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sunlightmurdock · 10 months

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Hey, Neighbour! | DBF!Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Jake’s been having a problem recently, and when the power goes out next door, everything quickly comes to a head.

Warnings: dad’s best friend trope. Age gap. Reader is in her mid-20s, Jake’s around 40. Obviously unbalanced power dynamic. No use of Y/N. Reader’s dad has a name. Mention of reader having a piercing. Smut. Pure filth and pining. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Unprotected pinv. Creampie. Jake has no respect for his best friend’s furniture. Choking briefly. Please comment / Reblog, it’s greatly appreciated. Wc: 8.5k. Minors dni, you will be blocked.

…

Jake clicks the television off and pushes himself up from the couch, joined by his shadow of a German shepherd called Ace. They walk together to the sound of the meek little knock at his front door, Jake’s gym socks padding along his dark wood floors along the way.

It’s late. Too late for whoever is at his front door to be bearing good news. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, rolling back his aching shoulders. This late at night, he has a good idea of who’s going to be standing on his porch.

As expected, standing there and shivering in your dad’s coat and a pair of slippers, is exactly the last person that Jake was hoping to see.

You see, Jake has had a bit of a problem since he moved in to this neighbourhood.

Quite a substantial one, in the grand scheme of things, and one that seems to just be getting worse by the minute.

Suburbia was meant to be Jake’s reprieve from his bachelor lifestyle. His escapades have been worrying his mother to death for going on two decades now, and it came time that even Jake agreed that it was time to wisen up about his love life. With all of the deployments, and all of the time away from home, it had been beyond easy to never fall into anything serious. By the time he was twenty-nine, Jake’s longest ever relationship was two and a half months, which was alarming given the number of women he had encountered by then.

Two things happened that sent Jake here, to this cute little cul-de-sac in suburban San Diego, one — Jake’s job became more secure, and guaranteed that he would spend at least ninety percent of his remaining career here on the west coast. Second, he proposed to a woman. A beautiful woman, that he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

She liked his house, it looked like the one her parents had raised her in. So, he bought the house and he bought a dog, and swore that he was going to try to settle down. Six months later, it was just him and the dog. Payton apologised profusely, and she’d apologise even more if he ever ran into her again, he just wasn’t right for her.

Things weren’t so bad though. Jake and Ace liked the peace and quiet, and the guy next door was actually pretty cool. Jack, the airline pilot with a mean golf swing and a great nose for the best sports bars in town. He’s a little older than Jake, with a hell of a lot more to show for it, including three grown up kids.

It’s been a couple of years now, and Jake’s practically part of the family. He knows everything there is to know. He’s there on birthdays, holidays, emergencies — he loves this family. But he has a problem.

His problem was manageable at first. So, Jack’s youngest daughter might have caught Jake’s attention at first. You were visiting home from college and you had stepped out of the car in a tight little pair of shorts and a tank top, and Jake just happened to be standing in Jack’s garage, helping him with a little project, when he first saw you.

And you were funny. Right away cracking some joke about Jake’s less than adept approach to projects around the house. Jake had laughed out loud without even meaning to, and then you’d turned your head and hit him with that mega-watt smile. Bringing new meaning to the term beaming.

God, that pretty fucking smile.

Your humour dances lightly on the nerves of others, like Jake’s, but sweeter. You’re well behaved and back then you had had a dreamy boyfriend who was in pre-med. Perfect in every way.

Even more reason for Jake to keep his hands to himself.

You were Jack’s kid. Jake wouldn’t ever cross that line. It’s just that sometimes… he had to remind himself of this boundary.

He hadn’t ever been close friends with someone where that was even a concern, and truthfully, he had been unprepared for meeting you. In all of the stories Jack told him, you were this cute little kid. Standing before him, you didn’t quite match the image he had of you in his head. This was truly uncharted territory.

Truth be told, there were times when Jake wasn’t so sure you wanted him to hang back. Even when you were still bringing that boyfriend of yours around, Jake caught the way you looked at him.

The way you tug those glossed lips between your teeth and grin around the straw of your drink.

If he was a better friend, or a stronger man, he might have been able to nip his little problem in the bud right away. He had tried, and you were living away from home then, so it was easier. But last month, you had moved back in with your parents and Jake’s life has been nothing but stress ever since.

On occasion, Jake thinks of how he would have to plead his case if someone discovered how he felt. You just don’t know what it’s like when she’s looking at me, man. I swear, I tried to stay away from her, I did.

It’s not his fault that Jack asked him to watch you while your folks were away on that cruise.

Jake’s gaze finally flickers back up to your wounded, hurt baby bunny, expression.

“What’s the matter, cutie? — You alright?” He reaches for you with one hand, gently grabbing at the crook of your elbow and guiding you towards him. That sad little look on your face tugs at his heart strings every time.

“Yeah, I just — I plugged in my phone charger and all the lights went out. I think I tripped a fuse,” All exasperated and frustrated at once, you push your hair back off of your face and frown at him. “Could you come take a look at it for me?”

Jake’s throat grows thick. Under your dad’s heavy work coat, Jake can see the thin white tank top you’re wearing and the blue checkered, boxer style pyjama shorts. But Jack asked him to take care of you.

“Yeah. Of course I can,” Jake nods his head and reaches down to tug at Ace’s black woven collar. “Come in a sec. I just need some shoes.”

There haven’t been too many occasions where you have been inside Jake’s place. Your dad comes here a lot and you’ve been sent over to collect him before dinner on occasion, or to deliver Jake some leftovers.

It’s warm inside, and it smells like woodsmoke and leather. He’s been burning the candle that you got him for his last birthday. You inhale softly, shrugging the coat closer to your body.

In the times that you have been over here, you’re always surprised by how tidy he keeps the place. It’s not what you would have expected of a single guy living all alone.

Jake pulls some sneakers from a tidy shoe organizer disguised to look like an end table and crouches down to put them on his feet. Leaning over, something catches his eye between the heavy fleece of your dad’s unzipped work jacket.

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

The question startles you, drawing attention to the fact that you had been craning your neck and trying to get a look into Jake’s living room. You turn your head, blinking as Jake straightens up and takes a step towards you.

He reaches out and before you know it, his warm fingers are stretching out across your chilled, just exposed navel. His thumb brushes over your soft skin, brows drawing together as he examines the dainty jewelry pushed through your skin.

Swiftly, you take a step back and his hand drops away from your body. “I’ve had it for years.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. Jake’s going to be kicking himself for that for weeks to come. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched you like that. He shouldn’t be commenting on things your father wouldn’t approve of. You’re too grown up for that.

“Huh,” He clicks his tongue, reaching just past your side to grab his house keys from the dish by the door. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go take a look at those lights.”

The shuffle of your slippers cuts through the awkward silence as you cross Jake’s front yard and into yours. It’s late November, and a cold night in particular too. Standing in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the evening chill makes Jake’s arm hair stand on end. As you walk ahead, your back to him, Jake wonders if it has the same effect on you.

Thinking about his best friend’s daughter’s tits. He wishes the shame alone was enough to knock the thought out of his head. He wishes you hadn’t moved home. He wishes you weren’t leading him into your dark, empty house right now.

The entire house is pitch black, but Jake tests the hallway lightswitch in passing anyway. He notes the dubious look you shoot him back over your shoulder. Then, he passes by you as you stop to take off that big coat. It’s not something he wants to hang by and watch.

It’s cold as his shoulder brushes yours, and not just because it’s November. You swallow thickly, staring after him until he disappears into the dark. Your feelings towards Jake are complicated.

Well, they’re not. Your crush on him isn’t the innocent middle school crush that you used to have on an older figure, like a teacher. No, this is far from doodling his name in your journal. This man, and his thick, ridged abs and golden chest hair, is working his way into your dreams.

After the break-up, you had sworn off men for a while — and that was the right decision for you. But, it left certain parts of you yearning. And Jake’s right next door. From your bedroom window, you’ve got the perfect view into his backyard. The same backyard where he’ll work out in the blazing heat, sweat glistening along his tanned skin, along the ridges and valleys of his muscles.

No, this crush is far from innocent. It crossed the border into indecent weeks ago, the first time that you touched yourself thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault; he was tempting you.

You had returned home from work to find Jake hanging out in the living room with your father, not unusual, and you had joined the two of them. Your dad had started with a playful comment about Jake. Jake had returned the favour with a witty remark about your dad. You were just joining in on the fun, poking playfully at Jake’s age.

All too suddenly, he had turned sharply to you and pinched the soft skin between your ribs and hip, leaning dangerously close with a smirk on his face that made your head spin. In fact, you still remember the way your mouth had hung open as Jake had breathed out a chuckle and shot you that playfully warning look.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He’d challenged, that eager look in those wild green eyes, his cheeks dimpling just slightly, fingers pressing into your side.

Since then, you can’t help but think of him closer, and closer.

“Jake, wait!” You call, dropping the coat onto a hook and kicking off your slippers, starting to rush after him. Jake cranes his neck to look back at you over his shoulder. “You should probably show me what you’re doing. Y’know, in case it happens again.”

“Sure. Come here,” Jake jerks his head for you to join him, extending his hand for you in the dark of the utility room. You swat around until your fingers graze his, falling silent at the brash way he grabs hold of your hand and drags you closer. Your ass briefly brushes his thigh as he guides you in front of him. Jake steps back, clearing his throat. The little red dot on the fuse box illuminates his fingertips as he reaches past you. “This is the switch you want, don’t mess with anything else or your dad’ll kill you.”

The corners of your lips twitch. There are plenty of things your dad would be furious with, if he knew you had done them.

Jake’s fingers curl around the switch. His cologne fills your nose. His massive bicep is inches from your cheek, and everything feels like electric as his other hand comes to rest on the bare space between your shirt and your shorts. You’re trapped between him and the wall in front. If you would push your hips back just an inch or two…

“So, you flip the switch off to reset it,” Jake’s voice is all gravel from yelling at the young pilots he instructs, and shouting over the top of loud music in bars. It drifts past your ears and makes you want to shiver as his fingers curl around the plush of your hip. “And then you flip it back on for the power.”

Suddenly, the lights come back on in the hall outside of the utility room. Jake’s got you cornered against the fuse box really, and with the washer and dryer to your side, the only escape would be to rush out into the hall. You’re not quite ready to make that move. You can hear the amusement in his voice. He can feel the way you’re burning with awkward embarrassment in front of him.

“Oh.” You say quietly. Jake chuckles from behind you, his hand trailing about an inch higher, taking some of the fabric from your tank top with it, pinching playfully at your newly exposed waist.

“Happy to help, kid.” He’s already drawing back, his hand pulling away from your electrified skin, the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and alerting you to the fact that he’ll be leaving before you even know it.

“Could I ask you for one more favour?” You turn to face him, biting sheepishly on your bottom lip.

“Sure. What is it?” He’d retile your entire bathroom for you if you asked him to. That’s what makes him wish he was a better friend.

There’s an art to the way you bat your lashes at him, knowing better than to get too close or put your hands on him. Just that deep, pleading look in your eyes is more than enough. “Will you finish watching my scary movie with me? — Kinda… freaked me out a little bit when the lights went out, is all.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can hang out for a little.” You’re a good kid, and it’s just a movie. He can’t leave you over here all by yourself, scared out of your mind, now, can he?

Jake wonders if this is what your father had in mind when he had asked his most trusted friend to just be there for his daughter while they were away.

That same, trusted best friend, sitting on the couch with his chin propped up against his palm, and that daughter’s head resting against his shoulder. You could have sat over on the other end of the couch, or even in your dad’s armchair, but that defeats the purpose of asking Jake to stay.

“Fill me in. What am I missing here?” Jake asks, mostly to fill the silence. His arm stretches along the back of your couch, his knees parted obnoxiously and his neck awkwardly straight to minimise risk of him laying his head against yours.

Your hand comes to rest against his middle, eyes focused calmly on the screen. “So there are two timelines. The present, and flashbacks to like… maybe ten years ago. Ten years ago, the family bought this mirror, and…”

Jake’s fingers inch their way into your hair, trailing softly over your scalp. Your fingers brush over his middle as he massages your scalp. He listens to you explain the plot of the movie like he isn’t thinking about the way your nipples are pressing through the white fabric of your tank top.

“Freaky mirror…” Jake muses over the concept of the plot, squinting his eyes at the screen, his fingers slowing to a halt in your hair as he turns his head to look at you. “You gonna be able to sleep okay tonight if we watch this?”

You meet him back with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Well, I already started, so I need to see that it ends okay, or I’ll be freaked out.”

“Alright. Just making sure you’re not gonna try crawling into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare.” Jake teases, pushing his knees further apart and sinking down into the comfort of the grey fabric couch he helped the movers bring in here last August.

He didn’t push you away when you sat right next to him and curled against his side. He reached out himself and stroked his fingers along your stomach.

Confidence surges through you like a wave, swelling big enough for you to giggle and press closer to him. “Come on, would that be such a bad thing?”

“What did you say?”

The swell has passed and the wave crashes just like all the others do, breaking over an otherwise calm sea. You swallow softly, growing exceptionally still.

“I was just kidding—“

Jake’s fingers leave your hair and curl instead around the nape of your neck. He turns his head, attempting to get a look at your face. “No, no. Say it again. What did you say?”

You shake your head, pressing it closer against his toned stomach. “I was just joking. You wouldn’t mind it that much if I had a bad dream and had to come sleep in your bed.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the movie draws tense. The main character is creeping around in the dark, the music is building, and Jake’s far too quiet for your liking.

“Don’t joke about that.” Jake says quietly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You answer him, hugging your cheek into the dark fabric of his t-shirt. That way, there’s no chance of him seeing the shame on your face. Going after your dad’s best friend— you should be ashamed of yourself.

Jake rubs a palm over the stubble on his jaw, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. This movie can’t possibly take much longer.

He knows he has upset you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, and he can feel you trying to sit still. He shifts his hips a little, reaching out and resting his palm against your waist.

Your brows draw together as the main character bites into the apple she was eating and glass shards drop to the floor in front of her. Jake feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Sweat beads on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swipes back and forth over the inch of bare skin on your hip.

Jake glances down at you. Laying against his middle like this. It feels all too natural. He isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Truthfully, the only thing on Jake’s mind is how soft your skin feels against the pad of his thumb.

Imagining how soft your body would feel in his palms, every inch of your skin in his capable hands.

You gasp as the camera pans to the main character’s bleeding mouth, and the shattered lightbulb in your hands, twisting your head and burying your face in Jake’s shirt.

Jake flinches, his attention drawn back to the screen as his fingers curl into your skin. His face twists in distaste, groaning at the gore on the screen.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about this being freaky.” Jake mutters with a soft shake of his head, shifting uncomfortably as his fingers massage at the pillowy skin of your waist. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping down to the way you’re nestled just above his waistband. He tries a weak chuckle, mind racing for something to lighten the mood. “What am I meant to do if I’m up all night after this, huh?”

You laugh softly against his stomach, pressing closer to the warmth of his rigid torso. Jake stares at the screen as he feels your open palm brush over his abdomen, fingertips grazing the waistband of his sweats by mere millimeters. He strokes your skin, setting his knees further apart by an inch.

Even with the score of the movie in front of you, everything feels so quiet. Even with the floor lamp to your right and the table lamp to your left, it all feels so dark. It all feels so slow. Truthfully, you imagine this is as close as you’ll get to understanding what it feels like to tightrope across Niagara Falls.

One misstep, a strong gust, the loss of balance in any capacity and its all over. The best friendship that your father has ever had, thrown away because you made a pass at a man far too old for you to begin with.

Then, Jake’s fingers break their almost surgically precise pattern. The tips stretch just slightly under the fabric of your tank top, reaching for the silken skin of your stomach. It’s brief, before they retreat to the safety of circling the skin that you’ve chosen to expose. You drop your gaze, watching all five of his digits follow their intricate pattern, and stretch under the cotton white of your top once again.

Maybe Jake notices that you’re watching him, or maybe he finally notices it himself, but he stops all at once. Fingers pulling back to rest platonically against your hip, green eyes trained seriously on the television, his lips stretched into a flat line.

“It’s okay,” You whisper without turning your gaze away from the screen. Jake doesn’t look at you. He feels your fingers brush across the top of his, curling through the digits, linking them together. “It’s okay, Jake. You can. I won’t say anything.”

Your parents aren’t going to be home for another eleven days. What’s Jake supposed to do until then, ignore your existence? — Avoid you entirely?

He wants this, and you’re on to him, giving him permission.

“Honey,” It’s caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan, an exhale of restraint and desperation all at once. He wishes he could at least pretend he’s half interested in this movie. “Don’t talk like that.”

Your brows draw together, eyes going wide as a child in the movie creeps through the house, headed for the master bedroom. Bloody sheets on the bed. A smashed plate on the floor. Jake’s hand gripping your hip. The child inches forwards, the music swells, a chill rushes down your back. In frame, the little girl rounds the edge of the bed and someone leaps out, bloodied and frenzied. Jake hasn’t been paying enough attention to gather who.

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

The surprise makes you jolt, leaping up from your spot against Jake’s stomach, sitting upright all of a sudden, grabbing onto his forearm for support.

“It’s alright, cutie,” Jake breathes out in soft amusement, rubbing a heavy circle on your back. That’s the first thing he called you. When he’d seen you struggling to lift the icebox in the garage. Let me get that for you, cutie. And now, he has the nerve to pretend like it’s just you that has led the two of you here. “Maybe we should turn it off now, huh?”

Your heartbeat is already thudding in your ears and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep after any of this. Fuck it. You turn, brace your palm against his shoulder, and take the dive.

Jake has thought about what those pretty lips feel like. Every time they stretch upwards into those pretty smiles, each time you sink your teeth into the bottom one. He should be prepared, in theory. Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

“Sweetheart…” Jake mutters against your lips, eyes screwed shut, hands reaching out for your hips. Pained, he gives a slow shake of his head. “Come on, we can’t do this.”

“But do you want to?” Your lips graze his. He feels the way you arch your back, knocking your chest into his, angling yourself in a way that just begs him to grab hold of your waist and drag you into his lap. You close your mouth, pecking softly at his still lips once more. “If you didn’t know my dad… you would. Right?”

Yes. Of course he would. He would be insane not to. He’s driving himself insane trying not to.

“But I do, and… and he trusts me.” Jake turns his head just slightly, but his hands reach for you. His big hands find your hips and grab onto them tight, hard. He just holds you right there. There’s got to be some kind of way he can regain some of the power here.

“I trust you.” You tell him, kissing his jaw tentatively. Delicate fingertips skim along the throbbing vein on the left side of Jake’s throat, reaching for the nape of his neck. Soft, slow kisses lead a trail to his earlobe, passing plains of stubble and angled bone. “I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you want me. It’s okay, Jake, I want you too.

“Fuck.” Jake swears, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers dig into your hips harder and harder. By the time Jake drags you forwards, his grip is so tight that you would have no choice but to follow. You fall into his lap, lips parted and eyes wide as Jake’s deep pine coloured eyes study your face.

You wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. Not for a long time. His fingers stretch up from your hips, reaching under the fabric of your tank top, extending across your bare abdomen. He stretches the brushed cotton further, taking it up with a gentle touch.

“Your father would kill me.” Jake muses as his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, his eyes solely on your face. You smile back at him, only partly because your father is an airline pilot who couldn’t bench half of what Jake does on a good day.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Jake grits his teeth. It has started to rain outside now. That storm that channel four had promised is starting to roll in. The movie will be over soon. The rain will be the only sound on this entire street. This house is completely empty, beside the two of you. He exhales through his nose and pushes his hips up. He’s half-hard under you, and giving you another disapproving shake of his head.

“Little fuckin’ minx…” Jake curses you, his words fanning out across the span of your exposed neck, hot and cold all at once. “You get off on teasing me like this, or something?”

A smile works its way across those pretty lips. Jake could see more of that smile than he sees sunsets and he would still be pretty damn content. Your nails rake softly through the almost buzzed fade at the back of his head as you give a shake of your head.

“Well, it’s not teasing if we take care of it,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug as Jake’s fingers trail further upwards, taking your tank top with them and exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. The rattle of the air conditioning unit that your dad tells you not to mess with reminds you of the real culprit as your nipples harden and perk with the exposure. You lean back, bracing each of your hands on Jake’s knees, arching your chest out, letting Jake see the newly exposed skin. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes are pretty when he smiles. When he’s staring at your tits, they’re hooded and hungry, a shade of green that threatens to draw you in and hold you captive. What a happy captive you would be. His hands grab at both of them at once, squeezing roughly at the supple flesh.

All at once, his mouth is on yours too. He’s sucking at your bottom lip, growling into your mouth. He smells of smoked wood and he tastes of scotch. It paints half of a picture. A lonely man sitting in his home alone on a Saturday night, burning a candle given to him by a girl half his age and drinking liquor older than he is himself.

You’re straddling his hips now, your bare thighs squeezing into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, pulling yourself closer with each hungry kiss. Jake’s touch is experienced, expert; he pinches softly at your nipple, anticipates the way your mouth will draw open in a soft gasp, and licks into your mouth the second that it does. He sucks softly at the tip of your tongue, revelling in the feeling of your soft breasts in his hands.

“Arms up.”

You’re such a good girl. The way that you comply with a wordless grin and bite at your lip once the tank top hits the floor has Jake in even more trouble than he was before. He kisses softly at the space between your tits, pushing them together in his hands, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue into your skin.

Men like boobs. Big boobs, small boobs — your shared gossip sessions with friends in college always led to the same conclusion, men don’t care. They bite, suck, grab regardless of size. It shouldn’t be anything new. But then Jake reaches your left nipple. His right hand palms at the underside as his tongue swipes in a circular motion, just before his lips clasp around the sensitive bud.

You know he’s watching you through those esurient green eyes, but you find yourself playing right into his capable hands anyway. Any leverage you may have had in seeming like his charms don’t work on you are washed away with the dulcet tone of your first moan. It spills from your lips, your nails pressing into the nape of his neck as Jake sucks expertly at the sensitive skin.

He pulls away with another ravenous exhale, something between a sigh and a groan. His hands feel heavy on your body as they paw at your chest with a capability you’ve never encountered before. His cologne is expensive and mature, a smokey blend that has you intoxicated and enthralled. His mouth is wet and eager, but oh, so slow as it explores the areas of you he has dreamt about.

The rain outside is growing heavier, like it’s learning to mimic the deepness of each of your breaths. The movie must have finished by now. Neither one of you is going to check.

His stubble prickles, rough and masculine, abrasive compared to the adept caress of his tongue. His right hand grabs forcibly at the nape of your neck, drawing the sweetest little squeak from your already open lips. You knew he would be better than the guys you’ve been with before, but not like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Jake’s lips seem to pinpoint each and every nerve ending in your chest, sucking and licking at your skin through feverish kisses. The tenderness seeping away each time a breathy moan falls from your mouth, fanning out against his clothed shoulder. He pulls away from the top of your breast with his teeth, already knowing, in his years of experience, that that’s going to bruise.

Jake lifts his head, letting his eyes drift shut as you lean forwards and press your mouth to his neck. He can feel your nerves in your trembling fingertips, in the way your chest shivers when it brushes his, in the way your lips suck at his pulse point. But you’re doing so well. Dragging your lips along the length of his neck, biting softly at the skin just above his collarbone, feeling him shiver at the sensation.

“Off.” You demand, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt, feeling him grin against your jaw. He complies wordlessly, grabbing at the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ve seen Jake shirtless plenty of times, wandering around his property or opening the front door without shame. You’ve always wondered what those muscles, that dusting of golden chest hair, would feel like up close. Forgetting that you’re being watched, your hands explore his toned torso. The line down the middle of his stomach, the sharp divide of his collarbones, the swell of his pecs.

“What’re you thinking?” Jake asks, brushing your hair back from your face tenderly, concern coating his features.

A bashful smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch your fingers ghost along the thick muscle of his shoulder. “That you’re really hot.”

Jake breathes out a chuckle, reaching up and grabbing at the back of your neck to cradle you against him as he pushes up from the couch and turns quickly, planting you on your back and covering your body with his.

“That smile is gonna get me in big trouble, sweetheart,” Jake wastes no time in pressing his mouth to your stomach, holding you by your waist as he sucks filthy kisses into your skin to mark his path downward. “You know that?”

“I know.” You answer back, just to tease him this time. Jake stops at your waistband as you giggle, looking up at you through hooded eyes with a devilish grin on his face. He drags his teeth across your hip, hooking his fingers into the sides of your shorts and tugging them down your legs.

“God, honey, you weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” Jake exhales, eye-level with the most intimate part of you and completely unashamed. Your mind fumbles for an answer, lips getting into position to finally respond when he leans forwards and licks a stripe through your soaked core. Then, he moans. His hands grab fistfuls of your soft waist and he goes in again, lapping hungrily at your excitement, groaning against your sensitive skin.

“O-Oh… Jake.” Your voice trembles, knees trying to press shut around Jake’s broad shoulders. He grabs firmly at your thigh, closing his lips loosely around your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and making you jolt against him.

“Yeah, honey?”

“That feels really fucking good.” You tell him, closing your eyes finally.

“Attagirl. Just hold on, girlie, I’m gonna get you there.” He promises without once diverting from his apparent mission. If he’s as devoted to the Navy as he is to making you cum at this exact moment in time, the military is lucky to have him. You’re soaked, excitement pooling between your legs. Jake already knows he’s going to spend tomorrow cleaning this couch, and he wishes he cared enough to make better decisions.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. He couldn’t care less about the fucking couch. You swallow hard, practically aching for his touch. You’ve waited so long already. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “Making such a fuckin’ mess for your old man’s best friend. Dirty fucking girl.”

He can’t see the way his words make you grin, but he can feel the way you reach for his hair and tug softly at those blonde roots, begging for more. He’s more than happy to give it to you. Jake groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed — if you look him in the eyes then you’re going to get all embarrassed, and you’ll be damned before you let someone ruin how good this feels. Especially not yourself.

Jake’s hand trails up your naked torso, pawing at your rising and falling tits as you pant into the chilled air, sweat beading on your skin.

He’s gentle between your legs. More gentle than he could be. Pressing his stubbled mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you, each languid movement making you keen into him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit periodically. It feels like your head is spinning.

Dragging his mouth back up to your sensitive, throbbing clit, his free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. Just testing the waters. It’s enough to earn him a moan, enough to have you grab a fistful of his short blonde hair, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him. Maybe he should feel ashamed of himself for how much he’s enjoying this.

All of those times he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, and sat with the afterthought of how much he’d enjoy the sound of your moans. It’s hard to be ashamed when it turns out he was right.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp louder this time, pulling against him. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver, and not because of that now thundering storm. Jake’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers from you and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit, burying his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

Jake growls against you, his cock growing now uncomfortably hard in the confines of his sweats and his fingers and mouth switch places once again. After all the time he has waited, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of looking up at you, writhing at the feeling of him between your legs. All that does is make his sweats feel even tighter again. His fingers fuck into you mercilessly, curling and twisting, making you keen into his touch and arch your back and gasp all at once.

You cum with his name on your tongue and your fingers in his hair. The comedown feels like weightlessness. Jake doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the first time a man has made you feel like that, the adoration in your eyes as he comes in to kiss your mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

His mouth tastes like you, his chin is wet with your slick and his cock is straining against the grey cotton of his sweats, pressing in to your stomach. Jake’s fingers brush your hair back softly from your forehead, a sudden calmness in the green of his eyes as he studies the peaceful euphoric smile on your face.

“We don’t have to go any further—“

“Stop trying to be a gentleman.” You huff, lifting your head and kissing him hard, hooking your legs around his waist. Drawing him closer, you’re both painfully aware that the only thing stopping him from touching you is his sweats. “I want you.”

Jake pauses for a moment. Rain slams against the windows, and the television goes dark as it passes into standby mode. His hands squeeze softly at your waist, eyes darting downward at your naked body under his. He would be a damn idiot to say no to everything he has been fantasising about.

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

Your eyes light up before him, gleaming with mischief. You give a confident nod of your head as a cunning little smirk spreads across your lips.

“There are some in my parents’ bathroom,” You can tell right away that he doesn’t like that idea, but that’s okay, option two was by far your favourite anyway. “Or, you could just cum in me. I won’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake drops his head forwards to rest against your naked chest, panting out a dry laugh. His fingers bruise into your middle as he starts to consider the choices that have led him here. Once he feels composed enough to look you in the eye again, he lifts his head and squints seriously. “You did not just say that.”

“I want you to. I’m on birth control anyway.” Long gone is the nervous girl standing on his porch and asking him to fix her lights. There’s a devious, lustful look in your eye and Jake’s pretty damn sure there’s magic in that look. All he knows is that it could make him do just about anything you asked of him. “Please?”

Jake swipes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, studying the depths of your irises for just a moment. He leans forwards and kisses your bottom lip, sucking at the plush skin, pulling away with his teeth. You swallow as he sits back, pushes his sweats down his legs and frees his swollen cock. From under him, you’ve got the perfect view.

Every ridge and valley in those impossible abs, each follicle of hair that lines his tanned chest, trailing down below his navel and sitting neatly around his pubic bone, trimmed just as neatly as his navy-standard hair cut. His cock is a good size, considerable even when he’s got one of his large hands wrapped around its base. Wide too, throbbing red at the tip, bending just slightly to the left.

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

Fisting his cock, Jake sits back on his heels and lets his gaze fall down to your glistening core once again. He looks down at your pretty face, then lowers himself between your legs, pressing his chest into yours, kissing you dizzyingly hard.

“You want it?” Jake asks one last time.

“I want it.” You answer him, smiling softly back at him, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

You’re looking up at him with such trust in your eyes that Jake can barely stand it. His heart thuds in his chest as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds, hesitating just briefly. There’s already no coming back from this. There’s no way to make up for the things he has already done. You’re so special, and he wants this so bad.

Your mouth sucks softly at his throat, quiet, pleased sounds spilling from your lips as he grinds the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit. Jake kisses your shoulder softly, then lowers his head to rest there as he drags his cock down to your warm entrance. You gasp softly as he presses into you, pushing forwards until he’s buried and stretching you open completely.

“Oh,” You whimper against his earlobe, pressing your nails into the swell of his shoulder blade. “You feel really fucking big.”

“So fuckin tight.” Jake grunts, his throat thick with desire as he stills inside of you, thumbs bruising into your hips. “Sweet fucking girl. Feel like you’re made just for me.”

This makes you smile into the curve of his jaw, humming in soft agreement as he starts to slowly rock his hips. Lightning flashes outside of the window, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The rest of the world is a million miles away. In here, it’s just the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” Jake shivers, eclipsing your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth as he drags his hips back until it’s just the tip. You gasp sharply against him as he snaps his hips forwards until he’s buried into you completely once. “Fuck. You like that?”

“Yeah. I want it like that.” You whimper into his skin, hugging your legs tight around his hips. You moan eagerly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply, drawing an excited squeak from your parted lips.

Jake grunts, rocking himself into you hard and fast. He’s waited so long for this, and so have you. The way you’re clawing at his back makes him want to give it all to you. Leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones, he fills you over and over. You curl both legs tighter around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the couch cushion to give his lips better access to your throat.

The living room is filled with the sounds of your sex. Your desperate moans, panting and hard. Jake’s pleasured grunts, muffled softly by the curve of your shoulder. His skin slapping yours. It smells like him, smoky and mature. Sweat beads along his back and his forehead as he keeps up that merciless pace, fucking you so hard that you couldn’t tell him your own name anymore.

Jake pulls back just enough to grab the backs of your thighs and pin them to your chest, hooking your knees over his shoulders, filling you even deeper than before, making you cry out.

“Jake!” You beg, babbling incoherently into the curve of his shoulder as he goes right back to the pace he set before. Fucking you hard and fast, scrambling your brain to the point that the only thing on your mind is the ravenous way he’s staring down at you.

Your walls are squeezing around him perfectly and the sounds you’re making are just driving him insane. It’s been a long time since Jake felt as crazy about someone as he feels about you. He pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers tug at your hair, making you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum — fuck, honey,” Jake grunts out like he’s been punched, his eyes screwing shut as he reaches between your bodies and rubs uniformed circles around your clit. “Are you close? — Can you cum one more time for me?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out, already trembling as you squeeze your thighs tighter around him. “Just—“ You don’t have the words, so you just reach out and grab his hand. Jake swallows hard as you wrap his open hand around the column of your throat and look up at him with that big, trusting look in your eyes again.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes at the sides of your throat, watching your sweet face contort in pleasure. Your hand dips between your legs and replaces where Jake’s had been, rubbing feverish patterns on your clit. Your stomach tightens in knots, your breathing grows heavy and Jake’s cock drives into you at just about the perfect angle each time. You open his mouth to warn him, but it’s already too late. You couldn’t find the words if you tried.

All you can do is grab onto those thick shoulders and cry out his name against the salty skin of his neck. Jake slows just slightly, offering you some reprieve through your sensitivity. Trying to be a gentleman once again. The brain fog starts to clear, you lift your head and press your lips to your earlobe.

“Cum in me,” You pant out, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. Jake groans against your chest, nodding his head feverishly. “Just like that, Jake, please.”

He’s relentless, fucking your through the sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze hard enough that grabbing onto those broad shoulders is the only thing that keeps you down to earth with him. Jake groans desperately. He wraps an arm under your back and pulls you as tight against him as physics will allow. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you, his cock throbbing against your walls. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, somehow more desperate now.

“Fuck, honey…” Jake breathes out, pressing a lazy kiss to the curve of your jaw. He makes no effort to move at first. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” You answer contentedly, a soft smile toying at your lips as lightning flashes outside once again. Jake chuckles tiredly, lifting his head and kissing your lips.

He sighs, moving slow as he slips out of you and looks down at his cum dripping from between your legs.

“Oh, shit!” You realize, sitting up quickly and trying to reach around Jake for something to clean it with. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Truthfully, from the moment that you had laid your head on Jake’s abs, you hadn’t thought once about the consequences of fucking him right here in this spot.

“Forget it, I’ll — I’ll fix this,” He tells you calmly, already regretting that he’s going to have to live with what he has done on this couch. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go take a shower.”

It’s clear that this is foreign territory for you. Not the sex, but what comes after. He didn’t get up and leave. He didn’t run away with regret for what he did. He ran soap across your body and found your pyjamas for you.

You swallow softly, walking to sit on the edge of your bed. Jake runs a hand along his stubbled jaw as he lingers in the doorway to you room. You can’t help but notice that he got dressed again. Including his shoes. He looks you over, sitting there in fresh pyjamas, staring at him with that worried little look on your face.

He hasn’t ever seen your room here. It’s probably the one room in the house he has never been in. He’s been wondering what it’s like.

But that isn’t why he’s standing there. He sighs softly and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I should go — I mean, Ace is over there by himself.” Jake says quietly. You nod at him. You should probably say something too, but truthfully, not all of your words seem to have come back into your mind yet. “Are you coming with me?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you over here by yourself after that weird ass movie.” Jake answers you with a shrug of his shoulders. “I figured you could just spend the night. If you want.”

Your mouth twitches at the corners as you push yourself up from the edge of your bed, nodding eagerly at him. You’ve got eleven days until your parents get back in town, and Jake permitting, you’re planning on making the most of that.

…

#jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman Seresin smut #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #Jake hangman Seresin x y/n #Jake hangman Seresin x you #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin fic #Jake Seresin smut #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x reader #dbf!Jake

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vaaaaaiolet · 2 months

Text

Why choose between riding a cowboy, a stallion, or an Italian when you can have all three? In which you find competition for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost in the American West.

mdni holy shit. f / m, shameless smut just like pure filth. p in v, wild west au, TONS of christian imagery via metaphor??, mild praise + size kink, leon's a tease as usual

word count: 1.69k <3 // read on ao3

a/n: re6 leon turns my brain into illiterate mush and this is the proof. i wrote this 1 word an hour. i couldn't cope. ignore the half assed banner, half assed writing, half assed everything. listen to nessa barrett's song from the title. god bless you all.

God makes no mistakes: you’re on your knees in the back of an Arizona saloon, but you’re not exactly praying thanks. God is a vision in dirty blond as far as you’re concerned. How’d you end up here?

Enter Leon Kennedy: outlaw on the run.

He hadn’t gotten the memo when angels started coming down to Earth and wanted to give you the warm welcome you deserve.

“Seriously?” You laugh; swirl your watered-down whiskey.

“I’ve always wanted to try that one out,” Leon grins. Cocky and magnetic, he takes your hand in his own calloused one and guides you to the dance floor. “But you haven’t seen my real trick yet.”

“And what’s that?”

“This.”

Every other beat of your heart finds you in a dizzying dip over the floor as Leon leads you in a dance akin to gunfights in Tombstone, except Leon is more than O.K. at what he does. He’s got you in a trance with his hands spanning your waist.

Sucking in dust and his woodsmoke cologne, you gasp, “Where’d you learn how to dance like that?”

“You’ve never been danced properly before?” Leon laughs. He spins you like you’re the moon.

“Not like this!”

“Oh darlin’, you don’t learn by talkin’ about it. Keep dancing and you’ll figure it out.”

Figure out a two-step you might not have, but you can figure just fine what Leon means when his hand slips up the hem of your blouse. A hungry thumb soon lines your brassiere right under the nose of the barkeep.

“You’re crass, Leon,” you whisper.

“Is that a no? I’ll treat you right if you let me.”

God expects his servants to give and take, and you’ve done a lot of taking so far, no? You’ve been a little down on your luck lately. Can’t afford to tempt fate that way. So you pull Leon down by the collar, whisper back with your lips lined in devil red, “Make it my treat?”

His smirk glimmers in the dark. “Lead the way, doll.”

Quickly, quickly. Miracles disappear in the blink of an eye and Leon needs to take you before you can disappear into the night. Rope-toughened fingertips fly down your lined blouse, slip the silk off to unveil your sun-freckled shoulders behind the barkeep’s storage door. You’ve spirited Leon away for twenty minutes at best before the saloon closes and the workers come barging in. You’ve got to pay penance for this, haven’t you?

You sink to your knees.

Leon hooks his hands under your thighs and sits you right back up on a crate, and gets down on his knees.

What.

You’re running on borrowed time, you can’t afford tweaks to this arrangement. “I thought we had a deal?” you scowl.

But you forget God makes no mistakes. Leon is his creation, so causation, correlation, you do the math. Your anger dissipates at the first swipe of his thumb over your clothed slit. Wetness blooms at his touch, and Leon chuckles as your breath shudders. Genesis.

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let a lady do all the work.” He kisses the spot between your legs, looks up at you with eyes of oasis blue. “You know I take the lead.”

Your chest heaves. “I do.”

“I’m good at it.”

“...You are.”

"And I know this isn't your style. All I ask is that you let me earn my keep.”

Well, that goes without saying. And so Leon flips the script.

He starts lining burning kisses down your thigh, entices you with an “Open for me”, sighs dreamily when your legs part of their own accord. A previously bothersome, soaked scrap of lace falls at Leon’s feet.

“Oh, baby, you should’ve asked next time. Look at this mess. Wouldn’t’ve needed to be so quick, then.”

Try and look down, but Leon’s already latched his warm mouth onto your clit, sucking like it’s a Tootsie pop. You throw your head back in ecstasy.

Waves of feel-good wash over you in all the colors of a pinkening sunset, gold at the edges and red hot at the center, your own overflowing with slick as Leon dips his tongue inside – oh, oh, oh, swirling the colors with each revolution around your sensitive pearl. Your thighs threaten to clamp around his head. He keeps you pliant, capping your knees with rough palms.

“Leon…” you can’t help but whine.

“Just workin’ ya a bit. Think you’ve had enough?” you hear him groan from underneath.

You’re barely breathing. “Need…need more.”

“Don’t seem that way to me from here. God, you’re gorgeous.” Leon croons, sucking a tender bite a little ways from where you need him most, over the softest part of your inner thigh. A landmark so he can hope to find his way back. He taps your knee. “Time?”

The dusty clock on the barkeep’s desk reads ten minutes to twelve; you relay this with difficulty as Leon does his damnedest to render you incapable of speech. He hums, considering. The vibration shoots right up your core.

“I’ve been in tighter spots,” he eventually decides, shooting you a lopsided grin as he hefts you higher on the crate you’ve practically melted off the side of, “No offense, doll.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t so close. “Low-hanging fruit, Leon.”

“You taste sweeter nohow.”

Missing his mouth already, you pull him back into a kiss. His leather belt clinks in time with the glasses back inside the bar as he unbuckles it, and you take the time to appreciate how you’re level with him even perched atop a crate. Leon’s got height on you.

Inches where it matters, too. His cock bucks in his hand when it finally springs free, and you bat your lashes up at him ‘cause it seems Leon’s been keeping secrets. He’s thick, ruddy and leaking, got a halo over the head of his dick in the light that creeps in from under the door, and you make a prayer to put your mouth on him if you cross paths once more. Your fingers barely go all the way around.

“Make a deal with me, cowboy,” you breathe. “I let you have your fun. Now, you let me.”

Leon cocks a brow. He’s antsy, understandably so. “What’s that entail?”

Plywood burns the back of your jean skirt as you slide off the crate, Leon watching as you shuck off the denim, pool it underneath your feet. You reel him in by the collar just to shove him onto the barkeep’s high-backed chair. Leon’s eyes widen when your thighs bracket his and everything suddenly makes sense as you center your cunt tantalizingly over his painfully erect length.

He’s rasping, needy. “This what you had in mind?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“You sure?”

You scoff haughtily, dragging a smile from him that’s all lynx. “Your wish is my command, miss.”

Palms start gliding up your torso, thumbs rub circles on the undersides of your breasts. Leon’s collarbones collect moonlight streaming in from the open window and you want to lap it all up like milk, but you’re getting distracted. The clock is counting closer to midnight. Adrenaline makes you heady. Maybe you should tell Leon to get a good handle on your hips when you sink down on his dick – point blank.

All the way to the hilt.

He takes it in stride as best as he can. “Tight, doll, ah,” he hisses, head bobbing, “so tight. Gonna send me to heaven.”

You shift your hips experimentally, whimpering at the stretch. You’re a lousy judge of character but an apparently worse judge of size because you have no idea how you’re going to do this. Leon’s thumb reroutes to your navel, North Star that it is, and travels down to wait over your clit. Technically, you’ve still got the lead. Everything’s still. So so still. You’re about to break.

The minute hand ticks.

“Leon, please,” you whimper.

“What’s that, doll?”

You paw uselessly at his chest. “Need help.”

Leon clicks his tongue in sympathy. It’s hard to get mad at a thing like you no matter how tough you sell yourself. Smart mouth and pretty eyes, bubblegum sweet underneath, something he’s gotta help. Leon’s always been a sucker for the damsel in distress type.

So he calls down a miracle. “I gotcha, sweetheart.”

You cry out in relief at the lifting sensation of his hands around your hips. This is another dance you’ve yet to learn, it seems.

“I gotcha.” Leon’s voice is a psalm over the burn of his cock inside you. A familiar thumb sneaks in between where you and he meet; whiskey and mint on his breath intoxicates you when he murmurs, ”Did so good for me, darlin’. Doesn’t feel too great right now, does it?”

You sniffle. “Mm-mm.”

“Gonna let me make it better?”

“Please.”

Leon indulges you. Taking advantage of the slick velvet he’s wrapped in, he glides you up just the tiniest bit, revealing the inch of his length you’ve covered in your arousal. You watch transfixed as he lifts your hips up and down. Baby steps. Stomach flips. You leave him coated in stardust like you’re made of it.

Leon’s in awe. “See that?”

But you’re too far gone to take notice of anything but the embers in your stomach, seconds away from crumpling onto his chest. You were once sitting proudly upright. The extent of your desire hits like a revelation once your insides finally mold around him, like it was all prophesized, and you can’t tell up from down when Leon starts to piston you on his lap.

Five minutes 'til it’s all over: You’re tender and boneless and about to explode. Leon is relentless. Sweat drips from his brow like holy water. He kicks the barkeep’s chair to barricade the door because you were right, there’s no way you’re making it out here alive.

Your thighs ache with exertion, steering you on their own.

Four minutes: “Can’t take it, Leon!” You’re going under. The flood is no myth.

“Tell me where,” he grits, desperate.

Three.

You want him to pull up the ladder.

Two.

“Where, doll, where?!”

One.

“Inside.”

And God, you burn brighter than the sun.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #vaaaaaiolet #ns/ft #resident evil #resident evil 6

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

For Her

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10k Warnings: Cursing, food, panic attack, references to unplanned pregnancy, past pregnancy, mentions of Sarah, general post-outbreak mood. Summary: Low on supplies and needing rest, Joel and Ellie stop in a colony he has heard about to restock on their journey west, but Joel finds far more than be bargained for within the city walls. Notes: We are so, so excited to debut our first Joel fic! We’ve been looking forward to this for ages and can’t wait to explore with the character some more!

There aren't many things that are better now than they used to be. Most comforts are gone and there hasn't been any such thing as safety in twenty years, but Lake Erie is more beautiful than ever and sunrises over the water do have a certain amount of appeal that they lacked before now. You had come here on camping trips with your family as a kid and can't remember it ever being this pretty. Not that sunrise is typically your favourite time of day, but the little bundle wrapped in blankets in your arms seems to love it, and she coos happily now at the rising pinks and oranges in the sky while she wiggles her little fist in the air. Everything is better now that she's here, and you press a kiss to her coffee-brown curls. The rest of the world may be in shambles, but you're going to keep this little bundle safe and sound.

******

Joel's eyes are wary, watchful as he looks around. The rifle in his hand lowered, but still ready to lift and fire, the safety switched off and his finger on the trigger guard. "How much we got?" He demands, peeling his eyes away from the surroundings to glance down at Ellie where she has the supplies scattered out, taking count after a bag had been lost during the last run in with a group of clickers.

"Not much." Ellie frowns at the spread, realizing that the pack they'd lost was the one with most of their food. "We have a couple of days here, at best."

"Shit." Joel hisses, tapping his hand on the guard as he thinks. Trying to decide the best course of action. "Gimme the map." He huffs after a second, holding his hand out so he can look at it.

"Here." Joel's map is marked out in codes and colors that Ellie still hasn't figured out yet, but she's been trying ever since they left Boston. She hands over the map now and starts repacking their supplies. "We just crossed the border into Pennsylvania."

"No shit we crossed the border into Pennsylvania." Joel grumbles at her, aware that the moss covered sign they had passed thirty minutes ago proudly proclaimed them to be inside the boarders of the old state. He shuffles the rifle onto his back and starts studying the map, trying to remember where she had told him there was a colony the last time he left the Boston QZ.

"Cranky." Ellie rolls her eyes as she ties up the drawstring on the bag and shoves it into her backpack.

"Shut up." He grunts, running his finger along the road that the two of them are on. Tracing it up to a small town on the edge of Lake Erie. "Lake City." He taps the map as he remembers her smile as she talked about it, making it seem like it was a haven. "I know a place." He decides, folding the map back up and holding it out to the girl. "They should have supplies."

"A lake?" That perks Ellie up, and thoughts of an actual bath in the fresh water and clean clothes are suddenly at the forefront of her mind. "Fuck it. Let's go."

She hikes her pack up higher on her back and steps past him like she's eager to get there. Making him look after her for a moment before he huffs in amusement and starts to follow. "Hey kid, wait up." He orders, not wanting her to get too far ahead of him.

"You got longer legs than me, old man." She throws the taunt behind her with a smirk, not bothering to turn around and look at Joel. "Catch up."

******

It takes nearly three days to get to Lake City. Joel had to keep the girl in a warehouse for an extra six hours when a group of clickers had come by, huddled down and silent as they wandered through. His finger on the trigger and his body in front of her to protect her if necessary. By the time the tall, cobbled together walls come into view, he can barely see twenty feet in front of his own face. It would have been better to have found a place to bunk down for the night, but the supplies were gone and the girl's stomach had been growling for hours.

The watch lights on the catwalk at the top of the walls outside Lake City aren't exactly anything fancy. There's no FEDRA presence here and therefore no Fireflies. No one waving their gun around or murmuring codes around alley corners. The community of Lake City takes care of itself - self-sufficient and self-supporting in every way they can manage from crops and farming to security and back again. There are two people on the catwalk tonight, carrying two of the only guns in the colony to make sure that no clickers come near the gates. They aren't expecting to see anything, and are chatting between themselves about some gossip or other when one of them stands straight up and points the barrel of his rifle down at the two figures approaching the gate. They don't have the movement patterns of any clickers he's seen, but no one takes chances anymore. "STOP!"

"We're alive!" Joel calls out, lifting one hand up and holding the rifle securely with the other as the two of them slowly approach the light. Squinting at the spotlight that is aimed towards them and he moves his hand to shield his eyes from most of the harsh light.

"I can see that." The voice calls out from the top of the wall. "Put down your gun and stay where you are!" The other figure on top of the wall moves out of sight, presumably to come down and inspect the new arrivals.

"I ain't dropping my gun." Joel calls back, not willing to unarm himself. "Not a chance."

"Hold it out. Finger off the trigger. Stay where you are." The voice from the wall instructs. Down below, the much smaller city door swings open, revealing a smaller figure clad in mismatched armor with a gun directed at the new arrivals. "Stand down." The smaller figure orders from behind their helmet.

Joel holds the rifle out, finger lifted into the air but his eyes are watchful, making sure that no one makes a sudden move. He doesn't trust anyone.

It's not until the figure gets closer that they stop, standing stark still in the open field in front of the gates. They don't speak and Ellie keeps herself from fidgeting. She just keeps her eyes moving between Joel and the person in armor until they nod and turn back to the wall. "Let them in!" The figure calls, without testing or checking or finding out anything.

Your eyes widen when you recognize Joel, grateful for the visor that keeps him from seeing your face and potentially recognizing you as well. Although maybe he wouldn't even remember you, you don't know. It was one night well over a year ago, when you were coming down through what used to be New England and ran into him on the road. The idea of sharing supplies and safety in numbers for one night had ended up with the two of you tearing each other’s clothes off and spending all your frustrations in passion. A night that has ended up being far more consequential for you than it ever could be for him.

Joel frowns, standing straight and immediately moving towards Ellie. The protective stance easy for anyone to see as he eyes them. It's unusual that anyone would let people into their colony without questions or testing. Even without the FEDRA influence. "Thank you." He nods towards the figure who is seemingly giving the orders. "We're just passin' through. Need supplies."

“When was the last time she ate?” Deflecting more than slightly, you nod toward the girl, wondering if she’s his. If you aren’t the first woman that had a night with him and ended up living with the consequences.

"Yesterday." Joel answers, making Ellie cut her eyes up at him.

"She can answer for herself." She blows out and looks back at the figure dressed in tactical gear. "Yesterday." She repeats without a hint of irony.

"Then we'll get you something to eat." You nod back to the gate and start walking, knowing that no one left in the world would be dumb enough not to follow. There's shelter, food, and safety on offer for them inside the colony walls. It's literally what they came here for.

Joel looks at Ellie, nodding towards the figure that is retreating. "Well?" He huffs, "better follow." He readjusts his rifle and starts out after the gear covered leader, frowning slightly as he watches their gait. Something seems familiar about it, although he doubts he will run into you here. You had told him that you were planning on going west.

"This place is weird," Ellie mutters, though she follows at the promise of food. "No test and no interrogation? Weird." Inside the gates, the third member of night watch usually doesn't do much. They're there for support, and to keep the rotation going so the people on top of the wall are always alert. Tonight, though, he looks completely appalled that you're opening the gates for new arrivals. "They need food," you tell him, keeping your helmet and visor in place so no one can see how poorly you're dealing with him appearing out of nowhere. "And someplace to sleep. They'll be gone again in no time."

"Keep your eyes open." Joel watches the person's back warily and cuts his eyes around. "Stick by my side. I don't know what's going on, but I don't trust 'em." If this place is half as lax with security as they seem, it's a wonder that it's still standing. Although it seems a lot cleaner than the FEDRA Boston QZ. Hard to see in the dark, but he imagines it's as picturesque as you had described it.

"Shiiit." On the other side of the gate, Ellie stays at Joel's elbow as they follow the guard through to another room. An empty table and a few chairs standby but not much else, and they stand apart from the furniture when you turn to nod to them. "Someone will bring you food and show you where you can sleep. And they'll lock the gates behind you when you leave tomorrow." You have no expectation that he'll stay here, and even though you had dreamt plenty of times of this man coming to find you - and all the tenderness that that might bring with it - you aren't going to say a word. Not when you have your own secret.

"That's it?" Joel shifts slightly, eyes narrowing as he glances around the room suspiciously. "You're just gonna...let us stay?" His tone is disbelieving and it should be, nothing is free in this world since the Outbreak day. "What's really goin' on here?"

Your head drops a little, and you hate him for being so cautious that he can’t just accept the proverbial gift horse he’s being given. “You want to be turned away? Kicked out for asking questions? Fine.” You point to the door. “Get out.”

Joel doesn't move, just stands there watching. Rocking his jaw for a second before he purses his lips. "Lift your visor." He demands, his gut telling him that he knows why he was just let in. "Show me your face."

You could say no. It would be easy. Two letters. One syllable. But you hesitate. “Put down the gun,” you bargain instead. At the very least you don’t want him blowing you away the second he’s confronted with his past.

Instead of putting it down, he takes his finger off the guard, simply holding it by the pistol grip and he lowers it towards the ground in a relaxed position. "As good as it's gonna get." He tells you simply.

It draws another sigh from your lips, but since the Joel you knew was as thorough a son of a bitch in every way as you had ever met, you know he won’t let it go. If you try to retreat he’ll just follow you and pull the helmet right off your head. “I’m not looking for trouble,” you tell him honestly, but pull up the visor on your helmet with two fingers anyway.

Joel's slight scowl immediately softens into a mixture of confusion and satisfaction at being right. Your name comes off his lips in a soft whisper as he takes half a step back in surprise. "You're— you were supposed to be going west." He mumbles, looking you up and down as if what you were wearing would tell him the story of the last year.

Astonished but quietly glad that he actually remembers you, you shrug your shoulders as nonchalantly as humanly possible and take your helmet clean off. No use hiding now. “Circumstances change.” Motioning to the girl beside him, you try not to look to curious or affected by it at all. If he had a wife that he was stepping out in, you don’t want to make waves. “For you, too.”

"Who, her? Joel points at Ellie and shakes his head. "No, she's cargo." He huffs, not wanting you to believe that this girl is his. "Transporting her." He doesn't want to admit it, but you look good, softer - even with the harsh tactical gear.

“Well…I’m sure you’re not aching to rehash old times.” Although now that he’s seen your face, you have to admit that you are. “I’ll go get your food.”

"Wait." Joel steps forward almost instinctively, not wanting you to leave right away. He's wondered about you since that night, no matter how he's tried to just forget about it. Wondering if you had gone west like you planned and he wonders what had kept you here.

"Well, that's interesting." Ellie huffs, making him turn around and glare at her.

"Unless you need to go." Joel adds, feeling foolish.

“I’ll see if Zach can take over on the catwalk for me.” As much as you’re trying to guard yourself, you do want to talk to him again. You’ve literally dreamt of seeing him. Of a night or day just like this when he would come walking up to the colony gates looking for you. Except he wasn’t actually looking for you. He’s just hungry and transporting some teenager. “Sit with you for a little?”

Joel nods, slightly relieved that you aren't just walking away. "Yeah." He rasps out. "That'll be good." You turn around and walk away, leaving him with a smug Ellie, smirking at him like she knows something he doesn't. "What?" He demands harshly, sending her a glare that would make other men piss themselves but she just smirks harder.

“Who’s your pretty lady friend?” Ellie snickers, enjoying the hell out of Joel’s discomfort. He doesn’t show his cards often, but she loves it when he does.

"None of your fuckin' business." He grumbles, relaxing a bit now that he knows you're here. He sets the rifle down and shuffles the back off his back, relishing the relief from the weight. "I don't ask you about your life."

“It means something,” she argues, taking his relaxation as a signal that it’s safe to plop down in one of the folding chairs at the table that takes up most of the room. “You’ve fucking slept with your finger on the trigger. Now she’s here and you’re all trusting? It’s worth asking questions about.”

"It means I've met her before." Joel counters, shucking his jacket and rolling it up to tie to his pack. He wishes he had known you were here. He would have tried - well, there was nothing he could have done if he had known. It wasn't like he was going to pick you flowers and bring them to you like a beau coming to court you. You had one unforgettable night and for all he knows, you've got someone in your life.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughs. “From old times.”

"Aren't you like 13?" He rolls his eyes and pulls out a chair to sit down, groaning slightly at how good it feels on his back. "A year is old times to you, kiddo." It's shocking sometimes how much she can remind him of Sarah. The sass is a little sharper, but the smart mouth of the teenager has made him snort several times when she wasn't paying attention.

“So you knew her a year ago?” Ellie has been quick to pick up on his dropped facts, realizing he does it when something scratches at a particular thought or memory.

Joel narrows his eyes at her in warning but she just raises her brow at him. "Last time I was outside the walls." He admits, reaching up and rubbing his jaw with his hand. "She told me about this place."

“So she’s why we’re here?” Interesting that Joel actually listened to someone long enough to even absorb what they were saying. He’s not exactly chatty.

"No." Joel shakes his head, looking around the room. "We're here for the four-star accommodations." He jokes, knowing the girl doesn't have a clue what he is talking about.

“And for dinner.” Appearing in the doorway with three bowls of soup, some bread, and glasses of clean water, you carefully balance the tray until you can get close enough to the table to set it down. Luckily you’ve been in and out of this room enough times that you know exactly how many steps it takes to get from the door to the table. Six.

Joel leans forward and takes one of the glasses of water but he doesn't touch the soup or the bread. He trusts you, but that's not why he isn't eating. Instead he moves a bowl and a large portion of the food in front of the kid and nods to her. "Eat."

Ellie doesn’t have to be told twice, applying herself to the meal that’s available to her enthusiastically in the hopes that Joel will forget she’s in the room and talk freely. Gossip is the best she can do for entertainment half the time.

“You too.” The second bowl of soup and the last of the bread is set down for Joel, and you take the third bowl off the tray for yourself before handing out spoons.

"After the kid eats her share." Joel takes a sip of his water, knowing that he won't eat a bite until she is full. He hadn't eaten yesterday so she could have more. He could do without.

“Joel.” You would roll your eyes but you know what it is to be hungry. “There’s more in the kitchen. There’s plenty. Please, eat.”

He watches you for a moment before he nods, pulling the bowl towards him and immediately starts eating with the same tenacity as the kid.

You have to wonder how long they've been out in the wilds. It's a long way from the Boston QZ and they had said yesterday was their last meal, but you aren't sure it wasn't longer ago than that. Instead of asking questions you just have your own bowl, letting the silence be filled by nothing more than the sound of eating for now.

Joel is a fast eater. Has always been one. Oftentimes swallowing down meals to beat a timed clock to get to work on time, or to have a few minutes to rest before the lunch break was over on a job site. So he's the first one that is pushing the bowl away, not completely satisfied but the hollow ache is gone for now.

"There's more," you remind him, not trying to push but wanting - for your own reasons - for him to be taken care of.

"Maybe in a few minutes." Joel nods his head towards the girl. "Don't want her to throw it all up. Waste of food."

The girl grumbles and makes a face, but doesn't say anything, and you nod for now. "So...you're headed through? On your way from Boston to wherever?" For some reason you just can't bring yourself to ask if he would stay, which is what you really want to know. Even for a single day.

Joel looks at the door and then at Ellie for a moment before he looks back at you. "Got to get the kid to the Fireflies." He tells you quietly. "Just left Pittsburg and had a little trouble there." He admits, the run in on the road making them abandon the car when it crashed into the bookstore.

"Shit." Your shoulders fall a little, finding out that he's been in danger, but you don't reach for his hand like you want to. "Do you need to lay low for a little bit? How much trouble is a little trouble?"

"It wouldn't hurt." Joel acknowledges, knowing that he had pushed the kid hard for the past week, wanting to put as much distance between them and the city. "Be even better if you had a car we could have."

"I can ask around." A few people have pieces they've been cleaning up to sell to travelers exactly like him, but you had sold yours before the baby was born to get formula powder, diapers, and the other necessities that came with raising a child. "There's...there's room at my place but..." When you exhale you shudder slightly, suddenly terrified at having to actually tell him what happened. Never having thought this day would actually come, you hadn't exactly prepared a speech. "There's something you should know first."

Joel tenses immediately, knowing that news is never good. This time he is expecting to hear that you have some man in your life. That you don't need him bringing up the past. "You don't have to worry about it." He tells you immediately. "Won't say anything about it." He doesn't want you to think that will say anything if you hadn't been free to have him touch you like he assumed.

"What?" It takes you a second, but your mind catches up to his defensiveness relatively quickly. "No, no...that's not...that's not it at all. It's actually...kind of the opposite of that." Glancing at the girl he's got with him, you swallow a solid ball of nerves and try not to grimace. "Not sure what you're okay with me saying..."

"Well if it's something to do with where we're stayin' she's gonna find out." He frowns, trying to figure out what the hell has you so flustered. "Might as well tell 'er now."

"That's fair." But it still makes you blow out a slow, anxious breath and look down at your hands in your lap instead of even trying to look him in the eye. "It's just...if either of you has an issue with being around a baby...I'll find you somewhere else to sleep."

"A baby?" Joel's eyes widen and he frowns. "You found a baby out here?"

"Not quite." Found isn't really the word you would use. "I..." Your fingernails bite into your palms, nerves making you close in on yourself. With no idea how Joel will react, you just dive in headfirst. "She's seven months old. A-and her name is Caroline."

It doesn't take long for Joel to put the pieces together. You look like you're about to shit a brick and twisting your hands together nervously. Seven months old plus the eight—nine months carrying her. Puts her conception right at the time where he had been outside the walls and met up with you for one night. Joel's chair scrapes the floor as he pushes it back abruptly and turns to stalk out of the room, needing fresh air before he passes out.

"Oh fuck," Ellie murmurs, eyes going wide as she looks between you. Whatever gossip she thought she was going to get, this is way better. "It's not like I could just call you." Immediately ready to defend yourself, you're also ready to collapse inwardly from the anger and hurt on his face. "Show up to a FERPA QZ unauthorized and they hang you, so it's not like I could go to Boston, either." Calling the baby Caroline had been your nod to the city where her father supposedly lived, and she's had Sweet Caroline sung to her as a lullaby every night of her very short life.

Your words stop him from leaving, his back turned to you and he tries to breathe but all he can see Sarah's lifeless eyes, unable to protect her. "I-I need— to go-out-outside." Joel chokes, out, stumbling for the door.

"Joel!" Turning to follow him right away, you pause only for a second to point a finger at the girl. "Stay here," you tell her firmly before going after the man who has no idea how to navigate the colony he's about to be ambling around blindly.

Joel hits the door, stumbling into the colder night air, stumbling off to the side and bends over as he tries to suck in lungfuls of air and put his head between his knees at the same time. Blind panic taking over as all he can hear is the rapid, panicked breaths of his dying daughter's last breaths, not realizing it's actually his own breathing.

"Joel." Shooting after him, you find him hyperventilating against a tree in the courtyard beyond the gate. This isn't the first time you've ever seen somebody have a panic attack - it's a regular occurrence to a certain extent - but since it's the first time you've ever had to tell a man that you gave birth to his child, you're a little shaken. "Joel, you gotta breathe, okay?" You kneel down beside him and gently put your hands on his shoulders, trying to figure out if touching him will be soothing or just spook him more. "Deep breaths. Long, steady exhales."

"I c-can't – you— you— ba-bab-baby—" Joel closes his eyes and stops breathing at one point before he starts to drop down to his knees in the dirt. Inhaling roughly and sounding like a man starved of oxygen finally getting a breath. Trying not to pass out from the rush of oxygen to his brain and he clenches his fists on his thighs.

"I don't want anything from you." What the hell could you even ask for? Child support? That's fucking laughable in the world you live in now. Dropping to your knees in the dirt next to him, one hand is one his back but you're trying to search his face for some kind of reaction beyond panic. "Caroline and I are as good as anybody can be with the way the world is, okay? You just concentrate on deep, looong breaths."

"I don't— I can't—" Joel chokes out a sob and his hand wraps around his watch. The last thing he has from his daughter. "Sarah." He manages, trying to steady his breathing.

"Sarah doesn't need to know." Finding out he does have someone waiting for him is a disappointing twist to your gut, but you can't be focusing on yourself right now.

He shakes his head, shoulders slumping down and he takes a moment before he manages to take an even steady breath. "Not—" He stops himself and reaches for your hand. "She's okay?" He asks. "You're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod and squeeze his hand, wondering what the hell is going through his mind. "Yeah, Joel. We're okay. One of my friends is watching her while I'm on night shift, but we're good. She's...she's my angel."

Joel closes his eyes and absorbs the news that once again - twenty years later - he's a father. He nods, squeezing your hand back before he opens his eyes, more in control of himself than he had been minutes before. "Okay." He rasps out.

"You don't owe us anything, and I'm not asking for anything." He hasn't taken his hand back and you're shamefully glad about it, enjoying the warmth of him again after so long. "You just...you deserve to know she's yours."

He doesn't think that you would lie about something like that. You weren't that type of person. "I— Ellie—" He twists his head around to find the girl outside and staring at him with wide eyes.

"You guys are safe here." Whoever this girl is she's more than just cargo, but you're not going to ask questions. You always got the feeling that Joel was into far more dangerous shit than you could ever stomach, and while that was part of the sex appeal it did also mean you weren't going to stick your nose in his business.

"You shoulda stayed inside." Joel manages to sound like himself when he addresses Ellie but the girl just shrugs.

"But I didn't." She counters back with a smirk. "I wanted to see you freak out over having a baby. Old fart."

"Accidents happen in the world." Shit happens, you know that, and while Caroline was unplanned you wouldn't trade her for the world. "We all process shit differently, Ellie."

"He doesn't." She mutters, some of her joy fading as Joel stumbles to his feet and turns to her.

"Take your time." Your hand on Joel's arm is solid and would be comforting if it weren't for the situation at hand. "I'll take Ellie back inside. Give you...ya know...time to absorb."

"No." Joel shakes his head, the same calm that he normally shows settling back over him. "I'm good." He looks towards Ellie and grimaces. "Can the kid get a bath?" He asks, knowing it's been a while. "Some clean clothes?"

"Yeah, of course." Anything he needs is his, you know yourself well enough to know that you'll give him anything you can without sacrificing what Caroline needs. "A bath, clean clothes, food, place to sleep, whatever. I meant it, you can stay with me as long as you need to."

The invitation to stay shouldn't be appealing, but it is. Right now, Joel just wants to see this daughter of his and get some sleep. He's exhausted and now that his stomach isn't growling, he wants to rest. "Okay."

"Go grab your packs from the room," you urge them both, glad to see Joel looking a little more like himself again. "I'll go check in with Zach and then I'll show you where you're staying."

Joel is quiet as the two of them collect their things, ignoring the obvious looks from Ellie as she tries to catch his eye so she can grill him. He can't do that right now. Meeting you back out front and Joel holds the rifle loosely in his hand. "Lead the way."

******

The small house you've been living in is one of the lakefront cottages that some rich family once upon a time must have used for vacations. It's a little thing with just enough room for you and Caroline and your friend who drops in a few times a week to look after the baby so you can relax or work your night shift for the security team. A lot of your time is spent with the other mothers in the colony anyway, giving a whole lot of proof to the phrase 'it takes a village'. "This is it." A half mile from the gates, you point out the little house that once had white paint and blue shutters, and now looks exactly like the windswept relic that it is. "Home sweet home."

It's the closest that he's seen to normal since the outbreak. His face relaxing even more, and he gives a small half smile as he looks at it. "You sure you want us in your space?"

"You have more right to it than anyone else." The shrug you offer him is a little lax, but it's the best you can do. "And Ellie here needs a good night's sleep."

"I'd fucking kill for a pillow." Ellie moans, her eyes fluttering in at the idea of it. "Hey." Joel bumps her shoulder and frowns at her.

"No, it's alright." You wave him off, not wanting him to worry about propriety when you pull the front door open. "There's a spare bedroom with a whole bed with blankets and pillows and everything for when my friend stays over." Nothing is exactly high quality, but at least it's there. The glancing look you give Joel, though, is cautious. "I can sleep on the couch so you can have a bed. It's okay."

“I’m not takin’ your bed.” Joel huffs. “I’ve slept in worse places than a couch.” He’s not going to kick you out of your bed, not when you’ve got a baby to take care of. “Keep your bed, honey.”

What you really want is to offer to share it, but you're not sure if that would be weird to say in front of the teen. "Kitchen and living room down here, bedrooms and bathroom upstairs." You lead the way into the house with your voice lowered and point down the left side of the hallway. "That's the guest room and the bathroom, Ellie. Knock yourself out. There's a towel in the cupboard after you're done and I'll find something of mine you can wear for pajamas. We'll wash your clothes at the lake tomorrow."

“I get a bed to myself?” Ellie’s eyes are wide and she’s not too interested in a bath but she knows she will feel better. “For real?”

"It's not big, but it's all yours." You nod and watch her disappear down the hall at top speed. "She's sweet. Mouth of a sailor, but sweet."

“She’s a pain in my ass.” Joel corrects you, even as he smirks listening to her squeal of delight and the heavy stomping of her feet since she knows she’s safe.

"Do you..." Motioning toward your bedroom door lamely, you can hear your friend on the other side murmuring softly. "Do you want to meet your daughter?"

Joel takes a deep breath and after a moment, he nods. Just one short tilt of his head. Exhaling slowly so he doesn’t freak out again.

When you open the door two sets of eyes find you immediately. Your friend Emma is confused, obviously, but Caroline's little face lights up and she starts babbling happily the second you appear. "Home early tonight," you explain, offering both girls a smile and reaching for the little bundle in Emma's arms. "How's mama's little angel tonight? Did she wake up wanting snuggles again?"

A baby. It’s been nearly thirty-five goddamn years since Joel has interacted with a baby. Unable to do anything but watch as a little human, a miniature version of you - thank God - coos and babbles at her mommy. Hands grabbing and an occasional squeal coming out of her tiny, yet forceful, mouth.

"She got a little fussy a half hour ago," Emma tells you. Her eyes never leave Joel, though, regardless of the fact that she's talking to you. "One a.m. like clockwork." Bundling Caroline up in your arms is easy. It's like the most natural thing in the world despite how scared you had been to bring a baby into this insanity of this world around you. "Well, I got news for you, baby girl," you coo at her and bounce her softly in for your arms. "You have somebody extra special to meet." Stepping just barely to the side, you nod to Joel and smile. "Emma, this is Joel." The introduction is simple, but that's because your friend knows exactly who Joel is to you. Why he's so important. "Caroline, baby," you press a kiss to her forehead. "You wanna meet your daddy?"

Joel can't even spare a glance for the girl once he sees the kid. Fear, joy, bone deep sorrow and relief that she looks healthy all bloom in his chest at the same time. Eyes focused on her, absorbing every minute movement as you interact with his daughter. He moves forward, barely an inch, without even realizing it. Leaning in so he can see her better. See the child that he had created with you even though he had pulled out and thought that he had been fast enough. He knows that's not foolproof, and the evidence is right in front of him.

“Do you want to hold her?” Not knowing anything about Joel’s life before the Outbreak, you have no idea if this is the first time he’s held a baby or the millionth. He might hate them for all you know. Some people do, after all.

“No.” Joel rocks back and shakes his head immediately. “I’m— I’m dirty. I shouldn’t. I’ve been outside and who knows what I’ve picked up.” The idea of infecting this innocent baby makes his heart pound. “I— no.”

“Okay.” The panic on his face is unexpected, and surprisingly disappointing, but you nod and continue to bounce Caroline gently. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…you don’t have to be her father. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s not—” Joel cuts himself off and sighs. “I’ve been traveling for weeks. And had to— the clickers….” He mumbles, looking down at his filthy hands. “I need to clean up.”

“I’m gonna go.” Emma murmurs, grabbing her sweater from the old rocking chair and eyeing the two of you awkwardly. “Come by tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You nod, reaching to squeeze her shoulder with one hand in silent thanks for everything she does to help you. “Thanks, Em.”

Joel listens as she goes down the stairs and out the door. Alone with you after over a year and there’s this baby in your arms. Taking him back to his early twenties, reminding him of when Sarah was that size. He clears his throat. “I— can I clean up?” He asks, knowing you might not have clothes for him to wear but it would be good to scrub the filth from his body.

“Y-yeah, of course.” You have your own bathroom, attached to your bedroom, and you know for a damn fact that if you hadn’t repaired this place yourself when you got to Lake City you’d be sharing it with at least one or two other families. But you put your foot down and you leaned on the pregnancy sympathy and you got it for you. Or really, for Caroline. “Through that door. I’m not sure if I have clothes you can wear, but I’ll look.”

“Thank you.” With one last look at the baby, Joel strides into the bathroom and closes the door. Amazed that there is a private space for you, that he’s got a baby he helped create. The mirror above the sink is old, the silver coating peeling but he looks into it and wonders when the hell he got so many grays in his hair.

Caroline frowns heavily when Joel disappears from her limited line of sight, and you coo at her quietly while he cleans himself up. “It’s okay, sweet Caroline,” you murmur, cradling her close. “Everything’s okay. He’ll be right back, baby girl. Don’t be sad.”

In the bathroom, Joel strips down, eager to be clean for the first time in who knows how long. The water isn’t warm but it’s fresh. Making him groan under the spray and watch as swirls of dirt and filth rush down the drain.

The sound of the shower running only lasts a few minutes, but you knock on the door when he’s done and call his name quietly. “Joel? I’ve got some things that might fit you. I’ll leave them in the bed for you while I get Caroline a snack, ok?”

“Thank you.” Joel calls out, stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist. It’s the cleanest he’s felt in a long time and the lure of clean clothes is hard to resist.

******

You’re downstairs with a happily babbling little girl thoroughly enjoying her applesauce when Joel appears in the doorway, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He looks like an entirely new man - fresh and clean like he just washed up after work and it’s a completely normal day in a completely normal world. If not for the peeling paint and candlelight, you could almost pretend the Outbreak had never happened. That this is just life with your baby and the man who gave her to you.

"Hey, uh..." Joel frowns slightly, feeling awkward and not wanting to overstep in any way when you have been so kind to him. "I left my clothes in the bathroom. Didn't— they need to be washed." He explains, lifting a hand to run it through his squeaky-clean hair.

“I’ll take them to the lake tomorrow when I do Ellie’s.” You offer, assuming they’ve been traveling hard and will need to rest. Joel isn’t a gentle kind of guy.

"I can wash our clothes." Joel tells you. "You don't need to add more to your plate for us. You already have enough." His eyes turn back towards the baby and he is still startled by the large dark eyes watching him. Reminding him again of Sarah as a baby.

“Then we’ll go together.” That’s fine with you, it’s an excuse to spend more time with him. “This one keeps things plenty messy.” You grin and blow Caroline a kiss. “Don’t you, sweetie?”

Joel nods and licks his lips slightly as he watches the girl react to it. Waving her hands and grinning at her mother. She's getting sleepy, her eyes starting to drift closed before she wakes herself up and waves her arms around with a squeal. It makes Joel smile, just a tiny one, but he does.

“Looks like it’s bedtime.” There aren’t baby monitors or fancy cell phones to use as video equipment anymore, but you have Caroline’s bassinet set up in the corner of your bedroom and that’s all you need, putting her in her basket-turned-carrier anytime you leave the house together. “If you’re tired, we can talk tomorrow?” There hadn’t been much talking with Joel a year ago. It was fast and needy and amazing, but it certainly wasn’t romantic dinners or dates strolling through the park philosophizing about life. Wanting to know him now is just because of Caroline, you tell yourself, even though you know that’s a lie. You hadn’t ever stopped thinking about this man. “If you want, I mean.”

He wants to talk to you but he's also knows that you need to sleep and so does the baby. "Yeah." He nods, shuffling slightly. "We can talk in the morning. Go put the baby to bed and get some rest." He suggests, not hearing Ellie upstairs and he knows she's probably passed out.

“Sure.” You nod, hoisting Caroline up in your arms and picking up the hat of applesauce to put it back in the barely functioning refrigerator. “Just, um…” A smile cracks your tired face when you look at him, you just can’t help it. “It’s good to see you, Joel.”

"It's good to see you too, honey." He remembers calling you that during that one night. It wasn't like he didn't remember every single second of that night after he had left you. He isn't in love with you, that would be foolish, but you had stayed in his mind and now he's seeing you again.

“There’s blankets and extra pillows on the couch.” You want so badly to have just the casual intimacy that would allow you to kiss his cheek, but that night was a long time ago and things are different now. Or at least you tell yourself that they are, because it makes you behave yourself. “Good night.” You turn for the stairs, gently patting Caroline’s back as you go, wanting her to settle in and sleep through as much of the night as possible. You don’t know if you’ll sleep, with Joel so near, but she should be able to have wonderful dreams.

******

Joel, when he's not popped any pills, is a light sleeper. Not sure when it is, but the sun is still down, jerking awake and listening for a moment for what had pulled him out of restless dreams of Sarah when she was a baby. Then he hears it again. A small cry. Not loud enough to really upset the household but the first unhappy sounds of a baby. Grunting, Joel rolls off the couch and stands. Starting to slowly make his way up the stairs. Expecting to hear your voice as he goes, but he still just hears the kid. Until he pushes the cracked door open and sees the small light, the baby moving in her bed in a corner and Joel looks over to see you sprawled out, still asleep. Another small grunt makes his head snap back towards the cradle and he moves towards it slowly.

She looks up at him with curiosity - not scared of him or disliking the look of him, apparently - just upset that in this exact moment there is no one holding her. Whatever the reason, whether it was a bad dream or an upset stomach or general discomfort, little Caroline reaches up her arms to ask to be held as another small cry escapes her trembling lips.

He doesn't hesitate more than a second, watching her as he reaches down and picks up the small girl. Instantly flashing back to when he routinely carried around another baby. He cradles his daughter in his arms and cuddles her close. "Hey baby girl." He croons softly, not wanting to wake you up but happy that she isn't crying now that he's holding her.

It’s sometime after that, that the nightmare starts. You’re oblivious to the world while you sleep heavily in your bed, and the nightmares come out of nowhere. Memories of the Outbreak mix with Caroline’s birth, with terrifying thoughts of losing her or seeing her turned as a child or even a full grown woman. Fear of infection grows in you exactly like the fungus the whole world has grown to fear, and you wake up in a panic that has you covered in sweat. Only to see Joel sitting in the rocking chair under the window with Caroline against his chest like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong in the first place.

"You woulda liked her." His hand is firm on her back, the warmth from her little body against his skin keeps him grounded. "Or she woulda loved you. She woulda fussed and cooed over you like you were the most precious thing." He thinks Caroline likes the rumble of his voice, the vibration from his chest. "She always wanted to be a big sister."

“Wha—what?” You can hear Joel talking but can’t quite make it out. Digging your way out of the mire of nightmares is like slogging through mud. “Is everything okay?”

Joel startles slightly, not enough to disturb Caroline, but he turns his head towards you. "I didn't wake you, did I?" He asks, frowning slightly at the thought. "Didn't mean to."

"No." Wiping one hand down your face, you shift to sit up in bed and get a better look at Caroline in his arms. "No, I, um...nightmare." You shrug one shoulder lamely.

"I was tryin' to let you sleep." Joel looks back down at Caroline and then back at you. "She got a little fussy but she was good as soon as I picked her up."

"I don't normally sleep so deeply." Damn nightmares kept you from hearing Caroline, which you hate, and you scrub both palms down your face in dismay. "I'm sorry she woke you up."

"Don't worry about that." Joel can't help but lean his head over, running his nose over her soft head and down her cheek. "I was just talkin' to her. Tellin' her about things."

"What kind of things?" Instantly you wish he was sitting on the couch or in bed with you so you could cuddle up together. A domestic thought that makes you wish you were a family.

Joel rubs her back gently when she squeals and then settles back down against his shoulder, chuckling softly. “I was tellin’ her about…Sarah.”

"Who is Sarah?" He had said the name earlier, but you weren't about to interrogate him in the middle of a panic attack.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles the baby again, remembering how soft and sweet they could smell when they are clean and sleepy. “She…she was my daughter.”

You don't miss the was in the sentence, and you suck in a cautious breath. "I'm sorry." Now that you have Caroline, you can't imagine the pain of losing her. No wonder he panicked when you told him he had another.

“It was a long time ago.” Joel mutters softly, his eyes opening and finding yours, seeing the sorrow in them. “She woulda been 32, laughing her ass off at her old man finally givin’ her the sister she asked for for Christmas every year.”

Before the Outbreak. You swallow, nodding as you absorb this new information. “If she was anything like you, she’d rib you mercilessly.” What little you do know of him, Joel teases as a sign of affection.

“Endlessly.” Joel knows what it’s like being a single parent, he hasn’t forgotten. “Her mother…left us when Sarah was three months old.” He decides he owes you this, you are connected with him in a way that fundamentally changes things. “I raised her, she had a...a way that just made me marvel at how smart she was. Quick witted.” His foot pushes off the floor and rocks the chair gently. “Until….”

“You don’t have to tell me if I’m you don’t want to.” If it will hurt you. The last thing you want is to hurt him in any way. Not when…when you feel about him like you do, and when he’s given you something as incredible as Caroline.

The baby squirms, capturing his attention for a moment and he rubs her back soothingly. “It’s okay. She— the day it happened – ‘Outbreak Day’ – it was my birthday.”

“Shit.” Shifting forward in your bed, you instinctively reach out to touch his knee. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know how it was.” Joel grunts. “Chaos. A plans crashed and the truck we were in flipped.” He can see it, plain as day. “Her ankle was hurt so I carried her and the Army— they—” He closes his eyes and squeezes them tight. “They shot us.”

“Assumed infected.” You sigh, looking down at your hand on his knee before realizing it’s probably an overstep and recoiling. “The Army took at least one person from all of us. People who could have survived. Who were fine.”

“They killed a twelve-year-old girl.” Joel hisses. “My baby girl.”

“And they killed my seventeen-year-old sister.” He’s not the only one who lost someone, but it’s obvious that his loss is still as fresh as the day Sarah was shot. “I-I’m sorry, Joel. I am.”

“I’m sorry about your loss.” He rumbles out softly. “We’ve all lost people.”

“We have.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But…we also gained someone. Tiny and fussy and she’s got the best laugh in the whole world. I’m just…I’m glad you got to meet her.”

“I’m sorry.” Joel shakes his head, even as he cuddles her closer. “I didn’t mean to – I shoulda pulled out sooner, I guess.” He knows that he could have gotten you pregnant from precum but he still feels guilty.

“I appreciate that, but…now that’s she’s here? I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” The times of being angry with him for what happened are far behind you at this point. You knew the risk you were taking having unprotected sex - you had just wanted Joel too desperately to care.

“I never expected to see you again.” He admits quietly. “Thought you would be out west somewhere. Thought about it some.”

“You thought about me?” You probably sound more surprised than you should, considering how often you think about him, but you had assumed he would have forgotten about you fairly quickly. He had nothing like your reason to remember.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joel frowns slightly and tilts his head at you. “Thought we had a good night. Conversation…what happened after.” He smirks slightly.

“I thought we had a fantastic night.” And you hadn’t wanted to let yourself be overly sentimental in dreaming that he might still think about you sometimes. “I just didn’t know what you were going back to, so I kind of…didn’t want to let myself get sentimental, ya know?”

Joel snorts and shakes his head. “Some things you just don’t do.” He murmurs. “End of the world or not.” He and Tess hadn’t been exclusive, hell – she hadn’t even really been in his bed for a month before he had met you. Not that it matters now.

"Doesn't mean you couldn't have met somebody else since." There had been a million different ways that you had talked yourself out of getting maudlin over his memory or overly attached to fantasies of him, and you shrug a little while you watch him rock your now sleeping baby. "It was easier not to let myself dream about you."

“Naw… nothing—” He clears his throat. “Nothing that actually matters now.”

"I'm not expecting you to drop everything because of her." That's not something you would have asked of him even in the time before, and you're certainly not going to ask it of him now. The world has changed, even if people are fundamentally the same. "But we won't say no to visits now and then if you're still traveling."

He’s quiet for a minute, stewing as he contemplates what to do. “I’ve got to go.” He admits after a long moment. “Get the girl to the Fireflies.”

"Yeah, you said." It hurts more than you want to admit, because you want him to drop everything and stay with you. To be with you and Caroline. It's such a juvenile fantasy in some ways, but the way you've felt about Joel for the last almost year and a half is undeniable. "But like I said...if you ever came back this way...we would be glad to see you."

He can hear it in your voice, twisting his head so that he can look at you. “She’s important.” He tells you quietly, hoping that he can trust you. “Special.” He adds meaningfully.

“She seems like a good kid.” A little foul-mouthed maybe, but you had been too, at her age. And that was without the world collapsed around you. “I just want you to know you’re welcome here, that’s all. Caroline is…she’s your blood. And if you want to know her, you should be able to.”

He should be grateful that you are telling him that. That he can live his life and not worry about the baby he’s fathered. But it irritates him. “You aren’t goin’ west anymore? You could.”

“I can’t protect her on my own.” It’s something that you struggled with. The change to your plans to go west and find what remained of your family had been abandoned when you figured out that your sickness was pregnancy and not any of the thousand other things it could be. “I stayed and worked on the house so she could be safe. I have no business going west anymore.” As much as it hurts you, you really can’t. Caroline instantly became and will always be your first priority. “Not until she’s older, anyway. A lot older. And by then who knows what will have happened.”

“I’ve got to get to Jackson. My brother Tommy, he’s missing’ and that’s where he was last.” Joel shuffles Caroline so that she’s cradled in the curve of his arm.

“Wyoming?” He said west, not south, so it’s an informed guess. And an ironic coincidence, if it’s true. “I…I used to have people out there. I don’t know if they’re still there or still alive, but they were in Jackson last I heard.”

Joel nods, confirming he meant Wyoming. The idea of traveling with a baby isn’t a pleasant one. It makes things hundreds of times more complicated, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to leave the two of you, wondering what would happen to you.

“Could I send a letter with you, maybe?” Just being able to tell your surviving family that you’re okay - safe and with a baby - would be such a relief. “If you don’t run into them or can’t find them, that’s fine. But just in case?”

Joel is quiet for a long minute, mulling over everything. “If we had a car, we could go. All of us.” Joel murmurs quietly, unsure of your willingness to travel with Caroline.

“You want us to go with you?” It honestly wasn’t something you had expected. If anything, you would have been ecstatic to have him come back to you when everything was over.

“Only if you think you can handle it.” Joel tells you quickly. “It’s not going to be stroll. It’ll be dangerous. And the baby will need to be protected.”

“I’ve been out there before,” you remind him. It’s how you met, after all. Or at least it’s where you met. Out in the wilds. “It’s how I know I can’t do it alone. But two of us? That’s…that’s different.”

Joel looks at you, “how much can we get?” He asks, wanting to know about supplies. A car, horses, whatever could be had here.

“A lot of people want this house.” A safe place to live is invaluable, and this one has the benefit of the small garden Emma helped you start. “I’ve got good food stores and medical supplies. Clothes, soap, a knife and an axe.” You had built up this house to be where you raised your daughter, so you had stocked up supplies, too. “We could trade the house for a car and whatever else we need.”

“If you’re wantin’ to stay here, I won’t blame you.” Joel strokes the baby’s face gently and smiles when she reaches up and grabs his finger while she sleeps. “It’s a nice life you have here and it – it’ll be hard out there.”

“This is as good a life as we can hope for anymore.” That’s true, and it makes a part of you ache that you actually aren’t very happy here. You have everything you need, Caroline is safe, and there’s less violence than in a lot of other places - but you feel isolated regardless. Even the friends you’ve made feel like placeholders compared to your family. “But I really don’t know.” Is it worth giving up security for happiness? How will you know which will make Caroline happier?

“If you want to go, I’ll get you there.” Joel promises you, serious about that. He will do anything to protect you and the baby. Ellie too. “I promise.”

“I miss my family.” It comes out small, more ashamed than you’d like, as you watch Joel cradle your daughter in his arm. “I think I’d give anything to have my family back. Anything but Caroline.”

“Nothing wrong with missing family, baby.” Joel hums quietly, thinking about Tommy….and Sarah. “Sometime the only reason to go on if for people we care about.”

“Do you keep going for Tommy?” It’s an intensely personal question, but the connection you share with him now just as intensely personal as you could have with another person.

“I did.” Joel admits, his brother the most important person in the world to him until recently. Or tonight.

“Did?” You ask, your eyebrows knitting together, wondering why he’s talking like his brother is dead when he just said he was going to find him.

“Did.” Joel murmurs softly, leaning down and pressing his lips to Caroline’s forehead. “Now I’ll keep going for her.” He tells you, looking up when he pulls away from his daughter.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #The Last of Us #TLoU #doing our best to be canon compliant

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ticktockmyclockworkhart · 3 months

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I don't really think of any modern AUs for red dead for some reason, idk, I have modern AU thoughts for any other piece of media that takes place in the past but for some reason I just can't separate these guys from the old west for the life of me

BUT the one modern AU thought I had and that I have very frequently is the thought of the entire Van Der Linde gang going to disneyland. That thought just tickles me. Like

Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen make it their mission to go meet every single disney princess and they also kidnap Arthur and make him go with them. But he actually ends up having a kinda fun time because he enjoys wonder and whimsy, doesn't mean every character interaction before they took pictures wasn't stiflingly awkward though. he mumbled the entire time and refused to do any whimsical poses for the pictures

Hosea and Dutch are camped out somewhere shady by the park entrance with everyone's bags and snacks and water to act as home base and collect all their idiots at the end of the day, the only time they move is when an employee runs up to them and asks if the exhausted man with the scars on his face who fell asleep on a bench in direct sunlight by splash mountain and may or may not be suffering heat stroke belongs to them and they have to go help John before the park calls an ambulance. They go on exactly one ride at night, the jungle cruise, with arthur and john. Hosea laughs at all the skipper's bad jokes and Dutch thinks the whole thing is fucking stupid

Susan is also camped out with them but she gets worried about everyone too often and keeps getting up to go to everyone's last known location to make sure they're alright, but at some point Sean tells her to go take a picture with the evil stepmother from cinderella because they look like twins so she just goes back to Hosea and Dutch and lets them fend for themselves

Lenny is genuinely having a fucking BLAST but is really embarrassed about it. He does get a picture with belle because she's his favorite disney princess (bookworms ftw) and he runs into Arthur there being held captive by the girls, they both rib each other about what brought them there later. After everything is said and done though he and Arthur totally go on some rides together

Sean WAS hanging out with Lenny but they got separated within like three minutes of entering the park because Sean kept wandering off so Lenny left him to fend for himself, but he actually stayed out of trouble the entire time, surprisingly. He just rode the carousel again and again for like 8 hours because he was piss drunk before he even got to the park (since you can't drink there) and if he closed his eyes it almost didn't give him motion sickness (he never considered the possibility that he could also just not ride anything? Or maybe go to where Hosea and Dutch said they'd be?)

John is living that one viral post where he sat on a bench and fell asleep from heat exhaustion, then woke up to his ice cream melted all over him and mickey mouse putting a cold towel on his forehead. He was there because Jack wanted to ride splash mountain btw and John was terrified of getting on

Kieran lived one of my magical disney park experiences, which was he went on one ride with the group and was feeling good about being included, but then he got off the ride and literally couldn't find a single person he rode with, so he's wandering the park aimlessly worrying if everyone just left him there (this is not exactly what happened to me btw. I went on a ride with an uncle who is no longer an uncle who had a tbi and so could act unpredictably some times, mostly by virtue of being incredibly spacy, he got out of line to go get a drink and when he came back the line had moved up a lot more so he just told me he'd meet me at the end of the ride. Then at the end of the ride I literally could not find him. I wandered the entire area for like twenty minutes realizing he'd wandered off somewhere before I finally gave up and reported it to my cousin who I kid you not was completely unfazed and told me not to worry about it, they'd find him eventually. I still felt so bad about it even after he turned up not even thinking twice about the whole thing)

Abigail is busy being a responsible mother to two children (her husband and also Jack), Jack is having the absolute time of his life and they've lost John about ten times because he's too scared to go on the rides and also too scared of the disney characters to join them for pictures so Abigail eventually gave up looking for him, Dutch and Hosea would find him and babysit him (they did)

Pearson is floating around between the different groups, he's got the big backpack with the snacks, water and sunscreen in it while Hosea and Dutch were holding onto whatever he couldn't carry. He's like pretty ambivalent about everything happening and is kinda just happy to be there, but he is hella interested in all the food vendors and taking notes on what everyone in the gang seemed to enjoy so he can try and make it himself later

Swanson got a little too silly before coming to the park and ended up stuck on the magic teacups ride because he couldn't process how to get off. He was at park lost and found for like two hours before Dutch and Hosea found him, only for him to end up stuck on the teacups AGAIN like an hour later

Sadie thinks this entire trip is fucking stupid and she exclusively sticks to the biggest thrill rides, spending most of her time in california adventure (is that part of the park still called that? it's changed so much since I've last been there), a few people who also enjoy thrill rides have tried accompanying her on her bender but she literally never takes a break and apparently can't get motion sickness

Bill is lost. He was pretty sure he was with Javier and the Marstons at first, but he lost them at some point and now he's stuck in the star wars land and doesn't know where the exit is, small children keep pointing at him and making wookie noises, and he really just needs a drink tbh

Javier has been EVERYWHERE. He has a plan and an itinerary, either keep pace with him or you're getting left behind (rip Bill). He finishes his schedule within like three hours and then goes to hang out with Sadie on her masochistic thrill ride loop before he has to tap out after like five thrill rides in quick succession. He started the day hanging out with the Marstons and Jack insisted he wear a pair of mickey mouse ears, so like the cool uncle he is he agreed and in every picture he's in he's standing there in bedazzled mouse ears with an extremely stoic expression on his face

Charles silently slinks off to critter country (is it still called that? idk how the park has changed) upon getting there because he wants to go see winnie the pooh. After a couple hours of wandering aimlessly and wanting to hit people who crowd too close to him he finds and joins Lenny and Arthur. They go on some rides and then go see winnie the pooh again. Tigger grabs Arthur by the hands and makes him bounce with him and Arthur is in such a whimsical mood and has been doing goofy shit around the park all day at this point that he actually enthusiastically participates. Charles considers it a 10/10 time

Micah was definitely not allowed into the park. 100%

Strauss didn't want to come to disneyland, he had work to do, and the entire gang tried their hardest but unlike several of the other gang members they were unable to force Strauss to join. Party pooper :(

Uncle is having a great fuckin time. He went onto the haunted mansion and just fell asleep and rode the loop until he was personally escorted off by staff because they were worried he died in his sleep or something

Trelawny is there!! They have not seen him for four months but he is there for some reason! Late into the night Arthur got onto the haunted mansion, turned to his left and Trelawny was just. there in the doombuggy with him

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callsignvulture · 2 months

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141 + Graves Music Headcannons‼️🎶

This is based off of a conversation I had with my roommate and boyfriend months ago. Idc if these are accurate- these were just our headcanons! This took me all damn day to write, so I hope it’s…at least decently good!:]

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Bands: Shinedown, Theory Of A Deadman, Seether, Three Days Grace, Saving Abel, Avenged Sevenfold, Disturbed, Drowning Pool.

Top 5 listened to songs: Rx(Medicate), 45 , Just Like You , The Vengeful One, California Dreaming

In his younger years, he definitely would have joined in mosh pits at concerts. If he tried that now? God he’d be leaving out of that venue with a headache, body pains and more bruises and scars on him than when he arrived there. Because of this, he prefers to sit a fair bit away from the stage, but in the middle so he can see the whole stage.

Soap makes fun of him for it, making comments like it, “Ah cannae decide if ye're tryin' tae be somebody's faither, or if ye're just actin' like Price. Come on, LT, get wi' the times. Ye're no an auld man like Price just yet.”

But don’t let that fool you- Ghost has definitely influenced Soap’s music taste. Soap just won’t admit it.

Bonus!: Ghost would listen to…well, Ghost. Why? “‘S my name, ain’t it?”

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Bands: Twenty One Pilots, One Republic, System Of A Down, Måneskin, Limp Bizkit, Green Day, Blink-182, Weezer, Fall Out Boy, The Offspring, Games We Play.

Top 5 most listened to songs: Coffee’s For Closers, Get A Job, Fairly Local , Beverly Hills , What’s My Age Again?

Had a pop punk phase he never grew out of, and was definitely a teenage dirtbag(🥁).

His whole reality breaks when he overhears a recruit call any of the late 2000s/early 2010s bands he listens to “vintage”.(Price and Ghost just laugh and tell me he’s too young to feel that way.)

Really fun at concerts surprisingly. He always tries to be in the pit at the concerts for his favorite bands, and goes WILD if he gets noticed by an artist he really likes.

Price, Ghost and Gaz don’t really understand why he likes the music that he does.

Bonus!: When Gaz listens to Kanye, he’ll blast Taylor Swift just to fuck with him. He doesn’t like Taylor Swift, he just likes to see Gaz get frustrated. “You know she’s only popular ‘cause of ‘im, right Soap?” “Ah dinnae care. Ah juist like te disturb yer peace, Gaz.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Bands: Arctic Monkeys, Rihanna, The Neighborhood, Kanye West, The Weeknd, Shaggy, Dr.Dre, Kendrick Lamar, Hozier, The Cardigans, Beyoncé.

Top 5 most listened to songs: It Wasn’t Me, Reflections, Love The Way You Lie, Knee Socks, Dark Times

God he’s a certified lover boy AGH-

Imagine: Gaz waking up in the early hours of the morning, sunlight on his skin, looking fine as hell…and “It Wasn’t Me” is playing on the radio AAAAAA-💕(like a damn scene straight out of a movie I swear-)

Gaz likes going to concerts and like Soap, will try to be front and center, but he’s not nearly as energetic and wild. He’d more than likely mellow out with some fruity drink.

Before Gaz joined 141, back when he was an officer, he would definitely make whoever was his ride along listen to Rihanna or Beyoncé in the early hours of his shift. Now when he’s on missions with 141 and he’s in control of the radio, he’s more likely to play Kendrick Lamar or Kanye West, much to Ghost and Price’s annoyance. Soap is the only one who doesn’t complain.

Bonus!: Surprisingly, Gaz is open to listening to any kind of music, even if he doesn’t like. Once sat down with Ghost in the common room and let Ghost show him the music he listened to. Obviously, he wasn’t a fan of it, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Sorry, ‘s just not my style. But thanks anyways, Lieutenant.”

Captain John Price:

Bands/Artists: Guns ‘N Roses, Metallica, Kiss, AC/DC, Twisted Sister, Ozzy Osbourne, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Rolling Stones, Mötley Crüe, Ramones, Post Malone(there’s a reason for this, stick with me-)

Top 5 Most Listened To Songs: Seek & Destroy, Rock You Like A Hurricane, Dr.Feelgood, Sunflower, Street Fighting Man

Headcanon(Thanks to my boyfriend): 141 had a movie night. Soap and Gaz wanted to watch Into The Spiderverse, which Ghost and Price agreed too(reluctantly). Price really liked the song Sunflower, and after the movie, Gaz and Soap sat down with Price and showed him more of Post Malone’s music. He’s not a huge fan of the rest of his music, but he does really like that song.

Price’s music taste hasn’t changed since he was younger, still listening to the same bands he listened to in the 80s. Definitely gets somewhat upset when he sees someone his age wearing a shirt of the band but can’t tell him any songs by the artist.

Doesn’t go to concerts anymore unless the team wants to go. Would prefer to go to a bar and listen to music while getting drinks with his mates.

Bonus!: Price is the type of guy to look at people who don’t listen to his kind of music and ask, “Oi, lads, who sings this?” “Eh...Ah havnae a clue...Guns N Roses?” “Metallica, Cap’in?” “No, ‘s definitely Kiss.”In reality, he already knows who’s singing it, and they’re all wrong.

Commander Phillip Graves:

Bands/Artist: Morgan Wallen, Tim McGraw, Blake Shelton, Bruce Springsteen, Florida Georgia Line, Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan, Big & Rich, Jason Aldean, Sam Hunt, Luke Combs, Toby Keith, Alabama, Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Top 5 most listened to songs: God’s Country, Save A Horse(Ride A Cowboy), She’s Country, Dirt On My Boots, Should’ve Been A Cowboy.

What can I say? Southern man loves country music.

He’s not allowed to go to concerts anymore due to the fact that he has gotten drunk on several occasions & had to be escorted out:(

He had a crush on Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood at some point in his life and I won’t explain how I know that.

Makes the Shadows listen to his playlist when out on missions to the point where most of them could easily identify what country artist is who.

Bonus!: Absolutely hates any non-country artist who tries to make country music. Like when Beyoncé released Texas Hold ‘Em, he was absolutely livid.

#call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #phillip graves #call of duty headcanons #music headcanons #graves headcanons #soap headcanons #gaz headcanons #ghost headcanons #price headcanons #vulture writes #sfw headcanons #sfw post

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dduane · 3 months

Note

Curiosity question, because I know you work in both writing and film:

A book series I like is being adapted for film, and I have heard the author is working as a creative consultant rather than a writer because she isn't part of the WGA. Are book authors allowed to join the union if their book is being adapted for film? Or is there some technicality that would make it too difficult?

There's absolutely no reason a novelist can't become a Writers Guild member. I certainly did that when Michael Reaves and I pitched "Where No One Has Gone Before" to ST:TNG. (Michael was Guild already.) But it depends on what company you're working with, and what they want from you—or don't want.

The issue splits into two parts.

First of all: to qualify to join the Guild, you must accrue a certain number of "units" of TV, film or other Guild-covered media work within a three-year period (and then pay an initiation fee). The rules about qualification are here. You accrue these work units by selling your writing to a company that's signatory to the Guild's minimum basic agreement (MBA).

So as an example: if I was a series-owning novelist who wrote a screenplay for a feature film, or a bible for a miniseries of four hours or more, and sold either of those to an MBA-signatory company, that would be my twenty-four qualification points accrued immediately, and I could apply for Guild membership right then. To join I would simply fill out whatever paperwork was necessary and send the Guild my initiation fee, and that would be that. (US west-coast writers automatically join WGA West, IIRC: east-coast and international writers go to WGA East.)

But first you have to make that sale.

If the company that's adapting a creative property you own doesn't want to buy a script or a bible from you, that's their choice. The adapters may have a writing team or room they prefer to work with, rather than trying to train the novelist in screenwriting: or they might have other reasons not to commit to buying a script from the series owner. The novelist would then have to decide in what other way they want to interact (creatively speaking) with the people doing the adaptation.

In the case you describe above, if what you've heard is accurate, it sounds like the company the writer is working with has decided not to offer the novelist the opportunity to write a script for them. In such a situation, taking a creative-consultant job may be the best deal the novelist can leverage. You do, of course, also get novelists who actively don't want to be involved in the screenwriting process—either for lack of script experience or some other reason—and prefer a consultant position, especially if it comes with some kind of producer credit.

In any case, hope this makes the whole issue clearer!

#writing #Writer's Guild #screen adaptations #and the #novelist #IP owner

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ladykailitha · 4 months

Text

Sweet Home Indiana Part 5

Hey all! Heads up for those that missed my previous announcements, I'm going on vacation starting today for about a week.

No WIP Wednesday tomorrow as it's my niece's graduation, but it should be back on next week, depending on how late I get in.

We finally hit pinnacle douche Eddie and the beginning of his turn to the lovable Eddie we know and love.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

****

Steve walked into his house after a long day at the shop to find Eddie in the kitchen making dinner. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked behind him at the door he clearly unlocked to get in and then back at Eddie.

“How the fuck did you get into my house?” he growled, throwing his keys in the dish by the door and kicking off his shoes.

Eddie didn’t even bother looking up from his dicing of vegetables. “Robin always forgets her keys, so you have to have a spare for her to get in, and because she’s so forgetful it has to be in the same spot.”

Steve let out an annoyed huff. “Under the second flower pot with duck.”

“Right in one, darlin’,” Eddie said, looking up at him with a grin.

“So is this your new strategy to get me to sign the divorce papers?” Steve asked pulling out a beer from the fridge. “Buttering me up?”

“Well,” Eddie said going back to his cutting, “since we’re still married and all with you refusing to sign the papers, I figured I’d just move back in.”

Steve dug around his crock drawer for the bottle opener. “Like you’d give up your cushy tattoo job up in Seattle.” He popped open the lid and took a sip.

He immediately went to the sink and spat it out. “What the fuck is that?!”

“Craft beer!” Eddie said with another grin. “It’s all the rage out on the West Coast. But anyway, I was in town and stopped by the furniture shop because that couch is hideous and has to go. And of course we're going to need a bigger bed.”

Steve scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever, babe. It’s your money.”

Eddie stopped chopping and said with all the innocence he could muster and said, “But Stevie, I thought it was our money.”

Steve who had opened a bottle of his own beer and was drinking it, suddenly froze. His throat still moved, swallow after swallow but the rest of him was stock still.

“I bet the words ‘joint checking account’ are flashing through your mind right now,” Eddie sneered.

Steve emptied his bottle and threw it into the sink with a loud crash. “How much did you take?”

Eddie turned around and faced him, crossing his arms over his chest. “All twenty-nine thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven dollars and fourteen cents.”

Steve’s jaw formed a hard set line and he clenched his fists. “You put it back, right now.”

“Why don’t you use it for something useful, Steve?” he asked, waving his hands in front of him. “You have a shop, why aren’t you putting the money toward that? Christ that is almost life changing money.”

Steve stormed out of the room and was back before he could even raise a protest. “This is what it’s for, asshole and if you don’t put it back I will never forgive you. Do you understand me?”

Eddie looked down at the papers in his hand in confusion, gingerly taking them from Steve. In big bold letters were the words NON DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.

“Am I allowed to read this?” he asked with a gulp.

“It expired five years ago,” Steve bit out. “So yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t be giving it to you, would I?”

Eddie nodded and began reading. The date was roughly three or four months after he left and god was it a mess. It chronicled Susan Hargrove’s addictions to drugs, alcohol, and sex. And that if Steve wanted custody of her daughter, Maxine Maxwell he had to jump through so many hoops, including signing the NDA. His hand shook as he turned page after page of what boiled down to fifteen page document.

“The money is part of the settlement from the court,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “I put it in the old account because I didn’t feel like opening another one and forgot your name was still on it. It pays for her schooling, rent, and food until it’s gone.”

Eddie’s lip quivered. “Shit, Steve, I’m sorry. But I’m still in contact with most of the kids. Even Max and no one told me about this. Not ever.”

Steve frowned and took the pages from Eddie’s trembling hands. “I thought you knew. Hell, it was more than a nine day wonder here in town when the dust finally settled.”

Eddie thought for a moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. The more he thought about it the more it actually made sense. And fuck if that didn’t hurt like a kick to the ribs.

One of his worst parting shots was that the kids would be fine on their own. They had parents and friends and other people who cared about them. But that fucking NDA proved him to be the biggest asshole in that regard. Because it irrefutable proof that he had been dead wrong about that.

“Fuck,” he whispered, drawing his hands over his face. “It’ll be back in there by tonight, I swear. I’m so, so sorry, Steve. I swear I am. I know you won’t believe me and that’s okay. But I would never do anything that would harm those kids. Not if my life depended on it.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivered and then he pinched his nose and rubbed the end. And fuck if that didn’t break Eddie’s heart. That was Steve’s little tell that he was fighting back tears.

“You really didn’t know?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Eddie shook his head. “I didn’t know. Here...” he pulled out his phone and immediately transferred the money back. He had transferred it in several small amounts as to not trigger that that Fed law thingy and reversed every one of them. “All back.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Were you really going to blackmail me with the money to divorce you?”

Eddie hung his head and let out a sigh of his own. “I can’t tell you why, but me and Chrissy are on a timetable and if we don’t get married by certain date, things can go very badly. So yeah. I was going to do whatever it took.”

Steve’s bottom lip quivered so him bit down on it to stop it shaking.

“Come on,” Eddie murmured. “Let me finish making dinner and we’ll talk. I think there are a lot of things between us left unsaid. I thought it was all on my side, but I’m starting to think there has been a lot of things that I haven’t been told about what’s being going on with you and this town.”

Steve nodded.

****

It took Steve a fair bit of breathing techniques to get his heart rate back to normal after that little stunt. And if he was honest, he couldn’t say had their situations been reversed, he wouldn’t have tried the same thing.

But there wasn’t anyone in his life right now that measured up to Eddie. Or at least that starry-eyed boy he fell in love with the first time.

Eddie had actually made his favorite meal. Manicotti. He had been cutting up the vegetables for the bolognese sauce that he poured over the top.

They sat down on the hideous neon green sofa while it went into the oven to cook.

“This sofa really is grotesque, Steve,” Eddie muttered, bringing one knee up so he could turn and face him.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “That’s what everyone has said once they’ve seen it.”

“So why keep it?”

He ran his fingers over the worn surface thoughtfully. “Because despite how ugly it looks, it’s soft and comfortable. Great for naps and movie nights. If I spill something on it, I won’t freak out about it getting ruined.”

Eddie’s heart sank to his stomach. That was something that had made having movie nights over at Steve’s parents’ house such a nightmare. No feet on the sofa, no drinks anywhere but on the coffee table with a coaster, no dips or salsa, nothing red or orange, drinks or otherwise. It was the biggest house with the biggest screen, but it was a museum and not a home.

He actually looked around him for the first time, taking in the homey surroundings, the pictures on the wall of not just Steve and Robin, but all the kids. Birthdays, graduations, dances, you name it, if Steve was there with a camera, it was there up on his wall in some way.

The house was neat, but in a lived in sort of way instead of the strict tomb quality of his parents’ house. Christ. He had been joking about wanting to move back, but now he actually did. He could see himself slotting himself into this home as easy as breathing.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Right. So how long have you had this place?”

“About three years now,” Steve murmured. “That’s about when the shop started making a profit and not just coasting along above red.”

“I like it,” he said with a fond smile.

Steve gave his shoulder a shove. “You do not. You don’t need to pretend with me.”

Eddie grasped his hands to his chest. “Ah! I doth protest!” He paused for a moment and tapped his lips thoughtfully. “You’re right, I don’t like it.”

“See?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I love it.”

Steve stared at him for a moment before blushing and looking away. “So how long have you and Chrissy known each other?”

“Two years,” Eddie replied. “She came in for a tattoo to cover up the name of her ex-boyfriend and we became really good friends.”

“And she’s a paralegal?” Steve asked.

“Legal assistant,” Eddie said. “Don’t ask me what the difference is, I don’t know. But she’ll always correct people when they say ‘paralegal’.”

Steve nodded.

“So, is it just you and Robin?” he asked, looking around the house for clues there was another person here. Either for Steve or for Robin.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a sad smile. “But not for much longer. She’s starting school in the fall. She just needs to pick which one she wants and let the other know she’s pulling out.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. “What are her choices?”

“NYU and University of Washington,” Steve said. “I don’t get wanting to go to either except to get as far away from Hawkins as possible and still be in the country.”

Eddie laughed. “Well can you blame her?”

Steve leveled him with a glare and Eddie gulped.

“Right, sorry. That was a shit thing to say,” he said ducking his head. “I ran away and kept running away and you didn’t deserve that.”

“So why did you? Run away, I mean?”

Eddie ran his fingers over his face and let out frustrated sigh. “I thought it was what I wanted. The fame, the fortune, the screaming crowds every night. And maybe it still is, but the other guys got tired of it. Of the being away from family and on the road all the time, so by the time that all fell apart, it was just too much.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and regarded Eddie fully. He took him all in and not just the cursory glance he got at the bakery.

Eddie had filled out in a good way. He would always be thin, but he was no longer that waif he was in high school. He had more tattoos, which made sense considering his job. His hair was still as wild and untamed as always. He had stubble on his jaw and on his upper lip. There was a weariness to those dark brown chocolate button eyes.

“What was too much, Eddie?”

“The amount of pain I put you through,” he said softly. “And continued to put you through. You didn’t deserve any of it, sweetheart. You deserve a white wedding with all your friends and loved ones around you. You deserve to have someone standing by your side as an equal partner. You deserve someone who isn’t going to run the moment things get rough.”

“I always thought that would be you,” Steve admitted.

Eddie nodded. “So did I, once upon a time.”

“But not anymore?” Steve asked, breathless.

“No. Not anymore.”

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @mac-attack19 @blondie1006

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rom com au

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authenticmiya · 5 months

Text

Boston - Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Summary - Based off of the song ‘Austin’ by Dasha. You were Highschool sweethearts and suddenly that all went away.

Words - 1.6k

Warnings - angst /small mention of alcohol

“We had a plan, move out of this town, baby

West to the sand, it's all we talked about lately

I'd pack the car, bring your guitar and jane for smokin'

First thing at dawn, you'd queue the songs and we'd get goin'

But you weren't home, waited on the porch for ya

Sat there alone, all throughout the morn' 'til I

Got a hunch down in my gut and snuck around the back

Empty cans and I'll be damned, your shit was never packed”

"We hit twenty five thousand subscribers baby." Chris declared excitedly as he burst into his room. You were just chilling, awaiting the finish of the triplets' filming.

"No fucking way!" Excitedly jumping up, he embraced you into his arms.

"I'm so proud of you." You whispered, treasuring the moment as their success was very evident.

"We're gonna be in LA sooner than you think." And that was the promise you knew he'd keep. The problem was, that sentence would have the worst outcome in the future.

"Wrap around porch with a puppy?" He nodded excitedly, oh the plans you guys had ready and waiting. They had been planned for the years you'd been together.

It wasn't unknown that being around the Sturniolo household was a daily ritual. You guys were known as the 'Highschool Sweethearts'. How cliché?

"YouTube is kicking off for us and so will your music Y/N." Chris couldn't stop embracing you, excitement yet anxiety filling both of you. That was potentially the most gut wrenching memory to think about. All of the empty promises and plans.

Just like that, a couple of months had gone by. The 'Highschool Sweethearts' seemingly both on board with the thought of going back and forth to LA. They had hit just short of 500k. You had a label willing to sign you in LA. It was all falling into place and before you knew it, the days were building up to the ultimate move across the states.

"I really hope you know what decisions you're making Y/N. I feel like this is all very overwhelming and too good to be true." Your best friend declared and you looked at her funnily.

"I'm not laughing, has Chris even replied to your last eight messages about your flight tomorrow?" And come to think of it, no he hadn't. But he was definitely just busy finalising his packing, wasn't he?

"I'm going to walk to their house after I add the finishing touches to my suitcases. I tried texting Matt but he's not answering either..." Your thinking face came on immediately but quickly faded when you thought there was nothing to worry about.

"He's definitely just sorting stuff out." You muttered.

"We've been together for nearly three years, I don't think he's having doubts." Defending him again.

"I never said anything about him having doubts, that's on you." And so she left you to your own device of figuring out what really was going on with your boyfriend. She wasn't angry, of course not. However, best friends - true best friends always have the better instinct on situations regarding those they care about.

With Travis Scott blasting through your AirPods, your walk to the Sturniolo household began. It was nearing 2pm. Their parents' cars weren't in the drive once you arrived but the minivan was. You had pre-warned quite literally all three of the triplets that you were on your way over, none replied but Chris had the audacity to leave it on read.

"I'm on your porch and you're ignoring me." Sadness suddenly waved across you. What was the real reason none of them were answering?

"Chris?" You knocked on the door. After a solid 45 minutes, your heart was practically hung. There was one last option, head around the back. What a terrible option to pick, you should've just made your way home.

"What the fuck?" Mixed cans of Pepsi, BUD Light and Dr Pepper pretty much everywhere and what sounded like a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in the back yard. What hurt the most was three very familiar voices could be heard, those of whom had ignored you all damn day.

The question was, do you or do you not go in and make your hurt known to all of them?

"Y/N?" Torn from your heartbroken thoughts, Nate noticed you were there and called you out in front of everyone. Making solid eye contact with Chris, he was like a deer in headlights.

"So, this is what you guys have been up to today?" You questioned, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. If it wasn't awkward before, it definitely was now.

"I wanted to call you-" Nick began but was cut short.

"Boys night." Chris stated.

"It's 2pm Chris, hardly a boys night."

"Well we're continuing this through the night." Why was he being so blunt?

"Are you guys all packed and ready for LA at least?" The colour drained from Nicks face, Matt remained silent and Chris was damn right being rude.

"Your shits not even packed?" Everything you were saying seemed to be going over his head.

"Stop fucking ignoring me Chris!" The band had snapped but you were the one breaking.

"Are we going as a team? A couple? A fucking pair of friends? Are we going together at all?" You deemed an answer.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, I can't do this with you anymore. We're gonna be social media influencers and you're gonna jet off on world tours. We've changed, it's not gonna work." Chris' words felt like venom. The cat really had your tongue. Not to forget that he had just called you out in front of everyone both you and him cared about.

"You can't be serious..." You're too strong to cry in front of him, surely you're too strong to cry in front of him.

"Deadly." He stated coldly.

"We might be on the same flight out there but we're not jetting off to the same life like we had here." His triplet brothers were always going to side with him but they had awfully guilty looks as they watched this whole scene unfold in front of them.

"That's it? You're just going to give up on us? You've not even made it to the West Coast and LA has already gotten to your head? What about the wrap around porch?" You didn't even have it in you to stay any longer, the tears were threatening to fall and that was enough to send you running home. Chris had a flash of sadness cover his face but he quickly subsided this, not wanting to let his 'guard' down.

"There's no way that's what just happened." Nick was out of words, confused by his brother and heartbroken for you, his so called best friend.

"Well it did, let's turn up the music."

That was the last you heard from all of them. Chris unfollowing you on Instagram just before boarding your shared flight. Of course without a secure clarification of whether you to were together but it was evident now. If LA was going to be the fresh start then hitting that big red block button was also on your list. You just couldn't do it.

In the studio, a few weeks later.

"Y/N you can take five if the chorus is too much." Your manager politely offered.

"This is the verse, the sealed deal, I'm not backing out of it." You'd gotten a bigger following in a short amount of time. Having one single already teased seemed to bring you lots of attention. Writing songs based on your personal experiences were becoming both a blessing and a curse.

“Did your boots stop workin'?

Did your truck break down?

Did you burn through money?

Did your ex find out?

Where there's a will, then there's a way

And I'm damn sure you lost it

Didn't even say goodbye

Just wish I knew what caused it

Was the whiskey flowin'?

Were you in a fight?

Did the nerves come get you?

What's your alibi?

I made my way back to LA

And that's where you'll be forgotten

In forty years you'll still be here

Drunk washed up in Boston”

You’d proudly gone over your chorus multiple times very well and without tears. The first time you’d written down the lyrics and actually sang them out loud was very different. The feelings and emotions of the situation with Chris really became a reality.

“Y/N, this is gonna be one hell of a fucking hit!” Your manager screeched. Reaching LA, your genre of music was solely gonna be based on your personal preference.

“Hell of a bluff, you had me believin'

How many months did you plan on leavin'?

What happened? Bad habits?

Did you go back? Go batshit?

I loved you, how tragic, oh-oh”

After wrapping up in the studio, you headed straight home. Thankfully you were successful in renting out a 2 bedroom apartment. Of course being in the upcoming limelight was a dream come true but deep down, it was lonely. Three people completely missing out on what would be your success. After a warm bath and some listening to snippets of your single, you couldn’t help but check up on the Sturniolo’s social media’s.

Very quickly, it was a deep regret. They were ‘happy’ and it hurt like hell. Why couldn’t you have all been happy together?

“Alexa why are you fucking playing Kelly Clarkson right now?” You grew emotional, bringing your kneels to your chest as you rested in the sofa.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that.”

“Fuck you.” You muttered.

“Y/N, your song already had two million hits. They’re going to play it on the radio!” You were quick to burst into cheers and tears as your team surrounded you. Your manager silenced everyone and turned the radio up.

“Here we have the new and quite frankly, most requested upcoming artist. This is Boston by Y/N. Her song debuted just three days ago with her team telling us that she worked incredibly hard.” As the song played on the radio, it all became surreal. The small town Boston girl who had always dreamed about this, finally got her wish. One of the producers wrapped you into a hug as you began sobbing.

“You done it and you deserve it, here’s to Y/N!” That night, they had informed you that there was a party. This was all for you to celebrate not only your single, but your future to! Applying the final touches of mascara, your phone pinged.

Instagram

christophersturniolo sent you a message: Boston?

#Chris Sturniolo #Chris Sturniolo x reader #Sturniolo x reader #Matt Sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo triplets

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kim-jongin-s · 1 month

Text

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, multis + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"you don't understand (you should never know)". f1!au. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team's Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan are in the midst of battling it out for the Formula One World Drivers' Championship.

"the necessity of living". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol says, strangled.

Jeonghan closes his eyes. Oh god, he thinks hysterically. Not this again.

"beginning song". soulmate!au. oneshot, 17k. pg-13. ♡

He’d thought, when he was younger, that his feelings for Jeonghan would eventually fade with time. But time seems to have done the opposite. Seungcheol isn't sure which version of reality might be worse: one where Jeonghan isn't his soulmate, or one where he is.

"ready to love". oneshot, 20k. nc-17.

“Felt nice, right?” Jeonghan murmurs benignly. Warning bells sound in the depths of Seungcheol’s consciousness. He’s attuned to Jeonghan’s brand of troublemaking; nothing good could possibly follow that tone of Jeonghan’s voice.

"eulalia (silver grass)". wolf!au. oneshot, 20k. nc-17. ♡

There’s a new scent in the pack’s hanok. It’s getting under Jeonghan’s skin.

"one step closer". royalty!au. 5 chapters, 132k. nc-17.

The West nations crown prince Yoon Jeonghan loses his position, land, and all of his pride in a war with the East nation's Emperor Choi Seungcheol. The next thing he knows, he's being referred to as betrothed of the Emperor.

MINWON

"miss me?". oneshot, 1k. nc-17.

Where they miss each other.

"here kitty kitty". hybrid!au: cat!ww, panther!mg. twoshot, 26k. nc-17. ♡

Panther hybrid Mingyu visits a housecat hybrid village and causes quite the stir.

"sweet accident". au, age gap, prime minister!mg. 12 chapters, 34k. nc-17. ♡

“Jeon… Wonwoo… age twenty…three…college… student… no… gag reflex. Status…very… available.”

MULTI

"rewind and repeat". s.coups/jeonghan/joshua. age gap, omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh, alpha!js. oneshot, 3k. nc-17. ♡

There is shame, in letting men nearly ten years younger than him tumble into his bed. Jeonghan almost feels guilty.

"synced threes". wonwoo/seokmin/mingyu. oneshot, 5.6k. nc-17. ♡

“This is what you two do on a night without me?”

"cognitive dissonance". jeonghan/svt. au, age gap, professor!jh. oneshot, 7k. nc-17 (pls check the tags!).

“Mr. Yoon…?” Jeonghan looks up again, his stare unfocused. His mouth is so pink Soonyoung can nearly imagine the heat of it against his own.

"it takes three to tango". s.coups/wonwoo/dino. au. oneshot, 15k. nc-17. ♡

There was no room in their love for a third person, of that, Wonwoo was entirely sure, but there was plenty of space for a third in their bed, and Chan would fit quite nicely.

"being a beta". s.coups/jeonghan/joshua. omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh, beta!js. twoshot, 24k. nc-17.

Hong Joshua enjoyed being a beta. Being a beta meant a quiet, simple life without being subjected to biology in the way alphas and omegas often were. Too bad he was deeply in love with an omega who craved an alpha mate.

OTHER

"an appropriate distance". seokgyu. omegaverse: omega!sm, omega!mg. oneshot, 6.6k. nc-17.

It's like this: Seokmin helps out with Mingyu’s heat, but not the other way around. Maybe Seokmin is the one holding Mingyu at arm’s length, but it's better this way.

"i'm sorry every song's about you". junhao. band!au. oneshot, 10k. nc-17.

The bass of their songs is always what sticks with Minghao the most. Junhui sticks with Minghao too.

"sip on your lips". sooncheol. au, age gap, single dad!sc. oneshot, 11k. nc-17.

Soonyoung finds it a little too hard to say no to the hot single dad across the hall.

"of the color gray". wonchan. fantasy!au: demon!ww, witch!dn. oneshot, 16k. nc-17.

Chan accidentally summons and binds himself to a lust demon. It turns out better than expected.

"son of nyx". verkwan. spy!au. 3 chapters, 31k. pg-13.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is eighteen when he decides to follow Seungkwan to the end of the earth, even if it means becoming a contracted agent with no guaranteed future.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic recs #svt fanfic #svt ff #svt fic #jeongcheol #minwon #meanie #verkwan #wonchan #junhao #seokgyu #sooncheol #ot3 #fic rec #as u can see i do appreciate a good poly fic

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esamastation · 11 months

Text

Part thirty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty

They've landed in Wutai after a frankly miserable plane ride in a windowless, seat-less troop carrier - which, why even call it a troop carrier when it's clearly not designed to be carrying people? The thing is filled with boxes and stuff, there was barely enough room to move!

Guess that's what happens with last minute takeoffs - you get what you get.

The first few minutes onboard were fine and kinda novel - being on a plane at all was kind of a mind trip, because, heh, plane, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, eat your heart out! But then it became just hours upon hours of boredom in a rattling tube of metal. Sword flying is clearly a superior mode of transport.

"We will have your things delivered to wherever you're going to be staying," Reno says, waving them off the plane, hiis attention fixed on one of the bigger boxes. "Rude, come give me a hand with this…"

"We should -" Rude starts to say, looking at the SOLDIERs.

"Yeah, yeah, now come give me a hand with this."

Angeal gives them an awkward, slightly relieved smile and then claps Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We better get out of the way," he says, and together they exit the plane.

Sephiroth had been bracing himself for a warfront, Angeal had even told him what to expect, but he… didn't actually know what that entailed.

Shinra troops had taken over a small town at the foot of Tamblin Mountain sometime in the past and are now using it as their forward base. That's where they land - in a dirt runway cut into the forest, just by the town. And it's…

It reminds him of old movies, the mixture of vaguely mixed Asian style buildings, with these modern canvas tents pitched in between them and on the roads. There are trucks that totally aren't jeeps that have worn grooves into soft streets, unprepared for such traffic, making everything messy and muddy. They've erected fences all over the place, sectioning parts off, and there are floodlights everywhere. There's also robots patrolling the place.

In the distance, on the rolling hills somewhere to the west, there are rice paddies and behind them mountains. All around them there's a lush wall of green that looks almost like a rainforest. It actually might be rainforest! It would fit the allegory!

The mental, ethnic vertigo is so strong for a moment that Sephiroth doesn't know which way to turn to look. He doesn't know what to think. Mostly he just feels kinda… unnerved.

Angeal returns to his side before he even realises he'd gone somewhere. "I talked to the Colonel. Come on," Angeal says, clapping him on the shoulder. "They've set up a place for us. We'll… debrief there."

"... Hn," Sephiroth answers, and follows him.

There's a lot of Shinra troops milling about, infantry mostly, but some SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds too. They all stop to stare. Some of them look excited, but most just look tired and dirty and worn.

Sephiroth wonders if the Colonel is in charge of them. Actually, it might be that they're now in charge of everyone here! They're SOLDIERs First Class. Isn't that the highest rank? He can't remember if Sephiroth being a General was fanon or canon, but hasn't he been involved with the war since the beginning?

Would he have to give orders now, orders to march, to fight… to kill?

Angeal shows him to a house that was clearly someone's home before Shinra took the place over. It's a single room with tatami floors and rice paper walls, and the military bunks clash with the aesthetic horribly. Their pillows are clearly seat cushions.

There's a fancy looking kimono stand that's being used to hang bags and ammo satchels.

"What happened to the people who lived here?" Sephiroth can't help but ask, staring at the stand and wondering where the kimono had gone.

"They abandoned the town ahead of the troops," Angeal says.

Sephiroth looks at him and then at the room. Did they really, or is that a nicer thought than they were all executed? "... Right," he says and picks up the seat cushions from the bunk, piling them up in the corner - wondering if there was a table here, and what happened to it.

"Are you alright?" Angeal asks.

Probably not! "What's our mission here?" Sephiroth asks, picking up bags and satchels from the stand and carrying them outside.

"... We have a day to acclimate. After that, there's a number of things that need to be accomplished," Angeal says, subdued, and takes out his phone. "We can start slow - there's no major engagements being planned just now, no one will mind."

"Mn, and what does starting slow mean?" Sephiroth asks, as he picks up stuff around the hut and gets rid of it.

"Well, there's a number of monster extermination requests around here - Wutai wildlife is high-level, and it's rumoured that they're being intentionally bred by Wutai people. They've been attacking patrols."

Sephiroth gets rid of most of the random crap in the hut and then considers the bunk beds. They're ugly and probably unpleasant, but… they have to sleep somewhere.

It takes just one swing of Masamune to improve the situation immensely.

"Um," Angeal says as Sephiroth finishes separating the beds and moves one of them to the other side of the hut. "... Why?"

"I am not sleeping in a bunk bed," Sephiroth says simply and looks around. "... Do you think they have folding screens around here?"

Angeal arches his brows. "I don't know for sure. I suppose we could ask around? I think there's a storage house where they've put the collected, um," he clears his throat. "Things that will be sent to Midgar eventually. Maybe we can requisition some of it."

Things to be sent to Midgar… that's nice. That's a nice way to say the spoils of war, huh.

Sephiroth looks away. It's the way of war, he knows that, nothing unusual about it. It happened in PIDW too - cut out all the smut and stupidity, and all Binghe did was plunder and loot and pillage. When he wasn't being handed tributes, anyway. It's just par for the course! Right? Right…

"You…" Angeal starts and then sighs and puts the phone away. "How about I'll go get a screen for you, if there's any available. Do you want anything else?" He sounds very indulgent and understanding.

"Two screens. And a table," Sephiroth says without facing him, feeling like a sullen little kid being placated. "... Thank you. Can you ask someone to get rid of the - stuff outside?"

"I'll take care of it," Angeal promises. "You just… take a moment to make yourself comfortable, okay? There's no rush."

Aka, pull yourself together, man, you're looking really pitiful right now. Thanks, Angeal-bro.

Sephiroth's waits until Angeal is gone before sinking down to sit on one of the beds, putting his head in his hands.

Though they'd not seen much from the plane, what with it not having windows and all, he can see it in his mind's eye now. Burned villages smoking in the jungle, scorched fields, muddy paddies ruined. He'd never cared much for any kind of war stuff, but he'd seen his share of first person shooters and letsplays.

It all feels very real all of a sudden.

And he's supposed to be the Big Bad here! The Demon of Wutai! Who knows how many people he's already killed in this war! And sure, it is a war, and that's what happens, and yeah, he has killed before as Shen Qingqiu, but -!

Going to war on behalf of the America-allegory of the situation? The invader, the hostile occupier, the - the evil planet-sucking dystopian megacorporation?!

Dragging his hands down his face, Sephiroth sighs and looks up.

There are calligraphy scrolls hung up on each side of the door. One reads Integrity and the other Honour. Sephiroth stares at them miserably for a long moment.

Yeah.

He's so going to end up defecting here, isn't he? Four days, four days in this world, and he's doing to fuck up the whole plot, right here and now. It must be some kind of record! But where the fuck will be even defect to? The Demon of Wutai, hello?! The locals probably want his head on a spike!

"I am so fucked," he mutters wretchedly and hangs his head.

#Fanfiction #ff7 #ffvii #svsss #Sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #angeal hewley #reno of the turks #rude of the turks

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fortheloveofwonderland · 5 months

Text

Midnight | Chapter 19 | SR

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - a slight jump forward in time here. For the sake of this, Spencer’s mom lives back in Vegas.

Chapter Summary - after finding a new place to settle down, things finally seem like they might be looking up for you and Spencer. Meanwhile Luke refuses to rest while he continues searching for you.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - cleaning up a crime scene, burying bodies, fingering, handjob, swearing, vomit, brief mention of depression, penetrative, unprotected sex, lying.

WC - 5.7k

Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up

Two Months Later

The desert city of Twentynine Palms, California was located in the Mojave Desert and sat on the northern side of the Joshua Tree National Park and promoted the motto “a beautiful desert oasis”.

It wasn’t small but it was huge either, with a population of around twenty five thousand, making it a great place for two people to hide in plain sight. And given its desert location, the temperature this time of year was over one hundred and five, a stark contrast from tiny little Colorado mountain towns.

Samuel and Violet Truman of Arizona had moved out west and rented themselves a little fully furnished three bed, single storey home on Chia Avenue in a quiet suburb of Twentynine Palms. They arrived two weeks ago after spending some six weeks travelling the states with their travel companions Jack and Lily Waters.

From the outside their home left a lot to be desired, with its rickety metal fence and lone palm tree in the sandy front yard. But the inside was so modern and sheek that the couple had signed a lease on the spot.

From the outside looking in, you and Spencer were the idyllic all American couple. And admittedly, from the inside you were also pretty damn happy.

Since fleeing Crested Butte in the middle of the night two months ago, things had changed dramatically. That night you’d waited until Luke had stopped patrolling your cabin before getting Mary’s body into the trunk of the Nissan. You’d scrubbed every single inch of the house until it was cleaner than when you’d arrived, tweezed the bullet out of the wall and filled in the hole left behind, before gathering all of your belongings and getting the hell out of dodge.

On the way out of town you had begged Spencer to make one last stop. He wanted to refuse, you could tell, but he was trying so hard to make you happy, to make up for the way he’d been treating you that he agreed and pulled the Nissan to a stop on the street outside of McGills.

It had been late and all the lights were off so you’d ducked down the side alley towards the door that led up to his apartment. You’d had no idea if he’d be there but you’d prayed with every fibre of your being that he would. And by some stroke of luck, he answered the door after you’d knocked twice.

“Rose,” he folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door jamb. “Or should I say, Y/N.”

“I heard Luke spoke to you.” You gnawed on your lip as Jesse regarded you like the stranger you were.

“He did. I have to say, I did not expect you to be FBI.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “It’s a long story. I just wanted to come by and apologise for everything. I probably really shouldn’t have let myself follow you out of the Nickel that night.”

“I’m glad you did.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “Even though it didn’t work out between us, it at the very least got me out of my slump. Maybe now I can actually put myself out there again, you know? Now I’ve gotten over that first hurdle.”

“You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.” You smiled, subconsciously taking a step closer.

“It’s a shame it couldn’t have been you.” He shrugged wistfully.

You swallowed thickly, glancing down the alley and noting that you couldn’t see the Nissan from this position, or more importantly, its occupant couldn’t see you. You stepped even closer to Jesse and cupped his cheek.

“In another life maybe.” You whispered. “I’m leaving town.”

“I figured as much.” He nodded as your hand wandered down from his face to bicep. “You could stay, you know? With me. You don’t have to go just because he wants you to.”

“You have no idea how tempting that is. But I can’t.”

“I know.” He sighed, suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “I’m going to miss you.”

Suddenly he’d slammed his lips against yours in a kiss so passionate your legs had buckled. If Spencer knew how you’d said goodbye to Jesse, he most likely would have gone back and killed him. If he’d known you’d let Jesse finger you in his doorway while you jerked him off in return, Spencer would have certainly murdered him and probably enjoyed it.

But clearly you had a better poker face than you realised as Spencer simply drove off as soon as you were back in the car. And on the drive the only thing you’d thought of were Jess’s last words to you.

“I wish I’d gotten a chance to love you, Y/N.”

But at some point you had to let that go.

Mary’s final resting place had been a hole in the ground in the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest in Montana, almost eight hundred miles north of her hometown of Crested Butte. The Nissan met the same fate as Spencer’s Volvo a further five hundred and fifty miles east just outside of Medora, North Dakota.

Spencer purchased three pairs of bus tickets: one down to Texas, one out to Minnesota and one to Iowa, the latter being the ones you actually used. It took the better part of an entire day on a sweaty, smelly bus before you arrived in Cedar Rapids.

You checked into a cheap and dirty motel under the names of Jack and Lily Waters and spent almost the entire night having sex. Thoroughly exhausted in the morning, Spencer found a used car lot and using his Arizona licence in the name Samuel Truman, paid cash for a black Chevy Impala.

For the six weeks that followed you travelled up and down the country in much of a zigzag, alternating between your two pseudonyms, back and forth so the BAU would never find you. You spent six weeks in multiple different cheap motels, fucking like rabbits every step of the way.

You’d never felt so intrinsically linked to someone the way you did to Spencer in those six weeks. And it seemed he’d finally found his bliss as he didn’t kill once.

Eventually when enough time passed you’d choose to settle down in California. But unfortunately the mundane realities of life would ultimately be your downfall.

You stood up from the bathroom floor with a groan, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth and padding over to the sink. You stuck your mouth directly under the faucet and drank from it to wash away the taste of bile on your tongue.

You’d been throwing up on and off for some weeks now but you simply put it down to the residual stress of being on the run. You exhaled heavily before shuffling back out into the bedroom where Spencer still lay naked on top of the sheets.

“I’m mildly offended.” He offered you a wistful smile.

“I’m sorry.” You grumbled, flopping back to the bed next to him.

“It’s ok. Just never had anyone need to throw up whilst sucking my dick before.” He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It’ll teach me not to eat hotdogs from a gas-and-go.” You sighed. “I can try again if you’re still in the mood?”

“After I just listened to you puke your guts up? I’m suddenly not very horny.” He pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest. “But seriously, are you ok? You’ve been getting sick a lot lately.”

“Yeah I guess it’s stress or something. I’ll be fine.” You nuzzled against him, placing your hand flush against his chest over his heart.

You smiled as the ring caught the light and found yourself moving impossibly closer to Spencer. His grandmother's old ring had been upgraded, as had the one he wore, for newer silver matching bands inscribed on the inside with partners in crime.

One of your stops on your travels before you’d made your way to Twentynine Palms had been in Atlantic City at a seedy motel just off the main strip. After a few drinks one night as you walked by a little drive-in chapel, Spencer had a proposition for.

“What would you say I said we should get married?” He pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk.

“Married?” You glared at him.

“Right now. Partners in crime forever.” He grinned at you.

“You’re joking, right?” Your brows furrowed.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Before we get swallowed up entirely in the lives of Samuel and Violet, I think Spencer and Y/N need to do this one last thing.”

And really there had only been one answer to that. You and Spencer had been bound for life the moment you’d left DC with him, you were as good as married, so why not make it official?

If your old team were to ever find one last trace of Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N it would be the signing of marriage licences in a little Atlantic City chapel.

Spencer purchased you the new rings as a surprise and that along with your rose gold heart necklace, were your most treasured possessions.

“You don’t need to be stressed, sweetheart. It’s over, we’re safe now. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He cooed, kissing your head.

It really was amazing the difference a few months could make. Of course things weren’t ideal, you’d always be on the run, never able to return home but things with Spencer were as close to perfect as they could possibly be.

Since fleeing Butte he’d been wonderful, the Spencer you’d known was still in there somewhere. You may be on the run but as long as this was the Spencer you woke up to every morning, you didn’t mind at all.

But Spencer was wrong, things were far from over. At least you’d always have these moments to look back when everything came crumbling down. But for now, despite the stress within you, you knew Spencer was all you needed to feel whole. You and Spencer were two broken halves but maybe together you could patch each other up and finally feel complete.

***

Two days after Luke Alvez arrived back from Crested Butte he received a phone call from the diner owner's son.

Jesse McGill had informed him of the mysterious disappearance of the girl Mary, whom Luke had met at the diner, which was followed in quick succession by you and Spencer’s sudden departure from the town.

It really didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. But unfortunately for Luke it did take a genius to pull it off and Spencer was sure to leave behind no trail, no scrap of evidence. And two months later and Mary still hadn’t been found and the BAU had no leads on you and Spencer’s whereabouts. You’d well and truly outsmarted them.

In his spare time, which was very few and far between these days, he poured over the Duncan Green case file as well as images of the sparkling clean cabin you’d left behind in Butte in the hopes that maybe he’d missed something. He stayed late in the office every single night and looked for any reports of sightings of you and Spencer as Emily had officially registered you as missing persons. He scrolled through police databases for any other occurrences that might point to where the hell you were.

He’d discovered two bodies buried in woodlands across the country which were similar in MO to Green but with no pertinent links between them, the BAU couldn’t investigate.

Lyle Smith was found in a shallow grave with his throat cut in the Hoosier National Forest just north of Jasper, Indiana. The body of Brett Carlisle from Wichita, Kansas was found in the Rita Blanca National Grasslands in Texas. Both bodies had been subject to the elements but deemed to have been dead since before that little Nissan was picked up on Elk Avenue for the first time. So maybe Spencer had been on some kind spree since he’d left DC.

And that brought him onto the discovery of the burnt out Nissan, near identical to how they’d found Spencer’s Volvo. They’d spent three days searching the area surrounding where the vehicle was found for Mary’s body only to come up short. Of course, Spencer wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t dispose of a body anywhere near the car.

The only lead Luke had really had in the last two months was the filing of a marriage licence in the state of New Jersey. It was like a big middle finger in his face, clearly you’d both wanted him to find it. He’d driven to Atlantic City on one of his rare days off and canvassed the area near the wedding chapels, showing your photographs to anyone who would look. But he knew you’d be long gone.

If he could just find a way to connect any of these crimes to Spencer, or to find Mary’s body then maybe he could convince you to come home. He was sure you had nothing to do with any of this and if had solid proof that Spencer had murdered one of these people maybe it could be his way to form a wedge between the two of you. No matter what happened, Luke would never stop trying to protect you.

But god if it wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Luke Alvez was, in no uncertain terms, coming apart at the seams. The stitching holding him together had been removed thread by thread and at this point there was barely anything holding him together. Emily had expressed her concerns for his mental health, suggesting he seek medical help for what she had dubbed a depressive spiral.

His response had been simply, “you’d be depressed too if your best friend had married a murderer” which had pretty much shut down the conversation.

He knew he was devolving, he’d seen it hundred of times before. His apartment was a mess of case files, innocuous accounts of possible sightings and potential victims of Spencer. He barely slept, running mostly on coffee and energy bars. He was almost certain he was getting an ulcer.

But he wouldn’t let this go. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t safe and he couldn’t rest until he knew you were. Maybe this obsession would eventually kill him, but it would be worth it to be able to free you from the clutches of Spencer Reid.

***

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You scurried back to the car with your best apologetic smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat and Spencer pulled a face.

“Did you puke again?” He frowned at you.

“No.” You shook your head.

“You were peeing again? You went when we got here.” He started the engine.

You weren’t exactly sure where you were headed, Spencer had simply told you that you were going out for the day and with nothing better to do you’d followed along. You were somewhere along the I-15 heading north about two hours away from Twentynine Palms, at a gas station. You’d only stopped long enough for Spencer to fill up the Chevy and have a coffee and you’d used the bathroom twice, which was very unlike you.

“I know, I think I drank too much coffee this morning.” You mused, putting on your seatbelt.

“You always drink too much coffee, but that’s an entirely different conversation.” He chuckled, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the space.

As he merged back onto the interstate you twirled your wedding band around your finger, watching the way his caught the sunlight through the windscreen and you smiled to yourself.

“Where are we going, Spence? Not that I don’t like a spontaneous road trip but I thought we’d settled now? Driving long distances usually only equals bad things where we’re concerned.” You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth.

Spencer removed one hand from the wheel and brought it to rest on your knee while he smiled at you softly.

“We’re going to see my mom.” He spoke happily.

“Oh.” You nodded with a soft laugh. “Ok, good. You had me worried for a second.”

“I told you sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about anything. Not anymore.” He gave your leg a squeeze, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

His bloodlust had been sated for the past two months but now it had come back with avengence. He needed to kill and he had a particular target in mind who he was sure would satisfy his urges more so than any that had come before.

But it was better to keep you in the dark. You were so happy lately and Spencer loved it when you were happy. He’d use visiting his mom as a distraction and he’d sneak off and extract his plan solo. You’d never need to know and your blissful little bubble didn’t need to be popped.

It was a win-win.

He ran over his plan in his head as he drove, making sure he had all the little details secure in his mind. There was no margin for error here, this had to be the perfect kill.

The two of you mostly stayed silent until he’d made it about another half hour up the interstate and you huffed out a loud breath.

“Goddamnit,” you grumbled. “I need to pee again.”

***

Visiting Spencer’s mom had been pretty safe for the two of you given that if anyone ever asked her if you’d been here, she most likely wouldn’t remember. You spent a few hours with her upon your arrival in Vegas before Spencer took you for a three course meal at the very expensive Capital Grille on Las Vegas strip.

After he walked you down to Caesars Palace in which you expected to be having drinks and were extremely surprised when Spencer strolled up to the reception desk stating he had a room reserved under his other alias Jack Waters.

A bellboy led you up to one of the top floors and showed you to the Palace Premium Suite. You stood in the middle of the grand living room while Spencer tipped the young man and once the door was closed and the two of you were alone, he sidled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You like it?” He spoke as he kissed the side of your face.

“Wh-what is happening?” You laughed, still in awe. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Consider it a belated, one night honeymoon.” His lips trailed down your neck. “And I guess just a small token of my gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. I know I have a hard time saying how I feel but I love you so fucking much and I am the luckiest man in the world to call you my wife.”

“Spencer,” you sighed happily in your arms. “I love you too. And I’m the lucky one.”

“Ok, now we’ve got that out of the way, tell me Mrs Reid, where would you like me to fuck you first?”

You moaned at his words, turning yourself around in his arms and attaching your lips together.

“What are my options?” You spoke against his lips, feeling his dick growing hard as he pressed into you.

“Well there are multiple couches, a four poster king sized bed, a pretty decadent bathtub, or there’s my personal favourite option…” his hands wandered under the hem of your shirt and over your back.

“Which is?” You took hold of his lapels, tearing your lips away from his so you could look at him.

His pupils were already blown out with his lust, his lip quirked up into a sinful smirk.

“We’re way up high, with some of the best views of Vegas.” He tugged your shirt up, quickly getting it over your head and tossing it aside. He took hold of your biceps and turned you back around to face the huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the strip, his lips moving back to your ear. “My choice would be to fuck you up against the window. But that’s just me.”

He was already leading you towards the windows, lips sucking the flesh of your neck, his free reaching between your bodies and unhooking your bra. He quickly got it off your arms and dropped it on the floor, and you made no protest when he pushed your front up against the window. You hissed slightly at the cool glass as it touched your nipples and Spencer smiled to himself.

It was all a part of his plan. He would render you dumb with sex then run you an indulgent bubble bath with a large glass of wine to soothe your post-coital muscles. Then he’d tell you he’d left something at his mother's facility which was purposefully on the other side of town to buy him some time.

He’d tell you he hopefully wouldn’t be gone long, but traffic on the strip at night could be a nightmare and he’d be back as soon as possible. He’d inform you of the bar and the spa downstairs if you wanted to use either while he was gone.

And while you were preoccupied having a drink or getting a massage or whatever, he would seek out his target, slice his throat and be back before you knew it, with any luck rejuvenated enough for round two.

He continued kissing your neck while he started unbuttoning your pants and you helped him wiggle them down your legs and kick them off. You could see Spencer in the reflection in the window start to work on the buttons of his shirt. You caught his eye and he smiled at you.

He shucked his shirt off and pressed his bare chest against your back, caging you against the window with his hips, his hard cock pressing into your back. His lips moved back to your neck and worked on sucking deep bruises into your flesh whilst one hand wandered over your stomach and quickly dipped inside your panties.

You closed your eyes as two fingers were soon pressing inside of you, his thumb massaging your clit. You rolled your ass backwards, grinding against his erection but you wobbled a little on your legs at the feeling of his fingers inside you.

With your eyes closed your mind wandered of its own accord. There were times when you and Spencer were together that you found yourself thinking of Jesse, most specifically the last time you’d seen him when he’d fingered you in his doorway.

It was entirely involuntary, you certainly didn’t mean to think about him and his strong tattooed arms and the large vein in his forearm that pulsed when his fingers were inside of you. You didn’t mean to imagine his wiry beard scratching your face as he kissed you. And you most definitely didn’t mean to picture him fucking you whilst Spencer was. Sometimes it just happened.

Spencer was by no means an idiot and he knew you still thought about GI Mountain Man. He knew exactly what you looked like post orgasm and he’d known what the two of you had been doing when you’d said goodbye to him, even if you’d tried hard to hide it. There had been three, maybe four times when you’d said his name under your breath when he was fucking you but you’d never seemed to notice.

Of course it bothered him, a part of him wanted to drive back to Butte and kill Jesse just to make himself feel better. But he was trying to be better for you and so he ignored the occasional slip of the tongue.

Your hand snaked around his wrist, holding him firmly in place in your panties. He knew you were thinking about Jesse now, call it intuition, or gut instinct, but whatever it was Spencer knew.

He used his free hand to relieve himself from his pants and move them down his thighs enough so they were out of his way. He was almost positive that Jesse wasn’t as big as him, couldn’t fill you up the way he could.

In one swift move, he removed his fingers from inside of you and hurriedly plunged his cock between your legs, causing you to gasp and fall flat against the window. Your eyes sprung open at the sudden intrusion and you made eye contact with him in the reflection.

“Jesus Christ, Spence.” You panted as he bottomed out. “A little warning next to him.”

He chose to ignore you, placing his hands flush on the glass either side of your head as he started thrusting into you. He kept eye contact through the glass, not letting you close your eyes for fear you would start thinking of Jesse again.

It’s not fair. I’ve done everything for her, I fucking married her and it’s still not enough. What makes him better than me? Why is he still on her mind?

He tried not to let his anger cloud his judgement and had to rein himself back from fucking you too hard. He forced himself to slow down, thrusting you languidly against the window. You moaned in sync with one another while the Strip below illuminated you both in its chaotic glow.

You kept your eyes on his in the reflection while he fucked you and all thoughts of Jesse left your head. When you were clenching around him, legs shaking from your impending orgasm, he took hold of your left hand and ran his fingers over your wedding band.

“You’re mine.” He mumbled, his face contorting as his own orgasm snuck up on him. “Mine. My partner in crime, my wife, my…fuck.”

He groaned the last word, head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly came inside of you. You whimpered as he filled you up, pushing you over the edge and your legs almost gave up with the force of your orgasm.

You fell back against Spencer’s chest, his arms holding you up right even though his own legs were shaking. As you fought to catch your breath he peeled you away from the window as he slid out of you and helped you over to the couch.

You collapsed onto it, panting heavily and pulling Spencer down with you. He laid his head on your chest and listened to the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

You laid like this for a while until you were both breathing at a normal rhythm and Spencer untangled himself from your arms and got to his feet. He tucked himself away and tugged his pants back up before buttoning them.

“I’m gonna run you a bubble bath.” He smiled softly down at you.

“You gonna join me in it?” You smiled back sleepily.

“Sadly not, I realised I left my wallet at Bennington.” He went to head towards the bathroom but he didn’t get far.

“You had your wallet at dinner.” You sat up, frowning at the back of his head.

Spencer froze in his tracks. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

“Uh,” he turned back to face you, quickly trying to think on his feet, which would be a lot easier if his head wasn’t still hazy from his orgasm. “Not my wallet, I meant the burner phone. I should go and get it.”

You scrutinised him for a moment but thankfully for him your own head was also bleary and wouldn’t allow you to think too much into it.

“Ok.” You shrugged, flopping back to the couch.

Spencer exhaled heavily, continuing on his way to the bathroom. He started the water, pouring in an ample amount of bubble bath and leaving the tub to fill.

“There’s a bar downstairs and a spa, even a casino. If you get bored with the bath and I’m not back, go nuts.” He spoke as headed back into the room, locating the bottle of red wine he’d had sent to the room before you arrived.

He made quick work of the cork and poured you a large glass before coming back over to the couch and dropping down next to you. He handed you the glass and you sat yourself up against the cushions again.

“Hmm I like honeymoons.” You smiled, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a small sip.

Moments later your face fell and you gagged, thrusting the glass back at Spencer before leaping from the couch and running as fast as your legs could carry you to the bathroom.

Spencer heard the toilet seat slam back against the cistern and then the distinctive sound of vomiting echoed around the room.

Realistically he was smart enough to figure out what was going on, as were you, but both of your heads were clouded by other thoughts and so you both missed the obvious.

Spencer padded back to the bathroom and found you on your knees, wiping your hand over your mouth. You looked up at him with large, sad eyes.

“The wine turned against me.” You whined. “Goddamn gas-and-go hotdogs.”

Spencer smiled sadly at you and slid to the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the bath continued to fill behind him.

“Are you going to be ok if I pop out?” Please god say yes, I need this, it has to be tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s passed again now, I guess I just won’t be drinking any wine tonight.” You sighed. “You go, do your thing.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Spencer pushed himself back to his feet and then held his hands out to help you up.

“Of course. Do you think you’ll be gone for long?”

“No idea, traffic at this time of night will probably be a pain, but I promise I’ll hurry.” He stroked your hair back from your face.

“Ok.” You nodded, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the tub. “Go, I’m fine. I can run a bath.”

“I won’t be long.” He went to kiss you but then thought better of it as your breath smelt like vomit. Instead he kissed his first and middle finger and then placed them on your lips making you chuckle.

Soon he was heading out of the room in search of his bag so he could change into jeans and t-shirt. The weapons were in the Chevvy’s glovebox, ready for their next assignment.

He dressed quickly and got his shoes on, throwing on a hoodie before grabbing the car keys and heading to the door.

“Be safe, sweetheart.” He called as he reached for the handle.

“Love you.” You replied and it made his heart swell every time he heard you say that.

As he opened the door, his wedding ring caught his eye and he rolled his lip between his teeth. He forced open the door, ignoring the way his heart practically exploded when he looked at his ring. He had a job to focus on.

But the truth was, you were the only thing keeping him together. He was lost and you’d found him, taken him in and patched him up. His scars both mental and physical didn’t phase you, if anything you’d loved him harder because of them. You’d fixed him up in ways you’d never understand and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake in what he was about to do.

He was fairly certain you’d never walk away from him, that nothing he could do could be worse than the things he’d already put you through. Because he was sure one day all that thread keeping him together would come unravelled and if he had no one there to stitch him back up again he would be torn so deeply there would be no repairing him. And god only knows how quickly a broken man would devolve.

No, it's no wonder I feel broken,

Are you the one to fix me up, patching up the work they done?

Try and sew me,

So thread the needle, tie it off, teach me how to trust someone.

Really hoping that you stay,

That you never walk away,

Every word I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

No, it's no wonder you've been feeling,

Like a doll in lost and found, so mistreated, thrown around.

Who you kidding? (You kidding),

Every flaw and every fray, that's what makes you sexy to me.

Really hoping that I stay,

I could never walk away,

Every word we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it.

Do you feel the stress in me,

Steady bursting at the seams?

You're the only one I need to make me complete, yeah.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Elegant and broken, tasteful, tattered clothing,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Motive through emotion, damaged but we're golden,

I guess we've been caught in the middle of love.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, don't tear me apart,

I've been stuck in the rut, patched up in the dark.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart, oh,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Really hoping that you stay,

Pray you never walk away,

Pardon all my precious scars.

Stitch me up, stitch me up, there's pins in my heart,

Oh, pardon all my precious scars.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective

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