#his cute fucking grey beard hairs

[frnkiebby]

can we just take a minute~🎃

[howertism]

goddd fist fight press was wild

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-three

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

jackson holds more than a few familiar faces.

a/n: these few chapters are so satisfying to me cuz it’s more my own creation that straight outta the show and i hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏻

word count: 7.4k

warnings: nothing crazy, y’all know the drill by now

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The last time you saw Nick Cowan, Joel had just put a bullet in his shoulder, and he’d nearly put a bullet in Joel’s head. Then you’d picked up the gun Joel had dropped and pointed it right back at the then-FEDRA soldier, your…whatever he once was.

The last thing you said to him rings clear as day in your mind: “Guess I’m just as terrible as you thought.”

He looks…old. It suits him. It’s the eyes that give him away, that signature stare you had once grown so used to. Now, they pin you in place, and you have no choice but to stare right back, taking in the thick beard along his jaw, the scar across his nose, his hair greying and pushed back over his head. He’s bigger than you remember, all broad shoulders towering over you as he gets closer to you, closing the distance, making your brain run a marathon trying to make sense of it.

He’s here. He’s alive.

“Liv?” he croaks out, his voice snapping on your name. His eyes are glassy, those stupidly long lashes you were always silently envious of clumping together. “Is it really…is it really you?”

Nick Cowan opens his arms to you, his boots crunching in the snow beneath your feet. He goes to hug you, saying your name again, shock and happiness on his face.

And you fucking deck him.

You’re pure adrenaline, and you hear the crunch of your knuckles hitting his face more than you feel it. It’s like every eye in the street turns to you as it happens, and Cowan reels backward, spitting blood into the snow and cupping his face. Your hand explodes with pain as you fall back a step, cradling your hand against your chest, and Joel materializes at your side, curling a hand around your elbow.

“Okay,” Cowan grunts, spitting again. “I probably deserved that.”

“Probably?” you nearly shout, stepping forward, but Joel tightens his hold and hauls you back. “It’s okay.”

You wrestle yourself out of Joel’s grip and close the distance between you and Nick. But this time, you hug him. You grab his forearm and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. It’s a moment before he returns it, a low chuckle reaching your ears. There are more tears on your face, and god fucking damn it, your hand hurts something fierce, but then you feel something connect with your shin and a tiny voice shouts, “Get your hands off my daddy!”

Nick steps back, releasing you, and you look down to see a little girl, no older than five or six, pulling back to kick you in the shin again. She’s cute, all bright blue eyes and blonde braids and her cheeks flushed with cold. “Deanna, stop it,” Nick chides, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. She goes willingly, giving you the best evil eye you’ve received from someone so young, and it makes you laugh.

You’re still reeling, your aching heart barely able to process. Tommy? Cowan? Alive and well, all this time. It’s almost too much, and then—

“Deanna, come back here!” an unfamiliar voice calls, and you look in its direction to see a young man making his way through the crowd to where you’re stood. 

And your heart sinks into your toes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Cowan, reaching into his pocket and producing an inhaler. “She just ran off before I could…” He trails off, and his eyes move to you. “Liv?”

The image of the little boy in your mind is instantly replaced with the older version standing before you. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Cowan, the mop of dark curls now cropped closer to his head, short enough that you can see the scar on his forehead. The memory jars you. He was so little, chasing Emily around the food court, and you’d heard him yelp as he fell. A few minutes later, his dad was carrying him into the medic area where you were working with Deanna. Poor kid cracked his head open and was sniffling around the wad of napkins his dad had pressed to his bleeding forehead.

You’d taken over, carried him over to one of the cots and found a wad of gauze that would soak up the blood a bit better. Henry was all sniffles and big round eyes, staring up at you as you dabbed at his wound. You distracted him, talking about anything and everything while you cleaned it and found him a bandage and told him he was brave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it had left a thin line above his eyebrow, one you could only really see when the light caught the right way.

“Henry,” you breathe out, and a moment later, he’s in your arms. Despite the height he now has on you, he’s that ten-year-old kid again, hugging you tightly. The kid that groaned about math but still did every piece of homework, that sat vigil at your bedside after you got the shit kicked out of you in lockup, that sweet-talked Joel into a game of Monopoly the first time they met. 

Maybe not your son by blood, but the closest thing you know you’ll ever come to one.

And he’s alive.

But then the mood sours, all in an instant.

“You told us she was dead!” Henry shouts, still clinging to you, but pulling away to spit the words at Cowan. There are tears on his face, making his cheeks ruddy, and you can hear the way his chest wheezes. “All these years, you told us she was gone! You fucking liar!”

You can see the hurt on Nick’s face, the way he flinches back. The little girl — Deanna — hides her face in Nick’s neck, putting her arms around him. A blonde woman appears at his side, puts a hand on Deanna’s back and murmurs something to Nick that you don’t hear over Henry shouting.

“I fucking hate you! You’re a goddamn liar! She was our family!”

“Henry, stop,” you say softly, trying to placate him. “It’s okay, it’s not—”

He wrenches out of your arms and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Nick to watch him go. Nick hands Deanna off to the blonde and she gives you what you think is a sympathetic smile before also walking away.

“I never meant for it to work out this way,” Nick says, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part wants to deck him again. “They were just kids when we…” He shakes his head. “Deanna and I agreed, it was better that way. That maybe it would stop them from wanting to go back to Boston if they didn’t think you were still there.”

You feel a presence behind you — Joel. His hand rests at the small of your back and you swipe tears from your cheeks. “Well, I was still there, Nick. Wondering this entire time if you were all alive or not. You couldn’t have had the decency to at least let us know you were okay?” Your voice cracks on the question and Joel puts his arm around your waist now, tugging you against him. You’re grateful; it’s the only thing stopping you from punching Nick again.

“Everything I did was to protect them,” Nick says, staring down at his boots. You got him good; his jaw is an angry shade of red, and there’s a spot of red on his bottom lip. “You know exactly why I did what I did.”

Joel bristles, angling himself in front of you, raising a hand. “Can we not do that right now?” he grits out. “There’s a lot going on right this second; we all need to calm the fuck down and you need to watch your mouth.”

Nick doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, but then his eyes flick back to you. “I’m sorry, really, I am. Tommy knows which house is ours, if you want to talk more.”

He turns on his heel, but you stop him. “Nick.” He swivels back to you slowly, his hands dug in his pockets. “I’m assuming the little Deanna is named after the one that took care of us back in Boston.”

“She is,” he nods. “Dee passed five years ago.” But then he stops, and you know the next thing out of his mouth might crush you. “The same flu that took Emily. They’re buried together; I can show you where, if you like. That’s probably where Henry took off to.”

You inhale sharply, stumbling back a step, but Joel doesn’t let you go far. Tommy’s on your other side now, Ellie a half-step behind him, and the woman who had told you to come to Jackson breaks the silence that settles as you watch Nick walk away.

“Why don’t we get you all something to eat?”

 +

You’re all quiet, the only sound at the table is the clatter of cutlery hitting plates. Joel can barely remember the last time he ate off a real plate, let alone sat at a table while he had a meal. It must have been back in Boston, he thinks, back before…

He glances at you between bites. You’re picking at your food, your shoulders hunched around your ears, eyes downcast. Worry knots Joel’s stomach, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. “Liv, honey, eat,” he says, nodding across the table where you’re sat beside Tommy. “Please.”

You just nod, lifting your glass of water and taking a sip.

Beside him, Ellie is wolfing down her food, scraping the plate, eyes glued to the meal like someone might try and take it away from her. “There’s more if you need it,” Maria — the woman who’d brought you here — says from her seat at the head of the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says with a slight nod, pausing his own eating. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie quips, taking another bite. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

“Ellie,” you chide, your eyes widening for a second and Joel’s eyes dart between you.

“Sorry,” he says to Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

Tommy gives Joel a small smile and lifts his hand, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You offer a half-smile in return, reaching up and squeezing his fingers.

Ellie’s attention is dragged across the large room, and her almost menacing, “What?” makes you both flinch.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” you groan, rubbing your hand across your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asks, his eyes darting to the girl who’d been hiding behind a pillar, watching your table.

“What about her manners?” Ellie calls, loud enough for the girl to hear, and you sigh heavily.

“She was just curious,” Maria supplies, her tone placating. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” Ellie says with a tight nod. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them.” She glances at Tommy, at you beside him, and then her eyes move back to Maria. “And I want my gun back.”

They’d taken your weapons before you got on the horses, and the other riders had whistled at your barb-wired bat. Joel didn’t doubt you’d get them back, but now isn’t the time or place.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria replies.

“We don’t need to be,” you add, earning an open-mouthed look from Ellie. “Not in here.”

An awkward silence settles for a moment while Ellie cleans her plate, and Joel’s worry subsides some when he sees you take a few more bites.

“Y’know what,” Tommy starts, glancing between you all, “I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie almost sneers, and your eyes dart to Joel before you reach across the table, just laying your fist on the tabletop.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. It’s all bark, we’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there.”

“Ellie!” Joel grits, and you put your face in your hands.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” she continues, ignoring both of you.

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria responds easily, barely fazed. 

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Tommy says, and Joel sees the recognition on your face as you drop your hands, squaring your shoulders slightly.

“Not always, at least,” Maria says. Her eyes linger on Joel as she says it, and it makes him bristle. He sees your face pinch from the corner of his eye and you lean up, straightening, laying both elbows on the table.

He can see you holding yourself back, wanting to jump on the defence. So he tries to change the subject. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he lays down his fork and looks to his brother, “but it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

You inhale sharply, reaching for your water glass again. 

Tommy pauses, balks, before, “Well, um.” He reaches a hand out and Maria takes it, a small smile on her face. “Maria is family, actually.”

Your water glass rattles as you set it back down. “Oh shit!” Ellie says, her tone suddenly lighter. “Congrats.”

Joel doesn’t have words, barely registering you putting your hand on Tommy’s arm and murmuring, “That’s great.”

“Joel,” Ellie calls softly, snapping him out of it, “say congrats.”

“Congrats,” he repeats drily.

The silence that settles after is so awkward Joel wants to crawl out of his own skin, but his brother breaks it. “How about a tour?”

You nearly jump into action, collecting the dishes and cutlery and stacking them together, waving Maria off when she tells you to leave them. Joel makes his way around the table to your side, helps you into your coat. You mumble a thank you, give him a tight smile when he finds your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Maria leads you out of the mess hall and back onto the street. The air is so bitingly cold, such a stark difference from the warmth inside, that Joel flinches, and you tuck yourself against his side, ducking under his arm.

“We settled here about seven years ago,” Maria tells you as you start walking, her voice loud over the noise of the street. “Just a handful of us back then.” She points to one part of the wall. “That section was already a gated community so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.”

“And you said Infected?” Joel asks, rubbing his hand over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, “but usually smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope, sub-MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from a half mile out.” Joel smirks; his brother, forever the gun nerd.

It gets Ellie’s attention. “Can you teach me how?”

“No, he can’t,” Joel says immediately. He’s half-expecting you to interject, but you don’t say a word. “How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully,” Maria responds. “Being in the middle of nowhere helps, not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.”

That makes Joel stop, and you do too, your hand curling into a fist at his hip as Tommy shoots him a look.

“House of worship,” Maria continues, either unfazed or unaware of the silent exchange as she points out buildings, “multi-faith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

Joel’s gaze drifts up, to the power lines linked along the street. “And you draw power from the dam?”

“Got that working a couple of years ago,” she says with a nod. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights.”

Ellie shakes her head, glancing around. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

You keep walking, eventually coming to an area that looks like a makeshift farm. A herd of sheep runs past as you all step through the fence, bleating as they go.

“Hey, Joel,” Ellie calls, beaming, “check it! Baa!”

You both laugh, and Joel squeezes your shoulder.

“So, are you like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria, clearly starting to get over her earlier…ferocity.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answers. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repair, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” Tommy chimes in, “greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, communism,” you pipe up, leaning around Joel to look at Tommy.

Tommy’s expression is pure confusion as he shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

“It is that,” Marie corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy stops in his tracks, clearly shocked at this revelation, and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he walks past his brother. The conversation trails off as you come up to a row of stables, and Ellie is instantly taken by a young foal poking its head out of the half door.

“Well, I’m sure they’d all like a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, looking at Tommy. “We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.”

You blow out a breath, turning to steam in the cold air. Joel can hear the words on the tip of your tongue before Ellie interjects, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

It bothers him more than it should. She looks back at the two of you with a grin on her face that quickly disappears. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

“Joel,” you say quietly, turning your body against his.

Marie doesn’t miss the exchange and looks at you. “Well, I can take Liv and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She pauses. “Unless, you—”

“No, let the brothers do their thing,” you say with a nod, peeling away from Joel’s side. He wants to pull you back the second you’re gone, but he stops himself. “I have a few…unfinished conversations of my own to take care of.”

Maria nods. “I can show you where the Cowans live; it’s not far from our place.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, watching as you walk over to where Ellie’s standing, reaching up and petting the foal’s nose. Ellie seems to relax further when you touch her shoulder. “Okay.”

“We’ll be fine,” you tell Joel, and he’s not quite sure who you’re trying to convince, you or him.

Tommy starts to lead him away, and Joel gives you one last glance before following his brother away from the stables.

+

Standing on the front porch of what Maria has told you is the Cowans’ home, you feel nervous, of all things. Your fury has subsided some, turned instead to a quiet ache that lingers in your chest, makes your heart rate rise when you let your mind wander. You feed yourself the facts instead, still trying to make sense of it all.

Nick is alive. Tommy is alive. Henry is alive.

Deanna is dead. Emily is dead.

Somehow, the confirmation makes it easier. You can’t even begin to add up all the time you’ve spent wondering over the years, when Nick first took them away, when Tommy left with the Fireflies. The wondering always made it worse. It was the same when the outbreak first hit, stuck in Boston, not knowing who lived or died. It was Nick that gave you the closure that your parents were gone. Then Joel’s panicked admission that Anna had lived through being bitten, but then FEDRA carted her off, never to be seen again. 

That’s one bit of closure you still don’t have.

My parents are dead. Bill and Frank are dead. Sarah is dead. Anna is…dead.

You suck in a shaky breath, the iciness of it chilling you from the inside out as you lift your hand and knock twice.

It’s a few moments before the door swings inward, revealing the blonde woman who had stood beside Nick earlier in the street. “Oh,” she says, her voice bordering between overly bright and cautious, “it’s you.”

“Olivia,” you offer, extending your hand, “but call me Liv.”

“Sloane,” she responds, taking it. “Nick’s upstairs. D’you wanna come in?”

You stall, thrown off by her invitation. “Oh, uh, sure.”

Sloane steps aside to let you in and you step over the threshold, immediately soaking in the warmth that greets you. “This must all be very…strange for you.”

You lift your brows, glancing around the house as she shuts the door behind her. It’s quaint, with a Christmas tree in one corner of the living room that you can see, a kitchen to the other side. You can see little Deanna perched at the table, crayons in hand, and it’s so reminiscent of Emily, of your life back in Boston, that you nearly turn on your heel and dart back into the cold. 

Your face must give you away, and Sloane seems to think she caused it. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you cut her off, waving a hand. “Strange is probably the nicest way to put it.” You try to laugh, try to make the atmosphere a little lighter, but the sound twists in your throat. “I’m the one who should be sorry; I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.”

She gives you a small smile. “I invited you in, Liv. It’s okay, really. Nick told me a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” you say, returning the grin while inwardly praying he left out some of your…finer details. “Although, there’s not a lot of good stuff, which I’m sure you know.”

“We do what we have to,” she replies, lifting her shoulder, and you balk. “It all happens the way it does for a reason. If you’d stayed together, he wouldn’t be here.” She pauses, looks over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “And I wouldn’t have that beautiful little girl.”

Tears spring in your eyes and you blink furiously while she’s not looking, willing them away.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” she says, turning back to you. “Nick said she kicked you in the shins after…”

“…after you clocked me in the jaw,” Nick finishes, coming down the stairs, sporting the starting of a bruise along his beard. “Glad I only ever taught you to shoot. If I’d taught you how to punch, I’d probably still be unconscious in the street.” You open your mouth to say something, but you’re caught off guard as Nick leans over the stair rail to kiss Sloane hello, which she returns with a grin.

He looks so…at ease. Jealousy sparks in your gut something fierce. Not that he’s kissing her and not you — that ship sailed many moons ago. But seeing them here, in their home, with their daughter. It’s a postcard reminder of all the things you and Joel don’t have. Have never had. May not ever have.

“Nick, can we talk?” you ask, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “Please? I promise not to clock you again.”

He barks a laugh, reaching for his coat on a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”

Sloane kisses him again before he leaves, leading you out the door and back into the cold. You fall into step easily, heading deeper into Jackson, past more houses and people. It looks almost like a real neighbourhood, kids building snowmen in their front yards, Christmas trees glittering in windows. You’re both quiet, but Nick’s the one that breaks the silence.

“Go ahead and ask, Liv,” he says, digging his hands in his pockets while you toy with your own. “I can hear the wheels in your head going from here.”

“Maria said this settlement has been here seven years,” you start, his words all the confirmation you need to start asking for the answers you need, “but you left Boston what, fourteen years ago? What did you do between Boston and here?”

He sighs, his breath turning to a cloud of steam in the air. “Whatever I had to. I only got us out of the QZ by asking for a transfer, and we barely survived the trek to Chicago with FEDRA on our side. But we were there almost five years.” He gestures to the left when the sidewalk splits, and you follow his direction. “After Chicago went to shit, we did whatever we could. Lots of sleeping on the road, hiding in abandoned buildings. The kids hated it, Deanna even more so, but there were more of us then, some people she’d befriended in Chicago, a few other soldiers who’d grown tired of the bullshit, like me. Sloane was one of them.”

“She was FEDRA?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “I think she’s the only person who’s given me more of a run for my money than you did.”

“Nick—”

“I don’t blame you for doing what you did,” he says, staring at his boots as you keep walking. The sidewalk splits again and this time, you go right. The houses are further apart here, a small copse of trees coming into view at the end of the street. “Or Joel. He was just trying to protect you, and I’m sorry for what I—”

“You shot him in the head, Nick,” you say, bristling. “You can’t just apologize for that and make it all go away. You could have killed him. His hearing hasn’t been the same since it happened.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at you, wide-eyed. “What?”

“You heard me,” you tell him, defiant only to cover up the way your bottom lip is wobbling. “And then you tell Henry and Emily that I’m dead?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” he shoots back and starts walking again. You inhale sharply and follow. “Henry was so mad when we left. He kept asking where you were, if you were gonna meet us in Chicago, over and over. It just seemed…easier. And how in the hell was I supposed to know that you’d show up here one day and prove me wrong?”

“You could have sent a message,” you say, your chest growing tight, “when you got to Chicago. Or when you got here. Never mind, I should give Tommy a fucking earful for not telling me you’ve been here this whole time.”

“I asked him not to,” he admits, and your brows shoot up. “Yes, I lied, okay, Liv? I’m a terrible fucking person. But you were just as bad as I was. You put that entire QZ at risk coming back when you did, and I—”

“Stop it,” you grit, lifting a hand, shocked when he cuts himself short. “Never in a million years would I have come back if I wasn’t sure. I made Joel promise to put me down if I so much as twitched. I made him swear to put a bullet in my head and leave me there, then go back to the QZ and tell everyone how fucking sorry I was.”

You’ve reached the end of the street, the edge of the small forest, and Nick keeps moving forward, stepping onto the snow. You follow, grinding your teeth together as you go.

You walk in silence for some time, Nick stepping quickly, a few feet in front of you, and you keep your distance, unsure if you can handle the rest of this conversation.

The clearing comes into view after a bit of walking, and Nick moves to the side, revealing a graveyard of sorts, a few rows of grave markers dusted with snow. They’re simple markers, wooden crosses driven into the earth, names scrawled across them, painted on a few. One of the graves is fresh.

Seeing Deanna’s name feels like a punch to the gut, but Emily’s hits twice as hard. You drop to your knees in the snow, reaching out and brushing your hand over the cross, the wreath of flowers that sits atop it. “Sloane does that,” Nick tells you, his voice hushed. “She’s got a whole garden in our backyard just to bring the flowers here. Grows them inside in the winter. She loved Emily.”

Your tears flow freely, dripping off your chin and hitting the snow. “It was a flu?”

“Yes,” he answers, crouching down beside you. “Five years ago, now. We’d been here six months, and things felt good, but then the kids started getting sick, a lot of them. Henry got it too, and I thought he’d go before Emily, with his lungs being so awful, but he didn’t. A few other kids passed, and Deanna was so hellbent on helping as many as she could, swearing up and down that she wouldn’t catch it.” His voice snaps and he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Despite it all, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. “You and I both know that’s not a battle you would have won, Nick.”

“I know,” he answers, his eyes glassy as he covers your hand with his. “And I know that I can’t just apologize and make it all go away, Liv, but for whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry.”

“I am, too,” you reply, squeezing his arm, “for whatever it’s worth.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “This is all so fucked up, but it is good to see you.”

Slowly, you both get to your feet. Your knees are shaky and you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from Deanna and Emily’s grave. After a moment, Nick loops his arm around your shoulders and tugs you against him. You let it happen, glad for his warmth, and lean your head against him.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

+

Nick walks you back to town, points you in the direction of what you learn is Tommy’s bar. The snow crunches under your feet, and as you cross the road, you feel lighter than you have in a long time. Your heart aches, but you can make peace with the loss of Deanna, and to a lesser extent, Emily. There’s no denying the grief that has you by the collar, but knowing they didn’t turn, that they weren’t torn to shreds, that they didn’t die like…that. It brings you some strange sense of peace.

You catch sight of Joel walking out of the bar as you get close, and you can tell he doesn’t notice you standing there. There’s a faraway look on his face that makes your gut twist with unease, the Christmassy atmosphere around you doing little to distract you.

He pulls his coat on and you watch him step down onto the sidewalk, feet carrying him towards the nearest lamppost. He leans heavily against it, one hand lifting to press against his chest, the other curling around the post, and you surge forward, calling his name.

“I’m fine,” he spits at you when you get close, his head lifting, waving you off. “I’m—”

The words choke off in his throat, his eyes caught on something over your shoulder, and before you can ask, he steps away from the post, moves past you, and you can see what he’s looking at.

If you didn’t know she was gone, you’d think you were looking at the back of Sarah Miller. An older version, taller, her hair a bit longer than your memory serves, but the similarities are uncanny. Your heart crawls into your throat as a young girl bounds toward Sarah’s doppelgänger, falling into her open arms with a giggle.

More tears springing into your eyes, you step closer to Joel, putting a hand on his arm. “Baby,” you murmur, letting your hand drop, reaching for his, “let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

He doesn’t move. You both stay where you are, Joel’s eyes tracking the girls as they disappear, but you can almost hear the wheels churning in his mind. You say his name again, but he ignores you, and as you watch, that hard mask — one you haven’t seen for a while now — forms on his face, effectively pushing you away.

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” he bites out, and before you can reply, he’s gone, tugging his coat closer, stalking off through the crowds.

You have half a mind to follow him, but something tells you you shouldn’t, and you stay put, wipe the tears from your lashes, looking around at the town. There are just so many…people. Happy people, healthy people. 

Part of you wants to deck Tommy for not telling you to come sooner, but then you remember Maria’s pointed look in the mess hall, when he’d said that having a bad reputation doesn’t always make you bad. What stories has he told his wife? How much does she know? She’d kept him off the radio, after all, leaving you and Joel to spiral back in Boston.

You blow out a breath, refusing to dwell on the past, on all the things you don’t have the power to change now. You made it here, found much more than you bargained for, and hopefully, Joel got some information from Tommy about where you go next. Peering around, you realize you’re not totally sure where you’ve ended up, making your plan to head to the house Maria had briefly shown you before taking you to Cowan’s a moot point. You turn on your heel, contemplating going into the bar to talk to Tommy, when you barrel straight into someone. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say immediately, your boots sliding against the snow. The other person grabs your arm, keeping you upright, and your eyes flick up, widening. “Henry!”

It’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, his nose bright, and he sniffles as he nods at you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be,” you assure him, reaching up and cupping his cold cheek in your palm. “Honey, you’re freezing.”

“I was at the graves,” he tells you, and you nod, “but when I heard you and Nick coming, I ran. I didn’t know what to—”

You shake your head. “Henry, it’s okay, really. I promise. This day has been…intense. I was just about to go back to the house Maria put us up in, but I realized I don’t really know where I’m going. Why don’t you show me the way, and I’m sure we can scrounge up something warm to drink inside?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny smile, but a smile all the same. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” you agree, and he offers you his elbow, turning you in the opposite direction you’d about to start walking. “God, you’re so tall.”

“Giving Nick a run for his money,” he says, and you can hear the smile still in your voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey,” you tell him, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow as you start walking. “Anything.”

“Do you remember my parents?”

Oof. “A little. I never really got the chance to know them well; I wasn’t at the mall very long before they died, but I remember them being very nice, very kind. Your dad was very funny, he was always trying his hardest to make you kids laugh.”

“And my mother?”

You swallow hard, ignoring the scene that flashes in your mind. The last time you’d seen Tim and Marcy, FEDRA soldiers had been carrying their bodies out of the mall where you’d all been staying. Tim had blood on his mouth and a bullet in his brain, and Marcy’s throat had been ripped out.

“She was beautiful,” is what comes out of your mouth, and it’s not a lie. She was a beautiful woman, and part of you aches at the realization that you and Deanna never really talked to the kids about their parents much, at least not while they were in Boston. “She chased the two of you around a lot, but I remember she’d tell you bedtime stories every night.”

“I remember that, I think,” Henry says, and you squeeze his arm. “I remember her telling me she’d always chase the bad dreams away.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s all worked out this way. It’s not fair.”

He falls silent, and you walk quietly until the house comes into view. You head inside, finding a note from Ellie that she’s across the street at Maria and Tommy’s house. The house is warm, and sure enough, it’s easy to find a few stray tea bags, some mugs, water and a kettle.

Henry takes a seat at the kitchen island as you make the tea, arms propped on the counter, shoulders hunched. Part of you wants to ask him about Emily, but you hold your tongue, searching the kitchen cabinets and eventually finding a few sugar packets.

“Deanna still talked about you a lot,” Henry says suddenly, and his voice almost makes you jump. “After we left Boston. I think she was mad at Nick, for taking us away, and I don’t know if they ever made up, really and truly.”

“She was mad?” you repeat, dropping the tea bags into mugs and filling them with hot water. “At Nick?”

He nods. “I don’t think she really believed him, when he told us you were dead. Em and I were just kids, but Deanna…she’d give him shit all the time, anytime he made a decision on the road, she’d always counter him and say something like, if Liv were here, she’d do this.”

It makes your throat tight. Sounds like the Deanna you remember.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and your brow lifts, “for believing him.”

You shake your head, setting one of the mugs in front of him and taking the seat beside his. “Henry, honey, you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known; you don’t need to apologize.”

He taps his fingers against the side of his mug. “You were always there for us, Liv. I remember that.” His forehead furrows. “I remember…you getting hurt? You slept on the couch in our apartment for a few days and…” He trails off, shaking his head, but you remember.

“I fell down the stairs,” you say, recounting the lie you’d offered to cover up the beating you’d received in FEDRA lockup, your penance for Joel and Tess coming into the QZ. “That was just after Joel showed up.”

He nods. “I remember being really, really worried when I saw all the bruises, and Deanna told me not to worry, that you were tough and you’d be fine, but I snuck out of bed that night anyway and just sat by the couch, made sure you were still breathing.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I remember. You scared the shit out of me, honestly.” That earns you a laugh, and you put your hand on his knee. “But then you started crying, and so I hugged you and told you I wasn’t going anywhere, that there was nothing that could take me away from you kids.”

“But then Nick did.”

You inhale sharply. You’re entering dangerous territory. “He did. I don’t agree with him telling you that I was dead, but he had his reasons, Henry. And he did his best to protect all of you.”

“Do you know the reason?” he asks, and your heart sinks. “Because even if you were dead, it doesn’t make sense why he dragged us out of Boston like that.”

“I don’t understand FEDRA anymore than you do, honey. He told me you stayed in Chicago for a while; if they sent him there, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But why did he want to take us away from you? And why didn’t you come looking for us?”

Fuck.

You shove a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t know where he’d taken you. I was the last person FEDRA was going to divulge information to, and without knowing even which direction he’d taken you, there was nothing for me to go on.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. You had no idea where Nick had taken them when he did, leaving behind only the note he’d written, telling you not to come after them, that you should stay in Boston and that he’d keep your secret. A secret you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell Henry. Not yet, anyway.

Henry sips his tea and you stare down into your mug. Silence settles, but it’s only a few moments before Henry breaks it. “I miss her every single day,” he says, and your eyes lift. “Emily.”

It feels like a punch in the chest. Your eyes are sore from crying already, and yet tears spring anew. “I do too,” you tell him, “and I don’t have the same version you did. She’s still a little kid in my mind, drawing butterflies everywhere.”

“She got really good at it,” he continues, a sad smile pulling at his mouth. “Drawing, I mean. It was all she ever wanted to do, and Nick always made sure she had something to draw with. Good of him, I guess, despite it all.”

“Henry, honey, you can’t hate him forever,” you say, veering for a subject change, if only to beat down the grief rising in your chest. “You’re allowed to be mad; I’m mad as all hell. But Nick Cowan is the closest thing you’ve had to a father in this world, and you know that as well as I do. He did what he had to, and he did it to protect you.” You inhale sharply. “If the roles were reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “What?”

You sigh. You can’t tell him, you know you can’t. But despite all of it, Nick lied to protect them because of you, and you can’t let Henry hate him because of what you did.

“It was my fault,” you say finally, and the grief feels like it might spill over anyway, but you can’t keep up the facade, can’t let Nick take all the blame for this. “I messed up, and it put everyone in danger, and that’s why Nick took you away. I never came after you because I didn’t know where you went, and Nick told me to keep my distance. It was never anything you did, or your sister, or Deanna. It was me, Henry. I caused this. So if you’re going to hate anyone, it should be me. Nick did what he had to.”

He stares at you for a long moment. You wish the floor would split open and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t. You brace your hands on the countertop, waiting for the shouting, the same words he’d hurled at Nick in the street.

But instead, you get, “Are you staying? In Jackson?”

Not what you were expecting, but you’ll take it. “Not for long. We came looking for Tommy, hoping he might know where to take Ellie.”

“That’s the girl that’s with you?” You nod. “You’re taking her to the Fireflies?”

Your brows shoot up. “How do you—”

He waves you off. “Tommy likes to talk when he’s drunk.”

“You—” You cut yourself off, unable to lie any further. “Yes.”

“And after? When she’s where she needs to be?”

Your brow furrows and you shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. Joel and I haven’t decided. We’ve never had a decision like this available to us, and we’d have to talk to Maria more first, I think.” You stare down into your mug again. “I don’t think she likes us much.”

“Aren’t you supposed to hate your in-laws?” he jokes, the mood instantly lightening, and you bark a laugh.

“How would you know?” When his cheeks go red, you smile. “Someone special?”

Henry nods. “Very special.” He swallows, setting his mug on the counter. “His name is Cal.”

The spark in his eyes makes your gut twist with happiness. Despite it all, Henry’s managed to find something that makes his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, something that brings him joy you can feel.

You throw your arms around his neck. “I’m glad, Henry. I’m so, so glad.”

And you are.

PREV | NEXT

[holylulusworld]

After the rain

Summary: You run into an alpha.

Pairing: Alpha! (AU) John Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: fluff, meet cute, May–December romance, flirting, a/b/o

Written for: Winter Break Advent: Day 5 - Meet Cute (couple)

Written for: @j3bingo (former JDM omega verse bingo): Square 6: Free Space – Meet Cute

Written for: @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 8: The Olive Theory

Words: 1130+  

It wasn’t in your plans to lose your composure in public and cry. Especially not at a wedding that isn’t yours.

Maybe it’s because you watched your ex gets all cozy with your best friend, or the fact that now that your cousin is married you are the last unmated omega in your family.

You never gave much about tradition and getting married or mated before turning thirty. Some omegas even freak out if they don’t find a mate before they turn twenty. You never were this kind of omega.

But now that you sit at the table, cheering for a cousin you haven’t seen in years, tears roll down your cheeks.

“Aw, you are moved to tears from the speech,” your aunt coos. She smiles and pats your hands. Your aunt is proud of her daughter, and you don’t have the heart to tell her that your tears have nothing to do with your cousin’s wedding.

“It’s a,” you choke on your tears, “very moving speech. I’m sorry.” You lie and give her a cracked smile. “She must be very happy.”

“My dear, I’m sure you’ll find your mate,” she says. You know that your aunt means well, but she just added another stab to your vulnerable heart. “The right young man is waiting just around the corner.”

You’d like to roll your eyes at her words. Your mate doesn’t wait around the corner. And you won’t meet him at any moment. “Sure,” you say, and force a smile on your face.

“Where are you going?” She asks when you get up from your chair. The speeches are over, and people are busy stuffing food into their mouths.

“I need to use the toilet,” you whisper. “I’ll be right back.” Another lie easily rolls off your tongue.

The truth is that your stomach churns, and you’d like to throw up watching your ex-boyfriend nip at your friend’s neck. If you don’t leave the room now, you’ll do something you regret.

It’s worse enough that you cried. You won’t give them the satisfaction and watch you lose control. Even though you’d like to scratch her eyes out.

You try not to run out of the room but walk fast enough to struggle not to slip on the floor. Goddamn high heels. Why did you have to choose the most uncomfortable shoes you own to wear today out of all days?

“Fuck,” you almost made it out of the room when you slip and end up face first in someone’s chest. “Great. My fucking luck!”

“Watch out, doll,” he easily helps you steady your wobbling legs. He gives you a warm smile and chuckles as you stare at him with wide eyes. “You good? Did you hurt your ankle?” His eyes drop to your feet, and he shakes his head at your choice of shoes. “These shoes are no good. You could easily break your neck.”

“You are telling me,” you huff. “I had to wear them because of the wedding but-“ you lean closer to whisper in his ear, “I’m hiding a pair of sneakers in my bag.”

He smirks at your admission. “So, do you often run away from weddings to crash into people?”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you splutter as you take your time to drink his appearance in.

The man catching your fall is very handsome. Sadly, he’s older than you, at least twenty years. His salt’n’pepper beard, the grey in his hair, and the lines around his eyes tell you so. Which means that he’s likely married or at least mated.

You sigh. This is not the right place nor the time to mourn the loss of a man you didn’t have in the first place. “It’s fine. I love getting run over by a pretty dame. How about I help you get a drink? You look thirsty. I guess I’m too hot to handle and you need water.”

Giggling at his corny pick-up line you consider him. “If you invite a lady for a drink, it should be at least a Martini.”

“Dry or extra dry?” He cocks a brow.

“I guess in your presence no woman stays dry,” you bluntly reply, making him chuckle. His cheeks turn pink, but he plays it cool. Damn him. He makes you drop your gaze to look at his hands to search for a ring.

“Cute,” he remarks. “I bet you taste even sweeter.” Oh, he’s a player. “Name’s John, doll. What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you hold out your hand and give him your sweetest smile. If he wants to play, who are you to tell him to stop? “Nice to meet you, John.”

“Dito, sweetness,” he shakes your hand and holds it a little longer than needed. His thumb brushes over your skin, making you shudder. “Now, let’s get you a drink. We want you to stay hydrated.”

“What are you doing?” He watches you take the olive picks out of your drink to place them on a napkin. “Don’t waste them.”

Your eyes widen when he takes the olive pick to drop the olives in his mouth. “You like olives?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and flashes you an irresistible smile. “You hate them, I assume.”

“Yes and…I mean…” You lick your lips as John takes a sip of his drink. “Did you ever hear of the olive theory John?”

“No.” He cocks a brow at your question. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“It’s…forget it.” You shake your head. “It’s nonsense.”

“It was important enough for you to mention it, Y/N. Come on, tell me about it. I don’t want to get my glasses out to search for it on my phone.”

“Okay,” you lick your lips. “If you laugh about me, I’ll go.”

“I promise not to laugh, doll.”

“There was this show. It’s called…” You clear your throat. “That doesn’t matter. There was this cute couple. One of them hated olives, but the other one loved them. One of their friends developed the theory that this fact makes them a great couple. A perfect balance, you know.”

John nods thoughtfully. He looks at the abandoned olive pick, considering your words. “I’m much older than you, doll. Do you know what you get yourself into when you tell me things like that?”

“No, but enlighten me,” you take the glass out of his hand to take a sip. “It’s only a theory from a TV show.”

“Hmmm…maybe we should test the theory,” he takes the drink out of your hand to down it. “How about we get out of here? We could go for a walk.”

“Maybe after you got me another drink,” you lean closer to run your hand over his hand. “I’m not a girl for one night.”

“Of fucking course not,” he grins. “You’re a keeper…”

Tags in reblog.

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 4/4

I FINALLY FINISHED THESE

grizabella | 🌃 🥀 🍂

i really wanted to mix revival and older replica for this one. the thigh-high boots, sparkly, tasseled dress, and generally the wig are all revival inspired, but the curly fur stays and the makeup is old because i really do like the very dramatic, gothic grizabella looks. her coat is also heavily 2019 inspired with the length and stripey purple fabric

i also was not sure how i wanted to do her hair other than it covering one eye (SHOUTOUT TO THE FANART I SAW WHICH HAD THAT. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE URL) esp the color so i did a gradient of light grey to dark brown, which i REALLY liked ! it also helped me decide that shed be chocolate smoke instead of a tabby

idk. ijust like her

i very much want to emphasize the "proud" and "indomitable" of her character in my portrayal of her; think betty buckley. i think shed be 61 in human years.

jennyanydots | ⏰ 🧶 👠

HER DESIGN... is very similar to her replica one because.... i really like it. very heavy emphasis in how her makeup is sometimes done with the HUGE lower lashes and squiggles. she also gets a cute little pink nose and blue eyeshadow

very 2019 inspired also. the hat, tasseled jumpsuit and bejeweled tap shoes stay ...... but i did want to give her the vest and collar from 2019. i just like that. shes also fat because yes

she remains sweet and nice yes. but i think warsaw was onto something when they made her Like That. shed be 56 in human years

jellylorum | 🎨 💐 👒

i ORIGINALLY drew her design a month and a half ago with the headcanon that shes gus' caretaker but bro. that jellylorum & asparagus jr. & gus family angst potential was too great. so i redid her as looking closer to gus. :3

idk why but i decided to go with a 1940s inspired formal look for her.... i quite like the hat and think it helps her to stand out, so i'm comfortable in that decision. her fur design is also mostly replica inspired. enjoy her neapolitan ice cream makeup too

she also gets a pink nose and her collar from the 2019 version. idk why the collars went so hard in that movie

i LOVE one of her 3 words being practical... yes, she is THE practical cat. i think shed be 59 in human years

bustopher jones | 🌹 🤍 🍛

VERY replica inspired.... with notes of other productions. opera populaire had full glasses bustopher which i liked. an older makeup look also had stripes which i also thought looked nice (and makes him look more related to mistoffelees) ! there are also multiple bustopher designs that have the moustache and beard 2 for 1 dealio..... and decided to incorporate that as well

he also gets the fishbone hanky crevat thing and a fishbone brooch. i almost made his rose white but i liked the contrast of the red. enough that i decided to give him lipstick too . and youd best believe that he has a giant fucking pipe that he smokes out of

i love the idea of him being the older generations' tugger in his time. i believe it. i think hed be like 55 in human years

skimbleshanks | 🚂 🎆 ⏳

I COULDNT RESIST BASING HIM OF THE MOVVIEEEEEE im not sorry that was peak skimble. the whistle and chains, the MATCHING conductor hat and pants, the moustache, the tap shoes..... truly, it was too good. my only regret was that i couldnt show the suspenders in this design because i wanted to keep the vest

i did keep the makeup/fur pattern very similar to his replica design though. idk. its just good. emphasis on the brown in his tail, the brown of his clothes, and the bell

anyone else get handsome gay silver fox vibes from him? anyway [being rushed out the door] i think hed be 56 in human years

asparagus jr. | 🧷 🎲 ⛲

lets go babey asparagus jr. inclusion ! i Really struggled with the clothes because i wanted to include the weird yarn poncho but didnt want to make him look hippyish (hippies are cool it just wasnt the vibe i was going for).... so it is reincarnated as this strange tassel-y scarf shawl thing. idk

he also gets a collar similar to jellylorum's because i like the idea of them living in the same house :^3. his makeup is also pretty different from how it appeared in the 98 version because i wasnt really feeling it. i like stripes. so stripes he shall get

hes also wearing a corset thing. idk what my propensity for designing men with a slightly feminine touch says about me (IM A FEMININE QUEER MAN)

not much notes on his personality other than i think he really looks up to his father (enough that he took on his more dignified name). hed be 57 in human years

gus | 📖 🌌 🔭

MUH OLD MAN... i love him. very much based on a bunch of different replica designs for him. he gets a beard and sideburns because i think i really do love the costumes w facial hair, and i think it just fits. he also gets glasses

he gets the coat and handkerchief (now a scarf) that typically hides the growltiger costume... which has a crisp formal outfit underneath. maybe he takes the coat off during his number to signify having moments of clarity and humor during his song

i do think in my interpretation hes well enough to joke around during his number and play the rumpus cat but like. damn you can tell this cat is old. hed be like 93 in human years

old deuteronomy | 🌕 🍮 ⭐

i have fully abandoned replica deut. say hello to haute couture resplendent transgender old deuteronomy. fit with a gigantic white coat, velvet dress, and gigantic fluffy hat. and yes, she did have 99 wives

she also gets the pendant that she was drawn with in the concept art for the 2d animated movie.... what was up w/ that....

ANYWAY YEAH UH. shes very different from the replica deut and other nonrep deuts mostly thanks to judi dench, with her saying that her version of deut was a transgender woman, and her complaining about not looking regal enough in the movie. here you go girly. the nose freckles/dots from some replica makeup get to stay though

she gets a lot of design notes from her children. the grey from munkustrap, macavitys white eyelashes, eye and mouth makeup, and tuggers cheek heart. shes also a light grey to kind of reflect her appearance in 2019

not much to add here other than i love her. i think she would be 88 in human years

AND THERE YOU GO. AHHHHHHH ITS DONE

[simpingcowboy]

Not a Meet-Cute

Pairing: Young(er)!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader, no gendered language, reader is characterized as a hopeless romantic

Word Count: 6.5k+

Warnings: SMUT!! Angst!! Lots of feelings on both ends, light gun use, slightly meta, language, implied age gap, references to masturbation, outdoors sex, oral (F receiving), protected PIV sex, gratuitous use of pet names

Summary: About 5 years since the outbreak, a group of smugglers come across your camp looking to trade. Despite your efforts, this was not a meet-cute. (Basically reader and Joel fucking the feelings out of each other)

A/N: There is a AMAB!Reader version of this available here! This definitely escaped me, but I'm very happy with the way it turned out <3 enjoy!

It began as all good "love" stories do, with loaded guns pointed at each other. He had arrived the day before. A handsome stranger among the crowd of smugglers that happened upon your camp. Though their initial arrival was quite dramatic, a two hour standoff happening before trade negotiations were met, things had actually been quite calm since they came. They were allegedly making their way to the Boston QZ, though of course you had no way to prove that.

Most of them were quite polite. Some are even friendly. The younger Miller brother Tommy for example, was very talkative. Though frequently being pulled back by his older brother, Joel. That was the one who caught your eye from the moment he walked into town.

Tall. Handsome. Looked around forty. A few grey hairs grew in from his temples and dotted along this beard. He was cold. Quiet. Definitely the muscle of the group. His accent was deeper than his brother's. Richer.

Later in the night, after his group had gotten settled in an old warehouse, people began trading. Their low to mid level goods set out on the ground. The much better items tucked away behind them for safe keeping. You stop by, curious as to what these outsiders had and secretly hoping to catch sight of the older Miller brother. You spot him. Standing off in a corner with a woman. You approach slowly, not wanting to seem eager. They greet you with a silent nod as you look over the goods they had.

"What's that?" You ask the woman, gesturing to a book they've laid out.

"A book." She says with a shrug. Books weren't exactly high rate items. Common, but scattered to the winds.

"What kind?" You ask, intrigued by the cover. The front features a handsome man, a halfway unbuttoned shirt on. Shoulder length hair looking wind blown.

"A romance novel. It's not really my taste but-"

"I'll take it." You interject.

Joel raises an eyebrow at your interest. He'd been trying to tell Tess to just drop the damn thing if she was done reading it. Insisting it was worthless. No one trades for books. Words he'd surely be eating later tonight.

"We just got a bunch of medical supplies in. Tell them I said you can have three of whatever you want." You say, clearing the book off the ground.

Your love of romance wasn't exactly a secret around here. Over the past five years you'd grown fond of the genre. You hadn't exactly had a whole lot of dating experience when the outbreak happened. Being too young to really get to experience much of life at all. But you had these books. Had some idea of what life might have been like before. Bumping into handsome strangers in the grocery store. Or coffee shops. All the typical meet-cute story lines. All the things you knew you'd never have.

Under the protection of the barely functional streetlight outside your apartment, you peacefully read the new romance novel you'd gotten when a low grumble interrupts you. Looking up from the tattered book pages you see the familiar stranger. Joel.

"The book." He says, lips pouted down at you.

"Yes?" You answer, your own eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Why?"

"Why?" You repeat. "I just like them." You answer defensively.

"It's not real, ya know." He states boldly. Though you can't help but feel an edge of sadness at his proclamation.

"They're marked fiction for a reason." You say, tapping the spine of the book labeling it as such.

The man grunts in response. "They only cause problems for people." He tries to reason. "You read it enough and you start believin'." It happened with Tess. She read as many as she could get her hands on. At first it was endearing…in a way. Then she began to give him that look. Of expectation. Of desire.

You couldn't exactly understand why this stranger cared. He'd hardly spoken a word in this town, but decided to waste his breath lecturing you for your choice in literature. It didn't make his words sting any less. But you wouldn't let him know that. "I don't know…this would make for a pretty good book, huh? Meeting under the street light, on an empty street. Pretty romantic if you ask me."

"Weird. The word you're looking for is weird." He corrects you. Annoyance laced through his voice.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say." You wave him off.

The man rolls his eyes and walks away, considering it a lost cause.

Maybe, you think to yourself, this is the start of something. You smile to yourself, a plot forming in your mind. It'd take some sleuthing…but you could deal him an offer. Something vague so he doesn't hold any expectations. And you knew just the place to do it.

That's how you ended up, squatted behind the forest line outside of the warehouse. You'd correctly figured they'd hold a night watch, in case you were not as friendly as you appeared. The letter you'd slip him in hand. You drift in and out of sleep, listening in for a change of voices. Then, Joel. You hear that sweet Texas accent through the creaky warehouse doors. He's awake now and has taken watch duty. After a few minutes, waiting for the prior watch guard to fall asleep you quietly approach the main door. Sliding the folded letter under the small gap in the door before running out of sight.

Now, you just had to wait for tomorrow.

You got up early to wash before heading out to the disclosed location. Just up the side road was an old abandoned barn, long forgotten about even before the outbreak. Surrounding the miles around it were the tall dried stalks of corn. It was one of your favorite places nearby. The best place to go to be left alone. Though, today you were hoping to be joined by Joel Miller.

So you waited, shaded under the overarching roof of the barn. A long shadow appears along the edge of the barn. You stand up gun in hand, not wanting to be too careless. The mysterious shadow narrows down as they get closer. Eventually revealing Joel Miller to be its owner.

"You came!" You say cheerfully, a bright smile on your face. Quickly packing your gun back to your side.

"Yeah, I came." His brown eyes are sharp like a hawk as he slowly moves in closer. Keeping vigilant of every rustle for a possible ambush. "I believe you have something for me?" He asks, getting straight to the point.

"Kind of." The air is still.

"Go on." He prompts you, looking expectedly at your bag.

You shake your head, body full of nerves. This is nothing like the books you think to yourself. "Well I, it's not so much of a something. More like a someone."

"What the hell are you getting at?" He just short of growls out at you. Eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. This is a waste of time, he thinks.

"I just thought you were handsome!" You spit out, face going hot with embarrassment. You're not nearly as smooth as those romance protagonists in your books "I was hoping we could work something out…" Your voice comes out much meeker than intended.

"Like what? You want me to court you or something?" Joel shakes his head, unbelieving the scene before him. "Yeah- not happening." As he turns on his heels, you reach out to stop him.

Taking his shoulder in your hand, "We can fuck." You spit out quickly. For a moment, you swear someone else's voice comes out.

That stops him. Dead in his tracks. Voice catching in his throat. Hands flex at his sides. Slowly, he turns back around. Dark brown eyes locked onto your face. He needs to have misheard you. Needs you to take it back.

"You want me to fuck you?" He says, slow and dangerous.

Your hand snaps back to it's place by your side. "I mean only if you want to I-?' you answer with a tilt of your head. Mindlessly stepping back from the man before you.

Wordlessly he grabs you. Hands catching your forearms, forcing you still for him. "There's no teasing in the goddamn apocalypse, Kid. You're either offering or you're not." His breath is heavy. Chest rising and falling drastically. "I'll ask you again." His large hands fall from your arms. "You want me to fuck you? Yes or no?" No, he thinks, please say no.

"Yes." You swallow your nerves, or pride. In truth it's hard to tell which is which.

Joel feels himself go lightheaded. His mouth is parched. He fends off the image of you below him spread wide and taking him. He has to do this right. "Do you have condoms or something because I'm not-"

"I have some!"

With the roll of his eyes, Joel goes to scold you, but you stop him before he can even start.

"Give me a second." Throwing your bag off, you reach into the innermost pocket. Tucked away safely between the edges of a notebook is a roll of condoms, about six in total. "Here." You say, tossing them to him.

He catches them with ease. "Where did you get those?" Joel's eyebrows pinch together at the sight of a condom.

"We raided a clinic awhile ago and I um grabbed some in-case I needed them…"

"Shit, should've grabbed the whole box." He scoffs. Contraceptive methods had been one of the first things after medical supplies to grow scarce. Looking over the wrapped condom for the date, Joel's surprised to see it's still good to use. The older man chews at the inside of his cheek. His eyes drift over your body, languishing his will power. His mind searching for a reason to say no. To do what he knows he should do and turn you down. Never should have come here in the first place. But fuck- the sight of you gets him harder than he's been in years. "Fine." He says flatly, caving into his own desires. The roll of condoms thrusts back towards you for keeping. "Where?"

You fiddle with the roll of condoms, haphazardly putting them back in your bag. In truth, you had expected him to say no. "I figured here is good."

"Here?" He remarks, hands on his hips. Glaring around the dead field, the dried corn stalks lining the perimeter around the barn did offer some privacy. The ground was flat and not too dusty. Though he's sure even the pathetic cots you each slept on would be more comfortable than this. "Why not in the barn?"

"The whole thing is rotted…it's practically a death wish to even try to open the door."

"Jesus." He swears under his breath.

"I can lay my jacket down? Or go get a blanket-" You offer with an unassured smile.

"No." Joel's quick to cut you off. "We'll use mine." He says, shucking his thick jacket off his broad shoulders. "Yours is too nice for this." He huffs, kneeling down besides you and rolling his jacket out as wide as possible. Brown eyes meet yours from where he kneels. His eyes look down to the makeshift bed, if it can even be called that. "Well?" He prompts you. A part of him is hoping you run. For you to change your mind. To stop him from making another in a long run of follies.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your lungs are as parched as the dusted ground beneath you. You want to frown. You want to feel ashamed. Or embarrassed. Or another other than the hot throbbing between your thighs. But you don't. Years of yearning for romance. For love. Boiled down to the base desire to just be wanted.

The jacket you wore peels from your skin, and is tossed to the side with your bag. Your knees hit the ground with a soft thud, as you shift to lie down onto Joel Miller's jacket. The hem of your shirt riding up just enough to feel the delicate threads of the cost against your back. His warm brown eyes blow out as he watches. Suddenly, it doesn't matter whether he loves you or not. He wants you. And that'll be enough for now.

"Well?" You return the question.

"Fuck." He practically groans. Large hands finding their way to your waist; unbelieving he's being allowed to touch you. "Let me get you ready." Joel shifts between your legs, working your bottoms off. Fingers hooked into the waistband of the garment.

You watch for a moment, fixated on the flurry of movements Joel makes. Noting just how good he looks between your legs. Just as he groans at the reveal of your underwear, you pause. "Aren't you gonna kiss me first?" A warm tinge heats your cheeks. A touch of romance wouldn't hurt, right?

He freezes. Eyes shooting up to meet your gaze. Fuck. He's way out of practice. "Do…you want me to kiss you?" He asks with uncertainty. It's been so long since he's had this. Someone to touch. To hold.

"Yes?" You answer with a hitch of your voice. "If that's okay."

He swallows. The Adam's apple of his neck bobbing. Kissing usually comes first, right? "Yeah…" you don't miss the way his voice quivers. "Yeah- come here."

With that, his hands return to your waist. His broad frame arching over you to reach your lips. He moves slowly. So unlike the quick pace he'd adapted moments earlier. His right arm curls up around you, supporting your back. That beautiful arched nose bumps against yours in a graceless manner; you suppress the urge to laugh at just how awkward he is at this. You hear his breath hitch in his throat. Joel's eyes flutter shut as he closes in the short distance, pressing a short peck to your lips. Pulling away before you even get to sink into the plushness of his lips. Arms unwrap around you, switching to being propped on either side of your head. His eyes are wide and nervous. He looks like a schoolboy who just kissed someone for the first time.

"I'm sorry." Joel whispers above you. That smooth Texas accent soothing the injury to your ego. He didn't want to pull away. It felt good. Too good. Too close. Too intimate. Too much of all the things Joel has run from since the outbreak.

"It's okay…" you murmur. Deciding to mask your disappointment with humor, "You're not that quick with the rest of it, right?"

He huffs, a small smile on his face. "Let's hope not." Fingers dip back along your waistband, "Let me take care of you."

With the nod of your head, Joel is back again. Sitting on his hunches between your legs, shifting your bottoms off. A groan escaping him at the sight of your underwear. His mouth watering at the small wet stain building along the interior. After fully freeing you from the contrates on your bottoms and setting them aside; Joel leans in close and inhales. Letting the scent of you linger in his lungs. Letting it intoxicate him. You silently thank yourself for remembering to shower earlier.

The flat of his tongue presses through the threadbare panties into your folds. Making the sizable wet mark grow even larger.

"Fuck-" you whine, hips bucking against his mouth at the contact.

His mouth is so warm against you. Instantly making your whole body go hot. The unabashed moan he lets out gets you so fucking aroused. He peers up at you from between your thighs, a look of satisfaction obvious in his eyes. Thick fingers wiggle their way to the side of your panties, playing with the hem. Barely dancing over the edge of your cunt. You let out a whine, grinding up against his face again.

"Need it bad, huh?" He teases.

As much as he enjoys teasing you, Joel can't deny himself anymore either. Fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and make quick work of removing them. His mouth drops as he's greeted with the sight of your bare cunt, glistening in the afternoon sun. You watch as he rubs over the growing bulge in his pants. Eyes focusing on the large length barely concealed under the thick denim. His hands spread your thighs wide, wanting a fuller look.

You whimper when his hand makes contact with your cunt. Spreading your lips apart to see you even better. A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you. The open air makes you feel so vulnerable. A cool breeze wafting over your most sensitive parts. Shadows trick your eyes, feeling as if someone is watching. You whine, pressing against Joel's hands to close your thighs.

Never one to miss things, Joel catches the way your eyes dart around the open space. Sensing your sudden hesitation. "No one else will see you but me." Joel assures you. "It's just us." His hands rub the length of your thighs with great affection. "I can go look-"

You shake your head, comforted enough by his own confidence. He has a way of speaking that puts you at ease. "No, I'm okay now. Please, touch." You plead, pulling one of his hands back over your heated core.

Joel groans at the feel of your wet pussy. His thumb rolling over your throbbing clit. "It's alright, Sugar." The nickname extracting itself from his memory of a time before. A time when you greeted one another with politeness instead of with the end of a gun. "I'll take care of ya." He promises, leaning down to lick a stripe along your folds. Moaning at the taste of your unfiltered wet sex.

His tongue is strong. Forcing its way between your folds. Pressing heavy against your clit, flicking up on the sensitive nub. Joel is slow to start. Still adjusting on the ground where he lays. Mind spinning around how the hell he got here, but unable to deny the persistent throb in his pants. His tongue draws soft shapes on your clit, causing another rush of slick to escape you.

"Joel." You whine beneath him, hips rolling up against his mouth. It was good. But you needed more. Needed him to devastate you. "More." You plead.

With that he begins to devour you. Jaw unhinged and pressed over your wet cunt. nt. That beautiful arched nose rubbing over the top of your sex as his tongue eagerly laps at the warm slick dripping out of you. Eyes still fixated on your face, watching it contort with pleasure. Though his eyes burn hot through you, Joel ensures there’s no time for you to be self conscious with the manner in which he hastily matches you, moan for moan. Enjoying the raptures of your cunt as much as you enjoy his tongue. Each moan of his sending waves of vibrations through you.

“Taste so good,” He groans into you “like fucking honey”. Face pressed into your sex. Hands stationed on either side of your thighs, propping you open for his enjoyment. Joel fucking missed this. As he pulls from you to catch his breath, you’re greeted with a sinful sight. A layer of your slick glimmers off his mustache and around his beard. His pretty nose and lips glisten with it too. Joel looks so good covered in you.

You moan with each roll of his tongue on you. Letting out a shameless cry of his name when he plunges his hot wet tongue inside of you, breaching the walls of your sex. Fucking you hard and fast with his tongue. His thick fingers digging even harder into your thighs. That tight band in your core threatening to snap. Your hand goes to entwine in his short messy hair, needing back some of that control. Holding his head still, as you grind up against his open mouth. The need to cum rapidly grows within you.

“Close! S-so fucking close!” you tell him.

Joel shakes your hand off his head, knowing just what you need to make you snap. “Cum for me.” he demands.

Strong hands push your legs up, forcing you even more open for him. Wet slick covered lips wrap around your throbbing clit and suck harshly. Eyes once more fixated on your face, needing to watch you cum for him. Just as he sucks, the band snaps. Your legs shake on either side of Joel’s face as you find your own euphoria. The feeling of cumming on his tongue is so superior to any orgasm you’ve had on your own since your last partner. Your body caught in a pulsing heat, releasing waves of slick down over his chin and down onto his jacket beneath you.

“Too much, too much-” you whine, sitting up and nudging his face off of you.

But it’s not enough for Joel. He’s waited too long and worked too hard to give up his prize that easily. He growls at you, moving his face back to your sensitive cunt, “Wait.” he commands sternly. Leaning back into your entrance and diving in to collect your delicious cum. “Taste too good.” His tongue presses in at the bottom of your entrance, and he fucking slurps you. Taking in everything you have to offer and swallowing it down. A happy sigh comes from the man between your legs, blowing a soft huff of air over your sensitive cunt. Brown glossy eyes peer up to see you, almost like he forgot you were even there. Reality catches him in it’s cruel grasp again as he remembers, He shouldn’t be here.

You work to catch your breath, still recovering from your orgasm. Mind blurred and pliable with desire. Everything you’ve ever read before paled in comparison to the real life man still situated between your thighs. You want to hold him. To kiss him. Really kiss him. But mostly at this moment, you want to make him feel good too.

“Come here,” you beckon him. “Want you.” You turn to reach for your bag, digging out the roll of condoms and tear one free. When you return to face him, you expect him to be tearing away his clothes. Instead, he sits in silence. Resting back up on his haunches. Breathing heavy. “Joel?”

It’s not too late to stop. Not too late to pull away. He tells himself, hoping you’re satisfied enough to want to stop. Hoping to save you from himself.

“Joel?” you begin.

Don’t ask. He silently pleas.

“Will you-”

Don’t ask again.

“Please” your arms wrap around his neck.

If you ask again.

“Please fuck me?”

He can’t deny you.

“Yes.” he answers warmly. So unlike the first time you asked. His head leaning in to press against your forehead. “Yes.” Warm half-lidded eyes pool into yours. “Take off your shirt.” He instructs, pulling off of you to work on his own clothes.

“Yeah, yeah I can do that.” Immediately tossing off your top and discarding it to the side. Leaving you totally bare, other than your socks.

A small smile plagues Joel’s lips at your eager behavior. Slowly, he unbuttons his top layer. Sliding off the warm flannel, leaving him in a tight off-white undershirt. He catches the way you eye him, drinking in the sight of him. Admiring his broad build, and strong full arms. A smirk appears on his face.

“Those books don’t have pictures?” Joel asks in a teasing tone, referring to the romance book.

A warm heat comes up your cheeks, a look of embarrassment obvious on your face. “Nothing more than what’s on the cover.”

“Let me give you a visual than, Sugar.” He says, thick fingers coming to the hem of his shirt. Drawing out the reveal, Joel lifts his shirt slowly. Enjoying the way you stare at him, relishing in each new inch of skin he bares to you. Fuck he loves this. The way you make him feel. So wanted. So desired. There were other man at your camp. Other single men in his group. But you chose him. And it felt so fucking good to be wanted. To let himself be wanted.

Joel's shirt is eventually lifted over head, revealing his body to you. His pretty tanned skin shining in the sun. Soft freckles scattered across his broad chest. Along his shoulders are evidence of fights, knife fights, gun fights. You name it. It appeared that Joel had been in several of each. Your eyes lower down to his soft stomach, just barely pronounced. A light trail of hair guiding down to where you really want to be. His hands come down to the waist of his jeans. Teasingly rubbing along the outline of his hard cock. Letting out a groan of relief at the light friction.

"This what you want, Honey?" He asks in a sickeningly sweet accent.

"Yes." You moan, keeping your hands from touching yourself. "Please."

He happily answers you. Undoing the brown leather belt of his pants, and opening his jeans. Pulling them down over his hips to reveal the grey boxer briefs he sports. A darker grey spot forming where he leaks precum. His thick fingers slide into the waistband, slowly pushing them down. A loud groan escapes him when his cock bobs free. Proudly jutting out towards you. Hard and pulsing. It's the perfect length. Just wide enough to give you a good stretch and leave you aching. The pretty uncut head of his cock covering the throbbing purple head.

"Condom." Joel grits out at you, quickly growing impatient.

"Yeah just let me." You practically throw yourself off the jacket rolling over to grab your bag.

Quickly retrieving the condoms and ripping one off the roll. You toss it in his direction. Which he easily catches. He tears it open, tossing the foil to the side. He works efficiently. Pinching the tip with one hand and rolling it down with the other. You work to resituate yourself under him. Laying back against the dusted earth, hands methodically rubbing along the edges of Joel's jacket beneath you. The frayed seams keep you grounded. Your eyes watch as Joel spits in his hand, coating his condom covered cock with it. Lubricating himself more for you.

"Ready?" He asks once more, an edge of insistence in his voice. He needs this.

"Fuck yeah." And you're just as bad. Pushing your hips up, ushering him inside.

Joel kneels between your thighs, knees spread apart. He hitches your legs up on his hips as he lines up at your entrance. The top of the jeans he neglected to take off rub against the insides of your legs. A low groan catches in his throat as the tip breaches the walls of your sex. You let out a gasp at the stretch of him around you. Your body barely has the give to take him. But you do. Inch by inch, letting him drown himself inside of you. To get lost in your tides. His cock fills you perfectly. Your mind goes blank of any worries. You swear you could die happy with his cock buried inside you.

And as Joel sinks into your warm tight walls, guilt hits him like a freight train.

He feels bad. Fuck he feels bad. He always fashioned himself a gentleman. A man of southern manners. He doesn't even wanna think about the whooping he'd get if his mother was still around to see what he was doin. Fucking this sweet young thing he barely knew on the filthy ground. He'd hardly even kissed you when you asked. This wasn't like him. Not even close.

"Joel" you whimper below him, pulling his attention back to you. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him tighter. Desperation growing in your core. The need for him to move becoming difficult to ignore.

"Shhh I gotchu, Sugar." Joel hushes you with a tentative thrust. A shiver shot up his spine. The pleasure was almost foreign to him, but the memory quickly reformed. "Fuck that's good." He moans, taking a fistful of your breast in his hand.

Joel carves his way into you. Opening you up more and more with each roll of his hips. His cock dragging heavy along your insides. The tip catching on that perfect spongy spot that made you see stars with each thrust. That perfect cock reaching places you'd been unable to yourself in so long. Joel looks so good above you. Broad and strong. With every thrust into you, his stomach clenches and arms tighten. His hands keep a strong grip on your hips, working to keep you stable for him. Dark brown eyes fixated on where you're taking him. Drunk of the way his cock splits you apart. A layer of sweat accumulating on his warm chest. He reeks of sin and sex. Evidence of your prior orgasm still lingering on his mustache. It's like a dream.

"So perfect, Baby" you murmur in your lust-filled haze, not noticing the pet name slip from your lips.

With each thrust into you, his conscious blurs. The old Joel Miller would never have taken such a young thing to bed. Hell he'd probably never even entertain the thought. The old Joel Miller would have at least taken them to dinner…

"F-fuck Joel!"

or the movies…

"Takin it so good, Sweetcheeks."

or out to a game...

Not to the back of a goddamn barn for a quickie. That much he knows for sure. But the old Joel Miller was happy. Happier at least. He had a life.

"You're so big!" You cry out.

He had a family.

"Tight little thing." He groans.

He had his Sarah.

So why? Why couldn't the new Joel Miller have something? Something that made him feel good? Feel anything other than pitiful sorrow? Something in the form of a pretty babe to let out all that frustration on. He wasn't hurting you. Or cohorecing you. You had wanted him. Asked for him. He was just fulfilling a need. Just like he'd done since the beginning.

Raiding when needed.

Fighting when prompted.

Killing when asked.

He'd done worse things since the outbreak. This? This was nothing.

Joel begins fucking you with reckless abandon. Ruthlessly snapping his hips into you, making your body bounce. "Need you." He grunts out between thrusts. "Need you to cum." His hand releases itself from your hip, and comes down onto your sensitive clit.

A shudder runs through you as his hard calloused thumb rubs hard fast circles over you. Your walls flutter around him. "J-Joel." You whimper. He leans down closer, groans of satisfaction echo in your ear as you just take everything he gives you. It's too much. Too much and yet not enough. The way he fucks feels like a bit of karma for your romantic ideations.

There was nothing soft in his voice. Or in the way he took you. Maybe there is no softness left in Joel Miller. Maybe there is no softness anywhere on this planet. A part of you wants to cry. Wants to feel disappointed. To run away back to your books. But you don't. You can't. Because no matter what you thought before, you can't deny you love this. The fire within you, burning brighter with each touch. Rough hands on your tits and clit. Rubbing you raw. Each scrub of his long hard cock along your walls brings you to the edge of ecstasy. Even the way your legs on his hips absorb the shock of his powerful thrusts. It all feels good. So fucking good. And you never want it to stop.

Not like he had a choice, Joel reasons with himself. There were no more nice restaurants.

"Close- so close" you moan beneath him.

Or movie theatres...

"Soak that cock, Honey."

No place to go with the rested assurance you wouldn't be swarmed by infected...

"I love your cock!"

There's no time for romance...

"Pussy is so fucking good."

Or love...

"Gonna cum!"

All there is is survival. And this…the soft enveloping warmth between your thighs. And the pleasure he could offer you. Joel could never sweep you off your feet, but he could at least leave you with shaking legs, and his name on your lips.

With another thrust, he succeeds in his task.

"Joel!" You cry out, vision blurring out along the edges. Your cunt catching him in a vice grip, squeezing him tight. Soaking his cock in a rush of slick as he struggles to continue rocking into you. Legs convulse around his hips as pleasure enraptures you in its grasp. "G-good so good." You murmur, panting out.

Joel continues rocking into you, extending your orgasm and seeking his own. But it's not enough. He needs something. More. He needs more. He lurches forward, fully grasping you in his embrace. Strong arms pressing you into him. His lips catch yours in a heated kiss. Soft plush lips devouring you. That sweet arched nose bumping against your cheek as he kisses you, tongue licking along the seam of your lips. The sweet whine you let out is all it takes.

With that he cums, happily moaning into your mouth. Cock throbbing heavenly inside you. Pulsing against your fluttering walls as he fills the condom with himself. Grinding his hips down against yours. Not wanting it to end. Never wanting to pull away from you again. Joel stills inside you, his cock softening. His lips linger on a final delicate kiss, before begrudgingly pulling himself away. His eyes reel down your body as he lifts himself off you. Slowly pulling his cock out of you. Making quick work of the condom, tying it off and tossing it to the side where the foil still lies. He quietly tucks his still wet cock back into his pants. Rolling over beside you, laying on the cool ground.

It's quiet between the two of you. Nothing but an exchange of breath and the rustle of the corn can be heard. You both stare silently up at the bright blue sky.

"Been too long." Joel pants out, breaking the silence.

"How long?"

"Since before."

"Before the outbreak?"

He answers with a silent nod. Eyes closed and head pressed back against the ground.

You scoff. "Definitely too long." You tease. Deciding to get redressed you grab your top and throw it back on. Not feeling particular about staying naked much longer.

He huffs a small laugh out, "You're telling me." The rustle of clothes catches his attention.

Looking over and finding you dressing, he can't help but pout. He wants you to stay. To say something stupid and romantic. But that's not how this works. Not anymore. Especially not after what you two just did.

You ease your way off Joel's jacket, a layer of cum and spit sticking you to it. The wetness between your legs makes you wish you'd thought a bit harder about the after effects of your plan. Things were never this messy in the novels. You think, wanting to roll your eyes.

Joel noticed the way you shift uncomfortably, still coated in the mess. "Here." He says getting back up to his knees. Grabbing his jacket from the ground and going closer to wipe you off. "Gonna have to wash it anyways." He says simply. Carefully cleaning the excess of both of you from between your legs. "That's better."

"Thank you." You say softly, feeling much less sticky now. Quickly going to finish dressing. Tossing on your top and shoes.

Joel remains kneeling on the ground, trying and failing to hide the way he watches you. Following your lead, he retakes his shirts in hand and throws them on. Standing up, he quietly rebuttons the outer flannel. Tucking his undershirt into his pants.

"So…you're leaving tonight. Is that right?" You ask in a hushed voice.

"Yeah…"

"Where are you headed again?" You ask, trying to keep things casual. Not wanting to show you desperation for him. How you are silently hoping for him to stay.

"East Coast. Thinking of heading up to Boston."

"Mmm…well if you want-"

"Don't ask me." He cuts you short. Not wanting you to ask what he thinks you're gonna say.

"What?" You ask, put off by the shift in behavior.

Joel feels his heart beat in his chest. Fists flex at his sides. "Don't ask me to stay. Or to come with." He says, jaw locked. Folding the soaked jacket over his forearm. Eyes stay low, focusing on the caved foundation of the old barn.

The corners of your mouth twitch with the taste of irony. "Wasn't going to. " You say casually, picking through your backpack for something. "I was going to say there are showers in town. Figured you'd wanna clean up a bit before getting back to the road."

He answers with a nod. Cheeks heated at his slip.

"Here." You say flatly, offering him three of the six remaining condoms. "They go out this year…I'm not so sure I'll use them all."

Joel gently takes them from your hands. "I wasn't kidding when I said I haven't-"

"I believe you." You interrupt. Throwing your backpack onto your shoulder. "Trade them. Use them. Sell them. They're yours to do as you please."

He nods, seeming to accept your offer. He tucks them away safely in his breast pocket.

"I guess this is it then." You stay, staring up at him. Trying to commit this stranger to memory. Marking his lowbrow and arched nose. Cropped curls and patchy beard.

"I uhh …thank you." He spits out, unsure of the right way to end this. "And I'm sorry…for what I said."

You raise a curious eyebrow at his apology, not quite catching what he's saying.

"About the book. It's good to have something for yourself."

You chuckle softly, "Oh that…it's fine. Really. You're right." Feeling bold, you finally look back into the stranger's eyes. A warm familiarity washing over you. "It's just fantasy."

"Right." He nods in agreeance. "Well, can I walk you back to town?"

A soft smile comes upon your face, ever the gentleman, "Yeah, sure. I'll show you where the showers are."

The walk back is silent. Nothing but the sound of shuffling feet fill the empty air. The sun lowers in the sky, just staying high enough to rest above the corn stalks. Eventually, you return to town. You can already imagine the kind of rumors that will plague you for the following weeks ahead. You guide him to the showers. Planting your feet firmly in front of the shower station.

"Here we are." You declare, sliding him a coin to use for the wash. "That should cover you."

"Thank you." Joel replies, wondering if things could be different.

"I guess this is goodbye, then?" You say with a soft shrug, feeling content with your short adventure.

Joel turns to you with a softened expression, his eyes big and round. "Goodbye and thank you-again for everything."

"Goodbye Joel Miller." You say with a smile, turning to head back to your apartment.

Just as all good "love" stories end, he watches as you walk away alone towards the setting sun. The taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

[lostfirefly]

Baby, baby when you're looking deep in my eyes, I know you're seeing past my make-up

I know everyone has a story like this, but I decided to write my version too. I also have the same theme planned for my OC, but it will be a completely different tone. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy and F/GN Reader - Masterlist is here.

Description: Buggy asks you to help him apply makeup.

Words: 2524

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots

The title is taken from “All That I Got (The Make Up Song)” by Fergie.

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“Captain Buggy, the love of my life, I was on deck now and one of your freaks handed over some kind of box.” You entered your shared cabin and froze at the doorway. 

“Nine, ten. And a couple more for luck.” Buggy was wearing only pajama pants and doing push-ups with his fists. “Eleven. Twelve. Four times twelve, I'm still pretty good.” 

“Geeez! You should've warned me about this. I walk into the cabin, and there’s such a sexy picture. You’re half naked and doing push-ups.” You smiled and raised your eyebrows.

 “Like what you see, huh?” He chuckled. 

“I don’t just like it, I’m delighted! My love, the box.” You shook the package slightly.

“Wait. I'll do three more push-ups. One. Two. Three.” Buggy stood up from the floor. “The seduction program is completed, right, pumpkin?” He kissed you on the forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I love you, bastard! How did it happen that you took me to your ship? I remember my mother was screaming, “Y/N, he's a clown, stop, what are you doing”, while you grabbed the essentials from my closet and then carried me up the stairs on your shoulder.” You kissed Buggy on his cheek.

“See? I liked you.” Buggy wrapped one arm around your waist, and lightly poked your nose with his other arm’s finger. “I came.” Poked again. “And got you.” Poked again. “It's simple.”  

“Yes, just like a real pirate!” You giggled. 

“Hey, I’m a real pirate! We are on my ship, Y/N. I have my own flag and the crew.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, my love!” You rolled your eyes theatrically. “How could I forget? The scariest crew in the whole world! And you are the most formidable of all the pirates! And you will definitely become the king of the pirates, and you will be feared in all parts of the world. But until that happens, look at the package. The new boy with grey hair who joined your crew a few days ago gave it to me. Said it was sent by some bearded guy.”

“Oh, this is my new set of cosmetics.” Buggy grabbed the box from your hands. “Listen, no one has seen or knows that I’m without... well... without makeup.” 

“No, I made sure no one saw.” You pecked him on his nose. “You know, this is even great. Can you imagine that I’m the only person in the world who sees you without makeup in the morning? I’m the happiest girl. Open up!” You clapped your hands. “I want to see what's there!”

Buggy plopped down on the bed and opened the box. You sat on his lap, began stroking his back and kissed his temple. 

“What's here? Shadows, powder, eyeliners. Lord, why do you need 50 lipsticks?” Your eyes rounded.

“We won’t be able to moor in the near future. I need supplies.” Buggy was taking cosmetics out of a box. 

“But not fifty lipsticks, Buggy!”

“I need this, because one cute pumpkin uses my cosmetics too.” He took one of the tubes out of the box. “Look! New mascara! Waterproof! So if I fall into the water, I'll at least partially remain handsome!” 

“I won’t let you fall into the water! I still need you in this life.” You took the mascara and twirled in your hands. 

“Okay, I need to go out on deck and go check on the fucking crew. But first I need to do my makeup.” Buggy looked at you and winked. “Can you help me, pumpkin?”

“With great pleasure, my love!” You kissed him on his lips. “I’m the luckiest girl. And you made me this, remember that.” 

Buggy stood up from the bed, holding you in his arms, and carried you to the dressing table. It was a huge wooden table with a large mirror and several bright lamps located around the perimeter of the table.

“I love doing this, to be honest!” You said happily. “Watching my Buggy turn into Buggy the Clown, but even under a layer of makeup I see the real you!” 

You stood up from his lap, took his makeup bag, placed it on the table and rubbed your hands. “Let's start! First the white powder.” You took a round black box and a large fluffy sponge. “Close your eyes!”

Buggy widened his eyes. “How should I look at you? No, pumpkin! It doesn’t work like that!” 

“Holy moly!” You rolled your eyes and threw up your hands. “It's starting again! Close your eyes, I'll try to make it faster.” 

“Okay! But I hope that when I open them, you'll be naked.” Buggy smiled widely. 

You dipped the sponge into the powder and began to gently apply it to his face. “Ouch, Buggy! Stop pinching my butt!”

“Sorry, Y/N, I couldn't resist. You're seducing me with your clothes.” He moved his hands to your tailbone.

“I can't seduce you! I'm wearing jeans overalls, Buggy! And I look like a garden gnome.” You said, continued applying the powder. 

“Have you seen yourself? This is one hell of a jumpsuit. Your ass looks fucking amazing in it!” Buggy clicked his tongue. 

“Asshole! Don't distract me!” You bit your tongue and tried to stay focused, running the sponge over his face. “And there you go... Done! Now for the eyeliner.” 

You picked up the black tube, unscrewed the cap, and carefully looked at the brush. You examined Buggy’s face from all sides, choosing the best angle of the light. “Oh, there! Don't open your eyes!”

“Have you undressed yet, baby?” 

“God, you're unbearable sometimes. Don't move!” You started to run the brush along his lash line when your hand twitched. “Stop pinching my butt! Otherwise, I'll poke you in the eye one day.” 

“Oh, if you will be naked at the same time, I’m not against such sacrifices.” Buggy smirked and opened his eyes. 

“Close your eyes! You saw me naked at night, calm down!” You squinted and drew a thin black line with eyeliner. 

“It was a long time ago, Y/N. I’ve already forgotten everything.” Buggy exhaled sadly and stretched his back a little.

“That was two hours ago, Buggy! Sit still!” You ran the eyeliner over his other eye and carefully examined the result of the work. “It turns out beautifully! Why is that all? Because I have a handsome canvas.” You pecked him on the lips, and he visibly blushed. “My Captain got embarrassed.” You giggled. ���What's next? Bones or eye shadow? Let's draw bones.” 

You picked up a pencil, white paint and a sponge, and sat on his lap. “It will be more convenient.” You wrinkled your forehead and nose slightly. 

“This is too much, Y/N! Why are you doing this?” Buggy opened his eyes and placed his hands on your waist.  

“I do nothing.” You bit your bottom lip and began to trace the outline of the bones. "I'm just drawing." 

"You're sitting on me, biting your lips. It's kind of a turn on." 

“What's wrong with you today? You can't calm down.” You gently ran the brush down to his eyebrows. “Eyes, Buggy.”

“I'm a dirty pirate, pumpkin!” Buggy closed his eyes and began to lower his hands to your hips. “I never calm down.” 

“Yes, I noticed. Sit still, please!” You slowly began to move the brush from his eyebrows to below. “You have wrinkles. I like it.” You dipped the brush into the jar and felt Buggy’s hands begin to stroke your thighs. “If you don’t stop doing this now, I will tear off your hands and put them in the chest. Sit still, otherwise everything will be crooked. I can’t allow the captain to come on deck with crooked makeup. The ocean is calm and we can’t blame the storm.” You slapped his hands and continued drawing. “Hah, a little more and I will be able to do all this with my eyes closed.”

You grabbed his chin with one hand and turned his head in different directions. “Looks good. Look.”

Buggy opened his eyes and made a displeased face. 

“What's happened?” You asked, looking from his face to the mirror. 

“Not what I wanted. The bones should be bigger, Y/N. What is this? It looks more like the bones of a fucking dead quail than part of a Jolly Roger.” Buggy looked at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Oh, my God. How much more?” You rolled your eyes. “Should I draw something all over your face? I did bones as usual.” 

“No, not as usual. It’s different.” Buggy made a sad face. 

“Okay. Now I'll redo it a little.” You growled, erased the ends of the bones, and began drawing again. “Buggy! Stop it!”

“I do nothing!” He shrugged, answering calmly. 

“You're stroking my neck. Don't distract me, asshole.” You drew an outline for a larger drawing.

“It’s not me. It’s you sitting beautifully on me.” 

“You are unbearable.” You ran the brush a little more and squinted. “Look now, capricious boy. Are you happy now?” 

Buggy looked in the mirror for a long time, tilting his head now to the right, now to the left. “Now it is better.” 

“Hurray for me! Now I’ll cover them up for you and start working on the shadows.”  You dipped the sponge into the white paint and began to paint over the bones, humming softly. “It’s getting better and better. If you hadn't been fidgeting and pawing me, the whole process wouldn't have taken so long. Little mischievous boy.” You kissed his nose. 

“I'm not a little boy. Little boys don't do what we did this morning.” Buggy giggled idiotically and placed his hands on your waist. “That was so-o-o good! I like hearing your voice screaming my name loudly.” 

“Shit, I hope no one on the crew heard me.” You carefully ran the sponge over the white layer of paint again. 

“Fuck them! Let them hear. I’m the captain, and even if anyone says anything bad about you, I’ll throw him overboard.” Buggy wrapped his arms around your waist and looked at your concentrated face. 

“Thank you, my formidable protector.” You pecked him on the lips. “I love you!” You looked at his forehead again. “Okay, I'm done with the bones. Now for the shadows. ” You took a box of blue shadows and a brush. “Oh, I remember how at the beginning of our relationship, you were dying of jealousy when I helped your entire crew with makeup.”

“I wasn't dying of jealousy. I just didn't like it.” Buggy slowly rubbed your back. 

“Close your eyes. I'll draw you your blue things.” You looked down at him and saw him shaking his head negatively. “You don't want to close your pretty eyes? But you have to, Buggy. I promise, when you open them, I’ll be here.” 

Buggy exhaled sadly, closed his eyes and raised his head a little.

“Up, down. Wider here, narrower here. Blue here and here” You lowered the brush into the shadows and continued applying them to his face. “The perfect combination with the color of your eyes and hair. What are your plans for the evening? If you won't be too tired, maybe we will sit on the deck with wine and will look at the stars? I love it when we spend our evenings like this.” 

“Sounds great.” He slightly nodded. “Moreover, I bought you some bottles of wine when we landed on the island.” 

“Thank you, my love!” You pecked his lips again. “Done! So. Look. Do you like it?” 

Buggy squinted and looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. “Not bad.” He exhaled.

“You don't like it, right?”  You stroked his hair. 

“Well, Y/N.. You know, it all needs to be brighter.” 

“But it's still so bright, Buggy.” You looked in the mirror and then at his face.

“Not bright enough, pumpkin.” Buggy shrugged.

You glanced at his upset face. “Okay. I'll fix it now.” You stood up from his lap and began rummaging through his makeup bag. “Where is the glitter? I can't find it.”

“I moved it to the second drawer from the bottom yesterday.” He pointed to the drawer.

“Ok.” You leaned over, heard a giggle from behind you, and glanced at him. “Did you do this on purpose, clown? Did you purposely move the jars down so I could bend over, and you could look at my ass?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded contentedly, without a trace of regret on his face. 

“Idiot!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“What? You have a nice ass, Y/N and I like looking at it.”

You found the glitter and sat back on his lap. “You're lucky we're far out to sea and I can't escape from you.” 

“So that’s why I took you far out to sea so that you couldn’t escape from me.” Buggy hugged you and kissed you on the lips. “It was a strategic move, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes and dipped your brush into the glitter. “Now I will make my bright and handsome clown even brighter and more handsome. One. Two. Three. Look. What do you think?”

“Perfect, Y/N.” He snapped his fingers.

“And now, mascara.” You took the mascara in your hands, unscrewed the cap and looked carefully at the brush. You carefully placed your fingers on his cheekbones, pursed your lips and swiped mascara over his eyelashes several times. “Now your beautiful eyes look more expressive. Okay, we only have lips left.” You took his makeup bag and took out lipstick from there. You unscrewed the cap and unscrewed the lipstick spout. “Put your sweet lips closer to me.” 

“I heard something similar this morning from myself.” Buggy chuckled again. 

“Shut up, idiot.” You swiped the lipstick over his lips a few time. You set it aside and running your fingers across his lips, beginning to smear it around his mouth. “Damn, I think I overdid with lipstick today. See?” You showed him your red hand, which was smeared with a thick layer. 

“Oh, I know a way to deal with this!” Buggy hugged you tighter and pressed his lips to yours. You just squeaked something through the kiss, lightly patted him on the shoulder, but realizing that he wouldn’t stop, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yes, that's much better.” You answered quietly, wiping your lips. 

Buggy looked at you, exhaled heavily and buried the top of his head into your chest. 

“What's wrong, my love?” You stroked his head. 

“Nothing, Y/N. I’m gathering strength for the day. I don’t want to go anywhere, but...” He muttered under his breath. 

“Captain’s affairs won’t take care of themselves.” You said quietly. 

Buggy nodded silently. You got up from his lap, watched him get dressed, periodically glancing at you. 

You helped him with the bandana and kissed him before leaving. “If you feel sad in the middle of the day, just find me. I’ll hug you, and you’ll feel better, agreed?” 

Buggy nodded and kissed the top of your head. 

“Have a nice day, my Captain Buggy. I love you!” You stroked his shoulders. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[thorniest-rose]

i can't believe you lured me into the dark forest of this crack ship lmao i hate you so much brooke (i don't i love you i'm smooching your forehead tenderly) because now it's all I can think about!! Eddie busting into the trailer all shell shocked and Steve's just sitting there barefoot in wayne's shirt eating breakfast for dinner that wayne made him. all cute with clearly just-fucked hair and beard burn on his cheeks. and the worst of all he's using EDDIE'S GARFIELD MUG. The audacity of it all

PERHAPS IT'S A CRACK SHIP TO YOU GREY, BUT TO ME IT'S COMPLETELY SERIOUS (and no, you're not allowed to hate me, you must love me always).

BUT!!!! OKAY THIS IS ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT NOW. Except in my head Steve's completely naked apart from Wayne's old faded flannel and his own tight little boxer briefs, the long stretch of his tanned legs completely bare where his feet are crossed on the coffee table (and hello, Wayne never lets EDDIE put his feet up like that???), his chest on display, and Eddie's frozen in the doorway in complete disbelief as Steve picks a piece of bacon off his plate and nibbles on it like it's a gourmet fucking meal.

Wayne of course tries to explain and calm Eddie down, but Eddie ignores him and tells Steve to get the hell out right now. Steve takes his time instead, just to piss him off even more, finishing his meal and getting dressed in front of him, ignoring Eddie as he trembles and hisses like an angry cat, and then kisses Wayne's cheek on the way out like, "bye Daddy, see you soon." Eddie's so angry he's literally seeing in technicolour and when he follows Steve outside and asks what his MO is, demands to know why he's preying on Wayne, that they don't have anything for a little blood-sucking bitch like him, Steve just shoots him a cool look over his shoulder and says, "I spend time with Wayne because he's nice, I guess that doesn't run in the family," then gets in the car and just before shutting the door in Eddie's face says, "He's also a really good fuck."

[horsetailcurlers2]

YET ANOTHER long and obnoxious stream of my thoughts while watching greys anatomy for the first time (SEASON EIGHTEEN bc i’m nearly caught up!)

-i don’t like teddy and owen getting married but teddy looks really cute

-why did it take me a ridiculously long time to remember who the fuck nick marsh is

-why would he ask her to marry him a THIRD time after her second no

-this is a really interesting storyline about the racial assumptions still being the bases of some diagnostic formulas. i remember a science teacher in middle or high school trying to tell us that black people have less nerve endings which is such an insidious myth

-i don’t know how i feel about blonde jo you guys. it’s a little disconcerting. like when ur a little kid and your dad shaves his beard for the first time and it makes you cry

-i like that the show gradually got a lot more queer over time

-“she’s like my sister. you’re like my sister” IS IT ADDISON? IS ADDISON COMJNV ???? my love

-i’ll forgive the cheesy dialogue bc she looks great

-ik it’s a logistics thing with the actors but it would make a lot of sense if jake was here working on uterine transplants too considering he was really interested in it when he was introduced in PP. like, i feel like it would just make a lot of sense for this clinical trial to be a joint endeavor, especially considering he’s the fertility specialist

-addie’s scrub cap!!!

-while i’m at it, i really wish we’d gotten addison scenes or mention when derek died. this elevator scene is great and i love it but i think it’s often minimized how big of a part addison played in his AND amelia’s lives. like obviously i get it. it would be weird to bring up your brothers ex wife in front of his grieving widow but in my head i think addison could have really been there for amelia because they could have shared memories that meredith wasn’t there for. and at the time meredith had no interest in grieving with amelia. like, they were together for a decade and a half. just because they’re no longer married doesn’t mean that death wouldn’t have hit hard. especially because mark is gone too.

-“there was tension” yeah and they should kiss about it

-they forgot how to write addison a little bit. also the convo with amelia feels really ooc. i get it’s showing how the pandemic fucked with everybody’s mental health but “truly hate” is a bit much and …. “i hate that for you” ???????? what

-my bestie tom looks good with a little gray in his hair

-ooh! meredith is in her kicky heeled boots era. love it

-i really like maggie’s hair this season

-bailey’s timeline is so fucking confusing. she was still a resident in seasons four and five (which span one year) which means she must have only been a fourth year in seasons 1-3 (also one year). yet she’s seen having way more authority and autonomy than any other class of residents had at her level. and she’s always going on and on about how she’s responsible for shaping and teaching meredith and her year of residents… which yeah sure but not in a very large capacity until maybe later on bc she was only a fourth year resident when they met. i’m so lost.

-i’m getting a little tired of the random car crashes you guys

-i’m not invested in link/amelia tbh but jo/link doesn’t interest me at all. none of the relationships are interesting rn

-oh my god this scene with all the blood and the waterfall on the podcast is so unsettling. there’s no way they’re going to continue the webber method after this

-i know it’s not going to happen and i know this makes me sound like a horrible person but god i would love it if hayes left and owen died in this car rn

-OH MY GOD OWEN TOTALLY KILLED THAT GUY AND HE TOLD HAYES BC HE THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA DIE, RIGHT? is that what they’re hinting at with hayes bringing up mercy killings to meredith? bc that would make this boring episode interesting to me

-link has a right to be upset but he’s pissing me off. he’s rewriting history and hasn’t been listening to amelia at all since the initial proposal

-didn’t they used to do m&m s in a much bigger lecture hall?

-i think the show was not necessarily less cheesy and melodramatic in season one but i will say that the cheesiness and melodrama was much more fun when everyone had flip phones and they were playing tegan & sara and the script in the background. not to mention everything is far too well lit and high def now it makes their bad choices look less sexy.

-now that farouk is older he looks really familiar. i’m trying to figure out what else i’ve seen him in

-“she’s ruined every good thing in my life” i feel for link, i really do, but i am so done with his whining.

-little ellis looks SO MUCH like ellis senior it’s insane. a+ casting

-owen sucks (x9)

-i was just reminded of that time in the earlier seasons when teddy and cristina’s patient wanted physician assisted suicide or something and owen got all weird and angry about it and overstepped a bunch. and now look at what he did. huh

-bailey needs to take several hundred seats

-addison looks so good !!!!!!!!

-do you guys remember a couple of seasons ago when jackson wasn’t gonna do that new bottom surgery for the trans woman and catherine yelled down the hallway “jackson avery!! i thought you were woke!!” ? that’s me rn but with teddy.

-am i supposed to like link??? is it an unpopular opinion that i don’t

-i feel like kai doesn’t vibe with kids and i think they should be up front about it before things get more serious

-i would play boggle with teddy :(

-ooh they’re using songs from the early seasons’ soundtrack

-let her LEAVE!!! why is nobody else taking any responsibility for the state of things. this in no way should fall on meredith’s shoulders. bailey especially! i get that she’s stretched too thin but that’s part of the problem.

[frnkiebby]

have some late night frimages.~🎃

[whatthefishh]

my last ask reminded me ab the thot i forgot ab lol:

facial hair

**I JUST READ YOUR REPLY AND YOU DON'T LIKE MUSTACHES???? 😭**

uhhh -- well, i write a lot of steven/miguel fics so i don't explore the facial hair aspect of oscar (even though he has the most iconic staches and beards out there) so let's discuss + lemme get you on the 'stache train with me:

Exhibit A: Llewyn Davis

this hot fucking mess has zero right to look this good. dude was literally on the verge of passing out and/or crying the whole movie. also his beard is way too well kept for him to be homeless.

tell me you wouldn't enjoy the beard burn he'd leave between your thighs or holding onto those cute curls eeee --

Exhibit B: Nathan Bateman

THIS BALD BITCH (ok -- peek at the vein in his arm...) literally doesn't need to be bald but he probably thinks he's too big-brained™️ for hair or something idk.

he could literally kiss me until my whole mouth area and chin turn red and i wouldn't care 😭. he'd probably be a dick and rub himself all over me just to irritate my skin (i'm sensitive) then tease me ab it after.

let's face it, dude would look magnificent eating ice cream (or dripping with heat as he lifts his face from my -----) uhhh ok next

Exhibit C: Blue Jones

yeah, he looks like a slut. i mean the porn stache really just staples the word "pimp" onto his forehead. he's definitely more into himself than anyone else and he looks like a class A pervert, but i'd still hit it tho 💀

NEXT!

Exhibit D: Duke Leto and Jonathan Levy

i put them together bc of their full beards and hair. both give off 'have a family but still ready to fuck' vibes, but jonathan is softer and domestic 🥺

look at those beards and how well they frame his lips, it's like he's FORCING you to look 🫠 AND THE GREEYING HAIRRR EEEEE I NEED

LAST ONE -> EXHIBIT EEEEE: THE FUCKING BEARD HE HAD DURING THE TF PRESS TOUR

"this is powerful"

"clean shaven 5 days ago" -- ok but why would he say that??? does he wants me to collapse??? does he want to be bitten???

i genuinely lost track of the reasoning behind this ask (i'm sleep deprived and deliriously screaming ab this man) idk if i like facial hair or if it's just irresistible on him...either way i wanna feel it everywhere 😵‍💫

Omg em!! I absolutely adore beards especially Oscar’s!!! It’s the moustache only look that I’m always eek about and yet I still pine after Blue Jones 😂😳

I need to watch Inside Llewyn Davis still, I know I’ve got some catching up to do but his beard does look ridiculously well kept for a homeless guy you’re right.

Nathan Batsman’s beard is something I’m a very open whore about yes to the carpet burnnnnnnn

Jonathan levy is the perfect example of just like… ‘Messy academic hot man that I want to make even more of a mess of’. That’s a type, right? Adore. Esp the greys!!!! I love the fucking greys!!! Father of my children!!!

The god damn TF interviews ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

He said that because he wants you to know that he knows exactly what he says and does to us.

Yes to facial hair especially on Oscar. Just the stache on other men get the fuck away from me 😂

[sparklefics]

Bucky's Sweater

Bucky Barnes & Avenger!Reader [Agent Dollface]

WC: 572

A/N: This is the first thing I've written in months. It's short but fluffy.

Gif not mine.

Warnings: Language!

[Masterlist]

"I fucking hate winter."

You said as you plopped down on the couch in the living room at the compound.

"Second that." Bucky said from under the blanket. You jumped up in surprise, you hadn't seen him there. "I know why I hate winter, why do you?"

"Shit! Buck, I didn't see you there." You looked at him and took in his comfy look in that ridiculously beautiful navy blue cable knit sweater, it made the sudden fright go away however it made your heart race for an entirely different reason. The scruffy beard that he grows out during winter covering his pristine jawline, long and luscious brown hair coming down to his shoulders only added to the appeal that is James Bucky Barnes. 

In truth, you hate winter because of Bucky. He looks so fucking beautiful in those comfy sweaters and his butt in those grey sweatpants– to die for! But you can't tell him that without admitting that you totally have a crush on him. 

So you just said, "Too many layers of clothing." Which you are quick to regret because it totally sounds like a come on. "It's a hassle to take off."

And that explanation was not any better. 

"Is it now?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

Wouldn't you want to know? 

Oh no! Your thoughts have a way of running away from you, that damn brain-to-mouth filter failing you at the worst of times. 

"Let's at least watch this movie first, then we'll see about stripping down. I'm an old fashioned guy, agent dollface. But, please consider me interested." He winked at you.

Though embarrassing your faux pas worked in your favor, for once.

_____________________________________

After the movie Bucky selected was over, you two remained cuddled under the blanket, laying on the couch. 

"You wanna know why I really hate winter?" You ask softly kicking your feet against his shins. 

"Sure."

"You."

"Me?"

"You look so fucking–agh! – Warm and inviting in those sweaters and sweatpants. I just wanna crawl on you like a cat and sit on you. And just to be clear I wasn't just talking about sex, that would be good too. But I mean just inviting and lovely, in the way I just wanna sit around and cuddle with you. You know, doing nothing in particular, just being warm and safe in your arms. That's kinda all I wanna do…all the time to be honest, not just during winter."

"Wow! You're like in love with me." he teases and you stay quiet.

"Would that be so bad?" You ask after a beat. 

"Not at all." He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. "Wanna know something? I really don't hate winter…actually I kinda love it."

"Why? I mean I would expect that after all you've been through– I mean, it would be logical to hate it."

"I know right, but I love it because of you. You and your many layers of clothing that I fantasize of taking off, like your scarves, or how you'd look wearing just my sweaters." He smirks, "How cute you look wrapped up in blankets, shuffling about in your fuzzy socks. How much I really want to cuddle with you every night–not just during winter, might I add." 

"James…"

"Sweetheart, you wanna go steady with me?"

"Wow, you really are old fashioned." You giggle and Bucky kisses the crinkles around your eyes. "Yes, I do want that very much." 

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 3. Glittery Mishap

Pairing: Gruber x Reader

POV: Second, Reader

Setting: A rented little house somewhere in the world.

A/N: This is a cute little thing that I hope will put a smile on your lips and warm your beautiful heart, darling 💚 I am working as hard as I can to catch up as I was sick for so long during the prep-time we had...

Tags/TW’s: Reunion, Fluff, Kissing.

Word Count: 900+

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

You were in the greatest mood. Christmas carols flowed from the radio. Snow was falling outside the window. Everywhere there was a surface to place things upon you had covered with Christmas ornaments — from little clocks to Santas, gingerbread men and holly. The windows you’d outlined with garlands and framed with Christmas curtains. “Perfect,” you said to yourself and clapped your hands together while turning on the spot, taking it all in.

The door opened, and the sound of wind and the stomping of heavy boots reached you. Your heart erupted in joy, he was home. Your husband. Your lover. Your protector. Your short-tempered criminal. Finally!

You bolt from the little living room, towards the hallway and the door that just closed. And there he stood, all tall and handsome with his grey hair speckled of snowflakes and the thick scarf you’d gifted him last year wrapped once around his neck only to drape down over the front of his thick black coat.

“Darling,” you said with a smile as tears lined your eyes. It had been months. Four agonising months of you hiding away — going from rental to rental — and him being on the run. “Liebling,” he said with a harsh exhale. A shiver slid down your spine at the German term he always used for you. The same as yours for him, just in his language. “You’re here,” you whispered while he looked you over with a gleaming approval in his eyes.

He nodded, a short and sharp motion that made you think of flicking tongues and decisive fingers. Your core heated at such a fickle little thing, as it always had done with him.

You couldn’t wait any longer and threw yourself forward, his eyes widened and he took half a step back in alarm but it was too late for him to avoid the collision. Your mind faltered for a second at the possible rejection after such a long time only for your chests to collide and you got a full spraying of glitter launched right into your face, up your nose and into your open mouth.

His arms came around you as you both coughed. You could fucking see the glitter in your eyes. It itched and chafed, you struggled to get air into your lungs without inhaling more of the sparkly stuff.

Hans parted from you, dragging his large hand over his face while his other hand tried to wipe away the ungodly-sticky glitter from your mouth. “Liebling, are you alright?” he asked with an even thicker voice than usual. You coughed and tried to dig the stuff out of your mouth while exhaling through your nose — creating a damn waterfall of glitter spewing out and covering the carpet you had vacuumed to perfection yesterday.

“Y-yes,” you wheezed and looked up at him. You laughed out in a burst. He looked hilarious, utterly ridiculous with glitter everywhere — covering his beard, lining his lips, making his nose look like a sparkly beacon with his distinct shape while his thicker eyebrows capped it all.

He chuckled back and your heart melted at the sound so packed with amusement. With love. With all the things nobody else ever got the privilege of hearing, only you. His beloved liebling.

“I am sorry,” he said as he rubbed at his beard and looked all around at all the glitter stuck to every surface, all the shoes and clothes. “You must have cleaned a long time.” “I did, but, I can vacuum again. But tell me why we are covered in glitter?” you said as you helped brush out more glitter from his beard and brows. We’ll need a bath, not a bad thing…

“Ah, little one, you ruined my surprise,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in while you kept dragging your fingers through his shorter, well-groomed beard that was too thick for you to stay away from. “A surprise? You arriving is all the surprise I need, darling,” you confessed as your cheeks took on a rosy tinge beneath the glitter. Your heart was still hammering from the joy of him coming back to you despite the glittery mishap.

His soft, tight smile was worth more than the sun for you and you basked in the way he viewed your glittery self with adoration. “I had hoped to send glitter into the sky with you on Christmas Eve, liebling.” “Oh?” “Yes, it is quite the sight if it snows and the moon shines, much like fairy dusting,” he said with a pointed look.

You positively melted as he jutted his chin towards the floor where little fireworks rested in a little paper bag. You had always been obsessed with magical beings, not in a ‘theses are real’ kind of way but the ‘magic is a wonderful fantasy’. Fairies were one of those obsessions, ever since Tinker Bell when you were a child and the way she spread glitter when she flew through the sky. That he thought of that, remembered how you had talked about wanting to see glitter in the sky such a long time ago, had your heart in an absolute twist.

“Hans,” you whispered, “I love you.” “I love you as well, mein liebling. Merry Christmas,” he said in a low murmur that twisted your insides and turned them as sparkly as your glitter-dusted skin when he leaned in and kissed you deeply with the glitter falling from your moving bodies just like fairy dust. Depicting the wonder of Christmas, the wonder of reuniting with the one you love.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3 // LINK TREE

A/N: Oh isn’t this just the cutest little thing? I really adore the Christmas feel this time of year, it makes me want to cuddle up and read all kinds of stories - be it fluffy ones, angsty ones or smutty goodness. But, as you all probably know by now I tend to lean towards the last two way more since fluff isn’t exactly my thing to write. But I’m always trying to learn so, I hope this fluffy piece managed to warm you 🥰♥

Taglist: @snowblossomreads @leah1243 @reinekefoxart @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2022]

[criticalrolo]

Oh man now you’ve got me curious about other stories about how nmj and nhs’s moms interact/play with the two kids 👀👀❤️

AAAAA would love to talk about these guys forever, I've made up a very cute couple of moms ;__;

NMJ's mom lost her right eye in a night hunt and got a jade prosthetic eye that makes her look SO !! Awesome !! to NMJ and NHS. The kids go WILD watching her take it out and put it back in when they're toddlers, it's their version of like, peek-a-boo

She's also a blacksmith / silversmith. She made a really lovely intricate crane-shaped hairpiece for NHS's mom when they. met. and she makes lots of little presents for her kids too. She hand crafted the flower pins and pauldrons that adult NMJ wears :)

Dual Wielder NMJ's Mom My Beloved. 25% of the reason she agreed to marry Sect Leader Nie is he said he'd teach her nie sect saber techniques. She's NMJ's first saber instructor when he turns, like, six, and NHS has just been born and they're trying to keep him busy while NHS's mom rests with the new baby

NHS's mom is a Genius with talismans, and she is Always coming up with little magical effects to dazzle the kids. it's like she's casting prestidigitation constantly and they LOVE it

She taught the boys how to do cartwheels :)

She is also always ADVOCATING for more color variety in the grey Nie Sect Wardrobes. She's always adding in little splashes of color to the kids' outfits. She's giving them little red sashes and purple hair ribbons and she paints colorful fans for both boys

Sect Leader Nie is the Loves To Toss Kids As High As Possible kind of dad!! And with that Nie Style Cultivation. that's pretty fucking high LOL

The kids say they hate his beard because it's scratchy when he picks them up and hugs them but then one day he shaves and both of them HATE hate HATE it so he grows it back out right away

[musette22]

Hiiii loveliest Minnie!! 💕💕💕

I know it’s been WAY too long since I’ve been in your asks screaming, which is honestly a travesty, but I’m here now!

And I’m here because I’m FURIOUS with Chris. He’s just…he looks so fucking good and he’s being all like THIS:

And it honestly drives me insane 😫😫😫 He’s looking so ridiculously good and happy and excited and dorky and HOT and stupid and UGHH when will it END????? (I hope never)

I know that you’re still catching up on Chris content (like me), and this freaking movie isn’t even here yet and he’s already killing me. Just…those eyes!!! The grey patches in his beard!! His whole stupid entire face!! The outfits!!! 😭

UGHHHHH. I honestly love him soooo much and this look makes me want to cry and scream and bite and idk where I was going with this ask but yeah I’m going slightly crazy & I wanted to yell at someone about it 😂

I hope you’re having a lovely, not so busy day today!! I love youuuuu 💕💕💕💕

MAYAAAAAAAAAAAA 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 Man, I love you 🥺 Thank you for sending me not one but two extremely relatable and slightly, endearingly unhinged asks today!!! I can always count on you feeling the exact same overwhelming feelings about this guy (about both guys, really) and it's such a joy to yell and scream and thrash on the floor about him with you 🥰 💕

Now, about Christopher. HE LOOKS. SO GOOD. I'm honestly a little (i.e. a lot) mad about it too, because you'd think that at some point he'd stop looking better than ever, or he'd have an off day sometime, but nooooooooo. Not Chris Evans. Chris Evans laughs in the face of off days. Chris Evans simply doesn't acknowledge their existence, let alone has them. Chris Evans only knows on days, and he only knows how to get BETTER looking, not worse. It's really fucking annoying and life ruining, actually 😫

THE GREY IN HIS BEARD ☠️☠️ and his pretty pretty eyes, his fluffy hair that I desperately want to touch and his gorgeous beard and stupidly cute knitted shirts that just make him look like the world's most stylish grandpa, I just klsdgndlkk 😤😤😤😤 I'm so glad that he's looking so happy and healthy and thriving, but GOD, could he just have a tiny little bit of compassion with us for once, maybe?????? This level of gorgeousness and adorability is just rude and unnecessary 😭 Absolute life ruiner, this man. And like you said, we haven't even caught up with everything yet and the movie isn't even out yet, so it's only going to get worse from here 🥴

I LOVE YOU TOO, HONEY <33 Sending the biggest hug imaginable!

p.s. while your ask was loading, he made this face and I just thought it was worth sharing:

[cyberrat]

65th Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Hanzo/Cole – Rough And Tumble AU – Part 2/? – older Hanzo; younger Cole; virgin but cocky Cole – Hanzo starting to check out the goods.

---

Cole is smiling at him again with a self-confidence that is downright criminal for a man his age and with his taste in clothing.

Hanzo is annoyed even before he starts talking yet has to shift to stop a crease in his pants digging into his fattening cock.

“Mmmhh Hanzo… a beautiful name fer a beautiful fella,” Cole croons. He tips his hat back again without taking it off still, so he can wink at Hanzo while he leans over and almost right into his space. Cocky little shit. He’s lucky he’s got nice, warm eyes and that deep voice resonating in his barrel chest.

Hanzo looks him up and down again as far as he can, briefly wondering what he might look like when he starts to properly grow into his own body. He could become quite the looker.

“Cute,” Hanzo replies once the pause has gone on long enough and he sees that cocky smile starting to falter a little. “How old do you think I am, young man?”

Cole’s eyes flick over Hanzo’s face, then inevitably to the grey at his temples. At long last there comes a little wrinkle to his brow. Hanzo wonders if he’d thought him younger than he is and is going to back paddle but he finds that he might have grossly underestimated the sheer determination and horniness of this young stud when Cole replies smoothly: “Old enough to be super hot if I make ya call me daddy.”

Hanzo almost chokes on his drink. He clears his throat once he puts it down, utterly fascinated by this idiot man that has stumbled his way to him on those coltishly long legs.

He reaches out, grabs Cole’s ridiculous cowboy hat and pulls it off to put on the desk in front of them. There’s a wild mop of messy brown hair underneath which Cole immediately spears his fingers through, pushing them back and out of his face. The move is so disarmingly young that for a moment Hanzo just stares at him. The kid is in dire need of a haircut but that only makes Hanzo hotter for him. He can’t believe the sheer audacity with which this train wreck of a man has come to him, thinking he had any chance with Hanzo.

Goddamnit if he isn’t actually thinking about it.

“I think you’re laboring under a false impression,” he says in a low purr. He likes how Cole’s gaze immediately fixes on his mouth, entranced by him.

Well if that doesn’t immediately complicate things. He loves attention, after all. “What makes you think that I would let a little boy like you fuck me?”

The kid immediately sits up a straight, his mouth opening slightly. He had not thought Hanzo would utter such a word and he’s been caught off guard by the profanity.

He’s got the most interesting little beard going on that is just as much in need of a trim as the rest of his hair. Hanzo reaches out and lightly pinches it just underneath his chin, pulling his head down by it minimally.

“I am miles out of your league,” he croons like it is something really cute and loving to say.

Despite the insult, Cole does not look put out. Maybe he didn’t understand what Hanzo said to him? In any case, he starts to almost bodily vibrate with eagerness as he slides closer a little more, careful not to pull his head out of Hanzo’s grip. He looks puppy eager.

“Yeah, true… but ya still invited me to sit with ya. So ya must’ve liked somethin’ you been seein, right?”

The corners of Hanzo’s mouth turn down in thought while he eyes the young man. He had not thought him to be this… quick-witted. He looks like a dumb country bumpkin.

Eventually, Hanzo makes up his mind and lets go of Cole who looks alarmed, probably thinking he’s going to be kicked to the curb after all.

“W-Wait! Wait just a second, darlin’, I’m sure I can make it worth your while, yeah?” He puts his hand on Hanzo’s bicep as he says that, his fingers gently digging into his muscles. His palm feels warm through the fabric of Hanzo’s clothes, only fanning the flames burning low in his abdomen.

He looks at the hand on him and it must have looked… threatening since the kid quickly takes his fingers off of him.

“I… I mean-”

“I certainly hope so.”

“...Excuse me?”

Hanzo turns and slightly lifts his hand after catching the eyes of one of the boys stalking through the club. “I certainly hope that you will be making it worth my while. Go and order your drink of choice. My treat.”

The young man’s mouth works again without a sound coming out. He looks like he’s never been treated to anything in his life, his eyes nervously jumping between Hanzo and the dancer that has hurried to come up to them.

“...You sure?”

“Of course I am.” Hanzo takes his own glass and slowly rotates his wrist so the dark liquid sloshes against the sides. “I am interested. Let’s talk before I make up my mind on what to do with you.”

.o.

Hanzo does not usually entertain the whores he picks out to play with but this young buck certainly intrigues him. This mixture of cocksure stud and nervously giddy highschooler keeps him interested. His arousal keeps pulling through his body, just taut enough to make his nerves sing every time he shifts a little and becomes newly aware of his cock trapped in his perfectly tailored pants.

“Do your parents know you’re in such a bar?” he asks once Cole has his beer and has had time to nurse a few sips from it and calm his nerves.

The question gets him an incredulous look and a crooked smile that makes him focus on his mouth yet again. It is strangely sensual; nice and broad and expressive. He could definitely become a good kisser with a bit of firm guidance, of that he is sure.

“The Hell’re you askin’ that for, babydoll? Ain’t I man enough for ya?” he grins, leaning in close again. He looks like he should reek but all Hanzo smells is some kind of perfume that’s unobtrusive enough to not completely turn him off this idiot.

“You like calling men that are old enough to be your father cute little nicknames?” he asks back without leaning away from the intrusion. He doesn’t want to push him away, after all. Quite the contrary; he wants to pull this young stud on top of him and see what he can do.

Feel that sturdy body push him into the ground while he grinds his coltish, slim hips between his legs…

Speaking of legs, Cole puts his hand on Hanzo’s thigh and squeezes gently while he croons: “It’s really hot when you say it like that. You’re so damn pretty, you know that, right?”

Of course he does. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like to hear it, though.

Hanzo drags his tongue over his teeth, then reaches down and grabs Cole’s wrist in a tight grip. The kid is close enough that he can see his pupils blowing wide. He looks like he wants to quickly back paddle so before he can destroy what he made by being a cocksure little bastard, Hanzo rasps: “I have half a mind to play with you in the restrooms…”

He exhales roughly, breath fanning over Hanzo’s chin and throat. “You’re not playin’, are ya?” He sounds whiney and hopeful like the puppy that he is.

Hanzo leans in, pressing their lips together hard enough to make teeth clack. He licks briefly into Cole’s mouth, tasting the cheap beer, and pulls away before Cole can reciprocate.

“Before I buy into it… let’s see the goods,” he whispers into Cole’s ear, one hand coming to rest on his gaudy belt buckle.