the pity you’d tarnish him with.

Or the forgiveness.

He’d carry it all himself and save you that pressure, save you from the nightmares soaked in an iron tasting sweat. He'd been lost for a while, knuckles sheathed in the crimson of the innocent.

He had wielded a scythe and dealt the cards in the House’s favour. Death's bitch, who refused him an easy way out when he'd finished with him.

He’d done heinous, despicable things all in the name of survival and base instincts, that he was inherently ashamed of; carried demons that wouldn’t let him rest or sleep as they clawed at his face continuously.

And when he looks at your scar, it’s another thing to add to the pile of calcified bones that have mounted up behind him. 

He should have been there for you. Should have fought harder to find you. Tore up the world in his search. He should never have let you fucking go in the first place.

You can’t pull him out of that fiery torment, walk across the hot coals and lead him out by the hand, not fully. Your comprehension of it wouldn’t even begin to pierce through that layered steel.

But you offer a moment’s calm in the swirling hurricane as you reduce it to a gentle breeze. You stop that ice from creeping up into his heart and denying it of it's beating.

You silence that voice that convinces him he's going to die, alone.  

You squeeze Joel's hand and offer a moment or two for the hellfire to stop burning him and blistering his skin. You take his pain and pull blood soaked threads from it, finally speaking in a language that he can understand and respond back in fluently.

For a moment, you squeeze back. And that’s more than Joel will ever be able to ask for. 

To be continued...

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[denalidear]

Soft

a/n: here to feed your delusions once again. this one could be a two parter if anyone is interested. let me know :)

summary: drunk words are sober thoughts

word count: 1032

warnings: drunk will, mention of girlfriend and drinking, an appropriate amount of angst

- - -

It was hard; being his best friend right now. Every night for the past month or so around 12:30 am you’d get a call. Most of the time he just wanted to talk about his stream, how many viewers he had that night, what he’d done. Other times he asked you to come over. Those were the nights he hadn’t streamed. The ones he reserved to go out with Tommy and you. He’d always cancel plans about an hour before you’d meet - give some lame excuse about how his girlfriend wanted to stay in or he had to edit a video. Those were the calls you were dreading because you knew how you’d find him when you went to visit.

It was 2:49 am, this night. Your phone lit up with a photo of you two in central London you’d taken months ago, before he started dating this girl, but just after he broke up with the last one. Your eyes barely opened to make sure it was a call worth answering, but since it was him, you rolled onto your side and tapped the green button.

“Will, are you alright? It’s late.”

“She left me.” He mumbled, the wine or beer he had certainly been drinking almost seeped through the phone screen. “She left angry and texted me to say we were done.”

“Can I come over?” You were already slipping on shoes. A blurry ‘yes’ came through the speakers and you left your flat. Thankfully he was only around the block, and you kept him talking as you sped to him. “I’m here, come let me in.”

“It’s open. I’m up in the bedroom.” He spoke through the phone, sounding a little more aware than he had only ten minutes ago. It calmed the worry in your gut a bit, but the fact he’d left his doors unlocked while he was inebriated kept the knot in your stomach tight. Once you were inside you hung up the phone and shouted up to him.

“I’m just taking off my shoes!” carefully lining them up next to his - where her’s would normally be. You could hear a little shuffling upstairs but nothing that added to your concern. That is until you heard glass hit and shatter on the floor. You almost slipped as you raced up - soft socks and hardwood stairs not a good mix. “Will?”

“I’m ok.” He shouted from his room. “-is just my glass.” He was sprawled across his bed, arm outstretched to reach the table that had an open bottle of wine and now cup-less coaster. At least he cared for his furniture. His hair stuck to his forehead and you could tell he hadn’t gotten up in at least 8 hours, the blankets around him flattened from his long stay in bed.

“You’re not hurt?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally?” He smashed his face further into his pillows instead of answering.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You ask, carefully picking up the largest pieces of glass shards that had scattered across the floor. You grimaced at the small spots of red that had spattered on the light walls, making a mental note to clean it up when he was feeling better.

“We were drinking a bit at dinner. Something red that she’d wanted.” He curled his long body into himself as he recounted the evening's events. Wilbur was a sad drunk, but also a chatty one, so his story went on for a few minutes while you finished cleaning the glass. His eyes followed you as you moved about the room and he pulled his head up a bit once his story was finished.

Once the mess was cleaned, or at least the sharp shards put into the trash, you sat yourself by the edge of his bed and leaned your head in close to his. “How can I help you, Will?” You whispered to the man. He shrugged so you offered a few options. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe while you shower and sober up a bit?”

“I’ll shower but will you just sit outside? I don’t think I wanna be alone right now.” He whispered the last bit. You nodded and helped him up. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him, he wrapped his long arms around your waist and tucked his head into your stomach. Your hand pulled his head in, running your fingers through his hair.

“We’ll get through it. I know we will.” You spoke as he clung to you. “And hey, this means Lovejoy will get some really good songs after this, huh?” You teased as he pulled away. That put a smile on his face as he stood and lumbered to the bathroom. You took your place on the floor near the bathroom door and listened as Will rambled about whatever had happened on his last stream. You could hear the water hitting the floor as he washed his hair. Soon enough he was out and changed, pulling you into another hug.

“Better?” You asked him and he let out a deep breath.

“Yeah. Definitely still drunk though.” He mumbled into your hair. “Will you stay with me?”

“Do you think I have anything better to do at three in the morning?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged and pulled you into the bed with him. Once you got comfy he arranged his long limbs over you, resembling a starfish. A longboard sigh left his lungs as he nuzzled a little into his pillow. You realized at this moment this isn’t what best friends do. Best friends don’t cuddle or wait for the other to get out of the shower. Will’s breath steadied next to you as your mind began to swirl with thoughts as to what could cause that girl to leave such a soft and sweet man.

“It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it? The argument I mean.” You asked into the dark room, expecting an answer. Instead, you heard a quiet snore and realized that Will had fallen asleep, head tucked into your neck. Guess that conversation will have to happen tomorrow.

[bluestar22x]

A Bad Fall

Summary: Joel witnesses Ellie falling off a horse in Jackson

Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams (Joel POV)

Rating: 13+

Warnings: Mild injury, fowl language, worried!Joel

Word Count: 1,200 (ish)

Author’s Note: This is an AU to anything that happens in future seasons. Joel and Ellie's relationship has already been tested, but everything has been resolved between them. No spoilers for those who've never seen the games.

This was created for @solanumofthestars as part of cat and han's 2024 friendship exchange @swiftiscruff and posted early cause I goofed the date.

I know you love Joel and Ellie as much as I do, and I've wanted to do something for you for a while. Hope you enjoy. <3

xxx

March 2026

Jackson, Wyoming

He saw it happen. He'd been passing by the training round pen near Jackson's horse stable, headed back to his house after a long day on patrol when he realized Ellie was inside it, on the back of a young bay horse, unsupervised.

He recognized the animal as Shimmer, the filly who'd been practically a newborn foal when they had arrived in Jackson the very first time. The foal Ellie had latched onto and decided was hers upon their return the following spring. Now the filly was two, old enough and tall enough to start being ridden, but Joel knew for a fact that she hadn't been started yet.

"Ellie!" he shouted, and her head snapped in his direction, her jaw dropping slightly as soon as her eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I thought you weren't going to be back until nightfall," she admitted, looking far less guilty than Joel thought she should feel.

"Get off the horse, Ellie," he demanded as he approached the fence. "Meg hasn't even started training her yet. You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

He could almost see her mentally digging her heels in. "I should be the one training her. She trusts me most. Tommy assigned her to me."

"Yeah, and what do you know about training horses?" Joel asked. She went to speak but he interrupted her, knowingly, "That you didn't read out of a book."

She shut her mouth and glared at him. "I'm not a little kid anymore. I can do this, Joel. Let me do this."

Joel wanted to protest more, but what would be the point? Short of pulling her off Shimmer, he really couldn't do anything to stop her, and if he did do that he'd just sour their relationship, a relationship that had previously gone through a rough patch due to a decision he'd made for her a couple years back.

"Alright," he said hesitantly, despite his gut telling him he shouldn't have given in. "But I'm staying."

"Fine," Ellie said, her expression relaxing. She adjusted herself in the horse's saddle and turned her focus back to her. "Now, where were we Shimmer? Yeah, we were just about to walk, right?"

She carefully pressed her heels against the filly's hide, and Shimmer snorted and pawed at the ground anxiously, confused by the pressure and not liking it. It took a few tries, but eventually the filly stepped away from the sensation and Ellie immediately took her heels off of her.

"Good job!" she cooed proudly, bending to pat Shimmer's neck. "Knew you could do it."

Joel barely had time to smile at the sight before him when snow suddenly slid off the stable roof in bulk, and several of the horses in the surrounding paddocks shied away from the commotion.

Shimmer also bolted away from the quick movement and noise. She went one way and Ellie, who'd been caught off guard, flew the other, landing hard on the frozen ground, her left arm pinned underneath her.

Panic surged in Joel's chest. "Ellie!"

He jumped the fence and raced to her side to cup her face, meeting her eyes with his concerned ones. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

She grimaced as she pushed herself up into a sit, and shook her head. "I'm fine, Joel."

"Your face says otherwise."

"My arm's just a bit sore." She rubbed at her shoulder and hissed.

"Let me see," Joel insisted, and she gingerly slipped her left arm out of her winter jacket and tugged on the neckline of her long sleeved shirt so that the top of her shoulder was revealed.

There was a redness there, inflammation already setting in.

"How bad does it hurt?" he inquired.

"Not that bad," she assured him. "Hurt a lot worst when I tumbled off Callus."

Callus had been the horse they'd taken on their journey to the university. He'd been killed by a cult they had met along the way. The mere mention of the horse had Joel swallowing hard. Those had been agonizing days. He could still clearly remember the throbbing of his infected stab wound and the terror he'd felt searching for Ellie, not knowing what shape he'd find her in.

"You're probably going to have a nasty bruise there," Joel guessed. "But it could've been a lot worst."

"I know," Ellie moaned. "You're not going to let me back on her again, are you?"

"Not until Meg says she's ready," Joel said firmly.

She released a defeated sigh. "Fine."

Joel helped her to her feet and walked over to where Shimmer was now standing and collected her reins. "Stay here. I'm gonna untack her and we're going to put ice on that. Should help keep the swelling down."

Ellie nodded and watched him as he got to work, throwing Shimmer's saddle on the fence and setting her free from her bridle once she was in a paddock with several other mares.

She quietly followed Joel home, kicking rocks as she went, left arm hugged protectively against her chest, and plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table as soon as they slipped inside the house.

As she got comfortable Joel headed for the freezer with a baggie in hand, and filled it up with cubed ice from a tray before insulating it with a clean, thin dish cloth.

He carried it over to Ellie and handed it to her, gesturing for her to press it against her shoulder. When she did, he sat down next to her.

She chewed on her lip as they sat in silence, reminding Joel of when they first met, when she didn't look like the young woman she would soon be. Time had flown too fast in Jackson.

"I'm sorry," she said eventually. "It was a stupid idea. But I...I'm still struggling, with everything. I'm still figuring out how to be useful."

Joel wanted to tell her she didn't need to be, but he couldn't. After all, he had spent most of his life doing everything possible to be exactly that. To provide for and protect his loved ones. Usefulness, purpose, it was a need people had hardly talked about before the outbreak, but most had strived for it in one way or another, often times through parenthood.

"It wasn't stupid," he told her. "Even expert riders fall off sometimes. And you were makin' progress. Just, please, talk to Meg. Get her to give you some more riding lessons before you help her with Shimmer. Then maybe someday you can be the local horse trainer."

"You think?" Ellie questioned, looking hopeful.

"If you want," Joel replied. "You've got a lot of options."

She nodded. "Okay, I'll do that."

"Great," Joel said, pushing back his seat so he could stand again. "You wanna take this in the living room? I borrowed Jurassic Park from the DVD section at the library again."

Ellie lit up. Jurassic Park was one of her favorite films, only secondary to a few science fiction movies about astronauts exploring space.

"Hell yeah!" she hooted.

Joel smiled.

She was clearly feeling better already.

xxx

Others Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[georgieluz]

HBOWAR OC MASTERLIST

OLIVER HARDWICK

intelligence officer, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: lewis nixon | tag: #oc: oliver hardwick

"you'll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke"

new yorker. former literature and latin student at university. mischievous. wealthy. playful. rakish, maybe even roguish, some might say, in a pretty boy kind of way. think: old money with a rebellious streak. massive ballrooms contrasted with secret parties in tiny apartments. flowing champagne. screaming drunkenly from the deck of a yacht. rage rage and more rage, so much rage. the subtle glare of disapproval from a calculating parent. a disdain for authority and taking orders. winter scarves in every colour, but especially red. kissing older men. dancing until you can't remember your family name. the simultaneous fascination and disappointment your friends and peers feel toward you. running away as a child and nobody even noticing you're gone. picking oranges in the mediterranean. freezing cold new york winters. spinning around in the rain. being too smart for your own good. self-sabotage. self-loathing. self-destruction.

playlist: tell me i'm an angel

TOMMY MONET

private first class, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: joseph liebgott | tag: #oc: tommy monet

"the silence that you're hearing is turning into a deafening, painful, shameful roar"

bostoner. from the wrong side of the tracks. barely got a high school diploma. former teenage nuisance. poet. fuelled by coffee and homeric similes. friends with every cat in the neighbourhood. talks to his cat badger more than other people. think: scrappy. argumentative. observant. smart but wishes he wasn't. hot black coffee running through his veins. flannel shirts. a backpack full of books. a hardshell exterior and deep, deep repression. running races down the railroad tracks until you're completely breathless. smoking because you don't know what else to do with your hands. irritable, but usually with a smile and a hefty dose of sarcasm. fuck the elite. no one can hurt me if they can't get near me. insecurities? what are those? who needs a father anyway.

playlist: let down and hanging around

CHARLIE SCOTT

private first class, how company (the pacific)

ship: bill "hoosier" smith | tag: #oc: charlie scott

"come ease my slumber, sink me into sleep"

mornings spent next to the river. cigarettes for breakfast. brushing the sand out of dark hair. journals filled to the brim. training as a car mechanic. hands coated with oil. overalls tied around your waist. a sarcasm-filled whisper in your ear. a hand gripping yours through the barrage of bombs every night. eyes searching for you as you cross every battlefield. dramatic readings of your stream of conscious poetry until something hits. adopting the dog that you found in the middle of battle. missing the diners you always claimed to hate. wanting nothing more than to run back to the mountains you hiked growing up. realising you never want to visit a beach again. longing for the quiet peacefulness of a lake.

playlist: i once warmed my hands

RHYS LLEWYD

corpsman, king company (the pacific)

ship: eddie jones | tag: #oc: rhys llewyd

"torn down, full of aching, somehow our youth will take the blame"

welsh born, new hampshire raised. gentle hands, sharp eyes. soft-spoken. welsh-lilted american accent. the messiest bedhead you'll ever see. enjoys watching people mispronounce his surname. touch-starved for something more than bleeding guts and bullet wounds. sage green and lavender. realising you never wanted to study medicine in the first place. cloudgazing. comic books shoved into pockets. an impeccable dancer who will never show it. can't handle his alcohol but drinks anyway. misses trees, and grass, and greenery. hands touching beneath the library table. a pile of books next to your bed. the scent of sugar and honey contrasted with the blood dripping from your hands.

playlist: fade me away

MAX JACOBS

platoon scout sniper, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: brad colbert | tag: #oc: max jacobs

"there's nothing wrong with me, this is how i'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me"

deadly aim, with a smile to match. skate parks and 7-11s. worn out chuck taylors. suburban fuckery. sneaking out of your bedroom window at 2am. driving out as far as you can because you've got nothing better to do. desperately wanting to escape your town at any cost. sony walkman cd player attached to your belt at all times. fuck the system (but you're in the system). laughing in the face of everything and anything. empty red bull cans littered across the room. kissing boys in empty car parks. getting your fists bloody when the homophobes arrive. taking on the world with nothing but bruised knees and a stick of gum.

playlist: and when we go, don't blame us

MATTHEW "MATTY" CARTER

corporal, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: ray person | tag: #oc: matty carter

"tracksuits and red wine, movies for two, we'll take off our phones, and we'll turn off our shoes. we'll play nintendo, though i always lose, 'cause you watch the tv, while i'm watching you. dumb conversation, we lose track of time, have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine. there's nothing like doing nothing with you"

missouri summers. friends who fall somewhere between platonic and something more. pizza nights. staying up until 4am playing uno. laughing so hard your ribs hurt. realising you're a little bit in love with your best friend. following him to the marine corps. losing far too much money playing pool. camping in the rain. smiles so wide. watching the lost boys so many times you can quote every line. sharing hoodies. the colour orange. instant messaging into the early hours. the sunrise laughing as you fall asleep. promises of running away together. fingers in soft wavy hair. ice cold lemonade. the ghost of a confession.

playlist: do you think of me?

CALEB DAWSON

architecture student, hacker, archer (band of brothers zombie au)

ship: ron speirs | tag: #oc: caleb dawson

"yes, it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in"

sketching buildings from the window of hotel rooms. mugs of cold coffee left on every surface. counting to ten before you open a door. endless recurve vs compound pettiness. the fucking audacity of life. talking with your hands. sarcasm as a first language. stubborn and unyielding, but fiercely protective. clinging to a pencil and paper as a lifeline. realising it's easier to push your buttons than you thought. jokes. lots of jokes. witty one liners. deep, deep inner conflict. bitterness coating your tongue with every word. being suspicious of newcomers but bound to your own sense of loyalties and vulnerabilities. trying desperately to hide every aspect of your gentleness, but feeling it leak through in every moment. being ashamed of your dreams and ambitions. feeling the cracks break open every day, but bottling it up all the same. waiting alone in hotel rooms wondering if your dad will come back for you this time. being taught to hack at twelve years old. finally escaping the only life you've ever really known only to find that a virus outbreak has mutated and changed the world forever. unravelling dreams.

playlist: one wink at a time

ARCHIE SULLIVAN

RAF pilot / lancaster bomber (masters of the air)

ship: bucky egan | tag: #oc: archie sullivan

"wild lovers never get the blues"

flying too close to the moon, "you look pretty in blue", piles of unopened letters thrown in a corner, easy laughs, easier smiles, falling asleep on the wing of your plane, cycling to the pub with your best friend in the pouring rain, turning annoyance into endearment, a pint and a ginger beer please, escaping to the beaches of east anglia on a weekend pass, puppy dog eyes the size of jupiter, pettiness, so so much pettiness, challenging just about everyone you've ever met, thinking you might just be the greatest darts player in all of england, a good ol' dose of the great british repression, yet accidentally flirting with almost everyone you meet, running so far away from home that you ended up in the clouds

playlist: to the top of the big night sky

if you want to read about the ocs from my hbo war f1 au please head over to this post. the ocs there are all platonic ocs, but have a lot of presence in the world and narrative, and if you'd like to see my ocs for top gun, then you can find them on my sideblog here

[lxstbxyscave23]

I’ve got you ~Billy Hargrove x f!Reader~

Part one here<3

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓:

It’s been a few weeks since Billy defended you. Billy missed three days of school. Not even at the pool. No sign of him. What do you do when he shows up at your window bruised and bloody?

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌:

Blood, bruises, graphic explanations. Abuse, Emotional, Fluff, Arguing. Fighting. Billy crying. Foul language. Flirting. Kissing. Spelling errors!!!

Requested? No.

“Chapter two?” Yes.

It’s been two weeks since Billy beat the crap out of Tommy H. It spread faster than the plague and everybody was talking about it. Hopper was a very good friend of your parents. He was always getting your brothers out of trouble when they pulled ragers or got into fights. He was basically your dads best friend.

Today was Thursday and you haven’t seen Billy. He hasn’t showed up the past three days and you were starting to worry. You got out your car and walked into school. You and Billy have gotten closer. Whenever a guy threatened you he was there to get in their face. It’s not that you couldn’t handle it yourself. Or that you couldn’t call up your brothers. He just felt the need to protect you.

Don’t get me wrong, you could totally handle it yourself, you were strong. Your figure wasn’t slim nor wide. Your hips were nice and curvy and you had a tiny waist. You had a bit of a tummy but that didn’t mean you were chubby. You just didn’t look like fighting type. But people were terribly mistaken when you’d fight. Last year a girl walked past you and bumped your shoulder. She told you to watch it. When she continued to threaten you is when you had enough. You finally punched her in her face and hit her with a perfect uppercut.

She didn’t mess with you anymore after that. Now you got bullied by Tina and Carol but that didn’t stop you from going on in life. Sure you wanted to round house all of those fuckers who hurt you, and someday you will. But today wasn’t the day.

You roamed your eyes over the crowd of teens trying to at least spot Billy. But to your luck, nothing. Billy was nowhere to be seen. ‘He’ll probably show up later..’ You thought to yourself. Except he didn’t. He never showed up. Not at lunch. Not in the gym. And sure as hell not in the parking lot. You felt your heart drop a little, what if something happened to him? It’s probably nothing..Right?

The bell rang and everyone ran out the class. The parking lot filled with teens heading to their car with their friends or walking to the bus. You just walked to your car and got in driving home. For some reason you had a gut feeling to go check on Billy. But you pushed it past you and drove home. Benny, Your brother, was outside with your dad.

They both stood on the front porch waiting for you to pull in. You pulled into the driveway and parked your car getting out and waving at them. “Hi dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He said staring at me. Grabbing your backpack out the car you walked up the steps and smiled at them. “What’s going on?” You asked when your brother Benny was staring at you with hard eyes. “A little birdie told us that you’ve been having trouble at school.” Your dad said knitting his eyebrows together. You sighed rolling your eyes.

“Who’s the birdie?” You were a little upset someone told your dad and Benny. Next thing you know your two other brothers come out the screen door. “Yeah who’s giving you trouble?” Lunar asked with an angry tone. Danny just as mad when he said “Do we need to break some noses?”You laughed a little, you loved your family so much.

“No just some stupid boys and their girlfriends.” You shrugged. “So we need to mess with them a little? Roughen them up?” Benny asked with his fists balled. “No, it’s fine..” You wanted to sound sincere but your voice crack screwed that up. You did want them to show them boys not to mess with you. But you didn’t wanna seem like a wuss.

“How old are they?” Your dad asks. “Seventeen.”

“Shit, im seventeen too.” Lunar said who was indeed 21. You all laughed but still the tension was growing. They wanted to fuck with those kids. “It’s whatever, please just leave it alone okay?” You quirked a brow making sure they understood. They all nodded but that didn’t mean they weren’t gonna watch out for you when you aren’t looking.

You did feel a little embarrassed, your brothers and dad finding out that you’re not having the best time in school, that people don’t like you. I mean people liked you but not popular people. Well Billy does and that’s really all the people you need to like you ‘cuz who needs people to make their life better?! Not you! You walked into the house and ran up into your room. You face planted onto the bed. “Ugh, so embarrassing!”

Plopping on your headphones and playing Pink Floyd.

You grabbed your sketchbook and started sketching whatever came to mind. Kurt Cobain came to mind. So you started sketching him. He was playing his guitar as you drew his hair falling into his face. He is wearing a black and red striped shirt. You finally decided to just go for a nice walk. You opened your closet and grabbed some night shorts though you didn’t mind wearing them while out. You grabbed Eddie’s ‘Hellfire club’ shirt that he let you borrow. You ran down stairs and out the door.

“Where you goin?” Your dad asked with Danny sitting next to him. “For a walk.” He nodded and you went on your way down the street. You were walking around the neighborhood when you saw Max running down the street. “Hey Max what’s up?” You asked concerned, she looked frantic. “Uh nothing!” She ran past you. You turn around and watched as she ran past your house. That was weird. You had an odd feeling in your stomach.

Two hours had passed and it was getting dark.

You decided it was time to head home, you skipped one last rock into the lake and walked off seeing as it skipped five times. You saw a car zoom past you while you walked on the side walk. You stare at the car and read the license plate for no reason just because you wanted too. It was a nice car I guess you could say but it had a large scratch on the passenger side. It was a long walk back and when you got home your brothers and dad were waiting in the driveway.

“Damn, Here we go again..” You groaned and moped as you walked over to them. “What gives?”

“Where were you? You were gone for two ‘n a half hours!” Your dad scolded. “Dad, I just went to the lake and skipped a few rocks that’s all!” You yell a little. “Don’t raise your voice with me, we were worried sick! You could’ve at least told us how long you would be before walking off.” He scolded once again. “You never asked.” You shrugged. “Stop copping an attitude with dad.” Lunar said sternly.

“Sorry dad, I just wanted to get my mind off things and didn’t know how long I’d be gone until I realized it’s been two hours.” You said more mature than before.

“It’s okay kiddo, just don’t do that again okay?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. You went to walk past your brothers when Benny pushed you with his hand. “Next time don’t talk back to dad like that.” He said to you with an annoyed face. “Whatever.” You said slouching your shoulders. “Hey, don’t act like that.” Benny said gripping your shoulder. You and Benny haven’t argued or fought in a while. None of you guys have, but today might be the day it starts back up again. Dad walked off into the house before anything happened. Danny walked into the garage. Lunar watching you two very closely.

“Leave her alone Benny.” Lunar said. He was the most reasonable guy in your family besides your dad. He let go of your shoulder and apologized for acting out. “Sorry, we haven’t fought in so long and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It’s okay Benny, I understand.” You softly smiled and he nodded walking off. “I have no idea what got into him lil sis.” He said laughing a little in which you returned.

“I’m going up to my room if anyone needs me i’ll be there.” You said jogging into the house. You took off your shoes and laid back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling. Seeing the Vince poster.

You smiled and grabbed your sketch book again, finishing what you started. You decided to add just a little color and busted out your coloring box. You colored the shirt and his pants. The guitar looked exactly like the one he used. Giving the background some shading and leaving it at that. You signed your signature at the bottom just to feel fancy. It was completely dark out your window. You heard a tap and you shot your head up at the window.

There he was.

Billy Hargrove, in the flesh.

You couldn’t see him that clearly but you got up eagerly to scold him for skipping three days of school. But your heart skipped a beat when you pulled the window doors open. He stared at you, red teary eyes. Split lip, cut eyebrow, bruised cheekbone and a swollen red eye that was soon to be purple.

“B-billy!” You gasped as he jumped through your window. You turned around after shutting the window and seeing him right behind you, staring down at you. “What happened?” You touched his cheek. “My..dad.” He whispered to you. Your heart dropped. “He did this to you?!” Your heart was aching for him. He was wearing a white tank top and denim jeans. The tank top was partially ripped and had just a tiny little blood stain on it, guessing from his bloody nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, pushing your hand on his chest and pushed him down gently onto your bed. You pulled away to grab a first aid kit under your bed. His hands were in his lap as he stared down at the floor. “I’m fine.” He finally spoke up. You paused and looked at him. You stood up slowly and stood between his legs, your arms came up and wrapped behind his head pulling him into you. He gladly wrapped his arms tightly around your hips. “Im so sorry this happened to you Billy..” You whispered into his ear.

He just wanted to be here with you, holding you to him and laying down forgetting about the world.

“It’s fine, I can somewhat take it.” Your hands were tangled in his curls. You hesitantly kissed the top of his head. Making him pull away slightly and look up at you. “Sorry- Uh.” You felt stupid doing that, he was quick with his words. “No it’s okay!” He stood up and pulled you to him. Lifting your chin up to face him.

He leaned in and kissed your lips softly, it was passionate not rough like the other kisses you’ve had from guys. He brushed hair out of your face. He smiled when he saw blush plastered on your cheeks. Your hand came up and cupped his cheek.

“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up.”

He nodded as he sat down on your bed, this time his head resting on your head board. You set the kit beside him and sat on your knees between his legs. “Is that Eddie’s shirt?” He glanced up at you. You looked down as if you forgot you had it on. “Yeah.” You said grabbing these long Q-tips and dipping it in anti-biotics, It looked like petroleum jelly. “It’s ugly, just saying.” He shrugged obviously jealous. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

You clean his cuts up with disinfection spray. Then applying the antibiotic on them. He said it stung but he was just being a baby, enjoying you take care of him. You finished everything up and put a tiny band aid on his eyebrow and cheek bone cut. You quickly pecked his lips and got up running into the bathroom to clean your hands. He quickly followed after you. Staring at you in the door frame.

You thought you got away with the kiss. But he was quick to pick you up and set you on the sink. He kissed you roughly this time and grabbed your thighs pulling you into him. You felt him and got flustered. You didn’t wanna ruin the mood but you wanted to know what happened. Why did his father hurt him? So you pulled away softly. He looked down at you and grinned. “Uh..What happened exactly?” You questioned looking anywhere but his gaze. He was quiet for a while rethinking the previous events.

“When he got wind of the Mall situation he was pissed, so he took his anger out on me. That why I didn’t come to school for three days. But when he found out he beat the crap out of me. So I ran here, Im sorry I just didn’t know where else to-“ You cut him off.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you came to me and no one else..I’m furious that he did this to you!” You said getting angry and balling your fists. You knew you couldn’t just fight his dad. So you hopped off the counter and grabbed his hand leading him to your door. “Woah, we’re not going down there are we?” He said coming to an abrupt stop. “Yes we need to go talk to my family Billy.” You pulled him on in which he didn’t budge. “I don’t want you or your family to get involved in this, this is my problem. Fuck! I shouldn’t have came here and involved you!” He cursed hitting the wall with his palm.

“You just did.” You said referring to him hitting the wall. Next thing you know your dads calling you down. “Yes dad?” You said opening your door. “Come down here, what was that!” Billy cursed himself and rolled his eyes slightly. “C’mon.” You whispered to Billy and dragged him down the stairs. Your family was in the kitchen.

Your mom was out, as usual. She was never really home. You pulled Billy into the kitchen as everybody stared at him. Your three older brothers stood up abruptly and walked over to Billy. Benny was first to get into his face. You stood between them and pushed Benny back. Your dad walked over to you guys. “What the fuck were you doing up in my little sisters room!” Benny shouted at him. Billy got into his face as Benny pushed me out the way. Danny catching me and holding me up straight. Now Lunar was also in his face.

“Stop! Get away from him!” You yelled at them. They just stared at him, nostrils flaring. “Dad tell them to stop!” You whined as Danny held you back. “Alright. That’s enough leave the kid alone.”

They grunted and back away from him. Danny letting You go you stood beside Billy and held his hand. He stared at your dad not daring to yell at him or even raise a finger. “What’s your name.” He asked in which Billy replied, “Billy sir.” “What were you doing up in my daughters room?” He questioned way too calm. “Sir, She was just fixing up my cuts.” He said being as polite as possible to your father. “What happened to your face?” Your dad asked. “Uh.” Billy felt uncomfortable. So you stepped in. “Dad, we didn’t do anything I swear, I just helped him with his cuts.” You accidentally pushed into his side, he groaned and clutched his side. Your brothers and your dads eyes shot to him and they all made a confused face.

“Is it okay if I tell him, he’ll help you I swear. Everything will be okay.” You reassured him. He nodded looking down at you. “Hey..Wait, why’d you clutch your side?“ You finally remembered and asked him. “Y’know..” He said pointing to his face a little. You made an ‘Oh’ face. But your eyes filled with sadness. You looked back to your dad and brothers “So..The reason why he is here and his face has cuts and bruises is because..his father did this to him..” Danny was first to realize. Seeing how he told you about it.

“What do you mean?” Your father said concerned.

Billy lifted his wife beater a little and showed the very big crucial bruises on his torso. You gasped as you looked at them. Your brothers stared down at them with hard gazes still. “His dad..hits him.” Their faces all softened and they felt bad for getting in his face. “I’m sorry son.” Your father was quick to apologize for everything. “No, my fault sir, I shouldn’t have snuck into your daughters room.” He was actually being a gentlemen. “Yeah, well it’s alright I trust my daughter not to do anything.” You softly smile.

“Dad..We have to do something about it!” You complained. “No, it’s really fine. I don’t mean to involve any of you. This is my problem..I just need to man up.” Billy was using his fathers words. There was nothing wrong with Billy but he for some reason got the wrong end of the wishbone.

“Son, no one deserves to have to go through what you go through.” Your dad started. “We need to do something about it.” He finished. “I’ll grab my gun” Danny piped up. “No.” Your dad said shaking his head. “We’ll deal with this like men.” He finished saying. “C’mon.” Your dad walked to the family car, your brothers jumped in. “Y/n, you stay here with Billy.” You nodded as they drove off. You grabbed Billy’s hand and led him back into the house.

“Where are they going?” Billy asked you confused. “‘T beat the shit out of your dad.” You said plainly. He laughed a little but you could see he was still a little down. Every time he turned a certain way he’d clutch his side. “Come sit down, I’ll fix you up something to eat.” He sat down on the high chairs watching as you walked into the kitchen and prepare dinner. You pulled out hamburger helper and decided to make stroganoff.

Prepping everything you got everything done.

“So you cook?” Billy grinned.

“I guess you could say that.” You smiled back and stirred it around. “So you’re good with your hands huh?” He asked smirking. You looked up at him through your lashes. “Wanna find out?”

“Yes I do.” He stared at you so seductively.

Ready to just eat you.

“Just kidding.” You said laughing as you served him a bowl and grabbed him a fork. You grabbed a Coke out the fridge and handed them to him.

“I’ll get you for that, don’t worry doll.” He teased you. You roll your eyes and watch as he eats. “Damn this is good.“ He gobbles it all up and popped his Coke open.

An hour went by and You started to get worried, they aren’t back yet and you and Billy are sitting on the couch watching whatever’s on. Just as you thought about calling your dads cell, the door opened to reveal your three brothers and dad. You jumped up to see if they were okay. “What happened?” You asked as you saw a few cuts on Lunar. “We showed up to his house, He was there by himself, so we gave him a few good lickings.”

Your dad said, your whole family was muscular, except your mom. They got it from Dad. “How’d you find the place?” Billy questioned standing by your side. “Well i’ve seen him around and I passed by his house one time and saw him in the front yard.”

“Are you guys okay?” “Of course we are sweet heart.” Your dad chuckled as he plopped onto the couch. “Why are you all beat up? And not them?” You asked Lunar. “I had my first go with him and he put on a good fight, but after that we just stomped him.” He said proudly. Lunar wore glasses and you were surprised to see they were broken. “Really Lunar? Didn’t take off your glasses?” You rolled your eyes as he bursted out into laughter.

“Yeah kind of forgot..” He scratched his head.

“There’s stroganoff in the kitchen if you guys are hungry.” You said sitting down on the couch along with Billy. He held your hand close to him and watched the tv.

“Starving.” All three said and walked off to eat.

People who just finished this:

———————————————————————————————————

I hope you guys enjoyed this, I had an idea going but then got distracted a lot so sorry for the late post. If you guys would like to see another story or anything specific click the ‘Ask me anything’ Button and ask on! Thank you all for reading this and showing love to the first one.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 8: Meant to Be

A/N: This is it! The final chapter! Thanks to everyone for supporting this one for so many weeks! Read on AO3

“What if Tommy fires me?”

They’re curled up in T.K.’s bunk after another long day. His leg is slotted between T.K.’s and T.K.’s head is pillowed on his chest. One of Carlos’ arms is falling asleep and there’s a crick in his neck from staying in one position for too long. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but Carlos couldn’t care less. He’s nervous, and he needs the physical reassurance of the two of them being together.

His six weeks are up. And he’s done good work, work he’s proud of, work he thinks the guests and crew have all appreciated. But yachting is fickle, and there’s no guarantee that Tommy is going to ask him to stay on when he meets with her tomorrow.

T.K. stops moving his hand up and down Carlos’ stomach and tilts his head up so he can look at him. “She’s not going to fire you.”

“I sent that lady’s steak up medium even though she specifically put on her preference sheet that she wanted well done. And that birthday cake for the third charter. It was leaning to the side because the buttercream was too soft.”

“Babe.” T.K. gives him a look. “Those are not fireable offenses. You didn’t punch a guest or do damage to the boat or threaten mutiny.”

“I set the kitchen on fire.”

“You did not! That was a wiring issue!”

Carlos groans and rubs a hand across his face. “People have been fired for less.”

“Not on the Firebug. It’s going to be fine, I promise. Tommy is going to sing your praises and offer to keep you on in perpetuity.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Carlos insists. “What if she has someone else in mind and I have to leave?”

“Like another one of Iris’ ex-husbands?”

“T.K.”

“Carlos.”

He chews the inside of his cheek. He’s scared to ask, but he has to know. “If I have to leave, are we going to…?”

They’ve only been together a month. Long distance boatmances don’t work. Ever. People get bored, people get lonely, people cheat…it’s not if they’d break up, it’s when. And it feels like his heart is cracking in half even thinking about it.

T.K. is quiet. So quiet that Carlos starts to panic even more intensely. He’s about to open his mouth to beg T.K. not to break his heart, but then T.K. says, “I won’t let you go.”

Carlos’ heart stops. Words won’t come, that spark that T.K. puts into his gut intensifying to a point that he can barely breathe.

“If Tommy fires you then I won’t let you go,” T.K. repeats. “I don’t…I don’t know how that would work. But I wouldn’t let you just leave.”

He sits up fully, looking agitated now. “I can’t—I don’t want you to go. I don’t want this to be over. Do you?”

Carlos sits up too, careful not to hit his head this time. “No, T.K. No I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave any of this. I—the way I feel about you, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’m not, I’m not trying to freak you out but, I—“

The word “love” sticks in his throat, not quite ready to come out yet, even though it’s all he can feel radiating through his entire body. “I care about you so much,” he says instead. “I want to be with you.”

“Then stay,” T.K. almost whispers the words. “If Tommy tells you that you have to go, then find a way to stay anyway.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! You’ve seen Titanic, right? Stowaway below deck or something. Get creative!”

That gets a half a chuckle out of Carlos. “Okay.”

“Thank you. Good.” 

Some of the tension melts out of the room. “She’s not going to make you leave though,” T.K. assures him again. “She’s going to tell you to stay, probably going to beg you to stay. So can we go to sleep now and stop worrying about it now?”

They settle back down, shifting their bodies until they’re comfortably entwined again. T.K. lets out a sigh and snuggles into Carlos’ chest clearly content. 

Carlos stares at the bottom of the top bunk, his mind still tumbling around and over itself. He’s not going to be able to sleep. 

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” T.K. says.

“Yes,” Carlos sighs. “Sorry.”

T.K.’s lips find the skin of his right pec. “How about now?” he murmurs.

A shiver goes down Carlos’ spine. “Still thinking.”

T.K. lifts his head and traces the shell of Carlos’ ear with the tip of his nose, his warm breath fanning down Carlos’ neck. “Now?”

“A little bit.”

“Mmm, I guess I’m going to have to resort to more drastic measures.”

He trails a finger down Carlos’ stomach and Carlos sucks in a breath. “Starting to forget,” he says, his voice catching.

“Good.” T.K.’s hand slips beneath his boxers and Carlos lets out a small, “Oh”— his eyes closing as T.K. takes hold of his body and his mind.

T.K. hums contentedly. “Now that’s more like it.”

It works in the moment, but by morning the anxiety starts creeping back in. Which is how he finds himself deep cleaning the fridge so he can put off his meeting with Tommy just a little bit longer. 

He wrinkles his nose as he reaches deep inside and finds the offending leftovers that have been stinking up the place. He rolls his eyes when he sees Mateo’s name on the takeout container and doesn’t bother opening it before pitching it into the large black trash bag at his feet, already full of other expired, half eaten, or slowly rotting food. 

He’s been at it for an hour and the fridge is practically gleaming at this point. So is the rest of the galley for that matter. He’s running out of excuses to avoid going to the bridge. 

He takes the garbage out to the dock and then comes back in, washing his hands in the sink as slowly as possible.

“Hey.” Iris pokes her head in. “Did you go see Tommy yet?”

Carlos just looks at her.

“Coward.”

“I know.”

“She’s going to ask you to stay.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. I just know it.”

Carlos sighs. “Why do you and T.K. both think you know what’s going on in Tommy’s head? You’re not in her mind. You can’t know for sure.”

“Because we both know you’re a fucking good chef and Tommy’s a fucking smart captain and she’s going to stupidly fucking fire you.”

Her words do not help. “I don’t want to go back to the Precinct,” he says, feeling slightly ill at the thought.

“You won’t have to. Buck up and go talk to her.”

Carlos shifts his weight nervously. “I will. I’m just going to deep clean the oven first.”

“Oh no you’re not.”

She grabs his arm with surprising strength and pulls him toward the stairs. “Let’s go Reyes. Texans are a lot of things, but we’re not lily livered.”

“Okay, ow! Let go of me!”

She releases him and he rubs at his arm. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

“Oh please. Like you and T.K. haven’t been up to worse.”

His face heats and she pushes him toward the staircase. “Go. Get it over with.”

With no choice left he trudges up the stairs alone. Acid pools in the pit of his stomach as he knocks on the bridge’s door. “Captain?” he says quietly, poking his head inside.

“Carlos! Come on in,” she says warmly, setting aside a laptop on which Carlos assumes she has been doing captain things.

“I brought you some Mexican wedding cookies,” he says offering her a plate. 

He’s not above bribery.

“Oh thank you! They look incredible,” she says, taking them from his hands. “You really are so talented.”

“Thank you,” Carlos replies, worry still twisting back and forth inside of him.

She fixes him with the kind of mom look that says she can see right through him. He resists the urge to squirm uncomfortably. “So Carlos, how have you enjoyed your time on the Firebug so far?” she asks. 

“It’s been great,” he says honestly. “This crew is amazing. I’ve felt very welcome.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been very impressed by your work here. I know we said initially that we would do a trial period of six weeks. And you’ve clearly proven your worth several times over. So Carlos,” she straightens up, looking a little more formal, “I’d like to officially offer you a contract to become part of our full time crew.”

“Yes.” The word comes out of his mouth so fast it surprises them both. “I mean, yes, thank you I’d like that.”

She smiles. “Good. Because if I have to go the rest of my life without your abuela’s ropa vieja, I might die. Not to mention I’m pretty sure I’d have one very sad and lonely second stew on my hands.” Her eyes twinkle and Carlos tries not to look embarrassed.

“Captain—Tommy,” he amends. “I really, I can’t thank you enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a job where I felt so welcome and I—thank you for letting me stay.”

“Thank you for being the best chef I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. Both in talent and temperament.” She nods toward the door. “You’d better go tell T.K. He keeps coming up here with ‘questions’ for me that are thinly veiled attempts at trying to figure out if I’m asking you to stay on.”

Carlos huffs out a laugh. “That sounds about right.”

“And he wasn’t the only one. It’s felt like I have a revolving door on this place all morning. If I’d decided not to keep you, I might have had a mutiny on my hands.”

Warmth blooms in his chest. They like him. They want him to stay.

And he likes them too.

“Thank you Tommy,” he says, her name firm and clear this time as he stands and shakes her hand.

“You’re welcome. Now get out of here. Go find your man.”

He thumbs his radio as he heads back down the stairs, this time much lighter and bouncier than on his way up. “T.K., T.K., Carlos, what is your location?”

It’s not T.K. who answers. Instead Paul’s voice drawls across the radio waves. “Ooooooh must be good news if he’s looking for his boyfriend so fast!”

“Yes! The tamale master lives!” Mateo squawks.

“Oh thank god. I cannot deal with another chef with an ego,” Nancy says.

“You owe me Reyes,” Iris pipes up.

“Ahhh true love lives!” Marjan’s excitement is palpable even over the radio’s static.

“Ya’ll stop teasing him or he’s gonna leave us for some other boat,” Judd admonishes. “Your boy is up top Reyes. Glad you’re sticking around.”

Carlos immediately reverses direction, thumbing his radio once more. “Thanks guys. Happy to be staying.”

He hits the top deck, squinting in the white brightness of the sun. It’s hot already, the gulls crying overhead as he heads toward the prow of the boat.

T.K. is standing at the railing, looking out toward the open ocean, his back to Carlos. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his crew t-shirt so that it looks like a tank top, and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. It’s hot, almost feverishly so, warmed by the light of the sun and Carlos delights in the way it feels against his lips, pressing them there again and again before finally burying his face into T.K.’s neck.

T.K. chuckles. “I’m sweaty and gross.”

“I don’t care,” Carlos says, nuzzling in further.

They stay that way for a moment before T.K. shifts, turning in Carlos’ arms so he can look up at him, a fond smile on his face. “So I guess you’re staying,” he says, lifting his hands so he can run them slowly up and down Carlos’ arms. Always touching. He always has to be touching and Carlos can’t get enough of it.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, throwing on a smug, flirty smile. “I’m staying.”

“Because of the weather?”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, ready to play along with T.K.’s game. “The weather’s not bad. But no.”

“Because of your undying love of obscenely wealthy Americans and their bizarre, and sometimes imaginary, dietary needs?”

“Well, you know I like a challenge. But that’s not it either.”

T.K.’s gaze drops to his chest, his look going from flirty to almost timid. “Then why are you staying?”

“Well,” Carlos says, drawing T.K. a little closer, “turns out I kind of like this crew. And it would be a real shame if they all starved.”

“They do get really cranky if they’re not fed,” T.K. agrees.

Carlos lets him sit in that for a second and then says, “But that’s not the only reason.”

He gently lifts one of T.K.’s hands and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “There’s this.” He lets it go and leans forward pressing a kiss to T.K.’s hair. “And this.” He cups T.K.’s face in his hands and kisses the tip of his nose. “And this.”

T.K.’s eyes are closed, his chin tipped up, lips slightly parted, that breathless, wanting look on his face. It’s so soft, so vulnerable and open, and it takes Carlos’ breath away. He marvels at it for a moment before closing the space and capturing T.K.’s mouth with his own, relaxing into the taste of sun and salt and a hint of lime from the flavored water T.K. drinks. 

“You’ve changed my whole world T.K. Strand,” Carlos murmurs when they break apart. “Six weeks with you and everything is different. How is that possible?

“I’m inherently charming,” T.K. says, a dreamy smile on his face.

Carlos huffs a laugh. “Yeah, you are.”

T.K. searches his face. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. Is that crazy?”

“Maybe a little,” Carlos says. “Or maybe…we’re just meant to be.”

T.K. nods. “I think we owe Iris dinner.”

A smile, full and pure. “I guarantee she’s planning to hold this over us for the rest of our lives.”

“Worth it.”

“Definitely worth it.”

The radios crackle. “T.K., T.K. Nancy. Stop making out with your boyfriend and go do the sheets in the master.”

T.K. rolls his eyes. “Busted,” he says.

“The work never stops in yachting,” Carlos says, gently putting some distance between them and offering him a single hand instead. T.K. makes a grumbly noise, pulling a face before he takes it and follows him toward the interior.

But when they reach the galley floor and T.K. starts to let go, Carlos’ grip tightens and he pulls him further down the staircase. “Where are we going?” T.K. asks.

“To the master,” Carlos says innocently.

They reach the door and Carlos locks it behind them before pushing T.K. up against it and kissing the shit of out him. When they finally break apart T.K.’s lips are swollen and his hair is a wreck. He looks thoroughly debauched and Carlos isn’t even close to done.

“Didn’t I hear you tell Tommy this wasn’t going to interfere with our work?” T.K. asks, his eyes sparkling.

Carlos drops to his knees and unzips T.K.’s shorts before throwing him a cocky smile. “I’ll be quick. And I think you’ll probably work even harder after you celebrate a little, don’t you?”

T.K. laughs. “I think I might.”

[nostalgicatsea]

5-fic self-rec!

Thanks for tagging me for this, @oluka (and the last line thing too except I had to pass on that one because I haven't written anything in a while other than the last excerpt I posted on here 😅).

Except for "Apricity," which is near and dear to my heart despite how much I itch to edit it (a constant issue I have with things I write), I went with some of my favorites that have flown under the radar.

Hm...this ended up more of a "hey, good job, me" post than a "I'm trying to find what's compelling about these fics to rec them" post. Oh well.

In order of publication:

Apricity (616 Steve/Tony, T, 1.5k)

My first fic on AO3! My first Steve/Tony fic! And somehow it was 616 instead of MCU. I love dark Steve, but I'm particular with how exactly he's unhinged and this is how I like him. Even-keeled despite being off his rocker. Rational in his own head. Soured on the world, but in a way that pushes who he is to the extremes so his core is still visible even if it's mottled with rot. And, of course, obsessed with Tony. I also like the tempo of this; I used to have a good grasp on tempo, but I feel like I've lost that a bit over the years.

Unraveled (Warrior (2011) gen fic, G, 1k)

Since it's a movie that doesn't have a lot of fanworks for it and it's a gen fic to boot, barely anyone has read this, but I don't care because it was written for a friend, @luxover. I love writing little stories to gift friends. If you haven't watched Warrior, watch it! Brutal tearjerker about a broken family and broken men and one of the few good sports movies out there. No, you don't need to know anything about MMA to enjoy it. I don't.

Okay, I should talk about this ficlet. I'm fond of this one because it's so different from my usual writing. It's stream-of-consciousness and entirely voice-driven like someone sat you down in Brendan's head and he's talking and talking even if he naturally isn't saying of this out loud. Because he and his brother Tommy are emotionally constipated; even if they love each other a lot, they don't know how to reach out to each other. They don't know if they're wanted. This also has one of my favorite last lines I've ever written. GUT PUNCH, if I do say so myself. ONE-TWO HIT, K.O. Sums up every layer of their relationship.

Hidden Declaration (Brad/Ray (Generation Kill), T, 728 words)

Another gift for a friend (the same friend)! Brad/Ray and MCU Steve/Tony share some similarities despite being drastically different, so is it any surprise I liked these two unhinged idiots? I never open for fic prompts, but this was when I was on a roll and then I got scared because lux asked for this. I never wrote for Gen Kill, I read maybe 3 GK fics in my life, and Ray is one of those characters who are impossible to write well imo (to be honest, I also feel the same way about Brad though the difficulty is subtler). He's an unusual guy with a very particular way of speaking.

And somehow this flowed out of me quickly. It's not without its flaws, but it was so different from what I usually write and how I do that it was really fun to write this! Very dialogue-heavy too which isn't what I'm known for. And the crassest (also...some language that's not okay as a warning, but if you know GK, it comes with the territory) and most sexual (it's still not very sexual lol) out of my fics. I think I captured how much they're best friends and they're so comfortable in each other's presence well. Plus I put a little wink for my friend at the end and it's one of the few times I like being indulgent with my writing. Also, tattoo fics are a trope and I guess this counts as my one tattoo fic though it's not an AU and there's no actual tattooing involved.

A Long, Final Rest Among the Stars (MCU Tony-centric/Nebula & Tony gen fic, G, 2.7k)

My tribute to best boy Tony, my first and ultimate love (along with Steve, of course) along with an expansion of the lovely bits of Nebula and Tony's tender friendship that we got to see in IW which I adored. They share a lot in common.

Writing this made me so sad because I felt like I was preparing to say goodbye to Tony. It made me reminisce about how it all started, and everything came full circle. His past is his present. Tony's trapped on a dark spaceship injured and far, far away from home. Tony's trapped in a dark cave injured and far, far away from home. There's a kind spirit with him, and even if they try to keep him alive, he's a dead man walking. But he's also come a long way from the man he used to be. I'M REALLY PROUD OF HIM, OKAY? I LOVE HIM.

The Burning of Flowers (616 Steve/Tony, G, 1.2k)

I secretly really, really wish more people read this fic. I wanted to write a Hanahaki AU for a while, but I couldn't figure out what I'd do that would feel fresh and then I came up with this subversion of sorts. Hanahaki AUs usually involve someone pining for their love and refusing to let go of it because it means so much to them. I thought I'd write about someone who doesn't have it—and simultaneously wants and doesn't want it—and wishes ill on the person he loves by hoping their love has it. And what better era to situate it than Hickmanvengers? You don't need to know Hickmanvengers to enjoy it, though.

I'm extremely proud of this one because it's one of the best fics I've written if I'm allowed to toot my own horn for a sec! Please let me because it's so rare for me to feel like I don't want to rip apart chunks of my fics and sew them back whole again, new and improved. I think this is one of my most complete fics in that way; I can probably tweak it, but I'm satisfied with nearly all of it if not all of it.

Anyway, I was in a slump and then suddenly the old magic returned and I slipped back into the writing style I used to have back in the mid-2010s except better. I could actually see that I've developed as a writer even if I'm still learning. But the atmosphere, the sensory lines, and the rhythm returned. I like the pace of this a lot and feel like it follows Steve's relentless rage, much like the unmoored, slower pace of "Apricity" reminds me of a colder Steve who never fully woke up from the ice.

Tagging @kiyaar, @meidui, @sineala, @whenas-in-silks, @sabrecmc, @magicasen, and two artists (rec your art!<3): @kappamairi & @massivespacewren

[zablife]

Perfect Day 

Tommy Shelby x May Carleton

Summary: Tommy and May face mounting obstacles to their relationship, bringing their love for one another under scrutiny. Over the course of a weekend spent at the Carleton estate, they make some important decisions about their future.

Author’s Note: Written for @retromafia 5K celebration. Inspired by “Perfect Day” by Lou Reed.

In this AU Tommy has been with May since she began training “Grace’s Secret” and never wanted to break it off with her. Grace was more of a one night stand. 

Warnings: infidelity, language, mention of miscarriage, angst with fluffy ending

“I will find you,” May heard those words in her dreams for weeks while waiting to hear what had become of her lover. It was the last thing Tommy said to her before disappearing. His unpredictable nature was something that drew May to him when they began dating, but sometimes she wished he was a more reliable sort of man. She was learning to accept that uncertainty was the price she would have to pay for intrigue and the chance to feel alive again. 

After Epsom she threw herself into work, taking on two new horses to train. The distraction only helped during the day, however, her nights filled with loneliness once more. Despite her  attempts to do paperwork or read, her mind would inevitably wander to the mystery of the woman in the pink dress. She said her name was Grace and May could tell by the look in her eye she wanted Tommy very badly. May was forced to consider the very real possibility that Tommy had left her for Grace and that made her melancholy worse.

One warm day in July, Tommy came striding up to the stables as though no time had passed. May spotted him right away, unsure if she should attack him in a fit of rage or turn away and ignore him completely. In the end, she tried to remain calm, curiosity of his whereabouts pressing her to ask the questions she needed answered. Her anger betrayed her as she unleashed an acidic comment, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how Dangerous was doing with the training…and to see you, of course,” Tommy said looking from under his cap hesitantly. He lacked his usual directness, knowing May had every reason to hate him, but hoping she would give him a chance to explain.

“So you came to see me or the horse?” May asked with a tilt of her head. She was determined not to give Tommy an inch in this fight. 

Tommy clenched his jaw in frustration, “You.” He was upset with himself and the utter carelessness that brought him to this moment. “I’ve something to tell you about the woman you met at Epsom.” But May had sensed what he was about to say. She wasn’t sure she could hear him speak the words so she began walking toward the house. 

Tommy caught her arm quickly, turning her toward him to see the hurt in her eyes. “May, please, I’m trying to tell you….Grace is pregnant,” he forced himself to admit. May pulled from his grasp harshly and held her head in her hands.“God, Tommy….” She cried out. 

May felt gutted at the mention of a child. She had wanted a family years ago with Ian, but two miscarriages convinced her she was unable to have children. She thought she had accepted this fact, but the idea of Tommy having a baby with someone else was too much to bear.

Looking up at him, her voice shook as she asked, “Will you marry her?” 

Tommy looked at the ground and sighed before answering, “Yes. When her husband found out he killed himself. She has nowhere to go so if I don’t provide for her, she’ll take the child back to Ireland.”

Tommy watched as the consequences of his one evening with Grace hit them both. “I know the damage I’ve done. I never meant to hurt you, May. You have to believe that I’m hurting as well.”

“You don’t deserve to feel hurt about leaving me for the new woman you love,” May spat at him. She wanted to wound him so he too would feel the agonizing heartache. 

Tommy shook his head adamantly, “You know it has nothing to do with love, May.”

“You’ve told me about it like a gentleman, kindly behave like a gangster again,” May said coldly. 

“I’m thinking of you as well. Your life, your reputation. You’ve just gotten your business running again with your father. I can’t let this scandal ruin you, love. You know your people can be ruthless.” Tommy spoke earnestly. He loved May too much to see his mistake take everything from her.

May angered at the thought of him telling her what she ought to do. Her stubbornness pushing her to challenge him. “That’s very gracious of you, isn’t it? You talk about damage. You don’t think half of London already thinks I’m fucking a racketeer?”

“You'd carry on because you can't back down? Is that it?” Tommy asked confused about the direction their conversation was taking. 

“There’s business and then there’s love, Tommy. You don't love her. You’re a good businessman so take care of Grace and come back to me,” May countered digging her heels in.

“May, I don’t want you to think anything about how it’s going to be. It’s true that I haven’t spent a day without thinking about you and I want nothing more than to be with you, but I can’t offer you the life you deserve,” he replied truthfully watching her features carefully.

“What if I said that would be alright?,” May ventured a desperate look. 

Tommy scoffed at her unbelievable notion. “So you would have us carry on then?”

“Yes, I realize it's completely illogical, but I still love you, Tommy,” May asserted. 

“Alright then, but these things hardly ever work out, love,” Tommy warned her. She nodded sadly accepting her fate, but unable to release him from her grasp. 

—————————————————————————-

“Welcome back, Mr. Shelby,” a butler said taking Tommy’s coat and hat. 

“Thank you, William. Where is Ms. Carleton?” 

“In the library, sir,” he replied turning on his heel. The staff had been warned to keep their distance on the days Tommy visited. They were only to show themselves when May rang the bell. This afforded her and Tommy absolute privacy to conduct their affair.

Tommy had been married to Grace for a year and a half, but it was a sham. He had married her to keep Charlie close, but he couldn’t bring himself to love her the way he knew he ought to. It hurt May deeply to see him with another woman, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that Tommy’s heart belonged to her alone.

Tommy entered the library holding tension in his broad shoulders. May looked up from where she sat at her desk, letting papers and pen drop to run to Tommy. He smiled at her excitement to see him, bringing her into a tight embrace. She pressed herself to her tip toes to kiss him fervidly, her passion igniting his desire. Tommy’s rough hands roamed her body hungrily unwilling to let her go. It had been a month since they’d seen each other and it felt like a lifetime. 

She pulled away from the kiss to search his eyes. “You’re so tense, darling,” she noted stroking her hands along his neck and up the shaved sides of his head. 

“I’m alright, love. It was just the long drive,” he said running a thumb over her bottom lip before giving her another passionate kiss.

“Of course, you must be exhausted. Let’s get you something to eat and into bed then,” she said squeezing his hand. 

Tommy smirked as he thought of a better use of his time. “The only thing I want right now is you,” he said with lust in his eyes, pulling her toward the door. May bit her lip and nodded eagerly allowing him to lead her upstairs.

Although Tommy wanted to keep his problems at home from encroaching on their time together, he knew May would pull it from him eventually. Her empathetic nature and willingness to listen was a refreshing change from the stilted conversations he had with Grace. Tonight though, he would spend the hours holding May in his arms, filling the emptiness inside himself with her affection.

————————————————————————-

The next afternoon during their ride, Tommy brought May to a clearing where he had had Johnny Dogs leave a brightly painted vardo. May chuckled when she saw it. “Thomas Shelby, what’s this doing here?”

Dismounting from his horse, he explained, “Just a little surprise I brought for ya.” May was highly inquisitive about the world Tommy came from and he wanted to show her firsthand what it was like. 

“Are you going to steal me away and take me traveling?” She asked playfully, sliding down from the side of her horse.

“That’s what we’re doing now, love. I want to forget everything else and have you all to meself…without the maids listening,” he said tilting her chin toward him to kiss her gently.

“May I see inside?” She asked taking him by the hand to the wooden steps. Tommy nodded, helping her ascend the narrow steps. He ducked to enter and watched as her face lit up seeing the cozy space. There was a small bed with a patchwork quilt and wildflowers in a tin cup. It was rustic, but romantic. 

“It’s beautiful, Tommy,” May said in awe of the surprise he had laid before her. May sat on the bed, brushing her hand over the soft, well-worn fabric of the quilt. 

“Join me?” She asked with a sultry smile. Tommy nodded eagerly, kicking off his boots and lowering himself next to her. 

They spent the next hour in the tiny bed, the tight space necessitating a closeness of their bodies that provided reassuring comfort. The only sounds were their heavy breaths and the horses outside pawing the ground in boredom as they waited for their owners. 

When they were finished, May dressed as Tommy lit a cigarette outside. She sat on the coat Tommy spread for her on the ground next to him with a contented sigh. Tommy took a drag and wordlessly passed her the cigarette. “Hand rolled, my goodness, you are old fashioned,” she teased. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“First the goldfish in the watering trough, the caravan and now this,” she said with a smirk. 

“Just common sense, love,” Tommy answered. 

“You know, Tommy, right now you look a lot like a man who wouldn’t mind a simple life.” She nudged him with her shoulder and passed the cigarette between her fingers back to him.

“You’re correct, I like simple pleasures,” Tommy said inhaling. “But very complicated women, apparently,” he said letting the smoke billow from his mouth as he studied the cigarette.

May looked at him with concern, “That sounds a lot like regret, Tommy. Do you regret this…Us I mean?”

Tommy pulled her close careful not to burn her and replied, “Of course not. When I’m with you, I forget who I am. I feel like someone else….someone good,” Tommy whispered as he lowered his chin to the top of her head. 

May pulled back to look at him, “You are good, Tommy. You reap what you sow, you know.” 

“Fuck, I hope not,” he joked lightening the mood. 

—————————————————————-

After dinner, Tommy lounged on the sofa with May’s head in his lap as she read a novel. He sipped expensive whiskey and ran his fingers through her chestnut curls. The rain splattered the windowpanes with a constant soothing tap-tap-tap and Tommy was feeling relaxed enough to forget his return trip looming before him. 

The last night they spent together during his visits was always a bittersweet time for Tommy and May. They never allowed themselves to talk about Tommy’s departure, but both of them acutely felt the sand slipping through the hourglass. 

They had their own ways of combatting the sadness they felt when parting. Tommy slept even less than usual the night before, choosing instead to hold May close to him, feeling the softness of her skin against his bare chest and listening to her quiet rhythmic breathing. 

After Tommy finally drifted off for a couple of hour’s rest, May would place a light kiss to his lips and hurry to the barn. She took a long ride on those mornings to ensure she was far away from the house when Tommy left. She couldn’t bear the words necessary to say a proper goodbye. After all this time, she still felt a deep longing for a real life with Tommy and galloped through the fields to expel her disappointment.

On a few occasions early on, they had fought bitterly before he left. They regretted those arguments later, realizing they were the product of uncertainty and fear. Their practiced routine was a tonic that allowed them to endure their separate living arrangements. Tonight would be their first disagreement in a long while. 

May put her book down, staring at the crackling logs in the fireplace for a moment before sitting up to face Tommy. “I can tell something has been on your mind all weekend. Will you tell me what it is?” 

Tommy sighed heavily as he stood to stretch his legs and look out the window. He pulled a gold case from his pocket and plucked out a cigarette, hesitant to bring up the latest news from home. May waited patiently to hear how he would respond, scared by his sudden change in demeanor. 

“Grace wants to have another baby,” Tommy said lowly, adding, “I’ve tried to put her off, but she’s rather determined this time.”

“I see…” May said looking away. She knew this day would come, but she hadn’t learned to cope with it yet.  “Well that is why you’ve stayed married, isn’t it? She can give you what I can’t,” she said with deathly calm. 

Sometimes it frightened Tommy the way May tried to detach herself from him in these situations, as though she were an outsider looking in on her own life. He didn’t want her to feel that she had no choice in the matter. He often told her that she was too precious to remain alone forever. He wanted her to move on and find a love she could own completely, but he couldn’t seem to help himself from selfishly keeping her stagnant.

“That’s not what I want, May….but I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s not ruin the evening, eh?” Tommy said beginning to pace with anxiety, too afraid of delving into the topic that hurt May the most.  

“Tommy, what if I were pregnant?” She asked, her large brown eyes looking at him beseechingly.

Tommy stopped and stood frozen with fear. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping she would say next. May had fallen pregnant last year and miscarried. After that, Tommy had promised himself to be more careful with her. The sight of her bleeding in their bed and the weeks of depression that had followed were imprinted on his mind forever. 

“May, are you pregnant?” Tommy asked with trepidation. 

Her lip quivered as she admitted in a near whisper, “No…For a moment I thought it might be true, but it’s not.” She looked so broken as she spoke and Tommy was crippled by the look of pain etched on her face. 

“So you’ll go back home then?” she asked, steeling herself for his answer. She felt a terrible ache when she thought of the ways she had failed him. She couldn’t expect Tommy to want her over a wife who could give him so much more. 

Tommy took a moment to find the courage to move to comfort her. As he sat stroking her face, she cried. “I wanted it so badly, Tom.”

“I know, love. I did too…come here,” he said pulling her into his chest. 

As he stroked her back he told her something he had been sure of for some time, cursing himself for waiting so long to do it. “May, I will go tomorrow, but the next time I come back will be for good. I’m going to ask Grace to accept a divorce,” he said firmly.

May pulled away to protest, “Tommy, we’ve been through this already. I want you to have a family. You should have a family for yourself and for Charlie,” May said determinedly. This was always her argument, a better life. Tommy felt his heart break at her words. She had no idea she was the key to his happiness, not the prospect of more children with Grace.

“May, you’re my family. You and Charlie. How could I ask for more when I have everything I desire already?” He said with lovesick eyes. 

“How will we explain the scandal? What will we do?” May asked thinking of the practicalities Tommy worried over so much at the beginning of their relationship. 

“My business in Boston is thriving. We’ll start over in America where this nonsense about class doesn't exist. We'll be Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, a successful couple with a business to run,” Tommy proposed.

“And Charlie?” May asked upset at the thought of leaving him behind.

“He’ll come as well. Grace likes the lifestyle more than the duties that come with it anyway. She’ll gladly move on with the money I plan to give her. So what do you say, eh?” Tommy said with excitement creeping into his voice.

“Oh, Tommy. I love you so much,” May said finally allowing herself to believe she was enough.

“Is that a yes then?” Tommy asked with a growing smile.

“Yes,” May replied reaching for him once more. “I can’t believe we’re going to be together after everything…”

Taking her hand in his, Tommy replied, “I know the times that came before weren’t perfect days, May, but I’m glad I spent them with you. There's nothing but good waiting ahead for us, love."

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

Tag list: @julyzaa, @tommydoesntpayforsuits, @shelbydelrey, @alanadetigy, @wandawiccan60, @theshelbyclan, @lovemissyhoneybee, @theshelbyslimited, @kittycatcait219, @celticmelody, @holacia2

[whumpcereal]

whumptober, day twelve: "mayday, mayday!" | cave in | rusty nail

Have a little historical whump one-off, with Jimmy the ill-fated ball turret gunner. We'll be back to our regularly scheduled Jack, Joe, Tommy, and Will very soon, but today's prompt was a hard one for those boys.

content warnings for: character death, hurt/comfort, plane crashes, meditations on war, adult language

one shot, the mechanics of letting go

“Oh, fuck! Mayday, mayday, MAYDAY!” 

Jimmy can hear the crackling message through his headset, but it’s the sharp drop of his gut that really clues him in that things are about to go south. Literally. The plane lists suddenly and starts to dive. The fuselage’s belly is wrapped in black smoke, and even surrounded by the glass of his ball turret, Jimmy can’t see a fucking thing.

He doesn’t need his eyes to know they’re going down. 

“Are we hit?” Jimmy screams into his mouthpiece. “Bert, Parker, are we hit?” 

There’s no reply. The engines whir above him, their buzz so loud that Jimmy feels like his ears are full of bees. His body rattles as the plane jars, and he grips the controls. There’s nothing to shoot at, not when you’re falling out of the sky, but it’s steadying somehow. 

“Only two things fall from the sky, James,” his father said before he left. “Bird shit and assholes. You might be one of those two things, but I doubt it.” 

He shook Jimmy’s hand like they were strangers, and he’d tried to smile, his watery blue eyes betraying his fears. 

Jimmy wonders what his father will say when the War Department knocks on his door. He should understand. He did his fair share of dog fighting in the Great War. But still, he’d told Jim he wasn’t sure it had been worth it. 

“I fought so you wouldn’t have to. What’s wrong with the world, son? Why don’t we ever learn?” 

Gravity claws at the bomber now, and Jimmy feels the pressure in his back molars. He feels like the ground might be in spitting distance. Still, there’s no one on the radio, no call to bail out. Even if he heard one, he might not have time to scrabble for his chute; there’s not enough room in the turret to keep it on. 

Jimmy’s eyes catch on the photo wedged inside the metal edge of his porthole. Annabeth, her lips painted dark and her blue eyes smiling, even in black and white. He closes his eyes, just for a second, and he sees her as she was the night before he left: the arch of her back against his cheap jersey sheets, the way her hair tumbled free and wreathed his pillow in red curls. The taste of her. The smell. Like powder and peaches and brown butter.  

“Don’t be a hero, Jim,” she told him. “You come back to me.”

She took his hand and pressed it against the nascent swell of her belly.

“Come back to us.” 

He’d kissed the soft skin next to her navel and promised he wouldn’t let her down.

Another engine blows, but Jimmy keeps hold of the guns. He closes his eyes again and forces himself to breathe, even as the plane hurtles lower. 

There’s no exercise in basic training to prepare a guy for this. The mechanics of a crash, sure. The mechanics of letting go, not so much. 

“Do you know, Jimmy,” his mother said before she went, “I like to think that when I see you in heaven, you’ll be two-years-old again. I couldn’t hold you enough then. It’s something they don’t tell you–the way you’ll miss your children when they grow. Will you let me hold you in heaven?” 

He was thirteen then. It hadn’t seemed manly to agree. But Jimmy knew now. He would let her hold him. If Mama’s arms were what was waiting on the other side, he would fall into them gladly. 

He wonders if she will be glad to see him. Or will she be disappointed? Will she ask him why he came so soon? 

The earth is close, it must be, and the plane feels like it’s tumbling faster. 

“Parker! Bert!” Jimmy cries into his mouthpiece. “Anyone?” 

He’s used up precious seconds he did not have shouting into the void, waiting for an order that will not come. There’s only one order that matters in situations like these, and it isn’t Bert’s. 

The smoke ebbs, and Jimmy can see the ground. A carpet of green, with trees growing suddenly larger, like some kind of Wonderland trick. 

It would be beautiful if it weren’t going to smash him to a pulp in a matter of seconds. 

The turret kisses the trees, and Jimmy braces himself. 

He can’t answer his father’s question: he doesn’t know what's wrong with the world or how a skinny kid who still has spots on his skin can find himself hurtling toward death in a flying fortress a million miles from home. 

He isn’t a hero, and he did not try to be, but still: I’m sorry, his heart whispers to Annabeth’s. He knows he let her down. 

But there’s a breath, just before the turret finds the ground, before the metal and glass cave in around him. Before he goes. 

In that breath, he hears his mother. 

Oh, Jimmy. I’m so glad to see you again. 

He doesn’t feel the slice of glass shards when the turret shatters or heft of the twisted metal when the fuselage comes down on top of him. He is not broken, and he is not cold. 

Jimmy is small and warm, and he is wrapped in his mother’s arms.

[harvestleaves]

Somebody Like You

Prompt by anon: “Just breathe, okay?”

A/N: Carlos and TK are playing in a charity softball game, APD vs AFD.  The title is from a Keith Urban song by the same name.  You can also read this on AO3 here.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,622

There were things about TK that constantly surprised Carlos. The first was, despite the fact that TK was a horrible cook, he was an incredible baker. The second, was how much of a bookworm the other male was, always having his headphones in for an audiobook, or leaving novels in random places around his house. But the most surprising thing to Carlos, which shouldn’t have been, was that TK was an amazing athlete. To be more specific, a baseball player.

Sure, because of the return of his boyfriends asthma, he was worried about the others rigorous fitness routine, his late night runs to be more precise.  But TK seemed to take the change in pace with ease, trading half of his runs for spin classes, and joining a local softball league once spring had hit.

So when the annual charity softball game between the APD and AFD was announced, TK was the first to sign up, despite Carlos’ worry.

“You signed up?  Are you sure?  We just finally got your lungs under control, are you sure you should be running around on a dusty baseball diamond?” Carlos asked as he leaned over to kiss TK on his forehead, wary of the lizard Lou, who TK was cuddling against his chest.

“Babe, I’m positive.  The doctor said that the more I get into a regular cardio routine, the stronger my lungs will be and hopefully these attacks will taper off.  Plus, I wanna see you run in baseball pants,” TK teased with a smirk as he gently pet Lou.

“But what about the extra pollen lately, and as I previously mentioned, the dust?  And who said I was playing?  Those guys play dirty,” Carlos said with a raised eyebrow as he looked pointedly at his boyfriend, who had been popping allergy pills round the clock with the recently blooming dogwood trees.

“I’ll take an extra strength allergy pill, AND I’ll take a breathing treatment before the game.  Both should keep my lungs relatively open and happy.  Plus, I’ll have my inhaler with me.  Now, what can I do to convince you to play?” TK asked with a grin as he reached out to caress Carlos’ chest, cradling Lou close to his own so he didn’t drop the pet.

“I trust you, but you have to promise that you will tell Judd, Tommy or I if you are having even the slightest trouble breathing, okay?” Carlos whispered, smiling at the hand on his chest before he nodded pointedly at Lou.  “He has to be securely in his enclosure though,” he said bluntly, having bought a newer sturdier tank after the lizard escaped from its previous home.”

“Fine, but after I do, I want an intense cardio session with you,” TK grinned, pressing a kiss to Carlos’ lips before he got up, placing Lou in the tank before making sure it was latched shut.

“Now, bedroom?” TK asked as he walked back to Carlos, moving his legs to either side of Carlos’ hips as he sat on his boyfriend’s lap.  “Or here?”

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

Two weeks later, the morning of the softball game, TK was lounging on the couch, nebulizer mouthpiece between his teeth as he took a treatment while Carlos moved around the kitchen making coffee and omelets.

Carlos kept glancing nervously at TK from the kitchen even though he new it was a preventative treatment to keep his boyfriend from having an asthma attack.  However, he still had a gut feeling that something was going to happen even if TK was smiling through his treatment.

Hearing the nebulizer click off, Carlos held out TK’s coffee to him along with an allergy pill, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead.

“How are you feeling this morning?  I know you slept pretty soundly last night,” Carlos teased with a smile as TK swallowed the allergy pill with a small wince.

“Pretty good, my sinuses were a little stuffy this morning, but I think the allergy meds should help.  You’re helicoptering babe.  I’m fine,” TK said softly as he pressed a kiss to Carlos’ lips softly.

“And I’ve seen you struggling to breathe enough where I know that you’re full of shit,” Carlos stated with a smirk.  “I’m taking your spare with me and I told Judd to have your stuff on standby.”

TK’s mouth dropped open with a huff at Carlos’ words before he sighed and started to eat his breakfast before he turned to Carlos.  “So this means you’re playing, right?”

“That’s still all you care about?  Yes, I’m playing.  They conned me into being the catcher,” Carlos sighed as he ate his own breakfast, watching TK’s eyebrows raise as he broke into a grin.

“So I get to see all of this,” TK paused, motioning to Carlos’ body, with an emphasis on his lower half, “In baseball pants?  Yes!”

“Oh, so all you cared about was seeing me in a uniform?  You already see me in one,” Carlos rolled his eyes at TK’s antics, though he was flattered that his boyfriend wanted to see him in the APD softball uniform.  “You’ve seen me in workout clothes too, what exactly is the difference?”

“The difference babe, is that baseball pants are very form-fitting, and if you are the catcher, that means I get to stare at one of my many favorite parts of you,” TK teased as he leaned across the island to kiss Carlos again.

“Oh, so you only care about my body?  I see,” Carlos laughed before he returned the kiss.

“Not just your body, but also your extremely beautiful and kind heart.  Now, go get dressed so we can head to the field,” TK grinned, already dressed in his jersey and joggers, as he finished his breakfast.

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

When they reached the softball field, Carlos got out of the drivers seat and took what he thought was his backpack from TK, who was carrying their identical bags.

“See you when we’re up to kick your butt,” TK grinned as he pressed a kiss to Carlos’ lips before he headed off to the dugout where Judd and Tommy were.

“Damn kid, I’m not into men, but your boy sure makes that uniform look official,” Judd said with a low whistle and raise of his eyebrows at how well Carlos filled out his uniform.

“I know, and he’s all mine,” TK grinned triumphantly as he sat his backpack down under the bench and set his glove down, moving to stretch his arms before he looked over at Tommy.

“Don’t worry, I took allergy meds and a treatment, I should be fine until the end of the game,” he reminded her as she gave him a pointed look as if to ask him how he was feeling.

“I didn’t ask, but it’s good to know, do you have your inhaler and portable neb in there?” Tommy asked with a nod to TK’s bag, which didn’t look as full as it should be if he had said medical equipment available.

“Yup, it’s all there.  Now, can we go warm up?  Please?” TK asked hopefully as he picked up his glove off the bench before he followed Judd to the field.

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

TK made it until the second to last inning before he started to wheeze, and it wasn’t from the dirt and dust of the field, it was the dirt and dust that was stuck in his hair after his last home run.

Brushing off his jersey, he turned to cough when he inhaled a small bit, bringing a hand up to his chest to rub at the sudden tightness that appeared.

“Judd.  Inhaler,” TK rasped out with a nod to the black backpack sitting next to his water bottle, letting Nancy ease him down onto the bench with a wince.

“It’s not in here, kid.  Are you sure you packed it?” Judd asked as he dug through the bag, coming up empty-handed except for a few protein bars and an APD hoodie that said Reyes on the back.

“That’s Carlos’ bag, he took my inhaler out when he washed it,” TK wheezed, glancing up to see that Carlos had taken off his catcher’s mask and was making his way to their bench despite protests from the umpire.

“Nancy, go grab TK’s bag from the other bag, his inhaler is in the front zippered pocket, but bring the whole bag, just in case he needs a treatment,” Carlos said as he crouched down in front of TK, perfectly imitating his catcher’s stance.

“Just breathe, okay?  Nancy’s on her way back.  You’re gonna be just fine,” Carlos soothed as he ran his fingers through TK’s hair, glad that his boyfriend didn’t sound as bad as he’d heard him in the past.  Looking up as Nancy handed him the inhaler, Carlos shook it up before handing it over to TK.

“Slow breaths Ty.  You know the drill,” Carlos smiled, watching TK take the dose of medication before he let out the breath in a shaky sigh.

“Thanks, babe.  I think I’m good now, get back to the game, you’re losing,” TK laughed, voice slightly raspy from his attack before he leaned in for a kiss.

“Seriously?  Your lungs decide to mutiny, and you’re worried about winning?  You need to work on your priorities,” Carlos rolled his eyes as he stood up.

“I wanna win,” TK shrugged with a smirk before he took another puff from his inhaler.  “I should be fine by my next at-bat, now go,” TK urged Carlos, smiling as his boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“Fine, but I’m not letting you guys win,” Carlos stated as he walked back to home plate, winking at TK as he slid his catcher’s mask back on and crouched down, game-ready once more.  

[vitos-pink-shirt]

If you could cross over the Mafia series with any other franchise, what would it/they be?

Oooh this is an awesome ask!

My gut reaction was to cross it with Red Dead Redemption II (it’s one of my favorite games and I love cowboys lol). I think seeing the guys as old-time outlaws would be interesting, not to mention I think Arthur would really relate to Tommy (doing everything to protect your family) and Vito (feeling propelled by outward forces, but ultimately doomed) and I’d love to see Salieri or Falcone get in a fist fight with Dutch. I also would love to see Lincoln be this legendary gunslinger, who is known to never lose a gunfight/duel even if he gets hit.

For the second game I think I’d really lean towards red dead redemption 2, I just really like the idea of all of the rival gangs interacting, but also the chance for Vito to get to know Arthur would be really cool for me. I think Arthur, Charles, Hosea, and Lenny could show Vito that being a man is more than just violence, and Arthur specifically could teach him that every man isn’t doomed to be his father. Joe and Henry would be really cool to see as cowboys, I personally think Henry would be afraid of every horse but his own lol. I also think that it’d be cool to apply the idea of moral vs immoral to Vito as he seems to specifically struggle with morals when it comes to drugs, and the dock workers, but I think it’d be cool for him to be high or low honor like Arthur can, but then also let Vito realize that low honor is worse than his own father. I just think the setting and characters or rdr2 would compliment Vito, specifically, in an interesting way.

However, I think the first and third game wouldn’t be as complimented by red dead. I think maybe for the first game, some type of movie like Goodfellas or possibly another gangster movie, where we get to see the characters in the extreme highs and the extreme lows. I think it’d be interesting to see how Tommy deals with the extreme violence and cruelty that is depicted in some of those movies as we already see that he doesn’t have the same indifference as Sam and Paulie when it came to hunting down the guys catcalling Sarah. I also think it’d be interesting to see how far Tommy’s loyalties can be pushed, he robs a bank with Paulie, but had Paulie done something like kill a made man over a personal insult (like Tommy in goodfellas does) how would he respond? I would be interested to see how Jimmy in Goodfellas would get along with specifically Sam. My mind immediately lumped Henry (GF) with Tommy (M1), Tommy (GF) with Paulie (M1), and Jimmy (GF) with Sam (M1) but I think the differences in that last pair would be interesting. Maybe another piece of media that would add a little more variety than just another mafia story would be like the movie Lawless, where instead of being big city gangsters, they’d be back hills moonshiners and Tommy of course would be the driver. Or maybe Tommy is just a driver and that’s how he meets Sam and Paulie, during a run.

For the third game I’m not really sure, I definitely think that keeping the time frame in the 60’s-70’s would be ideal, as the setting of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights movement is such a powerful part of M3’s setting, but I think I would be interested to maybe see a crossover with some media where Lincoln isn’t morally discouraged from getting his revenge with religion, maybe something where he gets a team. Not that Lincoln needs a team, but he’s such a charismatic person and he’s really kind and sweet when it comes to his friends. So maybe something where the viewer would get to explore his life before the war, before getting hell bent on revenge, and just see a goofier more domestic side of Lincoln, without losing the badass side. I almost want to throw the Witcher series out there, because I like the idea of Lincoln and John traveling like Geralt and Jaskier lol. Lincoln being a Witcher or monster hunter without the Witcher trials is honestly a really cool thought to me.

[sparrowsabre7]

Power Rangers was my first true fandom. I adored it, it was my life as a 5 year old and my love for it, though frequently dormant, endured well into adulthood.

While I haven't watched the series regularly since I was 10, nostalgia keeps me coming back to anniversary episodes heavily featuring the original Mighty Morphin' crew, as well as the relatively recent Boom! comics, which are written more with those who grew up with the series in mind than the children who remain the target audience of the show proper.

The main thing that keeps me interested, keeps me coming back after decades is one of the key aspects that turned my like of the series into love:

Tommy Oliver, the Green Ranger.

Putting it simply, Tommy was cool. He had a cooler, he had a better zord, in pretty much all ways he was designed to be better than the other rangers and was the codifier of the "Sixth Ranger" archetype.

I am not naive, of course, I understand now that much of this is down to the marketing and cynical business types who wished to drive toy sales and push the new character to their eager audience.

Nevertheless, aside from the superficial aspects, one thing that made Tommy Oliver stand out from the other rangers was due in no small part to Jason David Frank. He imbued the character with an initial darkness and latterly haunted nature which his villainous origins begat. His character proved so popular that when he was written out of the show (due to Saban running out of Green Ranger footage from the original Japanese show upon which it was based), the company was deluged with letters from angry fans and parents of distraught children, begging for his return. Thus he became the even newer, even shinier White Ranger, and over thebfollowing decade would go on to become the Red Zeo and Turbo rangers, as well as the Black Dino Thunder ranger, acting as a mentor to a new generation of Rangers.

This unprecedented career (both in and out of universe) has yet to be matched by any other ranger to grace the show, a tenure spanning over 200 episodes and 7 generations of Power Rangers. This is no doubt down to Jason David Frank's unwavering commitment to both show and character, long after his compatriots had moved on or grown jaded with the series (admittedly many for legitimate reasons). Most fans who encountered him said he was a class act and always took time to entertain them and make them feel valued.

In the waybthat any child can truly have a hero and understand what that means at five year's old, Tommy Oliver, and by extension Frank, was mine. He's the reason Green is my favourite colour, he's the spark of my interest in super heroes, he was a paragon of good in a classic battle of light and dark.

Earlier today news broke that Jason David Frank, had died aged 49. Further details would emerge that he had taken his own life. I am no stranger to celebrity death, nor even celebrities I have loved and admired; Satoshi Kon, Carrie Fisher, Kenny Baker, Chadwick Boseman, most recently Kevin Conroy. But none of those hit me with quite as hard of a gut punch as Jason David Frank. Whether it was the suddenness, the circumstances, the love I had for him as a child, I have no idea, but I am not ashamed to say I wept. My legs turned to jelly and I wept for a few moments in my wife's arms, trying to adequately explain what this man meant to me and why it was affecting me so much. A man whose actual career I had not regularly or actively consumed in over twenty years, and yet still had this hold over me, this enduring ember of admiration.

I do not wish to speculate over the reasons that may have contributed to his decision to end his life, but I can be secure at least in the knowledge that this was a man who gave everything for his fans and truly understood how much he was appreciated, and appreciated in return.

Rest in Peace, Jason David Frank, and may the Power protect you.

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2022 - December

The Chimes at Midnight by Geoff Trowbridge (2008)

It takes its time to get to the meat until there’s more to chew on in the latter half. Most of these TOS alternate histories were mildly interesting but this one is a cut above.

A Gutted World by Keith R.A. DeCandido (2008)

"What if the Cardassians discovered the Bajoran Wormhole?" This is the question that got me reading all these Myriad Universes novellas in the first place, but because I’m me and a completionist, I couldn’t just skip past the others in the series to get here. I come to Star Trek expanded universe stuff with a DS9 first approach so I was keen to read how the author spun out this alternate history in which the Dominion gets their foothold in the alpha quadrant if they met the Cardassians first. It had a little too much TNG cast for my taste (especially since those characters dominate so many of these stories), but it’s a worthy DS9 tale.

Brave New World by Chris Roberson (2008)

Now we get to a whole lot of Data, so more of TNG. The courtroom stuff doesn’t hit the same way in these stories as it does in the TV episodes, and then all the implications of androids woven into the fabric of the galaxy is strangely not that compelling.

The Embrace of Cold Architects by David R. George III (2010)

Another Data-heavy story. I think these novellas introduce interesting directions with how the Federation will absolutely exploit artificial beings if they have the slightest excuse, but this particular one needed to be its own novel. It ends just as things get interesting.

The Tears of Eridanus by Steve Mollmann & Michael Schuster (2010)

A TOS story that deviates from the prime universe thousands of years before the era we know. It revels in an alternate history in which the Andorians made first contact with Earth, and the Vulcans and Romulans never parted ways.

The Last Generation by Andrew Steven Harris, Gordon Purcell, Bob Almond, Terry Pallot, Mario Boon, John Hunt, Robbie Robbins, Chris Mowry, Neil Uyetake, Andy Schmidt, Scott Dunbier, Justin Eisinger, Mariah Huehner, Bill Tortolini (2009)

I could’ve done without Data and the TNG cast at the center of things (again), but it’s cool to see Sulu flying around being a badass in his Excelsior ship. All these TNG tales feels like the higher-ups asking “Ey, where’s my TNG (money)? I gotta have my TNG (money)!”

Strange World dir. Don Hall (2022)

I loved it, but then I’m a sucker for perilous adventure tales across strange new lands.

Violent Night dir. Tommy Wirkola (2022)

Die Hard meets Home Alone with a blend of Bad Santa and maybe God of War?

Empire of Light dir. Sam Mendes (2022)

I was there for it all the way. Sometimes I remember I’m a normie-ass man but that part that feels like I’m a distant weirdo never goes away, and this movie’s for that guy.

Demon Wind dir. Charles Philip Moore (1990)

I watched this movie within a video game along with its MST3K-style commentary at 2 AM with my youngest brother and what a thing to do and write down.

Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio dir. Guillermo del Toro (2022)

I mean, of course it’s great. I haven’t read the original story and it sounds like this hews closer to that than the popular perception from Disney’s takes.

Babylon dir. Damien Chazelle (2022)

This could've been dry but instead it’s constantly running at full charge, and even when we slow down to the granular level of filmmaking commentary it’s still a high pressure romp.

Jack and Jill dir. Dennis Dugan (2011)

Eh, I suppose the most impressive thing here is that Sandler sells the idea that’s he's own twin sister to the point that you consider them separate people.

The Whale dir. Darren Aronofsky (2022)

This had the potential to be bleak but instead it’s just genuinely hopeful. The performances come across a little too staged, as does the whole movie I suppose, so it’s no surprise to learn than this was originally a stage play.

The Outer Limits - "The Sandkings" (1995)

Here we go! I’d been thinking about watching the entire 1995 reboot of The Outer Limits and it’s everything I could’ve hoped for. All the 90s actors I remember from Saturday afternoon sci-fi TV, dated effects and production techniques, stories about man’s reach exceeding his grasp. This first episode even features three generations of the Bridges acting clan. The thing about intelligent alien bugs isn’t so compelling, but the overall production makes up for it.

The Outer Limits - "Vanishing Act" (1996)

I was looking for an episode that features New Year’s Day and found this story about a man who time jumps forward by ten years every time he falls asleep. It’s a sci-fi sort of twist on It’s a Wonderful Life and very reminiscent of something you’d see on Star Trek.

Tales from the Crypt - "And All Through the House" (1989)

And since I plan to also watch Tales from the Crypt after TOL, I skipped over to this story about a bad Santa stalking a bad mom.

The Outer Limits - "Valerie 23" (1995)

Here’s a reminder not to fuck around with robots. Don’t do it! Especially not if they’re hot! There’ll more fucked up robot tales in the seasons ahead...

The Outer Limits - "Blood Brothers" (1995)

We get a few stories here about rich assholes trying to live forever. This one does also present an interesting idea: what if we could all be cured of all ailments and live twice as long in the process? What happens when no one’s dying and the population count explodes? In any case, that’s more thought than what goes into the episode’s story. It’s mostly about a rich guy jumping the gun on proper medical testing and getting screwed as he should.

The Outer Limits - "The Second Soul" (1995)

Oh man, I was definitely on the paranoid side of this story as the events unfold. It was nice to get one of these where it isn’t a bleak or worst case ending.

The Outer Limits - "White Light Fever" (1995)

Another rich asshole who literally wants to live forever. And that’s it. Spoiler: he doesn’t get to.

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared - Series 2 (2022)

I wanna love this because I loved the original web series, but binging a bunch of TV-length episodes just felt like too much of it. I liked them when they were shorter and spaced out more. Binger beware, I know.

[ashes-writing]

Can I get your thoughts on what would have happened if Tommy H had been pulled into the upside down stuff with Steve? Maybe followed him the the Byers house in s1 to confront Steve, Nancy and Jonathan or maybe he and Steve made up in s2 and he got pulled into it with Dustin?

OH MY GOODNESS YES PLS PLS. SOMEONE FINALLY ASKED ME SOMETHING LIKE THIS. <3 #LIFEMADE.

Okay, buckle in, nonnie mouse this could get long and involved.

Okay, if I'm going to think about this, I'm going to go at it from him being pulled in during s2. I feel like if they'd have done it, it would've gone down something like this.. -under a readmore because it did indeed get long overexcited and v.v rambly. If it seems all over the place this is because I've been waiting for asks like this and like I'm so happy right now ahhhh.

FYI, you guys can totally ask me stuff like this about different characters/fandoms or Stranger Things / different characters, i don't mind at all. Literally any questions like this, I love these thank you sm for sending it.

Tommy follows Steve to Nancy's to apologize / argue his 'valid' point. So these two chucklefucks are arguing as they walk up the sidewalk, right? Tommy's already irritated because Steve's just NOT.FUCKIN.LISTENIN. Cue Dustin popping up. When he mentions the bat with nails, Tommy's got a brow raised like duuuude, the fuck is this kid on?

His reaction to hearing Dustin say that Dart's face opened up and ate his cat would've been like.. "Kid.." but then Dustin insists it's true, right? But Tommy, he's taking it with a grain of salt and continuing to fight with Steve. Now we're at the junkyard. Whoooo boy. When Steve tosses him a tire tool, he's like "It's a lizard, dude. The fuck do I need this for." but then, just when it's getting dark and the Demogorgons have them all cornered on the bus, Tommy's literally gonna pull a Rocco (Boondock Saints) "FUCK FUCK FUCK. THE HELL IS THIS SHIT? FUCK." and at first, he's freaking out, right? - I mean, shit... wouldn't you?

lowkey feel like Tommy would've just outright said that the Demogorgons look like buttholes with flower petals. He probably would've referred to them as 'flowered assholes' or smthing, idk i'm so excited rn that my brain is not functioning but I NEEDED THIS BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.

But then he realizes that him and Steve are the only ones keeping these damn kids alive because everybody else is gone awol for whatever reason, so survival instinct kicks in. I think he lowkey enjoys his first Demogorgon kill and this joy is clouded by the fact that one rushes him and knocks him back a little but he gets up, swinging that damn tire tool Steve gave him earlier in the afternoon like he's Babe Ruth going through the home stretch of the Series. And when he gets good at swinging the tire tool and actually landing hits, he's like a kid in a candy store, "HEY STEVE IM SENDING IT!" to which Steve is like "This motherfucker." while shaking his head.

When Mike suggests doing something, he takes Mike's side and not Steve's, this comes with the hilarious end result of Steve and Tommy getting into it over why they should stay put as opposed to why they should do something right away. Tommy just wants to get rid of these damn things, at any costs, because they're big and slimy and they're getting on his last nerve. All mans wants to do is go home and shower demogorgon guts off of his freckled bod and like...wrap his head around what he's been through. But he does wind up agreeing with Steve, that the kids need to be kept safe, so they come to the compromise they wind up going with on the show (Where they all go together) and Tommy insists on keeping the stuff to make a molatov cocktail on his person but Steve snatches it. "You're not setting shit on fire, Tommy." "Yes, yes I am. If one of those... things.. comes near me, you or any of the kids, I am. Bet, dude."

They keep telling him to be quiet so more don't come but he literally can't. He cannot. This man would have gone fucking TOE.TO.FUCKING TOE. with those demogorgons and nobody will ever convince me otherwise. "Kill them. Kill them all with fire." <- probably his slogan.

We won't get me started on s3 when they all get taken hostage by Russians and the way I think Tommy would've been right there with Steve, helping him fuck 'em up. I feel like when he got out of the chair he would've found the one who put him in said chair and probably would've battered it over their heads or given 'em a whack to the lower back with it while Steve's fighting the other guard. When Dustin is proud and grinning "You won a fight!" Tommy's right there with the smart remark, "It's about fucking time, Harrington, holy shit." while he's wiping his bloody mouth and smirking.

BUT FIRST.. FIRST.. He sees Dustin coming in and he's happy like Steve is. Then Dustin tells them about the Russian conversation he overhead and Tommy's like, "Here we fuckin go." but he's bored, Hawkins is a cow-town so whenever Steve decides he's in, Tommy's like fuck it, Me here for good time, not long time. And he's in, he's ride or die. I feel like he tries to give them an alternate plan based on the layout of the mall itself and Steve's like... where'd you get the blueprints, Tommy? And Tommy's all like 👀 maaaybe I picked a lock to the mayors office, dude? and Steve is throwing up his hands like "You broke into Kline's office? Why..." to which Tommy replies, "You can't be trusted with directions to save your fucking life, Harrington. I'm telling you, if we have a blueprint, we know where to hide, where to take them by surprise ." He broaches the subject of fire and Steve is like "NO. NOPE AND NO." and Tommy pouts for ten minutes but then he's like okay, fuck it.

Or s4 when Steve goes to the bottom of Lovers Lake looking for a portal, Tommy dives in behind him. "This was my idea, Hagan, goddamn it." "Our dumb idea, Steve. Somebody has to make sure you don't fuck it up, buddy." "Me? What about YOU, Tommy?" "So uh... this portal... does it like... glow?" Tommy's about to touch it then these fucking dumbasses fight over it -whose going in and such...

Tommy involved with this would have been amazing, he's sarcastic and he speaks his mind, so his reactions alone would have been fucking gold. I feel like they could have done so damn much with Tommy -and Carol, tbh? If they'd just given them the chance to grow with Steve and become entrenched in the stuff Steve is battling without them. I long for something that has Steve going toe to toe with the Upside Down with Tommy and Carol as part of it, omgggg. Like.. Tell me the older teens wouldn't have collectively banded together by the end of it, I feel like they would have. They should have.

A side note, I feel like Steve / Tommy have a very funny banter-filled back and forth with each other, they'll be fighting and arguing one minute but agreeing and snarking at literally everyone else the next? So.. that's where a lot of the above comes from?