#if you want Tommy to suffer and make it with your own hands thinking you making something og then

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[abbyromanoff]

Hey love ur fics so muchhh was wondering if u could write a fic about g!p wanda and innocent fem reader, corruption kink ofcc. Reader hasn't even had her first kiss and Wanda teaches her how to tongue kiss and so much more(just v penetration no anal). Heavy breeding kink as well plsss

FOLLOW MY LEAD

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,750

WARNINGS: smut, corruption kink, older!Wanda, innocence kink, breeding kink, Wanda has a dick, making out, kinda slow burn, age gap (legal), best friends mom!Wanda, sex in a pool, degrading, praise kink, cunnilingus, Mommy (W), mentions of masturbation and failed masturbation, some angst and fluff, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda watched with a smile as you licked the icing off of the cupcake she had given you. She had been inviting you over for weeks now and it’s been getting all the more difficult to ignore you. You were best friends with her twin boys and had been for a few years so them leaving for college wasn’t easy. They were both traveling across the state to study while you chose to stay back in your home region, Wanda couldn’t have been happier with your choice. You didn’t have many friends to spend time with in your lonely hours and the mother next door pitied you for it, or at least that’s what you thought.

In reality, she had been harboring a growing attraction towards you for months now. You never really saw her beforehand, she was often times on business trips or working at her home office during her children’s teen years. But you didn’t mind, she wasn’t the reason you spent so much time with Tommy and Billy, but now she was the only reason you had to visit the house you called home for so many years.

“The oven will be going off in just a moment, do you mind taking it out while I head to the bathroom?” You complied and she sent you a grateful smile along with a quick peck to your head that caused redness to paint your cheeks. Ever since your friends left you, you’ve been forced to notice all the moments you shared with the woman. She was beautiful, that was a fact. But not only did she bless you with her looks, she also was the only one who ever made you feel so safe and welcome. You couldn’t understand what you felt towards her, after all, she’s a woman, and you’ve never felt this way for the same gender.

All your life you were told to marry a man someday, to love him dearly and bear his children, but the more time you spent with her the more you realized that wasn’t what you wanted. You spent nights dreaming of her in many ways you wished you didn’t. There were times you’d be woken to a dampness on your panties when your consciousness blessed you with the images of her on top of you, kissing down your body before it ended. You just wanted to know what would happen next, and you were often left daydreaming about how it would go. It only brought a further amount of aching, but you didn’t know how to get rid of it. You were too afraid to do research so you suffered alone, praying that it would go away soon enough but it never did. No amount of praying or hoping could stop your needs.

Wanda was just as bad, only she knew ways to ease the ache. Nights were spent in her bed, alone, wishing you were next to her. She imagined waking up next to you, kissing across your face to wake you up. You’d toss and turn just a bit before opening your eyes and shining your adorable smile in her face. She’d kiss you with love before it became deeper, then she’d go just a bit lower and kiss your neck. She’d relish in your soft moans that nobody had ever had the privilege of hearing besides her. Then she’d drag her hand down your body delicately, teasing your hardened nipples before dipping lower and reaching the waistband of your pajamas. She’d dip her fingertips inside after hearing your small pleads and would gently rub your clit in small circles, letting you feel her length against your thigh. She would be aching, her tip drooling as she used one hand to stroke herself slowly, allowing both of your sounds of pleasure to echo throughout the room. You’d beg around her, feeling her fingers reach that soft spot deep inside of you and focusing on the tightness in your stomach. She’d pull your shorts lower along with hers, giving you permission to let go as she rubbed her cock against your folds, releasing her cum across your skin. You’d beg for more in that sweet tone, and she’d have no choice but to say yes.

Her thoughts of you plagued her mind throughout the day and with no one else to help her, she was stuck taking care of her needs alone. Her hand would wrap around her length, stroking slowly just like she did in her dreams, only this time it was you doing it. She’d call out your name while picturing you beneath her on your knees, staring up at her with a gentle gaze as she instructed you on what to do. She knew you were all alone as well, no one to help ease your wetness in the ways she wished to do. Only if you’d give in, only if you’d notice her lingering gazes and finally leaned up when she kissed your forehead, causing her lips to join yours. If only she had you in all the ways she wanted.

Wanda washed her hands in the sink before dabbing the water onto her face, looking at herself through the mirror with shame. You were still so young, so naive, it would be wrong to take that from you, but she wanted to so badly. She wanted to be the reason you smiled, the reason you could genuinely be yourself. She wanted to be the one who listened to your rambles about what others found stupid, but she could never think such a thing. Anyone would be lucky even to be blessed by your presence, she wasn’t going to lose that. She knew she had to make a move soon or she’d risk the chance of losing you without even having you.

She looked down, noticing her slightly hardened length was peaking through her jeans. She cursed to herself and tried to adjust it well enough to hide. Usually, she could keep it hidden from you, but this pair of pants seemed to not want to work with her. She was hoping you wouldn’t notice, but the moment she stepped into the kitchen and saw your gaze fall for a split second, she knew you knew. She could sense it from the small gulp you let out, your back instantly turning to face her as you made the excuse of mixing more icing. You were celebrating the return of the twins for the summer and she asked for your help, knowing how much you loved baking especially with her. She also used it as an excuse to see you again, just like she did every time she saw you.

She gained the courage to step behind you, lightly brushing her crotch against your bottom as she leaned over you. She sniffed the air filled with the smell of funfetti mix, it had always been the boy's favorite even well into their teen years.

“Well, doesn’t that smell absolutely divine?” She leaned her chin on top of your head as you hummed, too afraid to talk as you knew you’d let out something embarrassing with the way she felt against you. Your hands trembled ever so slightly as she placed her hand on your waist, using it as a hold as she reached for the spatula not far away.

“Did you bring your bathing suit, sweetheart?” She asked, receiving a small nod from your end as you reached for the object in her hand.

“Good girl. The pool is finally all cleaned thanks to your help, it’s only fair you get to be the first to test it out with me.” With her. Meaning she’d also be in a bathing suit, showing off her curves that you found so enticing. You feared how you’d act around her, even if you thought you were well at hiding it.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, sure.”

The decorating process continued to flow easily with much teasing from Wanda’s end, curse her body language. She was a very touchy person, that was well-known to you. You didn’t think it was all that special, until you noticed the fact that she’d only ever share a handshake between her closest friends. Was there something different about you?

You worried she just saw you as a daughter figure knowing how you were often neglected by your own parents. You didn’t want her to see you as a child anymore because you weren’t, you were a nineteen-year-old who was more than capable of handling things on their own. But what if she didn’t think that? What if she saw you in the ways everyone else around you did?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” She called out, breaking you out of your trance as you blinked a few times. You were met with her soft smile in return, the same one that brought butterflies to your stomach.

“Is everything alright, dear? You looked a little sad there.” You sighed before giving a small nod, only ending up in an even deeper frown from the older woman. She was now dressed in her bathing suit, a bikini top along with swim shorts, even the simplest outfit sent you in spirals. You were currently covering yourself with a towel, your legs and shoulders being the only thing Wanda was able to see, but even that was enough to send her thoughts to places she wished they wouldn’t go.

“Oh, I’m fine, Miss. You- you look really beautiful.” You wanted to slap yourself for letting those words out, but it brought a blush to her cheeks, that was all you could’ve hoped for.

“First off, there’s no need to call me Miss, I believe we’re way past that point. And second of all, I appreciate it, dear, I haven’t worn these in years so I’m surprised they still fit.” She chuckled and looked down, hearing small sounds of your feet colliding with the floor as you came closer.

“Well, maybe you should wear it more often, I’m sure you’d catch a lot of attention.” But she wanted yours. She only wanted your attention, she couldn’t care about anyone else’s. Not when you stood there so perfectly without even realizing it. She’d make you see it. She’d make you see the beauty that shined throughout you.

“And why is that?”

“Like I said, you’re very beautiful, Wanda. Pregnancies affect all bodies, even years after. But, personally, I see them as signs of life. I wouldn’t have my best friends if it wasn’t for you, so I find every sign of that very, very pretty. I just wish everyone saw it that way, especially you.” You trailed off with a shrug, seeing her eyes light up with every sentence. You were never good at giving compliments, but with her, it seemed to flow with ease. You knew she deserved to hear them as you could tell no one spoke so highly of her often. You didn’t understand how, one glance from her could send anyone to their knees, but everyone seemed to be too afraid to say it to the highly-ranked businesswoman. Even you were nervous to say it around her, but her response always helped release that fear.

“I- thank you, Y/N. Nobody has ever spoken so highly of me.” She felt so vulnerable in the moment, where did things change? Only minutes ago she was teasing you relentlessly, now here she was with her heart swarming from your welcoming smile.

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” She nodded softly, wishing she could cling onto this moment forever. You were only feeding into her lust, forcing her to want more when she didn’t believe that was possible.

“What do you say about some lemonade, yeah? You can head outside and I’ll be out in just a minute with our drinks.” You complied and opened the screen door, giving one last glance before removing the towel placed over your shoulders. Wanda bit her lip as she eyed your figure, her gaze falling onto your bottoms. You wore a bikini, showing off every curve you stored that she had dreamed of. You were even more pleasing to the eye than she knew of.

“Here you are, darling,” She handed you the cold glass as you swam to the edge of the pool, your sunglasses resting on top of your head and tangling with your wet hair.

“How’s the water?”

“It’s good, pretty warm which I expected.” She gasped lowly as the wetness came higher up on her body. You swam over to her, grabbing both of her hands and pulling her in further. She let out a small yelp as you caught her, your faces sharing low proximity to the point you could feel her breath on yours.

“Uh, sorry-” You tried to pull away but were quickly stopped by her hands on your lower back. She brought you impossibly closer and you could feel her length pleading to be freed. In all honesty, she had been trying to disguise it since the moment you let your skin be shown. You were like a goddess, entrancing everyone possible and forcing their heartbeat to rise.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I’m only going to if you want me to.” Your lips parted in shock as your eyes widened, your expression was starting to worry the older woman. She was ready to pull away until you stopped her, making the first move as you planted a meaningful peck onto her mouth. She felt her muscles tension start to die down while her hands held you tightly, traveling down to the exposing clothing you wore and squeezing your ass. You gasped lightly, allowing her tongue to move further and enter your mouth. She pressed your body against the wall, letting her fingertips toy with the waistband of your bikini bottoms before hiking your thigh against her waist, giving her easier access to trail it down your legs.

“You’re an even better kisser than I imagined.” You chuckled at her words, biting your lip as you felt her teasing your folds.

“You’ve- you’ve imagined kissing me?” A small whimper made way from your vocal cords and Wanda nearly came from the sound alone. She needed you so badly, there was no way she’d be able to stop now.

“Oh, I’ve imagined doing so many things to you, baby.” The recollection brought a new sense of arousal to her. The nights she’d stay up, moans bouncing off the walls as her mind went wild.

“I think of you too, Wanda.” You shyly, remarked, looking down as you spotted your legs opening more on their own. It was as if they were on their own accord, chasing after the high you’ve been wanting for months now.

“Yeah? Tell me, do you touch yourself when you think of Mommy, hm?” The nickname nearly brought a shake to your legs, your eyes traveling to the back of your head as you released a weak moan.

“I’ve- I’ve never-” She clicked her tongue loudly and for a quick second you felt her still and your body wanted to disagree, but the shame you held was too much. Maybe you really were too innocent or young for her, so naive to think you had a chance.

“I’m the first to touch this sweet, sweet pussy? Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how happy that makes Mommy to hear.” Your hands came up to her shoulders as you held yourself up, trying your best to not let her see your weakness. But Wanda saw everything, she always knew.

“Mommy’s got you, little one, she’s not going anywhere.” You could tell she was holding back slightly as she continued to rub your clit in small, gentle circles. You didn’t want her to hold back, you wanted to satisfy her needs correctly.

“Please, Mommy, I don’t want you to be gentle.” Your pout could’ve easily sent her to heaven, but she chose to remain calm and guide you to sit on the edge of the wall. Up to your knees were chilled with the water while the rest of your body soaked in the heat of the sun. Wanda instantly separated your legs and placed soft, yet bruising kisses on your thighs. She wanted to leave a mark. She wanted you to go home tonight and be forced to remember your previous activities, she wanted you to suffer so badly until you needed to see her again. She wanted to be your only escape, she wanted that hold over you that no one else could have.

Her tongue collided with your weeping cunt, giving you no preparation as she instantly caused the tightening in your stomach to worsen. Months and months of edging was catching up to you, but you didn’t want to fail her so quickly.

“You taste fucking amazing, princess.” She was sloppy with her movements, holding absolutely no care or shame as she only focused on your flavor. You were like her favorite fruit that she couldn’t quite get enough of, always reaching for more and telling herself it’ll be the last one, only the last one never came.

“M-Mommy-” She pulled away for a quick moment, leaving a small peck to your pulsing clit as her eyes landed on yours, guiding you into continuing.

“I feel funny.” You expressed, leading her to smirk in response.

“Oh, my poor baby, can you tell me more about how you’re feeling?” She fauxed a frown before continuing, her tongue sliding in and out of your tight hole as her moans vibrated against you. Your breath sped up, your chest heaving as tears pricked your eyes.

“It f-feels weird…in my stomach. I- ah! I-I kept feeling like this for..months!” You gasped when she sucked harshly on your clit. You’ve never felt so ecstatic, so small.

“I’d think of y-you, Mommy, and then my- my head would get f-fuzzy and it would feel all tingly down below.” You choked on your words, trying to manage out some sort of evidence that you were still in control of your body, but deep down you wanted to give her all sorts of power.

“Mhm, and how would you help those tingly feelings?” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your hips starting to move on their own against her face, your body begging for more.

“I don’t know, I- sometimes, I-I’d rub my thighs t-together, but I never knew what to- what to do.” She was so engrossed in your words and the way you were clenching around nothing, her cock was nearly drooling as she failed to satisfy herself. Now that she had you, she wasn’t going to waste the chance of getting a taste of your sweet cunt.

“Mhm, and it felt like this, right?” It never felt nearly as good, but you nodded anyway.

“Do you think you can do something for me, pretty girl?” Once again, you nodded, this time a whimper following as your hand fell to your breast. You tweaked your hardened nipples as instinct, you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you noticed her watching your movements.

“I want you to hold it, just for a few more minutes, okay? I know you can do it, you’re my strong girl!” She climbed out of the water, letting you lay down as she settled over you. The towel was warm due to the sun but her hot kisses were even warmer. She placed them against your neck, smiling into them as she noticed the forming visible marks.

“Mommy’s gonna go in now, is that alright?”

“Okay, Mommy.” You nearly squeaked when her tip entered you, the small amount already seeming to stretch your walls to the max. You grappled onto her chest for support, unable to stop yourself as your lips followed. She moaned lowly at the contact, her hips jutting forward just enough to cause a weak whine.

“Mommy, it hurts.” You ushered out, your teeth grazing against her sensitive skin and resulting in a groan.

“Fuck, Mommy’s so close, baby. C’mon, be a good little slut and I’ll let you cum with me.” You nervously brought a hand down to cup her balls, using your thumb to gently rub the skin as she bit her lip to suppress any sounds.

“Pl- please, Mommy, I wanna hear you.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, letting go of her lip as her mouth parted. Her pace quickened enough to have you mumbling incoherent sentences.

“Kiss me, darlin’,” She muttered before grasping the back of your neck and guiding you into her. Your mouth’s connected in a searing kiss, one that brought further ache to your core. Her tongue ran over your lips as she begged for you to let her in, which you quickly did. She explored your mouth as if a traveler on a conquest, only stopping when she gasped as liquids spurted onto her crotch. She looked down at you, eyes blown out and full of lust while holding shame and guilt.

“‘M sorry, I-I tried-” She shushed you quickly, stuffing her head in your neck as she sniffed your scent. You were so unbelievably intoxicating, that she couldn’t get enough.

“Oh, sweetie, Mommy’s so proud of you.” She praised. “So much so that I’m gonna give you a little gift,” Her sloppy thrusts stilled as you felt warm juices invading your tight hole. She was painting your walls with her cum, pressing even deeper as she watched droplets escape you.

“Oh, fuck! I’ve been wanting to fill this cunt for too fucking long, baby girl, you have no idea how badly I need this.” You clawed her back, leaving hints of red marks as you drew lines with your nails. They weren’t very long, but the pleasure became too much and you quickly found yourself digging into her skin.

“You’re going to look so perfect carrying my babies. And when you go back to college, or when you walk around town, all the judgful looks will remind you of how much of a slut you are for your Mommy.” Suddenly, you remembered the two boys who were meant to be arriving in only a few hour's time. Your eyes shot open, your body trying to move from hers as she only continued to hold you tightly.

“No, love. They won’t be here for a while, and I’m going to spend every second I have left fucking you.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Tommy’s teenage love, whom he got separated from when he went to france.. Sad, bitter and heartbreaking end for them.

But now years later he sees her again, and the tension is 👀👀

I know this doesn't have to be dark but of course I made it a little dark 🤣 tommy just can't take no for an answer...

warnings: DUBCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!, yandere, infidelity/cucking, breeding

It wasn't until he tried to kiss you, and you backed away, that he really got angry. Up until that point, it seemed like he'd thought the life you'd made for yourself while he was gone was just a minor inconvenience at most-- but your resistance irritated him. You didn't remember being so nervous around him when he was upset.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he asked softly, and you weren't even sure how to answer that question... wasn't it obvious?

"Thomas," you mumbled, "it was nice to catch up, but..."

He tightened his fists as you trailed off, making you feel oddly trapped while standing in your own kitchen. "I kept my promise," he told you firmly. "I never loved anyone else."

"You can't be angry with me," you scoffed. "Tommy, we were children! We didn't understand what any of it really meant--"

"You didn't really love me?" he assumed sharply.

"O-of course I did," you sighed, "Tommy, of course. I loved you so much. But I grew up."

Your fingers absent-mindedly twisted your wedding ring around your finger, guilt stirring in your chest. If you were honest with yourself, you knew you never moved on from Tommy completely-- no one ever forgets their first love. But you'd managed to put it all in the back of your mind, telling yourself that was all over... until you saw him again. Your heart could've stopped, seeing him at your door; it was like seeing him for the first time all over again, even though you could see how unkind the years had been to him.

But you had to shove all those feelings down now, and think of your husband. "You should go," you whispered, "before he gets back."

"I grew up too," he sneered, taking a step closer that made your heart race for multiple, conflicting reasons. "You have no idea the man I am now. People do what I say or they suffer consequences."

You swallowed thickly, horrified to see the darkness in his eyes-- something totally unlike the gentle, passionate young man you'd known all those years ago.

"If I want something, I take it," he continued. "Doesn't matter if it's a horse, or a gun, or another man's wife."

"Tommy," you whimpered, "my husband will be home soon... you need to leave before he comes back."

He stepped closer again, grabbing you and holding you tightly against him when you tried to step away. "Good," he decided flatly. "He can see what a little whore you are when a real man takes you."

He shoved you down onto the table harshly, ignoring your whine of pain as he pushed the bowls and plates out of the way, most of them falling off and shattering; none of that bothered him, he was too busy roughly pulling up your skirts, unfastening his trousers, holding you down. "T-Tommy, please," you choked.

"I know," he sighed, "I know, you need me so badly. How long has it been since anyone properly made love to you, darling? He could never take care of you like I do."

Sliding his fat head through your folds, you choked on a little sob.

"You still get so wet for me," he grinned happily, "still dripping, just like I remember."

Truth be told, your body still responded to him... that couldn't be denied now. You had a natural urge to give in and let him take you, let him bring you the pleasure you hadn't known since he left; but your logic and your dignity kept up the fight, though it was pretty useless against Tommy's strength-- with only one hand, he held you down while he guided his cock to your entrance.

He sighed a heavy, dark sigh of relief as he sheathed himself inside you, relaxing all over like a burden had been lifted off of him. "Oh, love," he purred, rubbing your back soothingly to try to help you stop shaking. "Oh, I'd nearly forgotten... nearly lost the memory entirely of how warm you are inside..."

You, meanwhile, were whimpering and willing your legs not to shake-- you couldn't let him see how much you loved the feeling, how you'd longed to take him inside you again, or he'd never leave you alone.

"My beautiful," he panted, "my darling..."

Setting a rough and desperate pace, his hands grabbed greedily at your body, forcing you to bite down harder on your lip to keep from moaning.

"You wouldn't believe how I missed this," he breathed. "Thought of you every day in France-- only way I survived, thinking of you... said you'd wait for me, love..."

You tried to hold back your tears, all of this bringing back emotions you thought you'd buried forever-- I would've waited for you forever, Tommy, you wanted to say, I wish I had, but I was scared that I'd never see you again.

You didn't say it, though, because you wouldn't be able to keep yourself together. You were struggling enough now, impossibly conflicted by what he was doing to you. For years you'd imagined seeing him again, but it never went quite like this in your head.

"T-Tommy," you managed choke out, and he cooed your name back at you sweetly.

"I know," he offered again, "it's really me, love-- we're really together again. I won't let you go this time."

You hadn't been lying about your husband coming home soon-- maybe Tommy thought you were, as an excuse to make him leave, but you weren't. You sobbed in shame and fear as he unlocked the door and walked in, finding you two in the kitchen with the most (understandably) bewildered look on his face.

Tommy didn't even stop.

"Wha-- Christ?! Who the fuck are you?!" your husband spat out, stammering over himself.

"I'm Tommy fuckin' Shelby," Tommy growled.

"O-oh," your husband choked, stepping back shakily towards the door. You hid your face, unable to look at him, so you only knew he left when you heard the door shut a minute later. Tommy purred and leaned down to rest his head on your back, between your shoulder blades.

"Don't think he's gonna give us any more trouble," Tommy chuckled darkly. "Fuck, love, I'm so close already-- never knew how to control myself with you..."

The way he breathed against your skin-- that hadn't changed at all. You hadn't even realized you remembered it until you heard it, and it was like you were that girl again, the girl he loved so long ago-- but you weren't anymore, or at least, that's what you had thought.

"Almost ready to fill you up nice and deep, hm?"

"Tommy," you choked, tensing up under him, and he groaned happily.

"Can't wait for our little family, darling," he cooed, "all the babies we're gonna have-- like we talked about back then, remember?"

His thrusts came faster and harder, shaking the whole table under you, and you kept hiding your face so you could try to deny your pleasure. Maybe you could hide it from yourself, but it was useless trying to hide it from him.

"I know how badly you need it," he groaned, "how long you've wanted this-- I'm yours, love, all yours again. You'll never have to be away from me again."

You knew what that really meant was that you'd never get a chance to be away from him again. It scared you just as much as it comforted you.

He came deep inside you with a long, low moan-- and for a long time, he just stayed within you, catching his breath. He only pulled out so he could lift you up a bit, turning you to face him, and finally getting you to kiss him this time. You struggled to focus on kissing him back when you could feel his come running down your thighs.

"You were always mine," he informed you with a gentle whisper against your lips. "Doesn't matter whose ring is on your finger. You'll always be mine."

[slut4thebroken]

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

[aetherghouls]

I personally believe that Simon's gods awful father would use religious guilt and religion in general against young Simon.

The same man that doesn't care for any god, that breaks all the commandments and laughs at Simon for even believing; he'd absolutely weaponize the very religion Simon's mother, Tommy and himself use as an escape.

It's not like Simon has ever been very religious in the first place, but their local church was a respite from his father and it was something. His mother had been taking him and Tommy there every week, sometimes more often, because it was the only real place where they could be a family without him.

Don't get me wrong though, Simon as a child? He absolutely did believe, he prayed every damn day, begging God to save them, so they wouldn't have to suffer by his father's hand any longer, because they all did. Their life was a living hell and gods, did they suffer.

The older Simon gets, though? The longer his father uses his own religion against him and his family? The longer he says things along the lines of "what would your god say, kid? Disobeying your father? You listen to me and do as I say, isn't that what your God would want from you? Isn't that what they preach in this church of yours?"

It's either threatening the rest of the family because Simon is the oldest child and he feels protective over the rest of them or using the church against him. Two ways to get him to obey and don't say a fucking word, because Simon wants to be a good son for his mother, he doesn't want to be like his father and he needs to protect them.

Because other than fear, this man had nothing to hold Simon by. He is Simon's father by blood, but nothing else and Simon Riley had known that since he was old enough to comprehend what was going on around him.

So the older Simon gets, the more he just cannot stand anything about the religion because why is it constructed in a way that allows abusers to use it against their victims? And why doesn't God hear them out? He has been praying every single day, begging for it to get better, for a life that isn't just a constant suffering, yet it never comes.

Why does a god who's supposed to love His creations just leaves them to suffer this fate?

By the time he joins the army, he is not a believer anymore.

He prays one more time in his life though, the day when he tries to get back to his home before them, to make sure his family is safe. He hadn't prayed even once when he was in Mexico, when Roba had him, never did pray for his own salvation after he stopped praying for his father to be gone. But them? His brother, sister in law, nephew and mother? He prays for them to be fine, because that's the only and last thing he cares about in this world, even his own life doesn't hold any meaning anymore. He's here to make sure they are safe.

And God fails him one last time that day, for Simon Riley never has a real reason to turn to Him ever again.

Because he doesn't trust that God could keep Johnny safe, because all God did so far was disappoint him, fail him and those he loved.

And to be fair, he's afraid. That if he even thinks about praying ever again, he will lose Johnny too, the same way he lost his family; because the catholic God is cruel.

Also catholic guilt this catholic guilt that, Simon never feels guilty for killing, not in the way catholic guilt eats away at someone; God doesn't care about any suffering, so He cannot care if people kill one another, that's not where the catholic guilt comes in

It's Johnny. It's always Johnny.

Because for the first days, weeks, months, it feels wrong.

It had with any other man ever before that, but it's always passed with them. A temptation that didn't last for too long, the priest's and his father's words ringing in his ears whenever he even considered anything like that. But John MacTavish? It doesn't pass. It's always present, God, it gets stronger every fucking day he has to work with Johnny, so when they are in Las Almas and Graves betrays them, while he doesn't know where and how Johnny is? Before they meet up again? Simon has enough time waiting to realise that it's not just an infatuation that can pass as soon as it comes, because he's in love and he doesn't know what to do, because the wave of guilt that overcomes him, guilt caused by the very God who took away everything from him, it's nauseating, makes him feel small in a way nothing has since he got out from his father's claws. He has to take a moment to just breathe and pull himself back together, otherwise he would fail; fail the mission, himself, Price, Los Vaqueros, but most importantly, he'd fail Johnny.

And that, he cannot allow himself to do.

hello hello I am heavily projecting my own religious trauma onto Simon Riley in this one 🫶

as if bro didn't have enough trauma of his own lmao. Please don't eat me it came to me in a dream last night (not really in a dream) and after I made my friends suffer I came to a conclusion that I need to make more people suffer 🫡 bye

also I may or may not be cooking the other side of this for Soap haha (aka how I personally think Johnny sees religion)

[party-hearses]

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 3

do i get callous, or do i stay tender

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

pairing: joel x ofc!reader, ex!tommy x ofc!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 8k

chapter summary: the boundaries of your new relationship with joel are explored.

chapter warnings/tags: no outbreak AU, soft!joel, age gap, alcohol, language, characters eating food, alfred hitchcock, allusions to verbal/mental abuse (not joel), dry humping (i guess?). let me know if I’m forgetting anything!

a/n: this feels very ‘slice of life’, but it’s important to me, dammit! I love each and every one of you (yes, you!) who read, comment, and reblog. this fic is my baby, and every interaction means the world to me. @nostalxgic beta’d for me, because she’s the best human in the world and I love her to pieces.

comments and reblogs are appreciated! support your creators!

There was, Joel knows, a depth to the things you had shared with him. He just doesn’t know how to piece them together.

You had led him, a proverbial blindfold over his eyes, to the darkest recesses of your psyche. Allowed him to graze those things with his fingers. Not to grasp, never to grasp, but to ghost the ridges of his rough digits against the truths they contained. Visceral and unrefined, flexing without giving, beneath his prodding touch. A reluctant invitation.

He had wanted to claw his way in. He had wanted to rip you apart, to gorge himself on your suffering. To lick your velvet bones and make his home inside your ribcage. Half heaven, half hell.

Instead, he finds himself turning your words over in his head again and again, whiskey a thick smoke on his tongue. The television is still on in the background, the light flickering across the angles of the room, casting everything in jagged shadow.

Frustration curls tight in the pit of his stomach. Understanding feels just out of reach — as if the words you had spoken had been in secret tongues. If only he could decode it.

It will take time, he knows, to learn your language. To speak the complexities, to articulate the syntax. To appreciate the nuances from the inside, wrap his tongue around the letters. It will be an exercise in patience, he is sure, but one that he will commit himself to. He hungers to be fluent in reading and speaking you, to savor the delicate flavors of your dialect.

You, the unknowable creature asleep just down the hallway. That his hands had been on; that had made his cock twitch and ache; that had looked at him with those wet, pleading eyes, desperate to be known.

He rolls the wrist that holds his whiskey glass in a circular motion, eyeing the contents intently.

Asking you to stay in his home was a calculated risk. It had been when he’d first done it, and it remains to be the longer you stay. Tommy’s involvement — even in the capacity of ‘ex boyfriend’ — makes things complicated, and Joel knows that those things will border on volatile once he finds out where you are.

Not if, but when.

And truly, Joel doesn’t know what he’ll do when that happens. He hasn’t thought that far ahead, his vision too clouded with you, you, you.

He had known, since the first time you stood in his kitchen, a case of Shiner in your small hands, that the hot knife of devotion he felt when your eyes met his would eventually destroy him. Inevitability twisting its hands into his gut, whispering in his ear to prepare for his own eventual decimation. Lamb, meet slaughter, it said.

He’d let Tommy beat the shit out of him, he thinks, if it keeps you in his proximity.

The acute awareness of it had caught him off guard. Mutual, useless damage — two unfillable voids recognizing one another from across the room. A collision of fire and the ocean floor.

You, in a little black tank top and jean shorts, the tender flesh of your thigh peeking out just below the hem. Shoulders bare, warmed from the afternoon sunlight, skin aglow. It took strength he didn’t know he possessed to not sink his teeth into you right then and there. Lick up the slender column of your neck. Feast.

Tommy, grinning and oblivious as all fuck to the cosmic shift taking place two feet away from him.

Joel wanting to slug the smugness off his younger brother’s face. He knows Tommy — knows him always as a collector of people, of experiences. Not handling things — beautiful, fragile things — with the care they ought to be handled with. Leapfrogging from one thing to the next, nothing but ruin in his wake.

And oh, how Joel wanted to ruin you — but not in the way he knew Tommy would.

Your words to him tonight make his skin itch with that same recognition. That same inevitability. Asking you to stay meant there was no going back — that you would either let him swallow you whole, or he’d die trying to.

Throwing his head back to drain the glass, he savors the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat before flipping the television off and rising from the couch. Retracing his footsteps past your room, a dull throb settles again between his thighs at the thought of your body pressed against his.

It wouldn’t be difficult, he thinks, to open your door and take. He knows you because he knows himself, and what little restraint he has left is stretched thin.

But he will be patient, because it is you. Because he knows how this ends. Because he wants you to want it, too. To need it like he does. To reveal yourself to him in your own time, fragment by fragment. To recognize the inevitability.

And so he closes the door to his bedroom, himself on the wrong side of it, knowing that that is what a better man would do. And like a better man should, he falls asleep to images of your supple skin rippling beneath him, your mouth open and wanting.

You are unknowable, but you have never been a stranger.

You’re still in your dress when you wake up the next morning.

The hem is bunched up around your waist, your panties on display for the four walls of the empty bedroom. The slippery material clings to you, flesh slick with sweat, in a significantly less flattering way than it did last night.

Everything about you is less flattering than it was last night — the shimmer and sugar of it all worn off in the sweltering light of midmorning.

With a groan, you roll onto your back, the hard edges of your phone cutting into the flesh of your hip beneath you. You can’t bring yourself to look at it, to relive the previous twelve hours of…well, everything. Hands and drinks and tongues and flesh and desire and Joel’s voice.

Something else shifts into focus from behind the hazy veil — Joel carrying you to bed. Half-asleep and just on the other side of drunk, drippingly saturnine and pathetic. The recollection of it makes your chest pinch; the most recent admission into the museum of your naiveté.

You scrub your hand across your eyes, thick black flakes of mascara crumbling off your lashes and landing on your cheeks, chalky streaks of it painted across your knuckles. A strange laugh bubbles up in your throat — you can’t even imagine how wrecked you look.

Sharp hesitancy crests your lungs, tempts you to curl up further into the blazing bedsheets, to avoid. To shrink back into yourself. You raise a hand to your still-swollen lips, delicately pressing your fingertips into their fullness, the memory of Peter’s mouth slotted over yours replaying behind your eyelids.

You wish you had been drunk enough to forget that part of the night — but only that part.

Ava’s fingers interlocked with your own, the holographic sheen of her love wrapping around you, the way all of your pain had spilled out into her waiting hands on the dancefloor. Her magic had dug its tendrils into the soft muscle of your heart, her dreamy voice in your ear an incantation: I have the best feeling about you staying with Joel.

It was those things that you never wanted to forget.

And Joel — Joel. The way he had angled his body towards you, had been so attuned to your words. The consideration in his face as he absorbed them all, brows knitted in concentration. The restless twitch of his fingers.

Him sliding his hands beneath your body, pulling you close to his chest.

Everything had poured out of you so naturally, without any of the apprehension or anxiety you’d come to call companion. The sutures you had sewn years and years ago had been neatly, delicately, untied by Joel’s nimble fingers, in a way that you don’t even think he understood. And it took almost nothing.

Like something magic.

Fire crawls across your already heated skin, not so much a realization but a possibility.

It’s the only reason you get up, and peel your dress off of your sticky body, and let the cold water of the shower chill you. Your lungs open up, the buzzing of your nerves quieting under the stream.

Joel hears the quiet patter of your bare feet on the hardwood before he sees you. The beating of his heart matches the measured pace of your steps, both quickening as the distance between you closes.

He glances sideways, pulse hammering when you finally enter his line of vision. The wet ropes of your hair cling to your neck, dripping down the fabric of your threadbare t-shirt. There’s something so cozy about it, a significant intimacy that comes with knowing you’re just out of the shower.

It’s vulnerable in a way that he’s all too cognizant of.

“Hey.”

Your voice is sweet, if not apprehensive. Testing the waters. You gently pop a hip into the lip of the kitchen counter, next to the full, still-steaming coffee pot. Joel is situated at the stove, pan of something resembling food in front of him, his own mug clutched in his left hand.

“How ya feelin’, champ?” There’s a crooked smile on his face, one that disappears behind the curve of his mug as he brings it to his mouth.

You laugh, a gentle sigh of a laugh — a laugh that invigorates his blood more than the coffee does.

“I’m actually okay. Y’know, considering.” You tip your head to the side, watching as he stirs whatever it is in the pan. A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth, seeing him cook. It’s endearing, being allowed a peek into his life.

The way his cheeks round out tell you that he’s still got the same small smile painted on his face, despite the way it’s hidden.

“Mind if I have some?” You gesture with a flick of your chin to his coffee, clocking the way his face immediately falls, eyes narrowing in your direction.

“Y’already know the answer t’that.”

Gaze darting back to the stove, he’s quick to set his coffee to the side, muttering a curse under his breath as he lowers the flame burning under the pan. You twist your body to grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it with the blazing hot liquid, crossing the kitchen to settle at the table.

The subsequent silence is companionable, and you let the coffee rouse the parts of your brain that haven’t quite caught up with you, yet. You watch the strong muscles of Joel’s back, rippling and pulling under his shirt, as he extends his arm to pull a plate down from a different cupboard.

It’s mesmerizing, the agile way he moves, so it catches you off guard when he slides the plate and a fork in front of you, steam rolling off the scrambled eggs and slices of toast.

You hadn’t even noticed him using the toaster.

“Oh,” you squeak, blinking away the surprise you know is written all over your face. “You shouldn’t h-”

“Wanted to.” It’s kind, but matter-of-fact. A stern statement to dissuade you from arguing back.

As he lowers himself into the chair across from you, tossing his own full plate onto the table, you can’t help but remember his hands on your jaw the last time the two of you had been here together.

Together.

He immediately digs into his food, shoveling it into his mouth and slurping his coffee. You drop your gaze to the plate in front of you, picking up the fork and gingerly shuffling the contents of it around.

Something close to guilt needles at your stomach, and all too suddenly the words are hot on your tongue.

“I lied to you last night.”

Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look up at you — just keeps chewing and swallowing.

“Yeah?” Another bite, more chewing, swallowing again.

“I…I kissed someone. At the club.”

The confession hangs between you, though he remains as taciturn as you’ve ever seen him. It’s only when he draws his mug up to his mouth that he even meets your eyes, subtle amusement dancing in the liquid amber of them.

It’s candy Pop Rocks compared to what would have been Tommy’s dynamite.

Joel hasn’t stilled at all, continuing to drink his coffee and scoop his eggs on top of his toast.

“You…asked if I met anyone. And I lied to you.”

Toast halfway to his mouth, the small pile of eggs perched atop it dangerously close to slipping off, he pauses. His brows pull together in a question that you can’t quite read. An epiphany that you’re not privy to.

Lowering his arm, your eyes follow the eggs as they fall to his plate with a muted plop.

“Y’don’t owe me anythin’, Peach.”

Liar.

“But I-”

He shakes his head, and whatever it was that you wanted to say dies in your throat. “Y’had a reason to not tell me. And that reason belongs to you and you alone.”

You scrunch your brows together, an unfamiliar feeling building in your chest. He watches as it happens, his own chest pulling tight at the recognition of your uncertainty, of the doubt in your eyes. He’s quick to lean over the table, over the momentarily forgotten plates of food, to soothe your skin with a knowing drag of his thumb. The fork in your hand falls, clattering against the ceramic.

“Hey. Soften up, darlin’. Just don’t want you to think y’have t’tell me anythin’ y’don’t want to.” His voice is low, eyes intently searching yours. “Doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you’re tellin’ me.”

There’s something so tender about the way he tells you this, the way he touches you, that you’re sure you’ll spontaneously combust. Nothing has ever belonged to you — and only you — before. Not even your thoughts have ever been your own, the space reserved and velvet-roped for the ghosts of your shortcomings.

And you know that though Joel doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of what he’s saying, the words are bubblegum and champagne to you. Exactly, perfectly right.

“You’re good. It’s okay.” He gently brushes a still-damp tangle of your hair back over your ear, and you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is pounding. “Y’don’t always have to be so…hard on yourself.”

You’re good.

“Say it, Peach.”

Like he can read your mind. Like he can reach directly inside you, all those ties he’d undone, to extract the most vulnerable parts. Soften them. Shield them. Nurture them.

As though he can taste the desperation surging off your skin.

“I’m good.” Your own voice is so small, you hardly recognize it. The words taste bitter, grapefruit with the sugar dusted off. Unearned.

“You’re good, sweetheart,” he repeats, the rough tips of his fingers sliding along your jaw as he pulls his hand back, dropping it to retrieve his abandoned toast. “Now please eat. It’ll help.”

Hesitantly picking up your fork again, you mirror him — biting and chewing thoughtfully, humming as the toast settles in your stomach. Sipping your coffee. It’s almost easy.

Joel makes it easy.

Every now and again he flicks his eyes up to watch you, to make sure you’re actually eating, silently pleased as the amount on your plate slowly diminishes. He finishes before you do, shoving his plate forward and tipping back in his chair, fingers wrapping around his mug comfortably.

Moving the last bits of egg around the perimeter of your plate, you take the opening as Joel’s shoulders relax against the slatted wood.

“I, um, didn’t think you’d be…like this.”

It catches him off guard, a warm laugh betraying his usual stoicism. The levity of it curls around your limbs, climbs the length of your spine. “Oh yeah? ‘N what’d you think I’d be like?”

Avoidant. Brooding. Grumpy.

“Much less…pleasant?” You crinkle your nose at the word, not satisfied with it. “Or, like, you’re kind of…nice?”

This time he laughs out loud, angling his head back and opening his mouth wide. The sound of it lights you up from the inside, sparkly and hot.

“I mean…oh my god, that’s so stupid. I just mean…like, I think being here…will be good for me.”

You’re babbling now, skirting around the fact that you think being around him will be good for you. But something deep in your stomach tells you that he already knows. That he’s always known.

Dropping his head to his chest, you think you see a light sprinkle of pink break out across his tanned cheeks and nose. He clears his throat, mouth obscured by his coffee mug.

“I’m nice t’you, sweetheart.”

The remainder of the day is spent zeroed in on your work laptop, still at the kitchen table, legs stretched across the chair Joel had occupied that morning.

He had slipped out after breakfast to run errands — a few work related, a few personal — asking if you’d wanted to come. The invitation had made your heart swell, the feeling of being wanted stirring in your veins. It was hard to resist, the promise of more time with him so incredibly alluring, but you’d declined, work hanging over your head like a raincloud.

“It’s Saturday, Peach,” he’d murmured, eyeing you as you’d flipped open the slender screen of the device.

“Good thing I don’t have any plans, then,” you’d replied, clicking the trackpad to open your multiple files — budgets and spreadsheets and invoices stacking one on top of the other — thoughts turning to how much you’d rather be climbing into Joel’s truck beside him.

But he’d backed off, dropping a quick squeeze to your shoulder before leaving.

It’s not until he’d been gone for some time that it strikes you how different the interaction was with Joel than it ever had been with Tommy — no exasperation, no stomping out of the house, no argument. And you can’t compare them, you know, because he’s not Tommy, and he’s not your boyfriend —but it’s stable, sustainable. A quiet admission of knowing what you need. Of some kind of trust passing between the two of you.

A disruptive ringing snaps you back to reality, your fingers still resting on the keyboard of the laptop. The screen has gone black, an indication of the amount of time passed.

With a slight shake of your head, your eyes track to the smaller screen, your sister’s name and picture lit up. Uneasiness rolls through you, as it always does when she calls.

“Hey, Kit.” You drop your head back onto the curved wood of the chair, exhaling shallowly through your nose.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

You can hear the shrieking of children in the background, the clatter of pots and pans and running water.

“Are you doing the dishes?” It’s in your best interest to sidestep the question, her giving you the perfect opportunity to do so.

“I didn’t think you’d actually answer.”

The fingers of your other hand find the bridge of your nose, squeezing gently.

“I’ve been…busy. Work has been a lot.”

Liar sits just below your diaphragm, pendulous and dark.

“And how has living with Joel been?”

You should have known that she’d cut straight to the point. Like she always does.

“It’s fine, Kit. It’s been going really well, actually.” You can’t help but snap, the tranquil feeling of Joel’s confidence in you waning into annoyance at being treated like a child by your sister.

Beyond that, a significant part of you is determined to protect the strange, placid thing between you and Joel, whatever it is. Whatever it isn’t.

Kit sighs, but it’s soft. “I’m just calling to say hey. We haven’t talked in so long.”

“You’re calling to check up on me.”

“Is there something so wrong with that? I’m your sister.”

“Not my mother.”

You regret the words as soon as they pass your lips. You can feel her hurt seeping through the phone, from thousands of miles away. It cuts to your core.

“Kit, I didn’t-”

“You’re right. I’m not your mom. But you could at least be fucking kind to me, because I am all you’ve got.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Kit rarely — if ever — curses, and it hits you like a punch in the stomach.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears immediately swimming in your line of vision. “You just, remind me of her so much sometimes, and…and I…”

“Have a lot of unresolved bullshit with her.”

“Yeah.”

She’s never said the words aloud before; it’s a subject the two of you had always avoided into adulthood. The crevasse between you, wide and gaping. Hearing her say it, acknowledge it, feels like sucking fresh air into your lungs after holding your breath underwater for too long.

“Daniel! Stop hitting your sister!” She suddenly calls out, and the moment crashes down at your feet.

“Look, um, I’m working. Let’s talk later this week, okay?” You sniffle, salty tears threatening to spill over. “Love you.”

You click to end the call before she can protest.

Rubbing your hands down your face, you wish you hadn’t even answered. Talking about her is never easy, but talking about her with Kit is something you’d danced around for years.

The phone begins to vibrate again, and you almost swipe to ignore it, assuming it’s Kit angrily calling back. But it’s Joel’s name splashed across the screen, and your heart thrums with familiarity. With relief.

“Hey, darlin’.” He says when you answer, the warm timbre of his voice washing everything else out of your head — Tommy and Kit and work included. “I’m thinkin’ about orderin’ pizza, that sound okay t’you?”

“Please, that sounds great.” And it does. Easy. Low maintenance. Comfortable. Exactly what you need. “But only if we can have beers, too.”

He chuckles, the sound low in his throat. “Read my mind, Peach.”

“You’re in the same exact place you were when I left,” Joel exclaims as he walks through the door, a rack of beer on his hip.

“Money never sleeps,” you reply, closing the laptop with finality and stifling a yawn.

“Maybe not, but you need to.”

“Mmm, pizza and beer first,” you hum, pushing yourself up from the table and joining him at the counter, his hands already tearing at the cardboard.

“Anythin’ excitin’ happen while I was out?” He holds a bottle out to you, fingers grazing yours as you take it. A thrill shoots down your spine, settling between your legs.

You lean back against the sink, drawing in a deep breath before tipping the beer back into your mouth. “Nothing I’d love to revisit at this moment.”

The only thing you’d love in this moment is to bask in Joel’s magic — let it wash over you, head to toe. Erase the terrible things you’d said to Kit. Be good again.

He quirks a brow at you, but doesn’t press. Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a pizza app pulled up. You shake your head, pushing it away.

“I will eat literally whatever you order.”

Shrugging, he drops his gaze to the screen, thumb flicking up to scroll through the menu slowly. “Hope y’actually mean that. Might try to order a gross pizza just to call y’on your bluff.”

45 minutes later, you’re both on the couch, beer and pizza in hand, an old movie playing in the background. One of your favorites — a sprawling mansion on the English coast, a haunted marriage, the shadow of a mysterious ex-wife, Rebecca. One of Hitchcock’s best, in your opinion.

Joel is happy to oblige, love a good black ‘n white slipping out of his otherwise full mouth.

As much as you love the film, you’re preoccupied with the way the evening sun casts the room in a golden glow, and how it seems to accentuate Joel’s innate softness. A softness you feel privileged to see, to have lavished on you. You want to drown in it — let his kindness corrupt you, let him untangle you.

Selfish fizzes at your fingertips, creeps up the span of your arms.

You shift your focus to the ropey muscles and tendons of Joel’s neck, gaze climbing up his strong jaw, covered in a smattering of salt and pepper scruff, to the long line of his aquiline nose. He balances his half-empty beer bottle on his knee, fingers wrapped around the neck of it.

And if you’re being perfectly honest with yourself, you don’t want to think about anything else. You don’t want to consider what it all means, yet. You want to just exist, here, with him. Watching the way he watches the movie, the way he gulps his beer down.

Hidden from the rest of the world.

Tucking your legs up underneath your body, you let your head loll on the cushion of the couch. You’d hide forever, if you could.

You stretch your arms above you, a sleepy, dopey grin splayed across your mouth — secure glowing fluorescent at the apex of your thighs. The movem ent draws his attention, as though he’d heard your pulse cry his name.

“Tired?” His voice thick, eyes tracing the soft shape of your arms as they reach skyward.

“Mhm. But I wanna finish the movie.”

A coy, sideways smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he leans forward to place his pizza plate on the coffee table.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he drawls lowly, sloping back to slide his hand across your shoulders and wrap his fingers gently around your bicep to tug you closer. Turning, you meet him with wide eyes, glittering in the dark, your heart a trembling magic eight ball — are you sure this is okay?

And without words, he lets you know that it is. Lets you know that he wants you to.

Guided by his large open palm, you carefully curl into his side, dropping your head to his lap. You pull your legs up to your chest, both hands nestling narrowly under his thigh. His hand hovers over the soft curve of your hip, a barely-there touch that makes you ache.

You draw in a deliberate breath, holding it deep until he finally lets his hand drop to the exposed flesh between the band of your shorts and raised hem of your t-shirt.

A million sparks of light burst over your skin, fireworks exploding across the creamy silk of it. Your eyes flutter closed, hyper-aware of every tense of his fingers. The movie continues to play, but the whole world has fluctuated to both start and end in the exact place that he touches you.

As though there is no before this moment in time, only after.

Inevitable.

His hand slides up the length of your body, over the notches of your ribs, and higher still so that his fingers skim the delicate line of your neck. You can feel him relax further into the cushions of the couch, broad body molding to its shape, and you wonder if he’s concentrating on you as hard as you are on him.

In an answer to your unspoken question, he begins to tenderly stroke the spread of your hair, fanned down your shoulders and pooled in his lap.

“Y’know,” he mumbles, eyes still cast to the television, “we had breakfast and dinner together today.”

“We did,” you agree, a slight simper at your lips.

“‘N the world didn’t end, did it, Peach?” He angles his chin down to look at you at the same time you tilt your head to look up at him. He hasn’t stopped caressing the silky locks of your hair, and when you meet his eyes, he grasps a fistful of it gently. The pleasurepain of it makes your blood hot.

“No,” you whisper, “it didn’t.”

He leans closer by just a fraction, and you can’t help but be entranced by the shape of his mouth as his plush lips form the words that cross them.

“Want it to be like that everyday.”

He’s looking at you like there’s a peephole into your soul — a pinpoint view of the feral thing inside of you, on display for him. He’s looking at you like it excites him.

“Me too, Joel,” you breathe, the possibility a white static between you.

Not a single thing outside of the two of you exists in this moment. He prefers it that way, having you all to himself.

“Like you bein’ here, sweetheart.” There’s not a trace of hesitancy in his voice, but he says it like it’s a secret. “Like you workin’ at my kitchen table, and havin’ pizza and beer, and watchin’ old movies with you. Like wakin’ up knowin’ you’re here.”

He moves to trace the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb, and you’re suddenly looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, breathing stilted.

Closing the distance between you, he noses along the soft cut of your jaw, burying his face in your hair. He wants to drink down the way you gasp when he does; the sound burned into his brain, knowing it will come back to him when he’s stroking himself off later.

The elastic compulsion of his need so prominent, so inescapable, that the next words out of his mouth surprise even him.

“Go to sleep, Peach.” His mouth is on your ear, goosebumps rising in the wake of his breath over your skin. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

Taking one last deep breath of you in, he pulls back, resuming running his hand up and down the hills and valleys of your body.

The most that he’ll allow himself.

“I said some fucked up things to Kit today. She called while you were gone.”

The words fall out of your mouth, buried shame and anger spilling out with them. A confession.

Joel hums, hand still roaming, almost absentmindedly. It’s reassuring, a reminder of his words — you’re good.

“Siblings are…hard,” he suggests, emphasizing his point with a quick press of his fingers into your hip. “They get your best ‘n your worst, and don’t have a choice. It’s…safe to put the hard things on ‘em.”

“And bein’ the older one is…is…” he continues, pausing to clear his throat, voice tinged with something you can’t name, “a lot of responsibility. ‘N y’always wanna do right by them, y’know? Protect ‘em. But sometimes y’can’t. Hafta let ‘em figure it out on their own. Fuck up on their own.”

The silence that hangs in the air is charged with unsaid words. Unasked questions. Realities and consequences that neither of you are ready to explore the depths of. Guilt.

“Do you think I’m fucking up?”

“No, sweetheart. But I can’t say the same for other people.”

He squeezes your side again, letting his fingers linger just a touch longer than he had before. Dizziness snakes up your vertebrae, cloudy and disorienting. Desire. Want.

It’s a torrid kind of want, one that burrows under your skin and makes itself known. You think Joel can feel it, too, the way his touch roves over you — can feel it burn ing hot at the intersection of your skin and his.

But your brain pulls your body back, settles it to a low simmer. Reminds you to think instead of act.

And eventually, you fall asleep doing exactly that.

When you wake up later, sleep-drunk and unsure of the time, a too-bright infomercial in place of the movie, Joel is still there, just like he’d promised, head dropped to the flat of the couch, softly snoring. Chest steadily rising and falling, fingers curled into your flesh, firmly clasped just below your ribcage.

You don’t move an inch, afraid to wake him, and fall back asleep to the sound of his breathing.

A week passes. Then two weeks. And before you know it, summer winds into autumn, and the two of you slip into an easy routine — somewhat delicate, somewhat hesitant, but comfortable. And you feel silly, now, considering how naturally effortless it is. As though it could have always been this way.

And truly, that’s the hardest part to navigate. Drawing the line between what is, and what you want it to be.

Neither of you has brought up that night, at least to one another. But after you’ve gone to bed each night, you replay it in your mind, the feeling of his hands on you the image at the forefront of it; his name a whimper on your lips as your own fingers crawl beneath your panties.

Each night, wishing they were his.

It’s far too easy to overthink, second guess, dissect the way Joel’s fingers brush yours as you hand him his coffee, or the way his lips quirk up while he watches you struggle to assemble a bookshelf.

“Peach, please let me help. Promise it’ll be so much faster.”

Your indignant scowl, arms twisted over your chest in defiance. His soft laugh, deft hands picking up where yours had left off, piecing the cheap wood together without a hitch. Sitting back on his haunches, massive fingers tugging at your forearms to untangle them. The sticky warmth in his eyes when you let him.

“See? Coulda just asked me.”

Ensuring a soft landing, in every sense of the word.

The routine you’ve created is grounding, satisfying. Something to focus on aside from your intensely confusing feelings about Joel, something that pushes everything else to the back of your mind. Something to lose yourself in.

It’s not much — no caviar and lingerie and nightcaps, but it’s yours. An ardent, fulfilling thing that makes you feel steady on your feet. That makes the sharp, prodding fingers of your thoughts dissolve into a gleaming mist. Even the edges of the words in your head, the angry curvatures of your mother’s voice, bleed into nothing in the safety net of him.

The magic of it lies in its simplicity: taking turns cooking, laundry on Sundays, greetings with warm smiles even when you have to work late or spend entire evenings parked in front of your laptop. Some evenings he’ll go to the local dive with friends, some nights you’ll bury yourself in a book in your bed. The divine act of surviving.

The foundation of something, being constructed slowly from the ground up. Methodically. Each brick a meaningful gesture, word, moment.

You, being rebuilt from the ground up, at the skilled hands of Joel Miller.

A way back to yourself.

And it’s not like you don’t catch him watching you while you work, or let him drag your legs over his lap while your laptop perches precariously on your thighs on the couch. His hands are on you in some way or another more often than not, and you like it. You want it.

If only it were that easy.

If only it could be so uncomplicated — some semblance of normal.

But it’s not. And you know it never will be. So you take what you can get — reveling in the hours spent watching movies together, the errands run together, the shared jokes and spilled chinese takeout. Your own brand of normal.

And he tells you, often, how much he prefers this kind of normal — the one with you in it.

“You ‘n me, Peach, remember?”

The line a continuous, hazy blur — what is, and what you want it to be.

“Hi babe! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, so we should go out tonight? Thoughts? No, wait — don’t think about it, we should just driiiink about it! Love you!”

Ava’s chocolate-box trill fills the cabin of your car. Rain drizzles lazily down the windows as you click to replay the voicemail, the familiarity of her elongated words and upward inflection making your heart ache. It’s not the first time she’s invited you out since what you’ve come to refer to as the incident, but it’s the first time you��ve felt genuine remorse at turning her down.

But you will do so without hesitating, the grocery bags in the trunk of your car being the only thing on your agenda for the dreary Friday evening.

Typing out a quick text to Ava (sorry babe! raincheck!), your thumb lingers over the thread just below hers. Clicking it open again, the words on the screen send a languid fire rolling through your veins.

You: I’m cooking tonight

Joel Miller: whatever you want, peach

Whatever you want.

The possibility licks hot at every inch of you.

The kitchen has become your favorite place in the house. The heart of it, the life of it. You’ve memorized every nook and cranny, each knot and split of the woodwork. The contents of all drawers and cabinets, the haphazard organization of it all.

You move around the room fluidly, exuding a sense of belonging that’s not lost on Joel. Body propped against the doorframe, he watches as you pour and stir and salt — as comfortable, as confident, as he’s ever seen you.

A bittersweet conception stirs in him, the edges of it coming into soft-focus. Before it can fully form on the screen of his mind, grow roots in the cavern of his heart, he clears his throat to get your attention.

“Peach.”

“Hmm?” You twist just enough to catch his gaze, clocking the expectant look in his eyes. Immediately laying the spoon in your hand on the counter, you face your entire body to his, matching the open expression.

“Close your eyes.”

You obey without question, squeezing them shut and unfolding your hands in front of you like a prayer. There’s the sound of his feet and a quick hiss as Joel opens and closes the refrigerator, placing something cold and dewy in your open palms. Your fingers automatically close around the curves of it.

A wine bottle.

Dragging your bottom lip with your teeth, the corners of your mouth quirk up. Your lashes flutter open, gaze sweeping over the intricate label — a golden goddess, surrounded by ribbons of different shades of pink and blue, dotted with tiny golden star details. The shiny, beveled type spells out Prophecy just below the image.

“This is my favorite.” There’s awe in your voice. Reverence. It shines in your irises as you look up at Joel, who is posted up against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Was on sale.”

He breaks into a smirk, cheeks flushing as your sweet laugh fills the space between the two of you.

“Either way,” you respond, humor bleeding into the edges of your voice, eyes rolling fondly, “mind opening it up while I finish everything else?”

Raising his hand to retrieve the bottle, he’s quick to wrap his fingers around the arches of yours. He tugs once, firmly, pulling both you and the bottle close to his chest.

It rattles the air in your lungs, the tiniest oh fanning the base of his throat. He dips his head to meet your gaze, breath punching warm across the bridge of your nose and cheekbones. It’s dizzying, the closeness.

“How’d you know?”

You’re asking about the wine. There’s two inches of space separating you, and you’re asking about the wine.

He leans down further, the slope of his nose pulling across your cheek to graze the shell of your ear. His breathing is deep, measured, in control.

“You brought’t over for dinner once. Said the same thing — was your favorite. I just remembered, that’s all.” He says it casually, as if discussing the weather. As if knowing your favorite wine is the most natural thing in the world to him. “Wanted to get you somethin’ special.”

Whatever you want, Peach.

Your fingers draw swirls against the bottle, the heat from his leeching overtop of them. His grip tightens, words ringing in your ears. You can smell his shampoo, his cologne, him. The spicy warmth of it is mesmerizing — it infiltrates your senses, knocks you off balance.

The rest of the world feels a million miles away.

“Shit!” you hiss suddenly, wrenching your hands away and spinning to remove the saucepan from the flame. “I don’t want it to scorch.”

Joel hums amusedly, hands scrambling so the bottle doesn’t slip and shatter. You then hear him begin to drag open and slam closed multiple drawers, the clang and clatter of various utensils nearly drowning out the swearing under his breath.

“Where’s the damn—”

“Here.” Using your hand not balancing the saucepan, you stretch to retrieve the corkscrew buried in the drawer closest to you, watching through your lashes as he meets your extended grasp to take it.

His gaze lingers on you a split second, corners of his mouth downturned, brows drawn low. Analyzing. Memorizing. It doesn’t last long, him turning on his heel to retreat to the kitchen table.

Something about the way he does it pulls at you, a tangle that you can’t quite find the end of. It’s kindling to the fire smoldering low in your belly, the one you’re desperate to keep at bay — the one that roars back to life as Joel carefully pours your favorite wine into two plastic solo cups.

You can’t help but watch, the repetitive glug glug glug of the liquid into the cup matching the beat of the nearly-boiling blood in your veins. A sheepish smile overtakes his stoic facade, his eyes meeting yours across the room.

“Don’t have any wine glasses.” He nods to the plastic cups, a gentle laugh at the very edge of his words.

“Wouldn’t want one anyway,” you reply, mirroring the way his cheeks round out in a grin.

You’re just spooning the pasta and sauce onto plates when he materializes at your elbow, making a grab for both dishes.

“Uh! I don’t think so!” You click your tongue against your teeth teasingly, blocking his body with yours. “You go sit. I’ll bring them over.”

“You cooked,” he protests, smooth palm grazing your ribs in another attempt to bypass you.

“So you can clean, if you’re worried about it.” Flashing another brilliant sideways grin at him, you pick up a plate in each hand and nudge him backwards with your hip.

“Yes ma’am.” It’s a capitulation, a willingness to step back and let you lead him.

The notion strikes hot against you, nestles in the aching space between your thighs. It scales your stomach, gains speed in the span of your arms, makes your fingers tremble as you set the plates on the table.

“Cheers,” you mumble, scrabbling to pick up the flimsy cup, tipping it just so in his direction before taking a sizable gulp.

As he parallels your action in bringing the wine to his mouth, you wonder if there will ever be a time when he doesn’t trigger the roiling heat in your veins.

Then again, you think, maybe you want him to stoke that in you — always.

Fingers delicate around the body of your just-refilled red solo, you make your way from the kitchen to the couch, where Joel is slouched back, legs parted. It’s impossible not to drag your eyes across the muscled heft of his thighs, to not linger on the way his jeans stretch to accommodate him. His heavy hands rest on the bulk of them, fingers spread languidly.

While you watch him, he’s watching you. You can tell by the way his digits flex and relax, callused pads pulling patterned lines over denim. Keeping his composure, despite the way the wine ignites him. Despite the way you ignite him.

The lights in the room are low, the comforting drum of fat raindrops on the glass panes of the window constant. Your limbs feel loose, a combination of Joel and the wine. There’s a record on low in the background, but you don’t know who. You’d settled on the cushions while he’d taken the shiny disc out of the dust jacket gently, dropped the needle softly, with the most care you’d ever seen, and let the smooth rhythm of it fill the room.

“You gonna cook like that more often?” It’s casual, airy. As if the walls of the room aren’t closing in on the two of you, pushing you nearer and nearer to him.

Inescapable.

You giggle — you fucking giggle — stepping over him to curl back into your place on the couch.

“If you’ll let me.”

He scoffs, turning his body to face you. “Let you?”

You smile dreamily, looking up at him through your lashes. He’s close enough that you can climb over him, bracket his thighs with yours, take his hands and drag them up the length of your body.

There’s no voice in the back of your head telling you not to, for once. No whispers admonishing you, reminding you that you’re wicked and worthless and unlovable.

So when he repeats himself, asking “let you?” in a thick voice, you do.

Your body moves before your brain has time to react — you throw one leg over his lap, hands grasping for purchase on the back of the couch for balance, situating your thighs on the outside of his. It’s a snug fit, one that opens your hips wide, the stinging stretch of it pushing you forward. You relax your core over his, the zipper of his jeans biting into the ice-cream flesh of your inner thigh.

And when your brain finally does catch up, all you can feel are his big palms cupped around the backs of your thighs, kneading the exposed flesh there. His fingertips barely graze beneath the hems of your sleep shorts, and you’re all too-aware of how close they are to your center.

There’s a satisfied hum on his lips, a knowing growl in his throat. A silent admission of how long he’s waited for you. A confession of a different kind of hunger, a kind with legs and buoyancy.

His eyes burn into yours — no traces of hesitancy, surprise, guilt woven into the golden gleam of them.

Twin masks slipping at the same time. Resolve stretched to snapping, satisfaction within tasting distance as you grind down into him — just once, desperation sliding down your spine.

“You can have whatever you want, Peach.” His voice is low, a wanton whisper that punches somewhere near your throat.

Those words again.

Whatever you want.

You’re looking down at him, his irises shining with earnestness, and you can’t help but raise your hand from the couch to card through his thick waves. But he catches your wrist before you can, bringing it down to the heat of his mouth to press his lips to your open palm without breaking his searing gaze.

You moan. At least, you think you do, though it’s a quiet, broken thing. A whine. A plea.

His thumb swipes back and forth over your wrist, your hand small in his grip. You watch through hooded eyes as he lowers it to the crotch of his jeans, your breath catching in the cavern of your chest as you feel him for the first time.

It’s somewhat surreal — the thickness of his hard cock in your palm, separated only by the material of his pants. Every fantasy you’ve harbored about him unwrapped at the tips of your fingers, his hand pressing yours into him, unforgiving and firm.

His other hand swallows the curve of your thigh, chases up your side to grasp at your hip, dragging your cunt over him. He drops his head back, repeating the action, the ropes of muscle in his neck pulled taut as he bites back a groan.

Your head is swimming — Joel’s heady scent and bruising touch combined with the wine makes everything feel soft-focus and shimmery, like a dream. You cant your hips again, focusing on the way his jaw ticks when you do, lost in watching the way his body responds to yours.

The reality of it sits heavy between the place his skin meets yours — breaths mingling as a cry of finally, finally, finally. It consumes you both in such a way that neither of you hear a key turning in the lock, the door slamming open, or heavy boots in the entryway.

It’s not until he speaks that both you and Joel snap your heads in his direction, chests heaving, hands climbing. Caught.

“Guess it’s true, huh? Y’really are enjoyin’ my sloppy seconds.”

[rosetterer]

bucktommy + being catcalled while working + turning around annoyed just to see it's your flirty husband

You can also read this on AO3: catcalling - rosetterer - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

But here we go:

Catcalling

Nobody ever talked about how boring being a firefighter could be. Now, Buck found every aspect of the job interesting as hell but there were days when all they did was check cars that had been part of a crash or help people get out of a broken elevator. It wasn’t anything that exciting, and genuinely, the calm days were sometimes the best.

While danger gave him the kind of adrenaline rush that he craved, it usually also meant that someone had to suffer. And Buck didn’t want that.

Sometimes he just wanted to stand under a tree and try to figure out how to get a cat to come down.

Just like today.

”And why exactly did you call us?” Hen asked the elderly woman who was staring up at the tree.

”Do I look like I can climb trees? I can barely climb stairs,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. ”Poor little Catrick… Loves to climb but never knows how to come down.”

”Catrick?” Buck barked out a laugh and turned to look at the woman, who didn’t seem amused. He forced a neutral expression on his face. ”Catrick, right. We’ll get C- Catrick down in just a moment. Easy peasy.”

”Are you going to climb the tree?” The woman asked, eyes now focused on Buck.

”Oh no,” Buck told her and nodded toward the firetruck. ”We’ll just use the ladder. Is… Catrick-”

Hen burst into laughter, which got her a good glare from the woman.

”Is your cat aggressive?” Buck reworded his question, trying his best not to look at Hen, who was now, thankfully, walking away.

”He scratches a little,” the woman said. ”But you’ve got thick gloves, you’ll be fine.”

”Alright then,” Buck said with another nod, turning to look at the rest of his team. ”So… Who’s going up?”

”Not it!” Hen called out immediately.

"I'm not going either. I'm going to stay on the ground and… lead the operation,” Buck told them. ”The last time I was up on that ladder, things didn’t go that well.”

”Don’t even joke about that,” Eddie told him as he passed him but shot him a small smile anyway. ”I’ll go. You tell me which way to go. The leaves are making it difficult to see where exactly that cat-”

”Catrick,” Buck reminded with a grin.

”Catrick,” Eddie repeated, sounding almost disgusted with the name. ”...Is hiding.”

”Alright, you go on up then,” Buck said, glad that he wasn’t going to be the one getting scratched today.

----

It didn’t take long for Eddie to be in position. The leaves of the tree were causing some trouble as Catrick seemed to be hiding somewhere right in the middle. Basically, Eddie couldn’t see anything and had to reach into the tree blind while Buck told him where to move his hands so that he could get hold of the cat.

”A little to the left,” Buck called out.

The whole tree seemed to rustle as Catrick decided that the last thing he wanted to do was to come down or to go into Eddie’s arms.

”Damn it,” Buck mumbled, hands on his hips.

”What now?!” Eddie yelled from behind the branches, a single leaf stuck to his helmet.

”I’m thinking!” Buck told him.

He really was. If the cat didn’t want to come down, it wasn’t going to come down. Scaring him wasn’t exactly a kind way to deal with the situation but if he kept running away, they didn’t really have any other choice.

It wasn’t like they could be here all day long. Buck would just get a stick from somewhere and poke-

A whistle broke him out of his thoughts.

”Looking hot!”

Now, they did get whistled at every once in a while. Usually by drunk women having a bachelorette party.

When Buck turned around, that wasn’t what he found this time around.

”Tommy?” He asked, watching as the man walked toward him with his hands in his pockets and a sweet smile on his face.

”Look at you saving the world, Evan,” he said.

”What are you doing here?” Buck couldn’t help but break into a smile at the sight of his man.

”I was on my way home from a shift. Noticed some familiar faces,” Tommy said, nodding in the direction of Hen who was waving at him. ”I’m guessing there’s a cat stuck in a tree, judging by the way Eddie’s struggling.”

Buck glanced up at Eddie, who was now trying to get to the cat without any directions.

”Yeah… Catrick,” Buck explained simply.

”Catrick?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, and broke into laughter. ”That’s amazing.”

Buck stepped a little closer, bringing a hand to the hoodie Tommy was wearing.

”This is mine,” he mumbled, smiling, not letting go of the fabric.

”The last time you stole my hoodie, it was all ’what’s mine is yours’ and-”

Buck pressed his lips onto Tommy's, silencing him. Hen clapped excitedly, while Eddie cursed somewhere up above them and Buck could already imagine Bobby shooting a very disappointed look in his direction.

But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

”What was that for?” Tommy asked, smirking. His hand was still lingering on Buck’s waist.

”You look cute in my hoodie,” Buck explained with a shrug and leaned a little closer. ”Also, didn’t take you for the type to catcall.”

”Oh, I don’t usually,” Tommy said casually. ”I just noticed that you guys were here and that there was a cat stuck in a tree so I thought catcalling might be kind of appropriate for the situation at hand.”

Buck groaned at his joke but couldn’t help but smile wider.

"And also… There happened to be a really hot firefighter standing near the street and I just couldn't help myself," Tommy continued, his voice smooth, and right at that moment, Buck just wanted to go home with him.

”Yeah?”

”Yeah…” Tommy whispered.

”If you two are done flirting, I could use some help!” Came Eddie’s muffled voice from above. ”I’ve got Catrick!”

”I should probably go,” Buck told him then with an apologetic smile.

”Go on. I’ll see you at home,” Tommy said. ”I have to get going as well or my car’s getting towed. Not actually allowed to park here.”

He looked in the direction of his car, parked a little haphazardly on the side of the street.

”Tommy Kinard, breaking the law. Who would’ve guessed?” Buck couldn’t help but tease.

”Anything for you, you know that,” Tommy said and pressed their lips together once more.

God, Buck had missed this.

”Buck!” Eddie’s yell made them break apart.

”I guess I’m needed,” he mumbled against Tommy’s lips.

”I guess you are,” Tommy replied and started slowly making his way to his car by walking backward and keeping his eyes on Buck. ”Stay safe, Evan. I’ll see you later. We’re ordering in.”

”Sounds great!” Buck said, very aware of the dreamy smile that was on his face.

Tommy always made him feel like he was floating.

”Buck!”

With a sigh, he turned around and rushed to where Eddie was calling for him.

Maybe he shouldn’t hope for a calm day after all. Saving cats was all well and good, especially when others did all the dirty work but serious calls made the time pass faster.

And he just couldn’t wait to get home.

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Epilogue

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Blue sets up her future in Joel's life, step by step by step

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TAGS HAVE BEEN SHITTY make sure you're caught up!!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

9 years later.

Life was good. Really fucking good.

You had two teenagers which was… fucking insane, honestly. Sarah and Ellie were close as two almost-twins could get, and often fought like it too. Nothing nasty or mean spirited, just so clearly sister stuff like Ellie using Sarah’s deodorant or Sarah taking Ellie’s coat. They’d fight and yell and Joel would tell them to knock it off before they stormed off. An hour later Ellie would say hey, the bachelor is on, wanna watch? Or Sarah would throw hot cheettos at Ellie and they’d be back to normal.

Tommy had been mostly sober for 5 years, his longest stretch yet. It was looking up, even after a few close calls. There had been a night or two Tommy had called Joel, close to relapse, but being the good brother he was Joel was always there. After a few years at his own apartment, Tommy had suffered a pretty bad near-relapse on hard drugs. He broke his 3 years sobriety on alcohol and called Joel one night crying while he was watching The Late Late Show, Sarah and Ellie up past their bedtimes one summer. 

“Tommy? What’s going on, man?” Joel stands up from the couch, already moving to get his shows as Ellie mutes Craig Furegson. Everyone is quiet as Joel listens. “I’ll be right there, man, don’t worry. Nah, it ain’t a problem at all, Tommy, Blue’s here with the girls.”

Joel stayed with a drunk Tommy all night, holding him, putting on shows, ordering pizza, playing card games, anything it took to keep Tommy from calling up his old dealer.

In the morning, Joel brought him home to sleep. It was the summer, so you were off and could watch Tommy while Joel went to work, Tommy using a sick day at the farm and Joel and Tess hustling extra hard to make up for it. It didn’t matter, because it was Tommy, and they’d do anything for him.

When he put Tommy asleep on the couch, Ellie and Sarah asked to talk to you and Blue, pulling you into Ellie’s room.

Ellie steepled her hands, looking like an evil villain in a made-for-tv-movie. “We have a proposition for you.”

“You’re not getting your nose pierced-”

“Joel.” You chastise.

“Sorry El, what is it.”

Ellie looks to Sarah, urging her on.

“We think uncle Tommy should move in with us again. We love him, and it worries us that he’s had to call you so much recently.”

You can see Joel close his eyes, the wrinkles around his face compounding. He was getting older, as were you, and you loved every single wrinkles and gray and pop of his knees. You speak before he does, knowing your husband is tired.

“I’m sorry, girls. We never wanted Tommy’s issues to effect you.”

Sarah: “We knew there were problems, even when we were young. It’s hard not to notice, you couldn’t have hid that unless he was never around, and we wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Besides, mom.” Ellie adds. “We’re teenagers now. 13 and 14 are practically adults!”

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t right to be worry’n about that at your age.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about every single thing all the time, and yet you do anyway, so it’s even!”

You crack a smile, Ellie, despite no blood relation at all, had taken after you, while Sarah reminded you a lot like her godmother, Talia, mixed with some of her dad. Ellie was agreat kid, even as she entered her teens, she remained steadfast. There was a… slight issue with her getting in fights in school, but when they talked to the principal, there was always a reason you thought made sense, even if the school was displeased. Once, some girl called Sarah a slur. Another time, a boy was bullying a disabled kid. They found out Ellie was gay after the incident where she punched a kid for pushing a boys head in a toilet for being gay.

By this point, coming out wasn’t a nerve wracking thing in your family for Ellie. You and Joel had made it very clear that they had nothing to worry about, and that much was obvious by the people in the girls' lives; Bill and Frank still employed Tommy Tess and Joel and had an active part in the girls' lives even though they could stay home during harvest now. Talia and Tess were their beloved aunts. Sarah was very close to Talia, bonding over hours of doing hair. Ellie and Tess clicked right now, both tomboys, but both girls loved both aunts. 

And of course there was Tommy. When Tommy came out, it began a long struggle of keeping him out of the closet. He switched from gay, bisexual, then insisting he was straight over and over again whenever he went through some identity crisis, or when he reconnected with military friends, or he heard of some hate crime. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, just a cycle of hook ups to keep him distracted.

The girls loved their uncle, Sarah in particular was attached at the hip to him, and it hurt her when he was hurting. You and Joel had tried to protect her, but she was an intuitive girl.

And then, there was you. You had wanted to wait until the girls were a little older to explain things to them, but they went to school in the same district you had taught in. a friend of Sarah’s suddenly wasn’t allowed to play at your home anymore, and soon a rumor went around school that you were born a man. Sarah came home crying one day when she was 12, and you didn’t want to lie to her. You and Joel sat Ellie and her down and explained it to them as best you could for their age. There weren't any handbooks for this sort of thing. 

There was a moment, a brief moment of worry in your head. The echo of Kayla’s voice telling you Sarah wouldn’t love you when she found out. But Kayla didn’t know Sarah. She’d probably seen Sarah three time since the day you confronted her for hurting Joel, and then disappeared. The only time you heard from her after that was when she sent back the papers, signed, relinquishing her parental rights so you could adopt Sarah. She enclosed a $50 check, and although Joel had told her that she could still see Sarah as long as Sarah agreed, you haven't heard from her since. 

At ages 11 for Ellie and 10 for Sarah, you held your daughters in the courthouse as they were legally adopted.

Now, you stood in the upstairs of the home you shared with your daughters and your husband as they showed you just the kind of young ladies they’d grown into.

Joel shook his head. “Thank you, girls, but we ain’t got room here. He’ll stay on the couch for a few days, but I don’t think he’d wanna stay there for more than that.”

After a bad night, Tommy stayed for a little bit. Joel said couch, but sometimes you took the couch so Tommy could sleep in the bed with Joel if he really was in a bad way. You loved Tommy like a brother, you and him getting close in the nearly year you both lived with Tess and Talia. 

Sarah and Ellie looked at each other, and Sarah spoke. “We decided we’d combine our rooms. Ellie will come sleep with me, and Uncle Tommy could have his old room back.”

You immediately felt your eyes watering, realizing how good your children had become, how much like their father they’d grown into. This is Joel’s call. “Girls, no, I don’t want y’all making these sacrifices-”

“Uncle Tommy raised me. And, no offense, but he’s my favorite person.” She said with a smile. “We want to.” And Ellie agreed.

Joel was still declining, but wavering. “I- thats very nice but if he were to move it, we’d have to commit to a year, maybe two, I don’t know…”

Ellie spoke now. “We think it would be best if he stayed for a while. We’re prepared to commit to this through high school. We wanna do this dad.” Her sincerity struck you, a young woman grown up right before your eyes. 

You turn to Joel.  “Baby… I think it might be a good idea…” When you turn to look at your husband, he has a tear rolling down his face and his chest breathing heavily. 

“Babygirls.” Joel’s voice warbled. “I love you, so much.”

When Tommy was sober and the worst of his hangove was done, you spoke to him.

2 months later he was moved into Ellie’s old room where he’s been the last year.

*

It’d been a year since that morning, and things were better than ever.

Tommy was sober, the girls were happy, you and Joel were happy, and everyone had driven out to Austin to celebrate Ellie’s first pride.

“Whatya think, kiddo?” Frank asked, clapping her back softly with his hand.

Ellie smiled widely, taking in everything around her.  “Pretty fucking cool!”

“Language.” Her dad chastised, earning a nudge from you. He continued. “Don’t be wonder’n off girls, it ain’t safe-”

You decide to tease him, being the only none LGBT person here, other than Sarah, although at 13 there was no reason she needed to commit either way. 

“Oh, so because almost everyone here is gay, it’s inherently more dangerous? Okay Joel.”

But Joel was not to be fooled when you’ve been playing this game for ten years. “Nice try baby…” He paused for a moment before adding, “You know it’s because the city makes me nervous, right? Not because-”

“I know, Joely” You pinch his butt, making Tess behind you gag, as if she hadn’t gotten a grab of a few Miller buttcheeks back before getting married. Well, legally recognized in the State of Massachutis, and not in the other 49.

“What about him?” Ellie asks loudly, pointing to a guy and nudging her uncle. “He looks like he could teach you better spanish.”

Tommy flicked her. “Don’t fuck’n point, shit head.” He ignored Joel’s tired reminder for language. Tommy is where she picked up the habit. “And just because he’s got brown skin doesn’t mean he speaks spanish.”

Ellie looked to Sarah. Sarah’s eyes said no. Ellie’s impulse control said yes. “Hey! You!” Ellie shouts to the man while everyone around her tries to stop her. Poor guy was just trying to get a hot dog.

“Hey?” He looked confused but not unkind as she walked fearlessly too him. He was a little taller than her dad, not by much, dark curls sticking to his head with sweat. It wasn’t even noon yet, but June in Austen could kill. 

Joel is calling Ellie’s name, pulling on her arm but she turns to him, looking up. “Let me do this or I will start screaming stranger danger.” Joel let go, but facepalmed, staying right next to her none the less. “You speak spanish?” She asked the man, thumbing towards Tommy. “My unce here is looking to brush up.” Double Miller facepalm.

“Uhhhhh, no, but I can get by in Hindi.” He looked to Tommy with a grin. “I can impress some desi MILFs, if that’s your goal.”

Tommy swooped in slinging Ellie over his shoulder as she shouted ‘hey!’ and began backing away. “Don’t listen to her, she’s- I swear we’re not racist- I told her not to assume- listen, she knows like, no white people- I’m Mexican!” He nervous rambled, Ellie over his shoulder telling him he’s floundering.

The man just laughed. “Hey, it’s alright, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and turned around. Now facing the stranger, Ellie frantically motioned toward Tommy to him, pointing and drawing hearts in the air.

*

After running into him and embarrassing Tommy a few more times, Ellie and Sarah got his business card. Jake and Tommy have talked every day since.

That night, the girls sound asleep in their room, Tommy on the phone with Jake, you keep your hand wrapped tight around your husband's cock. You were tired, not wanting to get up to any antics but you definitely wanted to make your husband cum. He deserved an orgasm for dealing with crowds of strange people in a big city, constantly alert for his daughters, Tommy, Tess, Talia, you, and even Frank. Him and Bill were the same in that aspect, always keeping an eye on theirs, protecting the good people in this world. You suspected Bill was getting the same treatment on the farm right now. Well, almost. Bill didn’t strike you as the type to put up with edging.

“There you go baby, there you go… so close, so close… ah! Not yet!” You squeeze at the base of Joel’s cock, staving off his orgasm a third time. Oh, you were a tease.

“Blue, come ooooon!” He whines, fingers gripping the sheets so hard one corner was already pulled off the bed. “This ain’t fair.”

You begin to stroke him again, his hard and thick cock not allowing for you fingers to close around it, thick and juicy and oh-so mouth watering. 

“Ooooh poor baby boy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” You lied

“You always- ooohhh shit” Joel moans out for you, you love seeing your big tough man reduced to a whimpering puddle just from a little bit of edging. “You always say that, Blue”

Still, you laugh, your hand moving up and down on his cock as Joel begin to buck his hips into your fist. Silly boy, he thinks if he can reach his high faster, you’ll let him have it. “I know, I’m a meany meany.” You pinch his orgasm off again, giggling when he whispers a harsh-

“Fuck!” 

“Aht, aht, aht!” You continue to tease, spitting on his already over stimulated cock before playing with him more. “Language!” You reference his police of Ellie and Tommy.

Joel flops his head on the pillow. Your little pillow princess. “Oh I see. Y-your-” His words are cut off hummed whimper, his cute little feet wiggling. “You're punishing me for being annoying today?” He chuckles a little, knowing it’s all in fun.

You kiss his forehead. “Not one bit, baby. You’re my perfect man, and I want you to come. Go ahead Joel, come for me.” You pump him as the love of your life groans, covering your hand and his stomach in cum.

Once cleaned and in PJ’s, ready to sleep the fuck in on sunday, you assume your position behind him, wrapping your arms around his wide middle, getting a little wider every year, and kiss his scruffy neck. “Thank you for all you do for our family, baby.”

“Ain’t no thing.”

“But it is.” You coax him to look at you, his eyes wide and brown and beautiful. “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I had parents as supportive as you, loved me so unconditionally.” Things with your parents were pretty good now, they were. As well as you supposed it could get. They loved Sarah and Ellie and visited a few times a year, as you did them. Reconciling was more about giving grandparents to those girls they wouldn’t have otherwise. The day you met Joel, he said he hates his birthday, and that never changed. Years later, he’ll have a cake and accepts gifts, but it’s mostly for his girls. You found out his dad died on his birthday, leaving him without any parents. “Things would be so different. I wouldn’t have gone through addiction, I could have started hormones earlier and maybe I’d look-”

“Blue.” Joel turned over to cup your face. “There ain’t nothing wrong with the way you look. You’re my beautiful wife, and thats that.”

You smile at him. “Thank you, baby. But I mean it. I love that we can provide a different environment for Ellie to come out in.”

“I am too, mi amor.” He smiles back, and you lay your head on his chest. 

You wore his old flannel that night. It felt like home.

Wow, its been a ride!!

I know this series was small but im so thankful for everyone who read it and supported me!!!!

I hope somewhere out there, a transwoman reads this and feels seen <3 you are valued, you are important, you are loved

I love blue and I love the little word here, the found family Joel has gained over the years!!!! Now Jake enters the picture!

If you have any questions about this world, loose ends you didnt think i tied up or you have any additional q's of any kind, comment, reblog, or send an ask! Im happy to answer!

I love you all so much!

Please consider making a small donation to The Trevor Project <3

[shammers86]

Alright here goes. Buddie and BuckTommy.

I’ll start off by saying, I’m very very neutral on BuckTommy. I am happy Buck is bisexual. I just don’t see what fans of BuckTommy sees and that’s ok. But I am gonna tag it anti BuckTommy because my God I don’t want any hate. That being said, I am and always will be a Buddie shipper.

I also just finished my rewatch of season 5 and gasp, I found out that BuckTaylor wasn’t as bad as I thought it was then. EddieAna was *checks notes* just boring. Anyways, let’s get thoughts written down about what I expect the first three episodes will bring Eddie and Buck.

The first time I read this paragraph, I rubbed my hands together in glee because of angst. When was the last time Buck and Eddie were apart where Buck doesn’t see or have time for Eddie?

If you say season 5, I would say no. Even when Eddie left the 118, Buck was still in touch with Eddie. He had dinner with him and yes, Buck also imploded without Eddie there, they were still Buck and Eddie in 5B.

I think season 3 and the lawsuit was the last time where Eddie couldn’t reach out to Buck. And it seems like maybe this could be the case here. It would great to see Eddie and Buck figure out why they are miserable if they can’t see each other.

Onto BuckTommy. It seems like not much time has passed and this means… Buck and Tommy are still getting to know each other.

However, the word comfortable doesn’t sit right with me. Yes they are a couple but getting comfortable is like when you cat finally gets comfortable in a new setting and starts doing cats things.

Buck, by his definition, is a settler. When his life is in upheaval, like Maddie and Chim leaving and Eddie leaving the 118, he doubles down and settles. It’s those pesky abandonment issues rearing up again.

I think the same is true here. This time, his surrogate dad isn’t there and an asshole takes his place and causing Buck’s world view of the 118 to go sideways. Bobby, for the most part, has been the most consistent things throughout the years for Buck. So replacing Bobby with Gerrard is going to make Buck’s issue more prevalent than they were in season 6 and 7.

We also have the emotional upheaval of Chris leaving. I say this because if there has also been one consistent thing in the past 6 years is that Chris is always there. They have their own special relationship outside of Buck and Eddie. Chris leaving also affects Buck, not as much as Eddie but still makes him feel enough to settle.

Getting comfortable means Buck is going to be like well, these other aspects suck and maybe this could go somewhere.

And then there is Eddie. The Eddie of it all. Buck has always lost it when something happens to Eddie. This time, it isn’t Taylor but a man. A man that by all means friends with Eddie first.

It will interesting to see how Buck juggles Tommy and Eddie and if he realizes that he pulled away from Eddie unintentionally. Mirroring the lawsuit maybe. I do think Eddie is going to be a sore point in the BuckTommy relationship and it should be.

Buck’s entire coming out was centered around Eddie. Tommy was Eddie’s friends, Buck felt bad about lying to Eddie and came out intentionally to Eddie. Then they partied together like it was 1995. Then Eddie blew up his own life and Buck was there to see it happen.

The other thing that could come between Buck and Tommy is Gerrard. I don’t know if Tommy is gonna be like keep your head down, don’t make waves, which I think might be the case. This would make Buck very unhappy and act out a little more. And Eddie can’t really be the emotional support he would need because well.. Eddie is suffering too.

Anyways, the question was about BuckTommy and Tim went oh hey here’s how Eddie is gonna be affected! Tim is Eddieblr. He loves him just as much even if he did come up with than damn doppelgänger story line.

And now it’s time to delve into my favorite character, one Mr. Eddie Diaz.

Oh Eddie, my beautiful, guilt ridden mess of a man. How are you going to be dealing with all of this? First and foremost, his son, his good luck charm decided to leave with his parents. Who should have asked if Eddie needed help too instead of absconding with their grandson.

Yes Eddie is gonna be reeling from this. He has lived most of his adult life for his son, not for himself. Season 5 kinda dipped into this and started him on this journey but he never really dealt with… you guessed it the Shannon of it all.

I’m kinda excited to see Eddie figuring who he is without Chris around. We love the Diaz boys but Eddie deserves to be like “Who am I without these people? If I wasn’t a father, what would my life look like?”

I also think it’s important for Eddie to this out without Buck. He leans on Buck a lot especially when he’s in emotional turmoil. And he can’t hide behind his son either.

Buck having less time for him means Eddie is flailing around and it also seems like the mustache is part of this self discovery.

Maybe he follows Chim and Hen’s lead with Gerrard but then realizes Buck needs the backup. I want to see Eddie really pushing the boundaries with Gerrard after a few weeks when he starts going after Buck.

Petty, jealous Eddie is one of my favorite things about him. And I do see this side of him coming out around Buck and Tommy. It will entertaining to watch.

I do hope that eventually we do have Chris ready to start talking things through with Eddie and that his dad isn’t this perfect man but a man who has repressed so many emotions in his life.

That being said, the above quote about figuring out who the hell he is with everything stripped away is very queer coded and I hope we finally see the Eddie we know is there come out and shine.

To summarize, I don’t think BuckTommy will last and I think we may have some hints as to why Eddie could be feeling jealous of Tommy and not any other love interests Buck has had.

One can only hope.

[pacifymebby]

what about peaky blinders and a reader who isn’t afraid to answer them and behave boldly?🔥

thx

Tommy

🌿The first time you snap hes stunned, and tbh he's never not stunned by your sudden temper. The way you defy him... Hes not used to not getting his own way.

🌿Tells you all the time he has rules for a reason but he just cannot tame you... Youre a disobedient little lady and he cant get his head around you

🌿Its not that youre just plain old badly behaved either, its that youre contrary. If youre feeling like arguing you'll pick a fight over anything and youre stubborn, sometimes he thinks he more stubborn than you.

🌿Hes absolutely never hurt you, never hit you, but if you need bringing back down to earth he wont hesitate to pin you against the wall or force you down against his desk, hold you by your neck or your hair and threaten you till the cows come home.

🌿But he despairs because nothing seems to work.

🌿"Fuck your rules, fuck your threats, fuck you Tommy fuckin Shelby!" "Now you listen to me alright sweetheart, don't you fuckin swear at me eh, you dont fuckin swear at me..." "Fuck..." you narrowing your eyes, challenging him.

🌿Youre basically always asking for trouble, you get a kick out of pissing off the most dangerous man in birmingham, knowing he'll never actually do anything to hurt you.

🌿He does absolutely love watching you stand up to his brothers, or to anyone else for that matter. It might piss him off when you do it to him but he's ever so proud of you when you tell one of his brothers to "shove it" or "get fucked"

🌿He'll pretend he isnt going to let you get away with it but it will be so blatantly half hearted that his brothers will know hes enjoying their suffering and that will rub salt in the wound. "Now now love, dont be rude to my brothers, they aren't used to young ladies answering back to them..."

🌿But he does have rules and he is determined you'll learn em.

🌿"mutual respect yeah, you and me? We respect eachother don't we..." he'll make you say it, thats how he puts you in your place, "Go on say it back to me love, so i know you mean it," hes got his hand on your throat or holding your chin so youre forced to look at him. Sometimes you do as he says, sometimes you make to spit at him and he has you flipped over his shoulder in seconds.

🌿There are some things he wont put up with.

Alfie

🐻Is shocked, its usually him doing the talking, usually him being clever and snarky...

🐻 But when he tells you youre not to talk to Tommy Shelby hes stunned to hear you say, "I talk to whoever i want,"

🐻 His way of dealing with you is different to Tommy's. He calls you over, gets you to come and sit in his lap and then he holds you there, trailing his hands over your body, playing with your hair, all the while giving you a little speech about why he's telling you not to speak to him.

🐻 "What you have to, no need to understand ziskeit, is that me yeah, i dont just give orders willy nilly for no reason yeah, if i ask you to do something, or tell you not to do somethin - as is the case right now - it's probably, no definitely, its definitely because its for your own good treacle, yeah thats right, for your own good..."

🐻."and you see yeah, if i tell you y/n youre not to talk to Tommy Shelby, its cause i know somethin, or maybe lots of somethins yeah, that you don't about Tommy Shelby... And maybe i, being absolutely devoted to you my little ziskeit, just want whats best for you..."

🐻"Only i get to decide whats best for me A..."

🐻 "Tsk tsk," puts his finger to your lips, looks you right in the eyes, "let me stop you right there treacle," you only get called treacle when youre in trouble and right now you're on thin fucking ice, "let me stop you right there sweetheart because i wasnt finished, no i wasnt, see the other thing you need to know right, the other thing, is that when i ask you to fucking do something, you fucking do it... Cause if you dont do it and then somethin happens to you like ohhhh i dont know, say a very bad and dangerous man with evil running through his heart like rot runs through a decomposing fuckin apple... Let's call him Tommy Shelby right? If a very bad man like Tommy Shelby ends up fuckin catchin you in his satanic, godless little web... Then well, i ain't helpin you am I? Cause well, i will have fuckin warned you... "

🐻The man can talk the fear of god into you and honestly, its the only way he can get you to behave.

🐻Because he doesnt hit women, he would never touch you or physically hurt you. And he also doesnt mean it when he says hed abandon you, hes only trying to scare you into submission because he knows he'd kill himself to save you and that would only work once.

🐻 He likes hearing you answer back and put the boys in their place, whenever any of the lads in the bakery say something innapropriate of try to tease you you put them in their place pretty quick.

🐻Alfie likes to join in then "Whats the matter lad, scared of a girl now are you? Fuckin hell kids these days, worlds gone bloody soft..."

Arthur

🍂You snap at him because he snaps at you. You fuckin hate men who shout at women

🍂 So when arthur shouts at you you shout right fuckin back and shit does it scare him. He isnt expecting it for one, but more than that, hes never had a woman shout at him like that before.

🍂 You only slapped him once, and it was because he fucking deserved it. He got all up in your face barking bloody orders at you, it was after some serious peaky business had gone sour and to be honest, he was scared. Wanted to communicate just how serious the situation was...

🍂But he scared you, and again, he shouted, he was so close to your face he spat at you when he spoke, and you saw red.

🍂 So you slapped him, and it shut him up but then all hell broke loose.

🍂 He grabbed you pretty forcefully, snatched the breath from you, holding your collar in a fist. You saw the whites of his eyes, he was so angry

🍂 "That was fuckin out of order sweetheart, you dont fuckin hit people do ye? Do i do that to you do i? Have i ever fuckin laid a finger on you? Eh? Have i?"

🍂 You regretted it imediately but you were also kind of proud you did it. You werent just going to let him bully you.

🍂"What kind of a world would it be if we all went around fuckin hittin eachother all the time eh?"

🍂 "sounds a lot like the world youre already living in Arthur..." the fact youd answer him back with such a cheeky remark even now has him drop you hes so shocked.

🍂 Hes used to everyone being terrified of him, even his brothers know not to piss him off or get clever with him, but here you are at the height of his temper making comments like that, and with a smirk on your lips and all.

🍂 "Right sweetheart, im going to give you one last chance to apologise to me alright... Youve got till i say 3...one, two..."

🍂 "I aint apologising for nothin Arthur, you dont scare me..."

🍂 Its not true, he does, he terrifies you sometimes and right now when his breathings ragged and hes red in the face, yeah he terrfies you..

🍂 But you wont admit that, not ever and theres something about your brave tone and the determined defiant look in your eyes that really turns Arthur on...

🍂 So you fuck, thats how he deals with your defiance, he takes his anger out by fucking you fast and rough.

🍂 Its also the only way he'll ever get an apology out of you.

John

🌼 Doesnt like it, doesnt sit right with him being spoken to like that by a woman, its not right.

🌼 But does he get off on seeing you speak like that to other men? So much... Especially when its classic authority figures like the police. He also loves to hear you knock Isaiahs and Finns cocky smirks right off their faces.

🌼 He likes defending you but he doesnt half admire the fact that you dont need him too.

🌼But it does annoy him when you then tell him not to defend you. Hes your man, its his job to defend you. Especially from other men.

🌼His favourite thing about your quick temper is the way you talk to Linda... Linda likes to make plenty of snide comments about you, your class, the fact that you swear and take the lords name in vane. The fact that you're fucking a gangster out of wedlock. Shes always telling you that you live in sin and youre always telling her where to shove her bible.

🌼The number of times he hasnt been able to stop himself laughing out loud when youve snapped back at Linda. He fucking loves it, and he encourages you too, telling you how fantastic it was later when youre away from everyone.

🌼He doesnt like it when you snap at Tommy though, John is scared of his older brother, he knows Tommy wont stand for your defiance and so hes always begging you not to start anything with tommy. For the most part you oblige but every now and then when you think somethings unreasonable...

🌼John finds himself having to make excuses for you, apologising on your behalf cause you sure as hell won't do it.

🌼 Especially because usually when you snap at Tommy its because youre trying to protect John from risking his life in another Tommy scheme.

Bonnie

🍀 Bonnie doesnt have many rules for you and he isnt one to go ordering you about. He only asks that you look after yourself, that you dont go getting yourself into any trouble.

🍀And that you stay away from the peaky blinders, you dont interfere with him and his dads business with them

🍀And thats where you just can't oblige... Your curiosity gets the better of you for a start, you want to know who your mans getting involved with but more than that youre worried.

🍀You care about bonnie deeply and so you want to know everything about his work so that you can best learn how to protect him.

🍀If you get cheeky with him its probably over something lighthearted. Bonnie doesn't really have a temper for taking out on you, if youre arguing he tends to let you say your piece but he wont rise to it.

🍀"Am only telling you not to get involved because i love you little dove, cant have you getting hurt... Dont know what id do if anything ever happened to you... Thats why i tell you to stay away... Cause i love you," he tells you this whilst cupping your face in his palm, kissing your forehead.

🍀 And because of this you dont really argue at all. Unless youve put yourself in harms way, then he maybe has some sharp words for you, they're just a fuelled only by concern for you though. Hes a gentle soul.

🍀He does adore your witt and sharp tongue though, loves it when you give as good as you get from the other boys at the settlement, loves to hear you answer back the adult men and women too.

🍀Youre so wild and it balances his calm/gentle nature.

🍀 Its even more entertaining when hes training at the boxing gym, when his teachers being a miserable bastard, laying into Bonnie purely because hes a gypsy boy, sometimes youll snap at him in english so he can understand, but sometimes youll say it in romani so that only you and Bonnie can know what youve said.

🍀Bonnie laughing, gleeful and proud because you can be so brutal, and because youve really pissed his teacher off. When the old man demands he tell him what you said Bonnie will only occasionally translate, sometimes he'll just repeat what you said in romani again. Therell be steam practically coming out the old mans ears.

🍀One day Tommy catches what you've said and then you and Bonnie both get into trouble, you both feel like school children being reprimanded. But even tommy has a soft spot for you, he found your romani insult entertaining too.

🍀 Sometimes bonnie likes to remind you of your bad behaviour when youre havibg sex, he likes to tell you how cheeky you are, how youre gonna get yourself into trouble if youre not careful.

🍀"With who? You?" "Are you testing me little dove?"

🍀 Your temper has causes real trouble before, you talked back to a man in the garrison and he raised his hand to hit you. Bonnie cut in the second he saw what was happening.... Hes not a boy who has a temper until someone threatens you...

🍀Even if you were asking for trouble.

Isaiah

🐀Doesnt like that you talk back to him but does like that you talk back to other people. Its a tricky situation and he doesn't know how to deal with you

🐀It would be a shame to tame you when you bring him so much entertainment, but he also cant stand it when youre rude to him

🐀Feels like it threatens his manhood when he lets you get away with answering back or defying him

🐀So he doesnt let you get away with it, he has plenty of ways to punish you when youre bad... Most of them sexual.

🐀The problem is, hes such a cocky bastard and sometimes that just gets under your skin and rubs you up the wrong way.

🐀"dont see why i should have to take orders from you, youre no Tommy Shelby..."

🐀Saying stuff like that reallyyyyy riles him up, it wounds his ego, it pisses him off.

🐀You get yourself in trouble with him so much but you like the being in trouble, you get your kicks from watching his temper flare.

🐀Kind of likes that youre rude to him sometimes because it gives him an excuse to put you over his lap and spank you.

🐀It causes problems for him when you're rude to Michael, not so much because Michael would hurt you but because Polly wouldn't hesitate to smack you. And it has happened before.

🐀Isaiah actually found himself on your side, stepped in to stop her doing it again. When he checked you over after taking you away somewhere you could be alone, he grinned at you, congratulationed you on putting michael in his place, "he can be a right smug git sometimes, deserved what you said to him,"

🐀Mostly he likes that youre a little wild and unpredictable, the problem is so is he... So you lead eachother to take risks when you shouldnt.

🐀Loves to fuck the defiance out of you, "think you're clever do you, answer me back, breaking the rules... Think you're a clever girl huh y/n?" "Still feel fucking clever now?"

🐀Will bend you over the bed and fuck you witb your face pushed into the mattress, spanking you too until you finally say youre sorry and promise not tk disobey him again.

🐀But both of you know that you will, its like you just cant help yourself.

Michael

☘️ "No, fucking no... You don't talk to me like that y/n you just fucking dont..."

☘️He wont stand for it, he hates that you dare to challenge him. It pierces his delicate ego and it reminds him that he'll never be as authorititave as Tommy.

☘️ "Im your fuckin husband and youll show me some fucking respect..."

☘️ "What about your respect Michael? Do i get to have your respect?"

☘️ He is constantly telling you to behave yourself but he cant tame you. He knows deep down he'll never be able to and he also wonders whether hed still be attracted to you if you were meak and completely submissive. Wouldnt that bore him?

☘️Spanks you, it goes against his morals to hit a woman but once, once you really crossed a line and he raised his hand to you... He never actually hit you but the intent was there and the moment he caught himself, stopped himself, he felt terrible.

☘️ "What? You gonna hit me Michael? You gonna hit a girl? Some man you are eh..." youd spat at him, completely defiant, even with his hand raised to strike you youd been confident enough to look him dead in the eyes and continue to chastise him.

☘️ Polly kind of admires you for not taking any shit from Michael, she'd have raised her son to respect women if she had had the chance to, so shes glad you stand up for yourself. Its the only way to survive in the Shelby family.

☘️ Michael doesnt like it when you defy Tommy, when you question him and argue back in family meetings. It embarrasses him, thinks it makes it look like he cant control his wife... But he cant control his wife.

☘️ He takes his anger with you out on you during sex but honestly you love that and it just makes you want to push his buttons even more.

☘️Youve even brought it up in an argument... "Why whatre you gonna do to me Michael, if i swear at you one more time what will you do? You gonna fuck me are you? You gonna fuck your wife until she fuckin cries? Go on i double dare you..."

☘️ You end up with bruises.

[staenless]

STEDDIE LUNCHBOX FIC PART THREE

It was a week be

Sorry this took so long Ive been busy with beauty school and struggling with motivation tbh lol. Looking back at the previous two parts this needs a LOT of editing but honestly I don't think I can rn so you'll all have to suffer through unedited chapters for now, sorry! Anyway I'm very tired rn so I won't hold up with authors notes anymore, I hope you all enjoy this and please share your thoughts (they fueled this chapter tbh)

It was a week before Tommy passed his lunch on again. Eddie sat in his cubicle nose flaring at lunchtime everyday, a pavlovian response to the clunk-tick of the bento box popping open. He could smell meats, vegetables and fruits, cheesy pastas and salt-buttered rolls. Under it all he could smell that sugar sweet ginger and floral scent, Steve.

Eddie's own lunches were rare, and when he did lower himself to eat at the company café he always found it wanting. Nothing quite matched up to a meal made painstakingly by hand. He wondered if this was part of Tommy's cruel mockery, to hand him something he was unworthy of to let him taste heaven, then snatch it away and leave him stranded in a world of bland flavorless slop.

That wasn't to say the café food was bad. In actuality it was surprisingly good. The young woman who ran it had been part of a government program to teach underserved highschoolers skills, and her meals were wholesome and tasty. She had baked a cake for the company holiday party, and when she say Eddie savouring the bites she confided her secret: a third of the flour was substituted with corn flour to give it a texture. It was the best homemade cake Eddie had ever eaten, though he had very little to compare it to.

So no, the food at the café, the bar and the grocery store and - godforbid - Eddie's own kitchen wasnt bad. It was of a higher standard he was used to, and it was filling and tasty, and he ate what he liked instead of what his guardians decided he should eat. But none of it had the taste of Steve's hands on it, and so none of it could ever compare. He mindlessly shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth, chewed and chocked it all down. He missed Steve's food, after only tasting it once.

The day Tommy decided to grace Eddie's desk with the tin lunchbox again hadn't started out special. In fact as the clock slowly ticked into the luncheon hours Eddie had long resigned himself another cafe meal when Tommy's cackled echoed across the floor.

"Nah, he's going into heat soon so he's been extra bitchy... I've had to pull late night's just to get some damn peace"

Eddie's hackles rose. Omegas in preheat needed stability, reassurance. Spending hours away would just make their preheat anxiety worse, something Tommy was either too stupid to realise or too cruel to care.

"Aw c'mon man," one of the stuffy suited alphas beside him gave Tommy a heart shoulder clap, "heat is the whole point of marrying an omega, right? Man what I'd do to get to fuck one, is it true they can't think of anything other than cock?"

Tommy's low chuckling makes Eddie grit his teeth,that was basically conformation. He's out here discussing his omegas private, vulnerable moments like it's water cooler gossip. Barely containing a growl Eddie peaks over the cubicle and finally spots the group by the - oh for fucks sake - gathered around an honest to God watercooler.

"Yeah the fucking is great, he always bitches about wearing a collar but once he's in the heat of it," smattered giggles, "he forgets aaaalllll about it. Almost makes the week before worth it. Almost." The last line sounds almost spiteful, but his cronies don't seem to take note.

"How'd you even bag him? I mean sure omegas aren't that rare but I hardly see any that aren't mated, especially a nice tame one that'd pack me lunch."

Something in the air turns sour, and when Eddie peaks over again in a bizaar mimic of an old whack-a-mole game, he can see Tommys face twist and turn in on itself. He seems torn between frustration and pride, like a dog showing off its gold plated collar.

"It was a family thing," he says, the vague answer telling just enough for his buddies to drop it while still answering their question. He glances down at the lunch box in his hand and his upper lip twitches in disgust, then his eyes rove over the office cubicles before locking onto Eddie. Shit, too late to duck down, and Tommy marches over, smarmy smile stretching over his too-white too-straight teeth.

"Munson!" THWACK. Ow. "You not having lunch?" Tommy leans down, weight on Eddie's shoulder where his fingers dig in just enough to make Eddie want to bite him. But the possibility of getting his paws on that lunch box, on Steve scented food, outweighs his instinct to fight the alpha trying to impose himself.

"Shit man," his grin is all teeth, "I hadn't even noticed the time! Guess I'll have to run down to the cafe and pick something up, huh?" It's fake. It's so fake and they both know this conversation is just a formality, the conclusion already known.

"I'll save you the trouble," Tommy should have persued an acting career, the script sounds so natural as he straightens up and clacks the lunch box onto Eddie's desk, "I'm heading out to lunch with the boys, you'd be doing me a favour." The last part doesn't sound like a lie, and if Eddie wasn't so desperate for the lunch he'd wonder why Tommy was so desperate to get rid of it.

"Thanks man," he spits out to Tommys retreating form. He mutters something - likely demeaning - to his cronies who titter, then leave together like a pack of cackling hyenas.

Eddie launches from his desk and flies to the rooftop, lunchbox clutched desperately in his hands, cigarettes forgotten. Once he reaches his usual spot his pops the lid, thrumming with excitement at the sight of another note. Ignoring the food over the sweet omegas words he plucks the folded yellow paper and gingerly unfolds it.

"please come home early"

His heart plummets. Right. Steve is in preheat, he obviously wants his alpha. But Tommy said he was avoiding Steve, and now the note confirms that. Please come home early, but no "I miss you" . No "love Steve". It seemed impersonal, something like an order, or begging, but without the hope either of those entail. He recalled Tommys other statement. It was a family thing.

Eddie was familiar, though distantly, with the idea. Arranged marriages were hardly a thing anymore. The star charts, the burnt herbs and entrails spread out beneath a crones trembling hands was far too gouche for modern metropolitans. The payments in silk and bovine too backwards and simple for their forward thinking ways.

Marriages were a more democratic affair for the rich and wealthy, planned out in wood panelled offices with huffing cigar breaths, Alpha to Alpha, the prospects of mergers and inheritance trumping starsigns and blood types. Arranged marriages was for backwards, superstitious folk, agreements were for the rich to keep the money in arms reach. Steve and Tommy were an agreement.

And by the looks of if; no mating bite, avoidance during preheat and the tone Tommy musters when discussing his spouse? Not a particularly blissful agreement. Still. Please come home early, Steve must find some comfort in Tommy's general existence if he wants him around over a trusted family member or close friend. Or pup. Tommy never mentioned a pup, but whether that was because he didn't have one or didn't care much to talk about it was somewhat up in the air.

Eddie brought the note to his lips, just toughing, and breathed deep. The ginger of Steve's scent was less sweet now, his preheat brining out the spice. Something like pepper ticked the back of his nose, pulled the air from his lungs and a final floral smell brought him back in, the sweet aftertaste of a spicy treat. The flowers smelt fresh, Eddie could recall the lily's at his mother's grave smelling the same. Somewhere in his mind he knew that comparison should scare him, but the memory of her grave after the funeral had always been rose tinted by Wayne's kind smile when he took his hand and gently lead him away. Eddie pulled the note away and his lips twitched up, that floral after taste was definitely lily's.

Eddie spared the food a glance, and as delicious as it look, he had something else on his mind. He looked down at the note in his hands, his hind brain sparking to attention at the scent of the omega, and the idea of him home alone in preheat. Eddie wanted to comfort him, to sooth his nerves and let him know he was safe and loved. He wanted to pace the door in front of their den, while Steve nested inside, to protect him from any intruders and serve him. To hold his hand, his waist, to pillow his head on Steve's chest and listen to his heart beat and bathe in his scent.

He couldn't. Steve was married, as much as Eddie's hind brain shouted "not mated" and Steve didn't even know Eddie, let alone allow the alpha into his nest. But Eddie couldn't help it as he pressed the note to his wrists and neck, mind whirling with ideas on how to comfort the omega. Somewhere between kissing Steves fingertips through fruit and the ginger of his scent burning Eddie's nose, the alphas heart had already pledged itself to the omega, already bared itself - pledged itself to his service. If all Eddie could offer was comfort, crossing lines of proprietary was no hurdle.

Taglist: @xxbottlecapx @goodolefashionedloverboi @stevesbipanic @monsterloverforhire @swimmingbirdrunningrock @samsoble @bookworm0690 @tinyplanet95 @idontwantmetoo @steddiehasmywholeheart @mugloversonly @persnicketysquares @morgannotlefay @lololol-1234 @greeniebean911

[daisyblinder]

Falling apart (Part 1) / Thomas Shelby x reader

🦚Warnings: Cursing 

🦚Summary: Thomas Shelby is not good with emotions. So when his wife is going through a rough time, he makes an insensitive comment.

As a result she hides her breaking heart from him and turns to the only member of the family she knows won't shame her for being vulnerable: Arthur

And so begins Thomas's story of jealousy, marriage councelling and learning intimacy. 

When she had married Tommy, she had known what she signed up for. She knew her husband did not wear his heart on his sleeve, hell she knew that sometimes he did not wear his heart at all.

 But very rarely she had had to face his coldness. When she was in distress, he had been there for her. When she was happy, he often smiled with her. But today was not a day when Thomas Shelby was offering her those treats.

 Been raised by a mother who believed girls to be a stain on the family’s purity was difficult. Having been the daughter who faced her mother’s wrath on most things, Y/n was used to believing when something was wrong, it was her fault.

 She was used to believing that when she looked in the mirror, she was a lesser being, cruel and childish girl who would never find her place in the world. For a long time those feelings were kept in a locked chest, and she was able to smile and feel the world accepting her.

 But now on the 10 anniversary of her father’s death, all the security and love that had died with him, felt like it was dying all over again.

 With glossy eyes, she wrung up a bouquet of flowers. When she had married Tommy, he had let her keep working at the flower shop her friend Ida owned. had known her for over half of her life. She had become her dear companion and her family.

 But now Y/n worked alone. Two years ago Ida had slept away at the age of 85. And the Shelby family had agreed that it was for the good of Y/n to buy the flower shop for them and let her keep running it.

 Sniffling she finishes the small flower girl bouquet and sighs. This day was supposed to be easier by now. But no. There was nothing easy remembering all of her past. The things she had hidden to keep her held up.

 The missing hole her father left, the spears and knifes her mother threw towards her, the times Ida’s brother had tried to corner her into the backroom of the store and most of all the loneliness she had faced her whole life.

 Feeling of being the outsider. The one girl who people said would end up an old maid, the girl who others pointed and laughed when she thought that she had friends.

”I heard the store was to closed today”, a low voice interrupted her misery. With a jump Y/n turns and tries her best to muster up a smile.

 ”Tuesdays are usually slow days, I’m finishing up the wedding flowers today”, she explains almost crying with relief when she feels her husbands hands arrive on her shoulders. Only his touch comforting her to no end.

 Sighing Tommy rolls up a chair to sit next to her and puts a cigarette between his lips. ”And don’t you think half of the town remembers what day it is today now that you have closed the shop, eh?”, he points out focusing on lighting his cigarette.

 Furrowing her brows Y/n turns to look at Tommy with bewildered eyes. ”And what does that have to do with anything?”, she asks softly, guilt already rising in her heart.

 ”Family is my strength, but if the people out there see how fragile your head is, they will know where to hit”, he explains leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He knew he was not playing the fairest game but he did not want Y/n to end up suffering for his business.

 And for that to not happen, she needed to realize what to do to protect it.

 ”Tommy, my head is just in the mud today”, she sighs and lays her hand on his thigh. Needing to touch him so that she feels he is not disgusted by her. Needing the reassurance he would not leave.

 ”Mud that’s more than old enough to be clay”, he comments coolly looking at his wife in the eyes now. ”And clay doesn’t spread around, bag it, close the bags and shove them in the closet”, he instructs.

 His words cut deeper than he ever expected them to. But he knew that this was something he had to do. If his wife was a wreck for everyone to see, it made her soft, and if he let it continue, it made him and the business soft.

 ”Alright”, Y/n whispers pulling her hand away. Resting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands she closes her eyes to hide the tears rising in them. She had needed Tommy today, she had needed him on her side.

 ”So?”, Tommy says softer this time and leans towards her to rest his chin on her shoulder.

”So?”

 ”Will the store be open tomorrow?”, he asks voice still soft but his words still hurt.

 ”8 o’clock sharp”, she answers her own voice stronger than she expected. Tommy gently turns her chin to face him and gives her a soft kiss. ”I’ll be home early tonight”, he promises before rising and taking his leave.

 When she hears the door close, her tears fall. Heavy ugly sobs and hiccups rising from her chest as the self-hatred and loneliness all start coming out. Trying to calm herself, as she feels her whole body start shaking she tries to think of a place to go to.

 Soon her mind is set and she is racing out of her store to the Garrison.

 ***

Arriving to the pub, she goes to straight to the bar. ”Is Arthur here?”, she asks Harry, trying to hold herself together the best she can.

 ”In the back”, Harry answers letting her make herself over to her brother-in-law. When she arrives, there is Arthur a glass of whisky in his hand and for once a grin on his face.

 When Y/n sees him, she can’t hold back her emotions anymore. Her sobbing starts annew as Arthur stares at her with wide scared eyes.

What the fuck to do?

 ”I-I”, Y/n tries to speak but her shaking becomes too strong and her breathing turns erratic. Quickly Arthur is up from his seat.

 Arthur gently puts his arm around his sister-in-law and leads her to the seat he just occupied. ”Easy, love. There ain’t nuthing coming to get ya”, he soothes and kneels next to her, his left arm still around her frame, bringing his right hand to hold one of her tightly.

 He knew what it felt like to be drowning in misery. He had had the shakes more than once and knew how the world could do someone some mean tricks.

”Do you want to call Tommy?”, he asks softly after Y/n’s breathing steadies a little.

 ”No!”, she says quickly her head snapping towards Arthur in lightning speed, her breathing picking up again.

 Arthur tightens his hold on her and starts speaking fast. ”Alright, no Tommy. Ain’t Tommy got anything to do here. No Tommy”, he awkwardly tries to soothe.

 Y/n takes steady breaths as she tries to collect her thoughts. ”How do you do it?”, she whispers after a while making Arthur’s brows furrow. ”How can you keep going? All the awful things you’ve seen, all the emotions you go through a-and then the family just tells you to push it aside? How can you keep going?”, she rambles sniffling on the way.

 Arthur locks eyes with her for a minute before dropping his gaze to the ground. Y/n can see him clenching his jaw, his blue eyes turning sad. ”I ain’t like Tommy, I can’t just shove it down”, he whispers sadly causing Y/n to squase his hand.

 ”And you don’t have to be”, she reassures. There were great many times when she had heard the family put Arthur down, sometimes for a reason and sometimes she thought they were being cruel. The man had done everything to protect his family, Tommy had become the leader of the family but she saw Arthur as the father. The father who did everything to protect his kids and help them succeed, even if it meant they rose above his own authority.

 He has become a friend and a brother to her. Great many times she tried to get him to talk to her about his emotions, and he did talk. After talking he was usually more level. What he needed was someone to listen. Like she did now.

 ”Tommy say something to ya?”, he then asks raising his own eyes. He can see Y/n tense up at his words. Her lip starting to wobble a bit.

 ”You know how I’ve told y-you about my relationship with me own head?”, she whispers and she gets a nod in return. ”Tommy wants me to just shove all of my feelings into a locked box. But I can’t- I can’t, but I love Tommy. I love that man so much it hurts, I-I just wonder when will he get tired of me”

 Her words cause Arthur to shake his head slowly. ”There ain’t gonna be a day when he gets tired of ye. Look at me, Y/n, you look at me”, Arthur raises the hand that was holding hers to hold her chin.

 ”Tommy fell in love with ye integrity. Yes, I learned a pretty word and that is what Tommy loves the most about ye. No matter how much you battle with the devil, you never let him hide yer heart. ”, he reassures her and then drops her chin.

 ”Tommy ain’t good with lovey things but he cares more than anyone”, he finishes. Y/n gives a shaky sigh and looks at the ceiling. ”He was good with Grace”, she says vulnerably.

 That causes Arthur to rise up and drag her up with him. ”Wh- Where are we going?”, Y/n asks startled. Arthur looks down at her sharply.

 ”We’re going for a walk, ye need air and I ain’t gonna let you cry on yer own because of a dead woman”, then he stops in his tracks and stares down with wide eyes.

 ”Y-Y/n?”, he starts hesitantly. His sister-in-law raises her brows a little startled by his timid voice.

 ”Yes?”

 ”Are you up the swanny?”, the pure terror in his voice makes Y/n laugh outloud. Her giggles only strengthen with his following pout. ”I was just asking, don’t want to offer a pregnant lady whiskey”

 Y/n calms down from her giggles and looks up at Arthur with pure mirth now in her eyes. ”You look like I just asked you to be my midwife”, she shakes her head. ”But no, there is no babe in my belly”

 ”Thank the devil. I may be Arthur fucking Shelby but pregnant ladies are still a mystery to me”, he mutters more to himself but Y/n hears him and her laughter bubbles out anew.

 **

After their walk Y/n gets a ride back home. Now in her face was a soft smile. The miracles having a true friend could do.

Sighing she takes of her boots and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She makes her way up to her husbands study to see if he was already home.

 ”So instead of keeping the shop, you decide to go on a stroll with my brother like a little lovesick girl, eh?”, is the first greeting she gets when she opens the door to his room.

 Tommy knew it was her coming. She knew he wouldn’t bother knocking and he knew her steps all too well. He also knew the feeling brewing inside of him all too well. Pure and irrational jealousy.

 ”I went to your brother to calm my head”, Y/n tries to explain softly and goes to stand next to Tommy’s chair. She chews on her lip, her previous fears coming to light again.

 Tommy let’s out an unamused huff shaking his head. ”And you couldn’t just say this to me when I visited you, that you need to talk?”, he grunts, knowing he is being unfair.

The lecture he gave her this morning was all but encouraging of the fact but the boiling thought of her finding comfort in another man made him irrationally angry. The anger became even more burning hot when he knew he was part of the reason she had to find comfort.

 ”Tommy you know why I went to Arthur”, Y/n sighs tiredly. She knew that Tommy understood why she had gone but she also knew he was too prideful to admit that.

 ”And you think he is a prime example of how to control your emotions? Prime example of the shit inside can turn everything to shit on the outside”, he speaks coldly staring at her with his ice colored orbs. Y/n stares back clenching her jaw, now refusing to back down.

 ”Like you haven’t used that to your benefit”

 ”Excuse me?”

 ”Like you don’t use his emotions to your benefit! You know he will do anything for you! You know he has done everything and anything he could to see you succeed! ” she was yelling now. Thomas goes to interrupt her but she lifts her hand to stop him.

 ”I know you have been there for him too but he acknowledges that! Can’t you fucking see how much he adores you, he would bring you the moon if you asked him to! You have someone you can fall back on, I lost the person who I could fall back on 10 years ago! AND IT FUCKING HURTS!”, the end of her speech was a pure scream.

 She was tired of playing calm when she was seething and crying on the inside. She was already falling apart why not show it.

 Tommy looks up at her ever the picture of calm and collected strength. ”You have me”, he whispers finally. He pushes his chair back a little and reaches out a steady hand.

 Y/n takes it and lets him guide her into his lap, slumping down on him like a doll, his touch quelling the starvation for affection she was burning for.

 Thomas can feel the regret of his words seeping into his heart as he feels how much him just being there seemed to aid his wife. His sweet free spirited wife. His sweet treasure he wanted to hide from every wop and copper coming their way.

She only needed him to be there but he was not a man whole. He was man who had more than a world on his shoulders. 

”You fucking have me”, he then whispers again pressing his lips against Y/n’s forehead tightly. She brings her own hand to lay against the side of his neck, stroking her thumb along his jaw ever so gently.

 ”I can’t turn my emotions off like from a light switch, I can’t Tommy”, she admits with sorrow as she tries to burrow herself even closer to her husband.

 Tommy lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. ”You don’t have to”; he finally says, ”We’ll work on this. Hell we’ll work on this with Arthur, what do you say? He knows why I do what I do but he understands what your head does to you”

 Y/n smiles but then lets out a little snort. ”You really must love me to offer that”, she eventually giggles. ”Therapy with Arthur fooking Shelby”

 Her giggles make Tommy let out a small chuckle of his own. But then he turns serious. With quick almost rough movement he grasps both sides of her face and makes her look at him in the eye.

 ”That I do. I love you and I would kill every fucking living thing that tries to take you from me. I have you, you can fall on me”, he speaks seriously. Y/n smiles lifting her own hands to hold his wrists.

 ”I love you so much Tommy”, she whispers back and leans down to give him a sensual kiss. For fifteen minutes they stay just like that, her in his lap sharing lingering kisses. When they finally pull away Y/n is breathless but smiling as she rests her forehead against her husbands.

 ”Your heart is safe with me Tommy, let me take care of it for once too”

Part 2

[gingiesworld]

Meet Me Underneath The Tree

Leigh Shaw x GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @lizzieislife94x (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N and Leigh had been going strong for two years, two years since the fling between herself and Danny ended. Two years since she cut all ties with her dead husband’s family. Needing a new start herself, she found something in the new instructor her mom hired for Beautiful Beast. Y/N was a self defense instructor, helping the women who had paid to be taught self defense, Leigh had also noticed how smooth their voice was as they spoke. Considering what they taught, they had a gentle nature about them, and Leigh had experienced that for the two years of their relationship, even through the arguments that she had started, they remained by her side.

“So, you’re finally popping the question?” Amy asked Y/N as Leigh was teaching her class.

“Yeah.” They answered, a nervous smile on their face. “I know she has suffered a lot, but I want to be there for her, show her that she will always have something to breathe for.”

“She’s so lucky.” Jules groaned as she handed the ring back to Y/N. “So, what’s your big plan?” Y/N explained their plan to them, wanting to make the moment as special as possible. Soon enough cutting the conversation short when Leigh stepped out of the studio.

“What am I interrupting?” She questioned with a raised brow as she dried the sweat from herself.

“Nothing.” Jules answered quickly.

“Jules was just telling us what her plans are with Tommy.” Amy answered her confidently. “The two of them have decided to grace us with their presence this christmas.” Leigh beamed at her sister.

“That’s amazing.” She wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “It was too quiet last year without you.” Everyone chuckled as Jules sent Amy a glare.

Y/N had remained a nervous wreck leading up to Christmas eve. They had their doubts, what if she says no? What will happen to their relationship? But Leigh never failed to make them see that they are just as important to her as she is to them.

“Mom wants my help with the decorations.” Leigh told Y/N as she grabbed her coat. “She said something about Jules and Tommy coming around tonight and celebrating.”

“Ok.” Y/N nodded with a smile.

“I’ll be back in time for our little tradition.” She told them as she pressed a kiss to their lips. Y/N sighed as the door closed behind her, looking at the ring one last time before they made their own preparations.

“So, how is it with you and Y/N?” Amy asked her as the two prepared the food for Christmas dinner.

“It’s great.” Leigh answered her unsurely. “But I can’t help but feel as though they are pulling away from me.”

“How so?” Amy pressed on as Leigh wiped her hands on the towel.

“They’ve been distant with me.” She sighed as she rubbed her brow. “Maybe I’m just too much, my mood swings and outbursts are too much for them.”

“I don’t think that is the case.” Amy assured her as Leigh looked at the time. “I can see how they look at you Leigh, you are their whole world.”

“I just, I can’t shake this feeling like it may be the end.” She whispered shakily. “I don’t want this to be the end because I am so in love with them that it physically hurts me being away from them.”

“Tell them.” Amy told her. “Let them know everything you’re feeling.” Leigh nodded as she received a text from Y/N.

Meet me underneath the tree.

“I have to go.” Leigh sighed as she grabbed her coat, heading towards the little spot that had become theirs over the two year period. Her heart beat in her chest as she spotted Y/N in the distance, just staring out into space. “Y/N.” She breathed out, gaining their attention, watching as they took a shaky breath.

“Hi.” They smiled at her before continuing. “I honestly had a whole other plan for this, but then I figured here would be a better place.”

“No.” Leigh spat out, taking Y/N by surprise. “I am not letting you end what we have!” Y/N was shocked by the words coming from Leigh’s mouth. “We have worked too damn hard to be where we are now and I don’t want to throw that away because I love you. I love you so damn much and I can’t. I won’t lose you or what we have.” She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, opening them to see Y/N down on one knee, holding a ring in their hands.

“Leigh, I never, ever want to lose you.” They started as Leigh took a shaky breath. “I guess maybe my nerves these past few weeks haven’t helped either of us.” They chuckled lightly. “I have known for a while now that my future is meant to be spent by your side, living each day together, maybe starting a family one day, but I know I need you in my life Leigh. I love you with every fiber of my being and I will love more and more with each passing moment. So, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She whispered as her tears flowed freely, smiling as Y/N had put the ring on her finger, noticing her wedding ring and engagement ring were no longer on her finger from her previous marriage.

“Your rings?” They questioned as she cupped their face.

“I haven’t worn them for months.” Leigh told them. “I guess I felt ready to let go of Matt and focus on the life I will have with you.” They smiled before kissing her softly, holding her close as the kiss broke, pressing their foreheads together, ready to live for their future together.

[albertasunrise]

Look for the Light - Part 8

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (Sorry this took a while... Been all over the shop with work so little to no time to write... Shit's hitting the fan folks! Enjoy!!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

You burst through the hospital doors in time to witness Tommy pleading with the doctor to give Joel the medicine he so desperately needed. Since you'd seen the older Miller last, violent shivering had taken up residency permanently. However, what surprised you more was the fact that he was conscious again. His brown eyes peeked through slits as he turned his head to look at you, a weak hand lifting ever so slightly as if attempting to reach for you. 

"The supply party are dead." You announced as you moved closer to the commotion. 

"I am aware." The doctor replied grimly, his eyes flitting between you and Tommy "I'm sorry but with our chance at replenishing our stores now up in smoke, I cannot risk using the last of the antibiotics we have. Not until more can be found." 

"Look at him!" Tommy yelled as he pointed at his brother. 

Your eyes followed the doctors and you choked on a sob at the sight that greeted you. His body seemed to levitate from how violently he shook. You knew he was running out of time and fast now. That medicine was his last hope. 

You heard your name fall from Joel's lips and you practically sprinted to his side, grabbing his hand and holding it firmly against your chest. Giving the man a weak smile, you started to stroke back the sweat-slick hair that was stuck to be brow and prayed that the motion would bring him some small quantity of comfort. 

"I-mm-mm s-s-so-rrr-y." He stuttered through chattering teeth, his eyes widening a little so he could look at you better.

"Shhh." You hushed him "Save your strength, Miller." 

"Mm-mm d-dd-dy-y-ing." He said and you simply shook your head at him. 

"No, you're not Miller!" You said with what you hoped was a convincing tone "You're going to make it. You hear me?!" You continued as you cupped his flushed cheek "You and I have some unfinished business to attend to." 

This statement made Joel chuckle a little. His eyes almost sparkled as he gazed at you with what you could have sworn was love. It made your heart race to think that this man loved you. That he felt even a little bit more for you than just two people who warmed each other's beds. 

"You're going to get better and then we are going to settle down in that house that Tommy gave us." You said softly as you returned to stroking his hair. 

"Mmm." He hummed, closing his eyes and smiling as he thought about your statement for a moment. 

"We'll raise Ellie together. We'll cook together. We'll find a guitar and you can play and sing to me whilst I read all the books in that house." 

"S-s-sing t-to th-the baby." He said almost wistfully and your head shot back. 

"Joel... we lost the baby." 

Joel's expression grew sad. His eyes remained closed as he silently wept, tears falling from the corners of his eyes as he started to shake again. It had seemed that the small fantasy you had given him had called him for a moment. Taken away a little bit of his suffering. 

Then you'd gone and unconsciously ripped that away from him. 

"I WANT TO SEE HIM." Someone yelled and you looked up to see Ellie trying to wrestle her way past Tommy. 

"Tommy, let her through." 

"No kid should have to witness this!" Tommy argued, his eyes matching the same sad expression you'd seen from Joel just a moment ago. 

"Fuck you." Ellie growled before shoving the man off of her and jogging to Joel's side "Why's he shaking?" 

"Infection's in the blood." You sighed, eyes drifting to Tommy a moment before returning to her "He needs more antibiotics." 

"So give him some!" 

"It's not that simple." You sighed "They are almost out and they can't risk using the last of it up." 

"To save a man's life?" Ellie scoffed "This is Maria's doing isn't it?" She asked accusingly as she turned her head to look between the doctor and Tommy "She doesn't like him. So she's letting him die." 

"It was a joint decision." The doctor piped up "We cannot put the life of one man ahead of everyone else here." 

'You mean his life?" Ellie scoffed "If it was anyone else, you wouldn't hesitate to save them but because it's Joel Miller... The man Maria has painted to be a soulless murderer to everyone here... You can't do it." 

"Ellie-" 

"Save it." She growled, stopping Tommy dead in his tracks "I wanna stay here and help take care of him." She stated plainly, leaving little room to argue "He should know that someone cares about him..." She trailed off as she turned her attention back to Joel. 

You gauped at her a moment before looking over at the doctor who was standing there, staring at the girl with a guilt-ridden expression. You smiled to yourself at the knowledge that the words of this 14-year-old girl had gotten to him. You just hoped she'd said enough to sway the council. 

...

Heading back to the house to catch a shower, you couldn't help but overhear the shouting that was coming from inside the house that Maria and Tommy shared. You knew it was rude to eavesdrop but you couldn't help yourself as you quietly crept towards their door and listened in. 

"HE'S DYING MARIA!"  Tommy yelled, his anguish clear in the tone of his "He's the only family I got left!" 

"What about me and the baby?" Maria scoffed "Are we not your family too?" 

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Tommy growled "The day of the outbreak took both my parents and my niece. Joel and I had to stick together and sure... we made some shitty decisions and we killed innocent people but we did what we did to survive!" 

"You did what you did because Joel told you to do it!" Maria growled and you could hear Tommy scoffing loudly. 

"Believe it or not sweetheart but I have a mind of my own..." You let out a stuttered breath as you waited for Tommy to continue, you could practically hear them both panting in anger and frustration "It wasn't just down to Joel. I made calls I wasn't proud of but I did them to protect my brother." 

"Tommy-" 

"You know the day after outbreak day... He tried to fucking kill himself." This statement made you gasp. 

Your hand clapped over your mouth as you attempted to hide the surprised sound that escaped you. Joel had never told you that. He had barely mentioned Sarah to you. 

"I found him laying on the ground in an alley with a bullet wound on the side of his fucking head... He couldn't see a way to live because his daughter was gone. He'd rather die than live without her." 

Your eyes welled with fresh tears and you thought about what you had just heard. The scar on Joel's temple. The man who shot and missed. It had been him all along. He had shot and he had missed and he had to live with that knowledge and pain every day. It explained a lot really. 

"I think we are getting a little off-topic." Came a new voice and you were startled at hearing the doctor's voice join the conversation "We need to decide whether we are willing to risk using the last of the antibiotics to save this man. I, personally, think we should." 

So Ellie's statement did hit a nerve. 

"I understand that as a medical man, you struggle to make tough decisions like this but until we can be sure that we are able to replenish our stocks. I can't allow it." 

"Maria-"

"I'm sorry Tommy but I just can't say yes to that." 

Your attention was pulled away from the conversation inside and to Ellie who was screaming your and Tommy's name as she sprinted down the dimly lit street towards the houses. 

"Ellie, what's wrong?" You said as you grabbed the teenager's shoulders and attempted to steady her as she cried "What's happened?" 

"He keeps shaking." She sobbed and your heart broke "He had a fit... and then another like immediately fucking afterwards and that doctor wasn't there. Just some nurse." 

"What's going on?" Maria asked as she, Tommy and the doctor aforementioned stepped out of the house and onto the street.

"What's happened is that Joel's got worse." You growled, unable to look at the woman. 

"What d'ya mean" Tommy questioned. 

"He's having back-to-back fucking fits Tommy because your fucking wife wants him dead." Ellie practically screamed, her tears streaming down her cheeks "He's gonna fucking die." 

"Come on." You said as you pulled her close in an attempt to soothe her but she was having none of it. 

"We need to go back." She choked "We need to go back and sit with him so he's not alone." 

"Ellie-"

"He shouldn't die alone." His statement hit you like a sack of bricks. Knocking the wind from your lungs. 

Tommy and the doctor were already heading back to the hospital and you found yourself unconsciously following them with your arm wrapped protectively around Ellie. When you entered the hospital, you were greeted by Joel's bed, surrounded by nurses. 

"What's happening?" You sobbed as you pushed your way to his side. 

"He's struggling to breathe." One of the women answered, "His seizures have stopped but he's barely hanging on now." 

Your eyes drifted to Joel whose lips had taken on a startling shade of blue. His chest was barely moving and you knew that he didn't have long now. 

Were they too late? 

"I'm getting the oxygen." Stated the doctor as he disappeared from view and into the back room. 

Suddenly Joel's body went rigid again and his body convulsed so violently you were sure his spine would snap. The doctor reappeared a few moments later with a rather battered-looking oxygen tank and a mask that he fought to strap over the fitting man's face. 

The fit ended as abruptly as it started. The doctor then started to inspect Joel and you all waited on bated breath for him to say something. Anything. 

"He's not breathing." 

Anything but that. 

You watched in horror as the bed was lowered and the pillows pulled from beneath Joel's head. The doctor then started compressions and both you and Ellie cried without a care to who might see or hear. This was your worst nightmare coming to fruition. 

"If he dies... it's on you." Tommy growled at his wife before he pulled you and Ellie into his arms and held you close. 

"He's breathing." Announced one of the nurses and you felt your knees give way. 

"CAN YOU MAKE THE CHOICE NOW?" Tommy yelled, his face red as he glared at his wife. 

Maria stood there in shocked silence for a while before her eyes then drifted to the doctor who was working diligently to keep Joel breathing. She dared look at you and Ellie who were hugging each other on the floor, opening sobbing as the weight of Joel's situation threatened to drown the two of you. 

"Give him the medicine." She stated, not tearing her eyes away from you and the young girl you'd come to look at as your own "Whatever we have. Give it to him." 

Both you and Tommy looked up at her in shock. Her eyes flitted between the two of you as her face morphed into one of shame and guilt. 

"I'm sorry." She said simply and you both knew exactly what she meant "I'm so sorry." 

You watched as Joel slept soundly. 

His fever had broken 3 days ago and the shaking had ceased an hour or so after that, you and Ellie hadn't left his side in the two days that followed Maria giving the go-ahead. It had still been touch and go. The infection had spread to the point where his chances had been slim even with the medicine but you and she had sat at his side and had talked to him. Kept him grounded you hoped. 

On the morning of day three, however, Ellie had been dragged to the school. There had been kicking and screaming but when you had told her that you would fetch her if anything changed. She left a little more willingly then. Now for two days, you had sat at his side. Talking to him. Reading to him and bathing him in the hope that he would open his eyes. 

The doctor had assured you that he was doing well. That the infection was clearing out and that with time and rest, he should make a full recovery. 

"Come on Miller." You said as you cleaned his brow with a damp cloth "You need to wake up now." 

Nothing. 

"You know... Don't think that just because you almost died and shit that I'm not still mad at you." You chuckled "We still have some shit to work through... But I wanna work through it." 

Still, you received no response and you let out a long sigh as you dropped down into your seat again. 

"I've been thinking about what they would have been like." You said after a short pause "The baby." You clarified "I think they would have been the spitting image of you... let's face it you got all the best features." You chuckled to yourself. 

Your hand took his again as you allowed a few stray tears to fall. 

"I keep imagining this sweet little boy with your eyes and hair." You paused a moment to wipe your tears with your sleeve "Maybe my cheekbones but mostly he'd get his looks from you. A little mini Joel Miller running around." 

"Heaven forbid." Choked a quiet voice and you looked up to see Joel weakly smiling at you. His head turned to the side. 

"Joel?" You squeaked as you got to your feet "You with me?" 

He nodded and you sobbed as you cupped his cheek and kissed him. Humming when he returned the kiss with as much passion as he could muster in his weakened state. 

"You fucking scared me." 

"Sorry." He mumbled, smiling when you kissed him again before sitting back down again "I imagined a girl." He piped up after a short pause. 

"Hmm?" 

"The baby." You replied, "I imagined it was a girl." He said with a wistful smile "A small version of you and me. My hair and eyes I guess but your nose and lips and smile." 

"She would have been damn fuckin' cute!" You chuckled and he smiled back at you. 

"Yeah... she would have been." He replied, before feeling his lids start to droop. 

"Rest up Miller. I'm gonna fetch the doc." 

You were drying the last dish when you felt two strong arms circle your waist and pull you against a firm body. You hummed at the feeling of his lips on your neck and let your head fall to the side to give him better access. 

"Where's Ellie?" You asked when one of Joel's hands started to wander. 

"At Dina's." He purred as he took your earlobe between his teeth, his other hand slipping past the waistband of the leggings you wore. 

The first few weeks after Joel had left the hospital had been tough. He had been weak. Struggling to do much for himself and so it had taken him a while to get used to you and Ellie helping him. There had been the odd spat here and there but he had soon learned to appreciate the help he was given. 

Now, one month on he was doing better. He still wasn't quite 100 per cent but he was getting stronger and stronger with each day that passed. And the stronger he felt, the bolder he became. Yet, you two still hadn't really discussed what you two were to each other. You hadn't discussed the fantasy that you'd fed him on his deathbed. 

None of it. 

But as of that moment. You didn't really care that you hadn't discussed it... Because all of this... This Domesticity that had developed organically between the two of you felt so right. So you let his hand slip down to cup your sex and you let him kiss your neck as he told you how sexy you look. You gasped when he spun you on the spot, lips parted as your eyes locked on his and shivered at his intense gaze. The two of you just stood there a moment, breathing each other in before his lips crushed against yours in a kiss so passionate it made your toes curl. 

You grinned against his lips as you felt him push down your leggings before he was then lifting you so you were sitting on the counter beside the sink, slotting himself between your parted legs as he continued to kiss you. Your moans grew filthy as he ripped your remaining clothing off and you did your best to remove his. There was no foreplay. You both needed each other desperately and you gasped in unison when he sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust of his hips. 

"Fuck Joel." You whimpered as he started a brutal pace from the onset, your nails digging into the muscles on his back as he fucked you senseless. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered between kisses.

"Joel-"

"For everything." He interrupted, kissing you hard as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer "For all of it." 

"Joel I-"

"I love you." 

You choked on a sob at his confession. Kissing him hard when he looked like was about to panic and that spurred him on. His thrusts became more focused when his length started to pound against your sweet spot, pulling the filthiest sounds from your lips. 

"Fuck I love you, baby." He growled as he started to feel you flutter around him, his free hand then slipping between you so he could rub your clit. 

"Fuck... Joel, I'm... I'm... Fuck I'm cumming." You shrieked before your core started to pulse around him, gripping him hard. 

"Fuck!" He moan as he fucked you through your high. His following shortly after when he buried his length as deep as he could and hide his face him your neck as he allowed himself to revel in the feeling of being inside you again. 

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, just allowing the pleasure you'd both experienced to saturate everything but it hadn't skipped your notice that Joel had come inside of you. 

Had he meant to?

"Joel." You whispered and he knew exactly what you were going to ask him. 

"I know baby." He muttered as he pulled his head back so he could kiss you languidly "I want this with you." He assured you between kisses "I want it all with you." 

You couldn't have stopped the smile that spread across your face even if you had tried. 

He wanted you. 

And that's all that mattered. 

Next

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[stevesbestgirl]

Grumpy - Part 1/2

Joel Miller x Reader

2514 words

Warnings: Jackson era!Joel, mutual pining, infected attack (reader gets scraped up but mostly unharmed), gun use, implied character (animal) death (spoiler alert, its me), vague references to reader’s past trauma, alcohol consumption

A/N: I’ve just really wanted to try writing my hand at writing Joel. I want to do another part eventually, but I’m trying to stop hoarding things because they aren’t finished, so please be patient  ❤

"Would you leave that thing alone?" Joel gave a long suffering sigh as you knelt and held out a friendly hand to the grizzled-looking tabby cat. 

"He's not a thing." You shot Joel a glare in return before returning your attention to the skittish feline sniffing your fingers. It had taken months of leaving food and wearing gloves to get this close without a scratch, but now the cat shoved its weight against your hand, the deep rumble of purring starting up like an old engine. "No one else minds when I stop. It's just for a minute."

"One more minute we don't need to be outside." He was such a stubborn bastard. 

With another withering look at Joel, you stopped scratching and dug in your bag for the food you'd brought, setting it out and giving him a quick head pat as you stood, "Sorry sweet boy, I have to go. Take care of yourself, okay?"

The walk back to town was quiet until you felt like you had to defend yourself, "I just like knowing he has something to eat."

"Other animals could smell what you're bringing him-"

"Would you stop it?" It was more of a plea than anything. "I-" You swallowed the surprising lump in your throat; it was harder to talk about these things with Joel. "I know it's silly, when everyone has lost so much, but I miss my cat. And everyone deserves to have someone look after them."

Joel surprised you with a dry chuckle, making your heart flip, "Some of us are more the looking after type, darlin'."

You lowered your gaze to your feet in the snow, pretending to focus on your footing instead of answering. You knew that. That was why Joel always got you flustered. Hell, it felt like half the town must have figured out how you felt about him based on how often you tripped over your words after getting caught stealing glances. 

The rest of the walk back was spent in silence, as it often was with Joel. He left you at your door next to his own after asking if you'd be working the bar later that night. You were, and you promised to see him later before you disappeared inside. 

***

Shifts at the bar tended to pass quickly- a hell of a lot faster than patrol anyway. There was always work to be done around the settlement during the day, but unless you were on guard duty, most nights were spent at the Clay Pit drinking the homebrew Tommy and the other guys were so proud of. You'd still kill for a wine cooler, but it was better not to think about it too much. 

By the time you realized Joel hadn't come in, it was almost ten. Tommy had come in an hour or so ago. You knew Joel would be annoyed if he knew you were worrying about him- he always raised a fuss if you tried to look after him. But still, you hoped he was okay.

It was half past eleven when Joel finally climbed onto his usual stool and tipped his chin in a greeting. You couldn't help the smile that brightened your expression when you saw him. His mouth turned up at the corner in what you always assumed was Joel’s version of a polite smile.

You set his drink in front of him, "Late night?"

He grunted something that might have been a halfhearted laugh, "Game night with Ellie."

"Boggle again?" Ellie loved to brag about beating Joel.

"Nah, I'm teaching her poker."

"Got tired of losing, huh?"

"If I had it wouldn't matter. She's already shaping up to be a mean card player."

You smiled again, "She's a smart girl."

"That she is."

You bustled off to bus tables, leaving Joel to nurse his drink. You'd heard people- other women who thought he was handsome mostly, complain about how short Joel seemed, but you never minded. You weren't much for small talk either, although you were happier than Joel to oblige when someone wanted to chat. 

You did always wonder what he was thinking. It was no surprise Ellie could read his stony expressions, since she knew him better than anyone, except maybe Tommy. But to you, Joel was like a brick wall. 

You had thought he’d been flirting with you once- one of the bar patrons had stood up unexpectedly as you were walking by and you’d nearly gone down on your ass, if not for Joel’s palm on the small of your back. It was the soft grumble of, “Careful darlin’,  fall in my lap and I might not let you go,” only loud enough for you to hear, that had your breath catching and a tidal wave of flustered apologies tumbling from your mouth. 

But as quickly as it happened, it was over. When you’d offered to make dinner for him and Ellie as thanks- the closest you’d come to asking him out on a real date- he’d waved it away. And you’d decided then that trying to decipher Joel’s feelings for you would only end up leaving you disappointed. You wanted to think he was interested and you would likely find any evidence you could to support it. But more likely than anything, the man just wanted some peace with his kid. 

*

Deciding that Joel deserved his peace was one thing, but getting your silly crush to go away, that was another. And it seemed like as time went on, you were assigned more and more patrols with Joel until you were going out together at least once a week. But Joel hadn’t complained again about stopping to visit your feline friend.

“Why do you call him that?” Joel’s voice surprised you; usually he leaned broodily against a tree, silent while you visited. 

You looked over your shoulder at Joel, the cat still brushing against your shins, “Sweet boy?” Joel nodded, his gaze still on the trees, ever diligent in keeping watch. “Because he is.”

That pulled a dry chuckle from him, the sound startling the cat, “Didn’t you damn-near need stitches the first time you got near him?”

“He was scared,” you defended. “But now that he knows I’m safe, he’s a total love bug.” You shot him a teasing smile, “Kind of like you with Ellie.” You knew no one at the compound would believe it if you told them, but Joel’s cheeks seemed to darken, even beneath the several days-old scruff on his cheeks.

You didn’t call attention to it, digging in your bag for the food you’d brought. Once he was happily eating, you gave him a pat and said your goodbyes, prompting Joel to speak again as you started the rest of the walk home, his voice low, “You don’t wanna give him a real name, do you?”

You thought about lying; it was even harder to be vulnerable when Joel was asking for it- it threw you off guard. “Not particularly. Makes it harder if something does happen to him.”

“Why don’t you bring him in if you worry so much?”

You didn’t bother to suppress a soft sigh, you’d gone in circles about it, “I don’t know how he would do. If he would stay. How he would be around so many people. I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

Joel let it be after that, waiting silently each time you stopped after that. Until the day you stopped and made the chirping sound like usual and your friend didn’t come trotting out from the trees. Heart stuttering, you rolled your tongue again, a bit louder, but there was no sign of him. 

"Sweet boy?" You stepped a bit deeper into the woods and clicked your tongue again, waiting. Your heart was beating in your ears, breath getting stuck in your throat. 

You were waiting for a comment from Joel- an "I told you so," or an empty reassurance, but neither came. 

You tried to call out again, but your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut to stifle the tears trying to well up. 

"Darlin'-" You heard the scuff of a boot on dirt and then, "Shit- move!"

Even with your eyes closed, the shadow was still discernible; you stumbled out of the way just in time for a snarl and a swipe at your coat sleeve. There was a sharp bang, then two more in quick succession. You were mid-kick, ready to fight a follow up attack that never came; the zombie crumpled to the ground as you fell backwards, your palms scraping the dirt. 

After a beat of silence, you whispered, "Fuck." Then tears spilled over into your cheeks as you stared numbly at the corpse on the ground. 

Then Joel was grabbing your arms, his face blocking your view, "Are you alright?" The way he said it made you think it wasn't the first time he'd asked. 

"I'm fine." After a beat of deciding whether to accept that, Joel hauled you up by the forearms. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, mindful of the scrapes on your palms; you needed to pull yourself together until you were home. Until Joel wasn't around to see you cry. 

But Joel refused to leave you at your door like usual, "Lemme help you get cleaned up." 

You didn't have it in you to argue. So you ended up sitting on the closed toilet lid while Joel knelt in front of you, your first aid kit open on the counter. You didn't flinch when he disinfected the scrapes, drawing a raised eyebrow, but no questions.

Once you were bandaged up, he rumbled low, brown eyes boring into yours, "You sure you're alright?" He was still holding your wrist.

You nodded numbly, "Just shaken up." You broke eye contact, "'M sorry."

He tapped his thumb on your chin, urging you to look at him, "What're you sorry for?"

"You were right. I shouldn't have stopped. I probably got him killed. Almost got myself killed, if not for you." Saying it aloud made the tears spring back up.

"None of that was your fault." The way Joel's expression softened would have melted your heart on a normal day. Today it made you feel like an idiot. 

"Thanks. But I think I need to be alone for a little bit." 

If you didn't know better, you'd think you caught him by surprise. But he recovered quickly, his thumb brushing over your wrist as he stood. You followed him to the door, “Thanks for the help, Joel.” 

He nodded, but he hesitated for a moment before he left, his fingers wrapped around the open door. He glanced at you again and practically grunted, “You’re welcome.” Then he stepped through the door and hastened off the patio. You had been kind of rude; you couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. You closed the door quickly; you would feel guilty for your rudeness later, but you needed to be sad in peace.

*

“Surprised you’re working tonight,” Tommy commented when he came into the bar at half past nine. 

You glanced at him in the middle of bussing the bar, “Better than sitting home. Joel told you?”

“Had me out practically ‘til dark looking for that cat.” He gave a chuckle to show he held no real contempt for his brother, but your throat felt a bit tight.

Finally you mustered, “That was nice of you both. I wouldn’t have expected you to find anything, but I appreciate it.”

Tommy glanced down at the bar, clearing his throat, “We, uh, actually did find something.” Somehow your heart sank even lower. “No body, but there was some fur- a few different colors not far from where that infected was.” 

You nodded, struggling to stay dry-eyed, “Thanks for telling me.” You tipped your chin at the room, “I should do a round.”

Tommy nodded and freed you to check on the other patrons; you made sure to keep yourself busy until you locked the door behind you. You’d been dreading the end of your shift. 

Even though it was the same as always, your empty house seemed to magnify the loss inside you. If you said it out loud, it would sound so silly to be so upset over a cat- one that wasn’t even really your pet. But it really felt like the nail in the coffin of loss; your parents, your boyfriend, your sister. You’d bourne it all without a fuss. Survival had taken priority. But Jackson had made you soft- made you feel safe. Now this one little thing without even a proper name felt like the straw to break the camel’s back. 

You took your blanket out to the swing on your front porch- Joel had helped you fix it- and wrapped yourself up. You huddled up to block your cheeks against the chilly air, but it was worth it for the view of the stars. The chilly night air in your lungs and the bright sparkle of the sky with tonight’s clear sky helped to clear your head.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Joel’s voice broke you from your stupor. You must have visibly jumped because he quickly added, his voice a bit softer, “Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to spook ya.” He walked halfway up your front sidewalk and paused.

“That’s okay, I should probably go inside anyway.” 

You didn’t make any move to get up and Joel came closer, leaning against the rail post, “You’ll get sick sittin’ out here dressed like that.”

“The cold doesn’t actually make you sick, you know.” You surprised both of you by sounding more like your normal self. 

“You sound like Ellie.”

“Like I said before, she’s a smart girl.”

That pulled a curl from the corner of his mouth that looked suspiciously like a smile in the dim light. He wasn’t going to let you joke your way out of the conversation though. “You alright? Actually?”

You nodded, “I’m okay. Just needed some air.” There was a pause, then you added, “I appreciate that you went out to look for him. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m still hopin’ he’ll turn up.”

You glanced away, “It’s okay. Tommy told me about what you found.”

“That jackass. I asked him to wait until I was sure.”

“I’m sure enough,” you said. “It’s too dangerous to be out there looking for him.” You offered a sad smile, “You don’t have to take care of me because you feel bad. I’m alright.”

Giving a sardonic chuckle, Joel raised an eyebrow, “I don’t look after anyone because I feel bad for them.”

“And yet, you’re here, making sure I go inside and get warm before you go home.”

He shook his head, “And you’re still here, probably freezing.” He tromped up onto the porch and offered you a hand up. You reluctantly accepted and let him steer you to the front door. He tugged the blanket up more tightly around your shoulders, “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, “Good night, Joel.”

[moonlight-prose]

In Love With Love weekend! 😍 Could you please do 18. hello/goodbye hugs that linger with Tommy Miller? I love the way you write him. Thanks!

FALLING

a/n: first off thank you thank you thank you!! literally over the moon you like my version of tommy. genuinely i don't know what happened. i started writing and forgot it was supposed to be fluffy, so i went in and added as much fluff as possible. but somehow it still came out slightly angsty. i think it's still pretty soft and well it's the apocalypse so there's bound to be angst. i hope you enjoy it darling!

summary: "a fleeting moment of you being tugged forward and wrapped into the safety of his arms. it ignited something in you. caused your heart to quicken its pace whenever he was around—reminding you of what he felt like so close."

word count: 1.1k+

pairing: tommy miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst due to apocalyptic circumstances, fluff, tommy being smitten, oblivious idiots in love, the romance of a hug.

It started with his smile. The way it lit up something inside of you, drawing out the warmth that hadn’t been there before. That smile hooked you, kept you wanting more, until you could do nothing else but reach out to him. That smile made you smile, made you believe that for a moment…nothing was wrong. The world wasn’t bad, you weren’t alone.

It started with his smile.

But grew into more.

He hugged you the first time as a quick way of saying goodbye. A fleeting moment of you being tugged forward and wrapped into the safety of his arms. It ignited something in you. Caused your heart to quicken its pace whenever he was around—reminding you of what he felt like so close. You could recall replaying the hug over and over in your head after that. Wondering when it would happen again, yet too afraid to initiate it yourself.

That is until he realized you were okay with them.

At first they were small, yet another layer added to your friendship as you both found what it meant to have people close to you. He’d come into your small shop in the town, offer you food or conversation that flowed easier than water in a river, and leave with a hug. And as expected, you’d fall into his arms every time. Craving more even after he walked out, the bell above the door ringing sullenly.

You trudged up the snow covered path towards your small shop—your jacket barely thick enough to keep the cold from Fall out. Winter was a whole different ballpark. You shivered as you tried to open the door, the key slipping slightly—your breath forming a thick cloud in the air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, trying yet again. But to no avail it seemed you were trapped outside of your own place, the cold seeping in by the second.

“Need some help?”

His voice so close startled you, the key falling from your hand and landing soundlessly on the snow below. Tommy stood behind you, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and cheeks stained red from the cold. He looked like he’d been out working, trying to get the place as settled as possible. Yet somehow he still remained perfect in your eyes. His hair was ruffled, boots and jeans scuffed.

It did nothing but make him more attractive.

“Hi,” you said, your breath blocking him from sight for a few seconds. Long enough for him to bend down and grab the key.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, moving past you slightly to swiftly slip the key in the lock and turn the knob for you. “Figured you knew I was here.”

“How could I when you’re so quiet.”

He chuckled, following you into the place—the door shutting softly behind him. “I’m sorry.”

The light flickered on with a soft buzz, illuminating his face in the soft glow. You wanted to tell him everything on your mind. Let him know how your heart ached for him on days when you were feeling lonely, when the world was too much for you to bear. No one told you how hard surviving was—how you felt the loss of your past life so thoroughly. Yet when you were in his presence, all that pain and suffering faded to the back of your mind.

Until it was just you and him and peace.

“Guess I’ve been in my head a little too much today,” you joked, smiling softly when he shifted on his feet slightly—as if he was nervous to be here.

“We all get like that sometimes.” He wasn’t wrong. “You know you can talk to me right?”

That jerked you out of your melancholy daze. “Tommy…”

“Don’t worry darlin’. Who am I gonna tell your secrets to?”

Heat seeped into your face, spreading up the back of your neck. “I don’t want to burden you with things you can’t fix.”

He stepped closer, half expecting you to step back, but your feet were rooted to the ground. As if you were a part of that deadly fungus, unable to do anything but remain in place and grow—spreading throughout the building. He grinned, his hand reaching forward and brushing against yours. Never clasping it, never moving further, just remaining as far as you’d let him get.

So close yet so far away you felt the familiar ache begin to seep into your heart once more.

“You tellin’ me what’s in your pretty head wouldn’t be a burden.”

If you had the courage, you’d pull him in for a kiss, but you were never brave when it came to romance. Too hesitant of something going drastically wrong. Your heart raced in your chest, the heat from your face down curling low in your stomach. Causing you to fall silent on his request to spill all your secrets to him, all the grief and pain you hold onto.

“I’ll tell you,” you whispered, eyes tracing the shape of his cheekbones. “But not tonight.”

He nodded, his fingers quickly curling around yours before letting go. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

The double entendre of his words wasn’t lost on you and something told you he knew it too. He was going to be there when you were finally ready to take the jump. When you felt okay enough to let him into your heart permanently. Because with Tommy you knew…once he settled into your bones, found his way into your very being, he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. Not when you were as much a part of him as he was you.

So you smiled, gave him a small nod, and allowed him to envelop you in his arms for a goodbye hug. One that lasted longer than either of you intended, but you didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t want to let go. How could he? When you felt so perfect nestled right against his chest—the warmth of your body seeping into his. He smiled, pressing his nose softly into your hair and savoring every second.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled into his denim jacket, but you didn’t mind.

He tightened his arms around you before finally letting you go, his hand lingering close to yours. “Anytime darlin’.”

The name ignited something in you, causing a flame to come to life in your chest. Whether you wanted to or not it was clear to you that you were falling in love with him. He gave you another heart stopping smile, nodding slightly before heading towards the door. The path of your future together, now carved out and clear in front of you.

Simply waiting for you to follow it.