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blooming-violets · 1 year ago

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Saints and Sinners || Under the Banner of Heaven

[Jeb Pyre x fem!Reader]

Summary: Jeb falls prey to his darkest temptations while working a case.

Warnings: adult graphic smut, a cheating fic, heavy LDS religious themes and traumas, brief mentions of the murder of sex workers, light fem!dom/male!sub roles but nothing too crazy, brining it back to the religious trauma stuff - a lot of strong feelings of being trapped in a family/religion you don't feel like you belong in, if you are someone who feels offended with merging religion and sexual themes then this is not the fic for you

Note: "Reader" is nicknamed Daisy as her stage name as a stripper/sex worker. She has no physical descriptions apart from having female anatomy/a human body and wearing a sun dress. She can look however you'd want her to which is what makes her a reader character. Apart from that, she is her own character.

Jeb Pyre considered himself to be a decently good man.

He was well groomed. He was respectful. He loved his family. He gave his job 100% and loved his neighbors.

He was a devout son of the Heavenly Father.

Or, at least, he used to be.

He had been hiding his true self for his family's sake. He was trying, but failing, to keep up his appearance of perfection. Every day was a new struggle to keep up his flawless Latter-day smile. Docile and submissive. Never making waves. Never voicing questions. Day after day, trapped in his own mind, slowly being eaten alive by his ever growing doubt. It was only a matter of time before he cracked.

She was his forbidden fruit. The temptress sent straight from the devil to corrupt his soul. The snake in his garden.

His latest case had led him straight to her doorstep. There were sex workers in the city being murdered. A killer who vowed to cleanse his city from their filth. Jeb hadn’t even known there were sex workers living in his area. He’d never even seen a strip club before he was forced to step inside one to investigate. It was a terrifying world he wasn’t sure how to navigate.

She had taken his hand and led him through the darkness.

Daisy. That’s what she called herself. Her stage name. She had told him it was after Daisy Buchanan. The paragon of perfection for men to lust after but hiding a sardonic, amoral soul. It seemed to fit. She was the kind of woman he’d leave a green light on for but never be able to obtain. He knew her real name for his investigation but she refused to have him call her by such. She claimed only the people who truly loved her were allowed to utter her true name. To everyone else, she was just Daisy.

He used to believe that all sex workers were women who needed saving. They had lost their way from God. They were impure. Drug addicts. Abused. Lost souls desperate to be saved.

But she fit none of those roles.

She was strong and sure. A business woman. A homeowner. She didn’t need a man to provide for her. Everything she owned was achieved through her own tenacity. When he looked at her, he saw someone who truly enjoyed their job. He struggled to wrap his head around that fact. A woman shouldn’t enjoy having sex for a living. She shouldn’t enjoy selling her body to perverted men. She should remain pure and devout until marriage. He often wondered what her future husband would think of her lewd, depraved acts.

And then he remembered that she never wanted to marry.

What an absurd thought. A woman with no desire for a husband? Utterly bizarre.

She was unlike any woman he had ever met and he was tempted by the wickedness of her world. He knew he shouldn’t be. He knew better than to dance with the devil. Yet, here he was. Allowing her to occupy every existing thought in his brain. She was the one he thought about late at night. She was the name he moaned into his pillow in the early hours of the morning while his wife slept beside him. She was the one he dreamed of being able to touch.

The one thing he couldn’t have, was the one thing he truly coveted. For Jeb Pyre was a sinner. He wasn't a devout man. He didn’t believe in the Heavenly Father.

And he hated the life he was forced to be living.

Everything was an act and he was tired of playing his part.

So, when a killer murdered two of her work acquaintances, and put her in his targets, Jeb decided to personally oversee her protection. After all, she had been such a help to the investigation thus far. He needed to keep his best informant alive.

Even if that meant risking everything he had to spend the night in her arms.

Jeb parked his car on the street directly outside of her house. From out here, one would never know what kind of person she was. It looked no different than any other house on the block. He wondered if her neighbors had any idea. He couldn’t imagine if they knew, they would let her stay in the neighborhood without a fight. They’d blame it on the guise of protecting their innocent children from the evil whore but the truth was that they hated anyone who dared to step outside their carefully crafted circle. They hated those different from them.

But who were her clients then, if not the men who claimed to hate everything about her?

Everything was a facade. He was so used to hearing people say one thing but act the opposite. The men who would run her from their neighborhood if they knew the truth, were the same men who would cash out their family’s credit card to spend a night with her. Publically, they would denounce her. Privately, they would take whatever they desired from her.

He was no different from them. The perverse thoughts inside his head were just as bad, if not worse. He had seen too much in this job. It had twisted his core. His mind was polluted. He was lusting down paths he could never travel.

Jeb rapped three, strong knocks on her door. It was later in the evening. He knew she wasn't at the strip club because he had a copy of her schedule in his car glove box. There were other women he had to keep an eye on, too, but she was the one he chose to personally protect. She was the one he feared to lose the most. It was irrational, he knew that. She had no notion of his fantasies keeping him up at night. To her, he was just the lead detective on a case.

He caught her peeking out the top window of her front door, standing on her tiptoes to reach, and he gave a friendly wave. At least she was smart. She wasn’t opening her door to just anyone.

He listened to the clicks of two different locks and smiled as she opened to him, “Good evening, ma’am. Detective Jeb Pyre, remember me?”

She forced a tight smile in return, “Of course I remember you. Do you think I have the memory of a goldfish?”

He let out a half hearted laugh. She was beautiful but she was scared. Women she had worked with were dying. It was supposed to be his job to keep them safe.

He tried to take a subtle glance down her body. She was wearing a sundress and nothing else. Warm yellow with tiny white flowers dotting the sleek fabric. One of the thin straps was sliding down her shoulder. The dress clung tightly around her torso to highlight her stunning cleavage and flared out over her hips whenever she moved. Women around here never wore clothes like that unless they also donned a buttoned up cardigan and tights. To see her display her body so openly caught his breath in his throat. He had to shift on his feet to readjust himself. He refused to allow her to see how excited his body was reacting to hers.

It was unprofessional. Wrong.

“Not at all. Do you have a moment to chat?” He asked, doing his best to keep his voice level.

She gave a sharp inhale, “Is everything okay? Did someone else get hurt?”

Jeb shook his head, “No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted…”

What did he want? He wanted to commit a sin. He wanted to see her naked. He wanted to kiss her entire body. He wanted to slide his cock between her beautifully plump lips. He-

He was going to hell.

“I just wanted to stop in and let you know that I’ll be stationed outside your house for the rest of the night. With everything going on, I thought it would be best to station some people at various hot spots around town to keep an eye on things.”

Her eyes narrowed, “My house is a hot spot?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, Detective Pyre, but I don’t do business out of my own home. No one knows where I live. I use a stage name at work. No one there knows my real name. I’m not a street walker, I’m a stripper who occasionally takes up extra clients in the vip rooms when the money is good enough. My house isn’t a revolving door for men to come and go whenever they please like some brothel. I’ve taken some time off work for the next week to lay low, anyway. A lot of the other girls are doing the same. I think I’ll be alright.”

Jeb chewed awkwardly on his bottom lip, feeling like he had offended her, “I didn’t mean to imply…anything…”

This was not going how he intended. He wasn’t used to women talking back to him. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You being stationed out in your car all night, in front of my house, is only going to cause more eyes to look at me. My neighbors already think I’m some crazy heretic for not attending their church. I don’t need them looking further into my life. Thank you for stopping by and offering your support but I don’t need it.”

As she started to close the door, Jeb stuck his foot between the crack, wincing as it slammed into his shoe. He felt immediate guilt for doing such a strong handed act with her. He just couldn’t bear the thought of being turned away. He couldn’t spend another night laying in a bed next to a wife he no longer loved.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly added when he saw her look of outrage. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous the man we are hunting is. He could have already followed you home. He probably already knows where you live. I wouldn’t put it past him to break in. I’ve seen it before.” He gave a quiet sigh, nearly begging for her approval. “Please. Let me watch over you tonight. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happened while I was supposed to be here.”

Her shoulders dropped in defeat. He watched her peer side to side down the street, taking in her surroundings for anything unusual.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But do you have to be parked in the street? Can’t you pull your car into my garage so no nosy neighbors will see and spend the night inside? I have a perfectly adequate couch for you to hang out on.”

Jeb smiled, relieved, “I can do that. Thank you.”

He shouldn’t be this excited about being inside her home.

As he slowly walked through her place, he took note of the items she owned. Her house looked like any others he might enter. There were pictures of her with friends hanging on her refrigerator, a television in the corner of the living room, a brick fireplace with a little ceramic frog on top of the mantle. A cozy, hand knit blanket was draped over the back of the couch. Everything looked normal. He felt stupid for imagining her living inside of sex dungeon. Whatever that might look like. He still had a lot of biases he had to work on.

She walked into the living room after him with a glass of ice water, offering it to him, “The bathroom is the first door on the left down the hall. My bedroom is the last door. There’s a spare room to the right where I do my step aerobics. I have a basement with some empty rooms down there but I don’t really use them. Then there’s the kitchen and, obviously, living room. The front door and the basement door are the only doors into the house besides the garage. It’s a pretty small house with thin walls so you should be able to hear anything if there’s a break in.”

Jeb smiled politely in thanks. He knew what he was doing would be considered nefarious in his community. A married man spending the night in a single woman’s home, a stripper, no less, would be the gossip of the town. It wouldn’t matter if he was a detective keeping watch on someone who could be in danger. He was still a man alone with a woman. The first night he was ever alone with his wife was their wedding night. It was no wonder Daisy wanted him to park in the garage so people wouldn’t talk. She probably had a hard enough time as it was.

“I won’t take up much room,” he said. “I don’t want to be a burden. Only trying to help to keep everyone safe.”

“Isn’t this usually the type of job you give to the rookies?” She asked, taking a seat in an armchair across from the couch. She crossed her legs at the ankles like a respectable lady should and, somehow, she still looked like a seductress doing so. “Does the lead detective usually make overnight house calls?”

The skirt of her dress was short. It bunched up around her thighs as she sat. He willed himself to only look at her face and keep his eyes from wandering.

Jeb blushed and perched on the edge of the couch cushion, “We don’t have too many men at the station. I volunteered to lend an extra hand.”

She leaned back, eyeing him up with a type of bold, observant intelligence he wasn’t used to seeing, “What does your wife think of you spending the night with a whore?”

He anxiously twirled his wedding band around his finger. She spoke with such brashness it caught him off guard.

“I told her I was spending the night at the office,” he wasn’t sure why he willingly answered so honestly and without hesitation.

She had that kind of spell over him. He wanted to protect her. Wanted to give her things. Wanted to tell her all his secrets. She was a siren luring him to his destruction and he was willing to sail his ship straight into the rocks if it made her happy.

A smirk tugged up the corner of her lips, “Ah, I see. So you’re a liar. What else are you lying to her about?”

Jeb choked on the water he was sipping. His eyes widened.

“I’m not-what-I’m not-” he sputtered out.

She laughed quietly to herself, “Calm down, detective. I was only joking. An LDS man telling his wife a lie? That’s never been heard of before.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

He ran the back of his hand over his lips to hide his smile. He liked her. He liked her sass. She didn't care what he thought of her. She wasn’t playing a game like everyone else he knew. It made him want to tell her the truth. Every truth. Everything he had been holding in for the past year.

He hated his wife. He didn’t just not love her anymore, he despised her.

Her words had been echoing in his ears for over a year now, “I love you but I can’t struggle through this with you.”

She had left him when he needed her the most. She chose her faith over him. He should have known. He had married her because of how devout she was. Her love for Heavenly Father was what drew him towards her in the first place. Now, it’s what cast him away.

If he didn’t pretend, Rebecca would take everything from him. She would leave him for nothing if he didn’t keep on impersonating a saintly man. As if they hadn’t spent an entire lifetime together. As if he hadn’t devoted everything to his family. She would rather jump ship than dare to stand by his side when he needed her most. He would have never left her if she had been in his place. He would have held her hand and walked her through her doubts but she couldn’t do the same. Her love was conditional.

He hated her for that.

He hated himself for hating her.

Rebecca’s faith was what kept her moving forward. It was all she ever knew. She lives in the LDS belief that Jeb, with his priesthood, is the one who must usher her through the veil when she passes so she can enter the highest form of heaven. Without him, without his beliefs, she was fucked.

Jeb smiled to himself. He liked that word.

Fucked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That was his life.

A big fucking lie. A pile of steaming bullshit.

He had just met Daisy five days ago and she had already pegged him for exactly the kind of man he was. A liar. A stripper knew more about him than his own wife. She could see straight through the fabricated, bullshit act he put on and he had only been inside her home for five minutes. Five fucking minutes and she could already see the depravity leaking out of him.

God, he was pathetic.

“I don’t believe in a God,” he blurted out, shocking even himself with the outburst.

She gave him a few, stunned blinks in response, “...Okay.”

Jeb cleared his throat, his face heating with embarrassment, “I don’t know where that came from. I deeply apologize.”

If he was with anyone else, his confession would have been met with gasps of horror. With her, it was nothing more than a passing sentence.

She was perfect. He wanted her. Badly. That sundress was only working to fuel his indiscretion.

She leaned her head into the palm of her hand as she rested it on the arm of the chair, “Is this…something you’d like to discuss further, detective? Men seem to enjoy emptying their traumas onto me. I’ve consoled many men over the years. I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

“I-” he stammered, his ear heating up in shame for his actions. “No. I’m sorry. Again.”

She wasn’t his therapist. He didn’t have a therapist. Only crazy people had therapists. And he wasn’t crazy.

Or maybe he was.

Life might be easier if he was crazy.

“I love my wife,” he stated. He only said that to try and convince his brain to stop lusting after the woman he was meant to be protecting. He was here to make sure no one broke in. He was working a case. He was not here to turn to sin.

She nodded her head, pretending to follow along with whatever obvious breakdown was going on inside his mind, “That’s good. A lot of men love their wives. A lot of men don’t. That’s a part of life.”

“I love…no…” Jeb sighed. Fuck it. The rant was coming out. He couldn’t stop it. He was already too far gone to keep it repressed any longer. “I don’t love my wife. I hate her. Every time I look at her, all I feel is animosity. I think she’s the dumbest woman I’ve ever met and I know that’s wrong to think. I know that makes me a terrible man. I’m an awful husband. It’s just that she blindly follows whatever the profit says. Whatever a bishop tells her to do, she’d do it without a second thought. They could tell her to get on her knees and suck them off because Heavenly Father commanded it so and she would do it. She doesn’t see anything further than her own nose. She follows and never questions. And, I understand, because I used to be the same. I used to believe because that’s what I was taught to do. Blindly believe. That’s all there ever was.

“She’s never seen true evil. Not like I have. Because she refuses to look even though it’s all around her. I see it everywhere. She puts on her little Mormon blinders and never dares to take them off. So, she follows. And she makes my girls follow. And she makes me follow or else she will take the girls away from me. I am raising my daughters in a world that hates women. My wife is letting them be preyed upon. She’s happy to let them be squashed into submission. Keep sweet. Pray and obey. Learn to worship your future husband. Never think for yourself.” He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath, feeling himself losing it. His voice cracked. “If I give up, is there no hope for my daughters? Who will protect them if not me? My wife would marry again, quickly, so she can still get into the celestial kingdom when she dies. She’ll marry someone who won’t waver in their beliefs. Another man would raise my girls. He won’t care about them. Not like I do. They’ll be sold off to the first Mormon boy they fancy. They’ll be married at 18. Never attend college. Never think for themselves. Never get a job. Because I won’t be there to inspire them to reach for more. I’ve seen what kind of men are out there. My daughters won’t be safe unless I play the part my wife created for me.”

He opened his eyes to look over at the woman across from him. Her face was neutral but her eyes were burning with an eagerness to know more. His sudden outburst of lament had stricken something deep inside of her. He had captured her interest like he was a strange bug forced under a microscope that she wanted to dissect. His spiel may have exploded out of nowhere but she was already on board to follow along. She seemed like someone who enjoyed a feisty debate. He needed someone who wouldn’t hold back.

“You claim your wife is the dumb one, yet, here you are, spewing a load of shit all over my living room,” she mused, giving him a snarky grin.

Jeb’s jaw dropped. He forced himself to quickly regain his composure and took another swig of cold water. The fire behind her eyes was enticing. He desperately wished his wife could show that kind of passion once in her fucking life. He hated the docile, sweet act. He craved raging forest fires not babbling brooks. He licked his lips, ready to swallow anything she threw back at him. This is what he wanted. Someone to argue with. Someone he could express himself with without fear of rejection. He wanted this fierce lioness to eat him alive.

He just wanted something that felt real for once.

She stood up to pace around the room in front of him while she spoke, “Do you realize your wife is like that because she knows nothing else? That is her way of survival. She chooses to believe instead of question because questioning is terrifying. Questioning means losing everything and everyone you’ve ever loved. Your entire world crumbles under your feet if you dare to question. Want to ask me how I know?” She stopped her aggravated pacing to shoot him a look of annoyance. “You’re a man. You have so many options still available should you fumble. If she were to question her faith, she would lose her family. Her mother, father, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, friends. She loses them all. And then she is left with what, exactly? I doubt your wife works? Does she have her own career? Skill sets? Does she have her own income? Does she have her own car? Bank account? She dares to question, she is left with nothing. But you know that already. Obviously. Because you are just as scared to speak your truths out loud. You’re no better than her.”

She stopped momentarily to catch her breath, flipping a strand of hair from off her forehead. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her hips swayed when she walked. He adored her temper. It felt so natural. Real. She wasn’t holding herself back to placate him. She acted on her own accord without worrying about how others perceived her.

He wanted to toss her onto this couch and take her right here. He could only half listen to her rant through his ever growing desires.

“How do you know your wife doesn’t think the same thoughts as you? How do you know she doesn’t hide her truths locked up deep inside her mind and never dares to speak them? It’s fine to voice your opinions when you’re in the safety of my house. To you, I am nothing, I’m just a stripper. A prostitute. Hooker. Harlot. Whore. Whatever you want to call me. I pose no threat to you because, to you, I am so far below you that my voice does not matter. You feel safe to speak freely inside these walls because you face no real consequences here. You’ve seen evil? Well I’ve lived evil. You’re here because of the evil that wants to be inflicted upon me. Because I think differently from you. Because I use my body as a tool. Because I don’t subscribe to your values. Someone out there thinks I deserve death simply because I exist in a way he doesn’t approve of. You want to blame your wife for your problems. Blame yourself because you’re no better than her. You’re all a part of the same system.”

Jeb sat there in silence. The condensation from the glass of ice water clutched in his hand dripped down his wrist. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he took it all in. He was torn between fully digesting her words and imagining her naked, writhing body under him as he dragged the ice cube from his glass down her stomach.

“I don’t,” he whispered. “I don’t think you’re a whore.”

He didn’t even like saying that word out loud. He felt a dark cloud of shame rain down around him. But was she wrong?

He had never imagined his wife in the scenario currently playing in his head. He saw Daisy as a sex object willing to be exploited to his darkest temptations.

She stopped in front of him. She placed her finger under his chin and lifted his head up to look at her. His wide, pleading, brown eyes took her in, silently begging for some kind of clarity to fix his entire life.

“Tell me what you think of me, detective. Tell me the truth. When you look at me, what is it you truly see?” She murmured down at him. “Why are you really here? It’s not to discuss your lapse of faith, or your wife, and it’s not to keep me safe. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me what it is you truly want? Don’t you lie to me.”

The way his world saw it, Rebecca was pure, because she had remained a virgin until marriage. She lived and breathed by the Book of Mormon. Daisy was a condemned sinner, because she sold her body for sex. She was beyond saving. Even the outfit she wore was considered taboo. Modest clothing was the foundation stone to sustaining abstinence. She was the sinner.

But so was he.

Jeb was no saint despite the role he was trying to play.

He took a deep breath and recited the scripture, “He that looketh on a woman to lust after her, or if any shall commit adultery in their hearts, they shall not have the Spirit, but shall deny the faith and shall fear.”

Her eyes flicked with curiosity and a smile tugged at her lips. She caressed her thumb over his cheek, “You lust, Jeb Pyre? For me?”

He licked his drying lips, gently pushing her hand away from his face, “Yes.”

She nodded, knowingly, “You don’t know what you want. Your mind is in one place but your actions keep you in another. I am not the answer to your problems. Many men have tried but all have failed. The answer is never found between the legs of a whore. Unless, that is, what you say is true and you don’t think of me that way. Something tells me, though, that you’re lying to us both.” She gave him a wink, turning on her heels with her dress spinning out around her, and swayed down the hallway towards her bedroom. “Have a good night on the couch, detective. I’ll be retiring to my bedroom should you decide you need me.”

She let those last few words linger in the air, the weight of them settling down around him, as the door closed behind her.

The cuckoo clock hanging on her wall let him know that midnight was here. The sudden sound breaking the peaceful silence had caused him to jump up from his spot on the couch and reach for the gun at his hip. Jeb rolled his eyes in the clock's direction and lowered his hands back to his side. He might still have some residual PTSD from his former cases…

Her house was dark and quiet.

He liked it that way. Sometimes he missed the quiet. She hadn’t left her bedroom since she entered. Without her in his sights, he could better attempt to control his impulses. He was too weak to be trusted around her. If she hadn’t left when she did, he would have given in. It had taken everything in him to not follow her blindly into that bedroom like a dog on a leash.

Jeb ran a ragged hand over his face. He wasn’t tired. Late nights were where he thrived best. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. She’d awoken his mind in a way he thirsted for. Even just being in her house, prowling silently down her hallway, gave him a thrill. He felt like a naughty school boy getting into mischief after class. He longed to feel something more. His life was full of boredom and she offered him the keys to adventure. He longed to find solace in the arms of a stripper.

A soft light illuminated from under her door to let him know that she was still awake down there. He wondered what she was doing hidden away out of his sight. She had invited him to join her. She had invited him to relish in his sins. It would be a line that, once he crossed, he would never be able to erase. The second he gave in to her, he wouldn't be able to stop. He was already past the point of saving. One little push was all it would take for him to delve into the madness. That glowing light under her door beckoned him to her like the light of God calling him home.

He slipped into her bathroom instead.

He ran cold water out of her orchid pink sink to splash over his heated face. His eyes sought his reflection in the mirror to stare deeply into his own battered soul. This was his crossroads. Whichever path he took would alter the rest of his life. He had already committed adultery in his mind. It was now the act to see if his body would follow or not.

The sight of a black and golden lipstick sitting on the edge of her sink caught his eye. Jeb reached for it, popping off the cap, and twisting it up. A deep, berry red. A color housewives wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. He brushed his thumb over the top to coat his skin with the color of her lips. The bottom of the stick was engraved with the name of the shade. Walk of Shame. He smiled a wicked smile to himself.

He knew what road he was going to take. He would take that walk of shame.

Jeb placed the stick back where he found it. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, mulling over his decision, then carefully plucked it off his body. He placed the ring around the lipstick, listening to it rattle against the ceramic sink, and gave a long, soft sigh. A weight had been lifted from him. He quickly exited the bathroom and allowed his feet to lead him straight to her door. He stood outside, silent, listening.

Soft moans floated under the door. Little whines. Whimpers.

His eyes slipped closed and his lips parted. He knew those sounds. She was putting on a show for him. All he had to do was raise the curtain and let her perform. His hand hovered over her door knob.

It was okay. She had invited him in.

“-should you need me.”

He needed her. He hadn’t engaged in sex with his wife in over eight months. He needed her now more than ever.

He slowly and silently turned the knob. Inch by inch. Until he was able to push open the door. Just a crack. Just enough to peek through. He had to make sure she was safe behind those walls. After all, that was his job.

She laid across the bottom of her mattress. Her sundress was gathered around her hips. Her legs were parted wide, aimed straight at the door, as if she knew he would show up. He was that predictable. Through her half closed, dreamy lids, her long, elegant fingers drew delicate circles through her glistening flower. His breath caught in his throat when he watched her dip a finger deep inside of her. His cock sprang to life, begging to be touched, pushing at the loose fabric of his dark gray suit pants.

He should close the door. He should leave.

This was wrong. He needed to repent.

“I see you watching me, detective,” she whispered to him as he hid away in the dark hallway, lurking in the shadows like a predator. She let out a soft whine, dragging her soaked finger in circles around her clit. “I know you’re there.”

Jeb swallowed. She was the devil. A demon. He had no power over her. Heat flushed through his veins. His breath was already coming out in heavy pants. He was chained to the doorway, captivated by her seduction. He couldn’t move away even if he wanted to.

“Have you ever seen a woman masturbate, Brother Pyre?” She moaned. “Have you ever seen a woman touch herself like this?”

His fingers wrapped around the edge of the door, gripping tightly onto the wood for support. No. He hadn’t. It would shock him if he found out his wife secretly masturbated in private. She was so well behaved. Masturbation was a sin. She would never dare allow anyone else besides him to touch her, not even herself.

“Do you like to watch me?” She whimpered, sinking her finger back inside of her. “I was hoping you would come. I know you, detective. I see through you. Your mind is just as perverted as the rest of us. You want to give in. You want to taste what is forbidden to you. It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

She looked hotly up into his eyes, staring straight into his corrupted soul. He was too weak. He had no resolve. The devil looked too appetizing. The sins of the flesh were tempting him forward as he let the door push open to reveal himself in all his shame.

She gave him a warm smile, taking in the sight of the bulge below his belt. Her fingers swept through her folds, slippery with her arousal. With the expertise of someone with diligent practice, she used two fingers to part the outer petals of her womanhood to reveal to him the hot, sinking abyss he craved to explore.

Enraptured, he could not tear his eyes from the slender digit plunging into her soaking depths. His mouth opened and closed, silently, begging to seek a taste of such a treasure. He watched in a starving trance as she anointed her needy pearl, bathing it in her honey, tending to it like a precious garden. Her eyes locked with his, burning, tempting him to join her in her display of debauchery.

Oh, lord, he was tempted.

Through heavy, ragged breaths she spoke, “Watch me, detective. Gaze upon the kind of life you were kept from. Look at what you could have been given. See what you missed out on.”

He was watching. His eyes were padlocked to her dancing fingers. She was beautiful. His heart sought to hold her in his arms while he touched her with a wild abandon.

“Do you like what you see, Jeb?” She moaned out his name extra low and tantalizing.

He almost came in his pants at the sound of his name in her mouth. A shudder ran through his tightly wound body.

“Answer me!” She demanded from him.

He gasped, “Yes.”

A smile spread across her lips, “Good boy. Men like you work so hard, don’t they? You give and give and give but who ever takes care of you? Let yourself relax, detective. Let yourself give in. Let me care for you. Let someone else take control for once.”

Her eyes closed, lost in the rhythmic tones of her own words, casting her enchantment over them both. She had known he would come seek her out. She had known he would watch. She wanted him here. All he craved was to feel wanted again.

He took a tentative step into her bedroom, closing the door behind him, and sealing his fate with the click of the lock.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed. “Come a little closer. Take a look at your new toy. All for you.”

Jeb held his breath, shuffling slowly forward a few more paces. His heart was racing. His skin was on fire. His mind was made up.

“Why don’t you let Daisy see what her Gatsby is working with, hmm? Take your belt off. Unzip your pants. Show me.” It wasn’t a request but a demand.

He swallowed, his nerves sending him into a frenzy, as he undid his belt, lost in her trance. His eyes stayed glued to her hypnotic fingers casting circles of magic around her clit. Subconsciously, his tongue dated out to lick his lips, desperate for a taste.

His hot, heavy cock fell out into the palm of his hand. He listened to her sharp inhale at the sight. It was followed by a purr of approval.

“I want you to touch yourself but keep your eyes on my pussy, detective. Watch what I’m doing. Watch how wet you’re making me. Listen.” Two fingers sunk into her, squelching and sloppy, as she pumped them in and out.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the sound and a growl rumbled in the back of his throat. With the tip of his thumb, still stained with her lipstick, he smeared around his own wetness leaking from his tip. He worked it down his shaft, slowly pumping himself through his fist.

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment since the day I met you,” she breathed, keeping him in her watchful sights, each of them working to build their own pleasure. “I saw you then like I see you now. A lost man in need of guidance. I dreamed of you touching me. That first day, when you called me into your office. I imagined spreading my legs for you as I sat on top of your desk, throwing papers to the floor, while you ate me out in front of the large window. I dreamed of you finding me at my work, paying extra to take me to the back rooms, making me suck your cock while you grabbed my hair and prayed to your pathetic God.” He wanted to eat that arrogant smirk straight off her face. “You like watching me, don’t you, pretty boy? You like hiding here, away from the world, where only you and I can bear witness to the blasphemy of your true self. Show me who you really are.”

He whimpered, tugging on his cock a little harder. He was a sinner. An adulterer. A pervert. A heretic. A liar.

“Tell me what you want to do to me, detective? Tell me all the ways you’ve dreamed of fucking me while you slept next to your frigid wife.”

Jeb stuttered over his words, trying to force them out his tightening throat, “I’ve-I’ve…dreamt of dragging you to temple, b-bending you over the sacrament table, and fucking you in front of the congregation so they could all see what kind of dirty whore you are.”

Tears pricked in his eyes as the shame battled it out with the unbridled lust. He had never spoken like that in his life. A sense of vitality flowed through him. It made his cock twitch in his hand and he stroked it more fervently.

She licked her lips, letting out a light, amused laugh, “Such a naughty boy, detective. I know there’s more darkness in you. I want to hear it all. What else do you dream of?”

“Taking you into my home. F-fucking you-” he stumbled over the word “fucking” as it still felt so forgein on his lips to openly talk this dirty. “In my bed. On my wife’s side. Forcing her to watch while I make you unravel on my tongue. Showing her exactly what she is missing out on. Showing her what kind of man I could be if she’d only open herself up to experiment more.”

He couldn’t believe the filth he was allowing himself to admit. These were his private thoughts. They were never meant to be exposed to anyone. She had that effect on him. His skull was cracked open and his most shameless self was laid bare.

“You’re poor, poor wife,” she mewled. “She deserves to have someone tend to her needs, too. I know she wants it. All women do. You’ve just never pushed her far enough because you’re weak, Jeb Pyre.” She removed her fingers from her pussy and sat up, letting her dress fall back over her hips. She stared him down with her possessive gaze. “Get on your knees,” she ordered.

He didn’t even hesitate. He released his hand from his cock and knelt down before her. She slowly got to her feet to take a stand directly in front of him. She was so close he could smell her sex clinging to her skin.

“Men like you are always searching for something to worship.You told me you don’t believe in God. You told me you’ve lost your way. You have nothing to hold onto.” She trailed her finger, still glistening with her slick, over his bottom lip. “If you’ve lost your God then worship me instead. I’m your new God now, detective. Open your mouth and worship me. Cleanse my fingers with your tongue.”

His lips parted and she slipped two fingers over his tongue. He closed around her, bathing her clean, tasting the remnants of her devine pussy. She slid her fingers down his throat causing him to gag.

“Good boy,” she murmured her praises to him. “Sing me your devotions. Relax your throat. Soften your tongue. Take it like a man.”

Jeb reached up to gently take hold of her wrist. He showered her hand in soft kisses, trailing up her arm and back down again, lapping at the tips of her fingers with his tongue, sucking them into his mouth, moaning as she glided down his throat.

“Look at how hard you are. Desperate to be touched. Desperate to follow directions. Desperate to pray to anything that will have you.”

She jerked her hand away from him, leaving him feeling empty and cold. She grabbed his chin in her grasp. Her nails dug into his cheeks.

“Who’s your God, Jeb Pyre?” She asked.

“You,” he replied.

“Prove it. Pray at your altar.”

She lifted the skirt of her dress to expose herself to him. Her foot rested on the edge of the mattress so he could get an eye to eye look with his new lifeline. Jeb let out a shaky breath. His hands extended to wrap around her waist, drawing himself closer to her. He tilted his head to bring his quivering breaths to her heated core. She draped the hem of her dress over his head to curtain him the darkness where he belonged. In the dark, he could worship in secrecy.

His head pushed between her thighs to force her legs to widen for him. Her salty musk filled his senses, hooking him in like a drug. His eyes slipped closed at the first taste of the almighty. She was the bread of life. Honey flowed from the darkness and he relished in every drop. His tongue probed at her entrance, burying between her warmth, reaching deeper depths with lapping rolls. Teasing. Tantalizing. Tasting. He suckled at her clitoris, nibbling softly at the sensitive flesh, swirling her with his tongue. The sounds of her coos were all the praises he craved. He didn’t need practice to know how to please her. Surrendering to her was as natural to him as breathing.

“A virtuous woman is the crown to her husband,” she moaned, quoting the scripture. “And, yet, your sinning whore is the one who sits upon your head like a crown.”

He shivered at the debauchery of her words. He smiled against her pussy and took his time to savor his meal. She was a blessing bestowed upon him. A crown upon his head. His tongue thrust up inside of her, fucking her slowly and tenderly. He tightened his grip around her waist to hold her closer, a desperate man clinging to his lifesaver, moaning against her heated skin. The way she ground herself against him, thrusting herself deeper against his tongue, was enough to trigger his own needs. He humped his hips into the air, thrusting into nothing.

“Oh, sweet thing,” she hummed. “Is my favorite detective in need of some more attention? When was the last time you’ve had that gorgeously thick cock buried inside someone’s cunt?”

He whimpered, not letting up on his assault of her pussy, and clung tightly onto her waist. Eight months. Eight torturous months.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she murmured, her voice thick with lust from trying to control her building orgasm. “I’ll take good care of you. I don’t want you getting too drunk off my pussy. Can’t have you completely let go before I’ve had my fun. Come here.”

She slid out from his grasp by pulling herself up onto the mattress. Her eyes were glazed over with a needy passion. Glassy and wet.

“Take your pants off,” she ordered. “I want to see you fully.”

They were already half way down his thighs. With a little push, they pooled around his ankles, pulled down quickly by the weight of his gun belt. He kicked off his nice dress shoes and stepped out of his pants to leave only his temple garments.

She smirked at the sight and hopped off the bed to take a step closer. Her hand wrapped around his tie to pull him down to her level. Her lips trailed over his as his eyes fluttered close. She glided her tongue across his lips, cleaning herself from them, with a gentle hum of approval.

“Who tastes better? Me or your wife?” She asked.

Jeb flustered in her question, “I-I wouldn’t know. She won’t let me. She believes it’s a form of sexual transgression.”

“Did you think about her?” She questioned. “When your tongue was buried inside of me, did she ever cross your mind?”

Guilt filled him, “Not once.”

She smiled, releasing his tie from her grasp, and began to work on extracting him from his perfectly crisp, white button up until he was left in nothing but his sacred garments.

She slowly eyed him up and down, “Keep the top on. I want you to remember exactly what your betraying as you fuck me.”

She sank to her knees, pulling down his underwear with her. His cock sat against his left thigh, hard and in need of attention. Her nails dragged along his sensitive, delicate skin. When she reached the tip of his cock, she carefully pushed a nail into the soft flesh while he hissed in pain. She left a crescent moon imprint behind which she quickly leaned down to kiss better. It was her harsh reminder that even if she was on her knees for him, she was still the one calling the shots.

He quite liked how the pain made him feel but he was too nervous to ask for more.

Her throat relaxed as she slipped him between her lips. He skimmed over her warm tongue with little jerking movements from his hips to push himself deeper into her. He wanted to reach out and grab her hair but was afraid to touch her. Instead, he balled his hands up at his side, digging his nails into his palm to try and elicit a bit more pain. It wasn’t the same as when she inflicted it.

Her head bobbed with an expertise that could only be brought from years of practice. It made his own oral skills seem novice and weak in comparison. His head leaned back as he stared at the ceiling, looking straight through it, and up into the heavens. There was no celestial kingdom up there. There was no God looking down on him. His heaven was right here in this room. His God was on her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock. This was the true meaning of life.

Jeb moaned out her name. Not Daisy. Not her stage name. Her real name. The one he kept locked up in a file in his desk. The name he would slowly stroke his finger over as he spent his late nights searching through his notes. The name only people who loved her were allowed to use.

She froze.

His cock fell from her lips and she stared up at him with a playful vengeance.

“What was that, detective?” She asked, her voice low and dangerous, but hiding an impish undertone. “I know I didn’t hear what I think I just did.”

He ran a hand over his face, too overwhelmed to be thinking straight, “Daisy. I meant Daisy.”

“You think you know me?” She got to her feet, wiping her bottom lip with her thumb. “You think you know the real me? Because I know the real you, Jeb, but do you know me?”

A heated red tint blushed across his cheeks, “I…don’t know…”

“Of course you don’t. Are you ever sure about anything in your life?” She raised a curious eyebrow at him. “I’m sure of most things that I do and say and believe. Can you say the same?”

He shook his head, “No. I can’t.”

She flashed him a poignant smile, “Name one thing you are 100% sure of right this very second.”

Jeb licked his lips. He knew.

“I am certain that I want to kiss you. Certain that I want to tear that dress from your body. And I’m certain that I want to throw you over this bed and fuck you like you deserve.”

“Then let go, detective. Give in. Become the animal you’ve always repressed. What are you waiting for?”

It was all the release he needed.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist to drag her against his body. His lips crashed down onto hers as he held her in his arms with a steellike grip. She didn’t kiss him back, so much as, surrendered her mouth to him. Her body went nearly limp and he kept her on her feet with his own strength. Her surrender brought forth a rush of devoted emotions and blind, sexual desire turning him into the beast he longed to become. He seized at her hair, tugging, pulling, wildly gripping, and attacked her mouth like it was the holy spirit he sought to believe in. She shuddered before his onslaught and melted into him. The more he reached for, the more he stole, the more she wanted it. She was driving him insane with an unrestrained passion of pure lust. He pitied any man who didn’t fall to his knees to worship her like the goddess she was. Her mouth was a sin that he wanted to violate.

Jeb violently grabbed at the straps of her sundress, nearly ripping them off, as he tore them down her body. The dress thumped to the floor to leave her completely naked and exposed. She didn’t flinch away. She didn’t try to hide and play with her coy modesty. She stood proudly before him exactly how a goddess should hold herself before a mortal man.

He slid his hands up her sides, grazing over the swell of her breasts, feasting on them with his eyes. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, pinching and flicking, while he attacked her mouth once more. She parted her lips to submit his tongue into her depths, sucking on it and twirling it around her mouth. Whenever he pinched her gorgeous nipples between his fingers, she would let out the most delicious moan and thrust her chest against his palms. His heart was racing with a pace that might kill him if he didn’t force himself to breath. His head was spinning in a dizzying whirlwind of thrill.

Jeb sank down and lowered his head to capture her nipple between his teeth, lashing at it with his tongue, listening to the gospel choir of whimpering moans coming out of her. She had shoved her nail into the head of his cock so he took a mouthful of her flesh, just under her beautifully darkened areola, and bit down hard. He had never bitten his wife in his life. He liked the way it felt as he tumbled deeper into his own carnal depravity. He wanted to defile her body and join her in their mutual corruption.

She arched her back, letting out a gasping shriek and letting it tumble down into a slurry of cooing whimpers, “Oh, Jeb. Yes. Yes.”

A circle of intended teeth marks, glistening with his saliva, shone proudly back at him. He liked marking her skin, claiming her as his own. It felt animalistic. Primal. A growl ripped from his throat, he was sick with lust, feverish and sweaty, panting with need. He grabbed at her hips and spun her around, pushing his hand between her shoulder blades to shove her face first into the mattress. Her ankles spread wide to allow him to have easy access.

He took a stumbling step back to admire the sight. Her pussy was glistening and spread open in wait for him. Beads of sweat dotted along her back down her spine. Her ass was sticking upwards, parted, so he could see her tight, little hole. She looked more ready to be fucked than anyone he’d ever seen. His wife had never presented herself to him like this. He imagined her splayed out in this same position and gave a breathless laugh. He could hardly even create a mental picture in his mind, it was so improbable.

“Something funny back there, asshole?”

Jeb gave a dark laugh in response, “Just the neverending joke that is my life.”

He lined the head of his cock up to her pussy, coating the tip in her slick, and bumping it back and forth over her clit.

Murder. Denying the Holy Spirit. Adultery.

Three of the worst things a good Mormon man could ever commit.

He’d already knocked denying the holy spirit off his list…might as well add another.

He sunk his cock into her. Steady and true. She let out an exhale and he watched her head tilt back to enjoy the sensation. So hot. So tight. Perfection. She was here to be fucked. Here to take his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathed.

He felt no shame. It was unusual for a Mormon not to feel shame but, tonight, buried balls deep in this woman, he felt nothing but relief. This was everything his body needed. He wanted fast and rough. He wanted to take her from behind with a feral abandon. He wanted to do all the things he wasn’t allowed to do until he was gripped with satisfaction.

Jeb grabbed her hips for leverage and began his awakening. Tonight, he was becoming a new man. He fucked her with quick, short thrusts that slammed into her. Her ass slapped against his stomach with each pound. She filled the room with the sounds of her gasps and erotic moans. Depending on how hard he rammed into her, she’d even let out little shrieks. He liked those sounds best. They made him fuck her harder, dragging out his full length, then smacking back into her. Possessing her body. Over and over and over.

He didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing a condom. Those were problems for later Jeb. Present Jeb had everything he could ever need.

Sweat dripped down his forehead. Ragged, heavy, heaving breaths tumbled from his lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerking her upwards, so he could feel her body against his. She arched her back with her head rolling against his. He inhaled the scent of her hair fusing with the musk of their sex. He fumbled his hands around to capture her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands, her rock hard nipples dragging across his palm. She reached an arm around the side of his head to hold her steady from the onslaught of vigor his hips were causing her.

“Oh, fuck, Jeb!” She cried. “You needed this, baby. You needed this to happen. Let go. Let it all out. Give me everything you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

Jeb whimpered out a sob in response, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. All he wanted was someone to listen, someone to take care of him, someone to understand.

He tumbled them both against the side of the mattress, falling on top of her. Her head turned, leaning against the covers, so he could shower the side of her face with wet, tear stained kisses. He nibbled on her earlobe, lapped his tongue at the corner of her lips, and dragged his teeth along the edge of her jaw. She was made to be devoured. His hips hammered with an agonizing precision into her heat. They were trapped in a hurricane, holding onto each other for dear life, as the maelstrom of building emotions swept them away.

He could feel her clenching down around him. He knew she was close. He was, too, but he wanted her to cum first. His goddess deserved to reach euphoria before he did. His hand slipped down her side and wedged itself between her hips and the mattress to find a home between the slick fire of her lips. She whined, bucking her hips, the moment he found her clit, tormenting it with his fingers.

“Cum for me,” his raspy, lust drunk voice growled in her ear. “Let me feel you unravel on my cock.”

Her body shook. Waves rippled over her skin with each hard pound of his cock into her. He could feel her tightening. Clenching. Gripping. A mangled yelp tore from her throat. When she orgasmed, she gave him everything. Her entire body surrendered to him. It burst from her with everything she could give. Her eyes widened, her mouth parted in a silent shriek, her spine arched. Like a demon possessing her body, she writhed under him with jerking, frantic thrusts. He wrapped his arms around her, collecting her tightly against him, to try and hold her together so she didn’t combust into the flames of Hell.

He let out a whimper as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. He wanted to let her ride out her ecstasy on his cock without him cumming inside of her.

Her legs gave out and she sunk onto her knees, letting him slip out of her, “I got you, baby. I’wan’taste you. Use me.”

Without missing a beat, she ushered him straight out of her pussy and into her wet, waiting mouth. His eyes closed as his head fell back. He let out a long, drawn out moan. His hand found her hair, no longer feeling nervous to touch her or manipulate her how he pleased. He helped push her forward to take more and more of him. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

She let him slide down her throat, relishing his cock with her tongue, tasting herself on his tender flesh. He balled a fistful of her hair into his grasp.

“I’m-I’m-I” he stuttered out, not able to finish the sentence, but she got to the hint.

Her pace quickened. Her suction around him tightened. He felt himself tense up before an explosion of dopamine flooded his brain with a loud cry of pleasure.

She straightened her back, moaning softly, as she swallowed down the hot spurts of his semen. Her fisted hand continued to massage his shaft while her mouth tended diligently to his crown.

Jeb’s mouth hung open, tears flowed freely down his face, and he eventually managed to stumble backwards away from her. He crashed into the back wall and slid down to his ass, shaking.

She crawled across the floor to drape herself into his lap. His arms snaked around her, thankful for having something to hold onto. His mind felt like he was floating away. His body felt amazing but his emotions were in turmoil. She stroked her fingers through his hair and left soft kisses along his neck.

He had done it. There was no going back now.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured against his sweat stained skin, as if reading his mind. “You did what you had to do. Sometimes your body knows better than your brain. It was telling you what it needed. It’s just like taking a spoonful of medicine to fight off a cold. There are times when you need to give in and give your body what it craves.”

He craved her. Daisy. And everything that she represented. Even at this moment, after he had already had her, after he had given in, he should be feeling horror, disgust, shame, but he only wanted more of her. That’s why the tears were freely flowing. Not because he was humiliated by his sins but because he wanted more.

This was the life he wanted to live. He had gotten a taste, a spoonful, of the other side. A side he could never have. A side he would always be reaching for but never able to obtain due to the religion he was trapped in. His priorities had to remain elsewhere. He had family to care for. Children to raise. He was their only hope for a different future. He would never allow Rebecca to take his kids from him. He would do whatever he needed to keep her docile and oblivious. He could save his children from the inside, even if that meant selling his soul to a God he didn’t believe in.

Everything was so clear to him now. There was no more confusion. No more doubt.

Daisy and his green light.

The inability to ever reach what he truly desired.

A/N: If you dare to ask me to write a part two and you don't reblog detailing in great detail everything you liked and enjoyed about this story, then I will curse your entire family and block you. No one gets to ask for a part two without doing their damn part and reblogging first xoxo

Tagging some people who seemed like they might be interested in this smutty lil fic: @moonyslove78 @raindropsandteaandtears @withahappyrefrain @lxinesux @liz-allyn (i dont care if youre hardly on tumblr anymore liz i will tag you in everything i do until the end of time deal with it)

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield fic #jeb pyre #jeb pyre fic #jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre smut #under the banner of heaven #utboh #utboh jeb pyre #jeb pyre imagine #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

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sincericida · 10 months ago

Note

need .. more .. jeb pyre.. in my life .. *dies*

Wow, can I fill a little bit of your Jeb Pyre need with some fanfics?

"Saints and Sinners" by @blooming-violets

"A black mile ⤞ series masterlist" and this fic by @foreverrogers

"Fresh Start" by @willowhaired

This fic and this fic by @reidslovely

Oooor... Images:

I hope I have helped 😉

And as always, thanks for the writers and gifs creators on Tumblr, you're amazing!

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reidslovely · 1 year ago

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out of everyone who is the biggest munch

.....

jeb.

argue with your mom.

after years of being in a restrictive religion and having so many do's and don't's bro realizes how good sex can be and other ways to do it?

this man loves!!!!!!! to eat pussy.

im right. i just feel that i am

#bambi writes #jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre #jeb pyre x self insert #andrew garfield fanfiction #andrew garfield x reader

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lxinesux · 3 months ago

Text

Coffee

Summary: You and Jeb have both lost what little faith you had in the word of God. Having found solace in each other, you decide to break a taboo and try coffee for the first time.

It turns into something much bigger.

Content Warnings: I didn't watch the show, so probably some inaccuracies, religious trauma/symbolism, cheating, graphic depictions of violence, and dead bodies. Jeb is a lil fucked up in his head. Domestic violence is mentioned, but not between you and Jeb. Also smut. Lotta smut. blame this fic for this lmao

Jeb has to go to a grocery store 45 minutes out of town just to get it. It makes sense why the ones in town don’t have it, but he suddenly feels bad for the Lutheran family on his block.

The sun does not collapse in the sky when he shuts his car door. When he enters, the white tile floor doesn’t open and swallow him up. He can feel eyes on him, digging into his back under the unnatural fluorescent lighting. But that isn’t because everyone here knows he’s sinning.

It’s because the coffee cans are all different shapes, colors, and kinds. He’s blocking the aisle, standing there with his basket. Just. Staring at them all. Would you like a dark roast? Medium? Light? Lord above, did the greatest country in the world need this many varieties of coffee?

He’s in the way, so he grabs a can of Folgers. He remembers their radio ads. It’s the only brand he recognizes.

He’s been questioning the teachings of the church for quite a while. But he’d never acted on anything that would go against them till now. He had Rebecca. His mother. The girls. He couldn’t break their hearts by asking the questions that were eating him alive.

He pretended. He endured the nightmares on his own. He swallowed all the questions he wanted to fling at the elders like knives. He went to church, urged his girls to read the teachings, and sat in silence while his wife prayed for the blood of His Only Begotten Son to cover their family.

He’d stopped doing it, so Rebecca took up the mantle. It was the one thing he couldn’t do anymore. Pray.

Surely, she’d prayed before she died. Before her baby died with her. Before her husband and his family mutilated her. And all her prayers and all her piety were for not. She’s dead. She’s dead and he nearly drove himself insane trying to solve her murder.

So why should he pray?

He never saw a shrink, though he thinks he probably should. The dreams get to him sometimes. Visions of Brenda’s dead eyes looking up at him. And the baby…

He doesn’t tell Becca about the nightmares.

He does tell you. You understand what he means.

He’d already met you a few times before that night, in passing. You were one of two Sunday school teachers that the town’s church had. His kids loved you. Honestly, they were a little spoiled by you. You were kind and lenient. You gave them candy after lessons, snacks, and cookies that you’d baked.

Becca didn’t like that. Becca didn’t like a lot of things about you. Your modern way of dressing, your air of indifference to the teachings, the way that you seemed to never stop trying to catch his eye. Or the eye of any of the married Mormon men whose children you taught. And wasn’t that shameful, when you were married yourself? Married to a wonderful, godly, man any single woman worth her salt would drool over?

He never noticed. He wagered her first reason was the logic behind her last one, anyway. She thought you were a jezebel before he’d ever interacted with you. Lots of the congregation did.

You were young, pretty, and newly wedded with no kids. Men looked at you, women resented you for making the men look. Your husband was close to the elders, though. Good job, nice car, nice house just outside of town. He was a perfect man of God. So no one said a word beyond knowing glances and awful, hushed whispers in pews and during lunches.

Then it all came down. Your neighbors had been the ones to call. They’d heard yelling, gunshots, and glass breaking. He’d answered the call with the rest of the unit that night. Your husband’s bullet-hole-ridden body greeted them as they entered the bedroom, following your screams. His blood puddled underneath him, his handprint gripping the doorframe. He was already gone and probably had been the minute Jeb had stepped into the house.

Rigor mortis was already starting to set in. His hand was difficult to move from the frame. A white sheet was laid over him while they waited for the paramedics to arrive from Salt Lake. You’d been sitting in the corner of your bedroom in your nightdress, curlers still in your hair. You were sitting in the glass. Your legs and thighs were bleeding, but you didn’t seem to notice.

A dead man’s blood was drying over your shoulders and your collarbones. It had splattered onto your chin. Crying, shuttering, inconsolable. Your bedroom window was completely shattered, allowing the chilly night air to fill the room.

Jeb managed to convince you to at least get up out of the shards slicing up your skin. On your shaky, bloody legs, you followed him out of the room and into the kitchen while forensics took pictures.

“What are they doing?” You’d rasped, “Why is he covered up?”

He swallowed thickly, “I’m so sorry. Your bedroom is now the scene of a homicide.”

“He isn’t dead!” You’d screamed at him, “He isn’t dead! He’s just hurt! Why aren’t you trying to help him?!”

You were first approached as a suspect, but you were blubbering so bad there was no way he could get a statement. He didn’t want to. You didn’t kill him. Instead, he offered you tissues and water. By the time the paramedics got there, you had no tears left in you to cry. The flesh around your eyes was red and puffy. The skin on your upper lip was irritated from wiping away your snot. Your nose was red and tender.

He wanted to reach out and hold you or at least hold your hand. But that was not professional. He could only walk you outside to the awaiting ambulances. They’d parked strategically, so you wouldn’t see them wheel your husband’s dead body out of your home. They wrapped a shock blanket around your shoulders and started to treat your cuts with antibacterial ointment.

The medics started to congregate around the mortuary van. You seemingly calmed. Or maybe detached was the better word.

He got your shell-shocked statement about what happened. It was a home invasion gone wrong. Fairly cut and dry. He put his pad away. He moves to sit beside you in the opening of the ambulance. You're staring straight ahead at nothing, completely silent.

“I’m incredibly sorry for what happened to you tonight,” He puts a hand on your knee, “If there’s anything I can do-”

“Jeb.” Your voice is as far away as your gaze.

Your eyes move to him, staring straight into his soul. He swallows thickly.

“I know you didn’t kill him,” He starts, “Spouses are usually the first suspects in homicides. But I know you didn’t kill your husband. Not with your reaction-”

You shake your head at him, “Do you believe in God? Even after all you seen, doing what you do?”

“Of course I-”

“Answer me honestly. Do you believe in God?”

“No,” He whispers to you, “I used to think the faith was my only guiding light. But I can’t believe it anymore. God doesn’t listen, even if he’s real.”

He’s never said that to another person before. It slipped out of him so easily. He supposed it should, given that it had ruminated in his head for so long. It was almost a relief to let the thought fly from his mouth.

You move your head to look back into the great black nothing. Your eyes shut.

“I don’t believe in Him, either,” You let out a sigh, “I don’t think I ever did.”

Your cold, clammy hand moves to cover his. Your soft skin against his own. The subtle tremors he can feel against him. His nerves were suddenly on fire. Just one touch, one gesture of comfort. You are not alone. Suddenly, he felt more alive than he had in months.

He knew after that night something in both your lives had changed.

He’d helped you clean up your husband’s blood when no one else from the church would. He got your window replaced. Good, neighborly things to do. Nothing to complain about.

Suddenly, he was always ‘ checking in’ on you. No man and woman should be alone without an escort but you’d need a man around. Your house had been broken into. You wanted to feel safe, and who else better than him? Who was going to help you around the house? Surely, the recent passing of your husband warranted this exemption to the rule.

It was an excuse to talk to you. It was an excuse for you two to be alone. To sit too close together and breathe in each other’s air. To talk about everything. To bare each other's souls in front of the other. The veneer was flimsy, but it held.

You told him everything.

You’d never loved the man you married. You’d been pushed by your mother to marry after your father had died. Your family had needed money and he had it in spades. He’d wanted a young, god-fearing wife. This is how things were done just a few short centuries before. It had been an even exchange in your eyes at the time. But that was before you saw how truly lifeless a kingdom marriage was.

You started to hate him. He started to hit you. You don’t remember which came first.

He wanted you pregnant but you kept using spermicide and hiding it in places he’d never look. Fertility doctors gave you experimental pills you pretended to take. It was your first taste of rebellion, moving against the clutches that keeping sweet locked onto your ankles. You’d long questioned your place in the church but you loved the children you taught. They were the only purpose you had now.

Your husband dying became your only chance at freedom. But where else were you supposed to go? Much like him, your entire life was wrapped up in The Church. Your mother, your in-laws, what little friends you had were Mormon. You weren’t mourning that wonderful, godly man when that masked intruder shot him. You were mourning the life, the cover, that he had provided.

Now you are alone. Trapped inside your own head until Jeb could come over and release the valve.

This affair was the only outlet either of you had.

An affair is what Jeb called it in his head. He had tried to convince himself that all of this was friendship in the beginning. But he quickly stopped trying to delude himself. It was your face he saw when he closed his eyes at night. He imagined it was you he was inside of when, about once every three months, Becca reluctantly decided to fulfill her wifely duties. When he was alone, he let his mind wander to the depths of Hell with you cradled in his arms.

An affair.

You’d never so much as kissed, never touched in a way that any non-LDS member would think is romantic. He may be going insane. But the feeling of your leg pressing against his own was enough for his cock to stir. The feeling of your hand on his shoulder made him want to press you against your front door and-

If you asked for a kiss, he’d give it without a second thought. He’d do anything your soft, pretty little voice asked.

He’d buy coffee for you. In broad daylight. In a grocery store far from his home.

A blasphemous devotion. Becca can have her God and he can have his own.

He’s sure that his voice is too high when he tells the teenage cashier to have a good day. He moves out of the store like he planted a pipe bomb somewhere. No normal person reacts this way about buying coffee.

He throws the receipt out of the car window when he pulls out of the parking lot. The bag is on the floorboard of the passenger seat. He can’t look at it. He can feel its presence, like an omen. It isn’t the coffee he’s trying to hide.

Jesus Christ.

He wants to fuck you.

He lets out a harsh breath. The ulterior motive was so obvious. He’s nearly ashamed. He wants to fuck you, today, after you drink your coffee. He went through with this because he wanted to taste the remnants of the drink on your lips. To finally touch and taste and feel you. Fuck the coffee. It was a pretense of what he wanted. Of what you both wanted.

He’d bought a condom at the sketchy gas station bathroom machine when he’d gone to fuel up, for God’s sake. Had done it without a thought. It was in his glove box now. That part hadn’t frightened him nearly as much as buying the coffee.

He’d been plotting the physical part of the affair. A seduction. Jesus Christ.

He should feel guilty, shouldn’t he? It was still daylight, people milling around and living their lives. It should be shameful to want that when the sky was still blue. He should wait till night.

The sun is still high in the sky. You’d be coming in from working in your garden by now. And your cheeks would be flushed, little wisps of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Your chest moving up and down in little pants from your exertion…

He can’t feel guilty when he’s thinking about the way your chest moves while you're panting. Your tits take up far too much brain space for guilt.

You’re the only person who understood him. You wanted coffee. You have great tits. He wants to fuck you so bad it feels like his only life mission.

He should go home.

Even if he didn’t believe in the lessons of the church, this was wrong. He was in love with a woman that wasn’t his wife. He was going to that woman’s house, he had a condom in his glove box . But he can still make the turn, pull into his driveway, come home early for lunch…

He hadn’t broken his vows with his new form of worship yet.

But he didn’t want to walk back into the constant reminder that he was a trapped animal. Not without the small halo of hope you provided.

The Church told him his entire life that if he committed a single sin that it would lead to more and more sinning. When you’d sheepishly confessed that you wanted to try coffee for the first time, this lesson flashed like a billboard in his mind.

He hoped it was true.

When he pulls into your driveway, another car is parked.

You’re standing on the front porch, talking with another man.

You were in your favorite house dress. The blue one, with the tiny pansies over it. The one with adorable little white buttons down the front. The one that stopped just at your knees. The one that made such an impression in his mind that it showed up in his wet dreams. He tried to focus on that. Not on your hands. Your fingers fidget with each other. You’re picking at your thumb nail with your index finger. You’re biting at your lower lip. There’s a subtle indention of your teeth.

He decides to make his presence known. He grabs the bag out of the floorboard and shuts the car door way too hard. The car shakes with the force.

Brother Carson’s ears perk up. A man from the congregation. Another good, Godly man sniffing around you. Jeb crinkles the bag to keep it closed. It’s the look of solace on your face at seeing him that moves him forward.

“Brother Pyre!” Your soft, sweet voice. He wants to live in that voice. The palpable relief in it makes him want to get back in his car just to run Carson over. What exactly was this guy doing that was making you so stressed? He swallows, keeps his composure.

Carson looks at him like shit on his shoe. But what was Carson doing at the Devil’s sacrament if he was going to judge Jeb? Carson was a widower, sure. But he was supposedly going steady with one of the women in the congregation. Unfaithful was unfaithful. And God had allegedly hand picked Wendy to take the mantle of Mrs. Carson.

Not you.

But ya know. Maybe God changed his mind. How convenient.

“Brother Carson, Sister…” He lets himself trail off to show the familiarity.

He knows you. Carson doesn’t.

“Good afternoon, Brother Pyre. What a pleasure.”

You haven’t let this asshole into your house. He can tell because you keep subtly displacing your weight. One foot. Then the other. In front of your door like a bird protecting its nest. You’d kept him at bay. His heart flutters at the knowledge. That was only Jeb’s rule to break. You flush at the tension building. It goes down your collarbones. He wants to follow the path with his tongue.

“Brother Carson wanted to check on me, isn’t that nice of him?” You start fidgeting again. You look at his nose and not at his eyes.

“Well, that makes two of us then,” He smiles but it doesn’t reach. Carson smiles back, much in the same tight, embittered way.

This is what Bill calls a cock fight. Two men metaphorically (“Or sometimes literally. What?! It happens Jeb! Grow up!”) pulling their dicks out to show dominance. Also known as dick measuring contest. Or a pissing contest. Whatever it was, Jeb was winning. If only because he hadn’t taken his gun and shot him at point blank range.

You start again, “Brother Pyre was just bringing me some sugar! Ya know the church’s bake sale is coming up. And my lemon squares always sell out, so I have to make a large batch.”

You giggle, too high pitched, too squeaky. You deftly, subtly take the paper bag from his arms, repositioning the bag opposite the hip facing Carson.

Carson gives a terse nod, “Well, I should be off then. But I do hope you’ll give my offer some thought.”

You smile, bright and beautiful as ever, “Of course, Brother Carson. Have a blessed day.”

He and Jeb exchange glances. Jeb doesn’t back down from eye contact. He relishes in it. He’s the one leaving. He’s the one whose cock didn’t measure up. Jeb has nothing to be ashamed of.

It isn’t until Carson pulls out of the drive that he asks you, “What did he want?”

“He asked me out,” You shrug, eyes still darting back and forth, “For a soda.”

“What did you say?” You don’t owe him anything. His tone still reeks of possession.

“Can we come inside?” You keep your eyes lowered, moving to open the door.

He wants to insist but goes inside anyway. You sigh once the door is shut.

“I told him that I was still in mourning and didn’t want to date right now.” You say, leading Jeb by the hand to your kitchen’s breakfast island. “He keeps insisting though. That I’m in need of some ‘guidance’ from a ‘shepard.’”

It does make his stomach flip. You were getting swarmed by the numerous eligible (and ineligible, honestly) bachelors in the congregation.

If he were in your position, the idea of remarrying just to put the mask back on would be tempting. Becoming ignorant again, brainwashing yourself like he’d tried a time or two before he really got to know you.

“People will ask questions, I guess. If you don’t…get married again I mean.” The words tumble out of him. They taste bitter. He doesn’t mean them.

You wince, “Even my mother-in-law is pushing it. Trying to set me up. Her own son is dead and she’s worried about my eternal soul…”

You smile softly at him. He can’t help but smile back. It’s ironic. You shake your head as though to ward off the thoughts and reach under your kitchen sink. You reemerge with a coffee pot.

“It came with the house,” You say in a rush, “I didn’t buy it. Or anything like that. But it was still in the box from the previous owners. It came with an instruction manual so I figured we could use it…”

There’s that delicious flush again. He wills himself not to get hard. God, it wasn’t usually that easy to get him aroused but you seemed to have that effect on him. Every little thing you did, his mind eroticized. The perfect vixen who didn’t even know it.

You plug in the unfamiliar appliance. You take out the pot and fill it with water from the sink. He swallows.

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.”

You still. The water overflows into the sink drain.

“Go out with Carson. Or anyone else really,” He tries to keep his tone even, but the words are destroying him.

“Oh Jeb, don’t…don’t bring up unpleasant things like that right now,” You finally shut off the water and drain the excess out of the pot, “I’m in a good mood. Let’s not spoil it. Will you be a doll and get the manual? It’s on top of the microwave.”

You were a good housewife. You spoke in passive aggression. He drops it for now. You called it ‘unpleasant.’ He tries not to feel slightly encouraged.

He helps you get the thing set up. It’s actually quite simple. You pour water into the thingamajig and put a filter and grounds into the whosewhatsit. Then boom. Coffee.

The thing makes a noise like a demon from Hell. Just like one of the church elder’s declared it would. A warning. A stop sign. A long, painful whine. Then little bursts of steam roll out from the crack at the top. Then it growls before spitting coffee into the pot.

Bestial almost. People outside LDS keep these unruly things on their kitchen counters in plain sight. They crank them up every morning. They listen for the noises it makes. Jeb feels a little silly being so fascinated by it. The childlike wonder on your face tells him he’s not alone.

“Would you call me delusional to compare that to witchcraft?” You ask, “Because that felt like doing witchcraft.”

“I kinda feel the same,” He hasn’t taken his eyes off it, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Like when Jesus made water into wine,” You say, “We made water into something else entirely…”

It sounds so extreme. But it’s what it feels like. Jeb thinks he can feel the ever seeing eyes of God laser focused into this kitchen. Good. Let him look. Let him see.

This is madness. Pinging off one another. God can watch this unraveling then. God can watch the sin to come.

There isn’t any guilt, just righteous indignation. He watches the tip of your pretty pink tongue wet your soft, full lips.

You're nervous. You step back, let out a harsh exhale.

“I’ll get us some mugs.”

It’s bitter, even with adding all the sugar and milk he wanted. His skin feels slightly warmer now. It’s not shocking that he feels a little jittery. That isn’t just from the coffee. What does shock him is how dilated your pupils get. Your eyes look more alluring.

You look at him through your lashes, “How is it?”

“I don’t know if I like it.”

You let out a precious little laugh, “I don’t either.”

You put your mug down on the island. Everything is quiet, save the hum from the refrigerator. Your body is turned toward him. Your lips are slightly parted. He’s getting pulled toward you. You’re beckoning him with your body, wordlessly asking him to come closer.

He doesn’t realize how close he is until he’s cupping your cheek. Your eyes close.

Your kiss is better than he imagined.

Sweeter, gentler. Almost shy. Your fingers move through his hair, spurring him. Already, he knows you didn’t give your husband this kindness, this indulgence. His cock stiffens when your hands move to cup his face, bringing him impossibly closer. The soft gasp you let out when his tongue traces the seam of your lips destroys any lingering resistance.

He takes what you give. You melt under him. His hands roam. He’s greedy. So fucking greedy. And hungry. The relentless starvation that consumed him every day, every hour, every minute, every nanosecond, since you gave him that first touch was finally being satiated. His hand moves to your breast. A delicious tremble moves through you. He can feel the warmth of your skin, your hard nipple gathering in his palm. Your dress bunches under his fingers.

He wants it off. But he would take tasting and touching if he can’t have everything. His heart beats in his ears.

He pulls away, just enough to linger, “You’re not wearing your garments.”

He doesn’t know how getting drunk feels. He’s dealt with people in various states of not sober during his career, but he’s never used any substances himself. For obvious reasons. But he imagined it would feel like this. A buzzing in his brain. Heat starting in his stomach and moving along in his bloodstream through his limbs. A sweetly excruciating pain thrumming along inside his body.

Your beautiful face mirrors exactly how he feels. Your face is slightly red, hair wonderfully mused, lips shiny and kiss swollen. You look almost shell shocked, eyes glassy and unfocused. His thumb traces your lower lip and you whimper. Your thighs press together tight.

He did this. He did this to you. God. His headrush starts up again.

“No,” You say, “No I’m not.”

He keeps playing with you over your clothes. Jeb already knows the answer before he whispers his question into the heated skin of your neck.

He kisses you there, experimenting. You gasp, your back arching into him, and pressing your perfect tits further into him. His tongue reaches out to taste. Clean skin. Sharp, nervous sweat. The chemical smell of florals he doesn’t recognize. He would’ve cataloged it to memory if he’d smelled it on you.

Perfume. You wore perfume for him.

He groans, letting his mouth move down your flesh. His flesh. Flesh he wants to belong to him.

He wants to bite. His teeth ache to break skin.

He never wanted to bite Rebecca.

Becca was his because the ring on her finger said so. Because three months of courting eight years ago, (approved by both their families, observed carefully by devoted church members) said so.

You didn’t have that. He needed another way to show you were his.

“You’re not wearing anything under your dress, are you?” His voice is deeper than he intends.

“N..No,” You writhe, “No, I wasn’t planning…I wasn’t planning for this…Brother Carson came while I was drying my hair and-“

“Don’t lie to me,” He plays with the first button on your dress, “Not here. Not now.”

So you knew, too. You were hoping too. How long were you hoping for? He would’ve given it so much sooner…

Divine timing. All in God’s Divine Timing.

He undoes the button and tries to hide the smirk into your skin. More of your innocent flesh for him to devour. Your collarbones greet him. His kisses turn to sucking. His teeth graze and you moan so pitifully, your head tilting back to give him more access.

“You’re gonna leave marks,” You whimper. But your hand moves to cradle his skull anyway.

You like this. Your stomach tenses. His own hands tease your nipples, running his thumbs over them. He could bottle the broken, shocked noises that pour out of your mouth.

The only good thing Rebecca could say about him now, when she wasn’t disgusted with him, was that he could touch her right. When she let him touch, he could make her cum. Maybe she hated herself a little for it, maybe that’s why she hasn’t left him yet.

But Jeb knew he never touched you in a way that made you feel good. Carson never would. The whimpers, whispers, praises, moans-they’re his and his alone.

He pulls away from the spot he’s necking on. A light trail of his salvia connect him to the purple-green spot. There’s the slightest indentation of his teeth. There’s more he can see. Hickies. He’s left them on you. Painted you in dark reds and purple.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He should be careful, at least leave them under the collar of your shirt. But he can’t stop. It’s almost a compulsion to keep going.

His neck is bent at a weird angle from where he’s sitting. It’s making his journey to leave his marks more difficult. He moves to capture your lips again. The most logical thing is to pull you into his lap so every single perfect inch of you is pinned against him.

“J…Jeb…” You whine when he pulls away.

He undoes the second button. The fabric gives and your cleavage deepens. Suddenly, touching you over your dress isn’t enough. He needs to touch your skin, to taste it all.

He can feel the heat of your bare, hot pussy through his pants, pressing against his cock. You’re trembling against him. Another button and you’re almost naked. He groans. He kisses your lips again, then your chin, your collarbones, down the plane of your chest-

“S…stop.”

It’s agony to pull away. Agony to watch you stumble off him, to cover your body from him. His body aches, like stitches had been torn from his skin where you’d been so briefly connected. He’s dazed, head spinning.

You’re both breathing hard. You’re pressing your knuckles into your lower lip, trying to avoid looking at him.

“I’m sorry if I…I misunderstood.” He moves off the stool, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I can go-“

Words feel foreign in his mouth now. His brain is screaming to reach out, to touch you.

“No,” You etch out a mirthless laugh, “No, Jeb. You didn’t hurt me. I’m so stupid…”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re married, Jeb,” You finally look at him, “You’re married and you have a family and-“

Guilt. You feel so guilty. It comes out of you in waves. You have a one handed death grip trying to close your open dress. You’re picking at your nails again, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Is that it? That’s why you’re upset?”

“Isn’t that reason enough?” You rub at your eye, “You’re with me almost everyday. Do you know how many times I almost asked for you to kiss me or touch me or bend me over and fuck me? ”

He can’t breathe suddenly.

“But I didn’t. I didn’t because Rebecca would call. Where else would you be? She knows to call my house. That’s where her husband is after work. Not with her, not at the office. He’s with the mistress he hasn’t even touched.”

“Honey…”

You wince like he hit you, “I tried to stop wanting you. I did. I didn’t want to lose you. But the way you looked at me when I asked you for the coffee…like you wanted to eat me alive where I was standing…I knew…”

“Things started making sense. I got hopeful you felt the same way. So I wanted you to come here. I wanted you to kiss me and touch me and…” You do a little flourish with your hand, “But then Robert showed up instead of you. He just kept reminding me about Rebecca. About the girls. What a good dad and husband you were. Like he knew what I was trying to do.”

Jeb tries not to think about how easy it would be to find Robert Carson’s home. He pushes that aside.

“What we’re doing is so obvious to everyone that Robert Carson wanted to remind me of just how much of a family man you are,” You let out another bitter, little laugh before the tears come, “And I’m stupid. I’m weak. I’m jealous. I’m angry.”

“Please-“

“She gets you. She gets to sleep beside you and she has your babies and she has your last name but she doesn’t even know you,” Tears stream down your face, “And it isn’t even her fault that I hate her so much. It isn’t mine. It isn’t yours. It’s this fucking cage all of us are trapped in. But no matter what I tell myself, you’re her husband.”

“I can leave,” There’s no space between you anymore as he gathers your shivering body into his arms, “We can leave. Go wherever you want, honey.”

“Your girls, Jeb. What about the girls?”

There’s the cold water. So frigid, it chills him to the core.

His family or his heart. He has to choose. He can’t have both. There is no universe that Rebecca would let him see his children if he left the church, much less leave her for another woman.

He’d be leaving them without protection in a wolf den.

“I can’t ask you to make that choice,” You mummer against him, “I could never ask you to do it.”

“I love you,” It falls out of his mouth but it’s true.

He loves you so much at this moment it’s almost too much. He wants to burn everything down in your name. You are trying to protect him.

“I love you, too,” You murmur, “But what are we going to do about it?”

“Why not this?” He buries his face into your hair, “For as long as we can, until I can figure it out?”

You whimper out his name again. His head shakes as he brings you in tighter.

“Baby, please,” The desperation in his voice scares him, “You’ve given me something that no one else has. I’m starving for you. You take up every single spare inch of space in my brain. I love you. Please, don’t turn me away now.”

You touch him, you turn his head towards yours, and you kiss him. His answer and his downfall all in one. The sun has set further down the tree line, making crisscross patterns on the floor. It’s almost 3pm. It’s a good thing he said he was working late.

He backs you into the dining room. He takes a break only to lift you off the ground and lay you on the dining table. Jeb settles between your legs, leaning over you. He finishes unbuttoning the dress, sliding the fabric off your shoulders.

“Fucking Christ,” He runs his fingers down your torso, “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re real.”

Your tits were absolutely worth obsessing over. He finishes his trail of kisses toward them. His lips encircle your dusty pink nipple and his tongue traces spirals around it. Your hips press up against him hard.

“You’re just full of sins today,” Your whisper is watery and low, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Not in vain,” He presses a little further into you when he pulls away from your breasts, “I’m appreciating the majesty of his creation.”

He goes back, sucks the skin of your breast like he had your neck. You breathe hard. He tries another experiment. Sucks your nipple in the same way.

You cry out, moving back against him. Grinding. You’re trying to grind your pussy on him.

“I don’t…” You swallow, face flushing hot, “I don’t know what’s happening…”

“Tell me how you feel,” He almost growls.

His cock is throbbing. He moves his all too eager mouth to your other breast, his free hand moving to caress the one he’d already lovingly tortured.

“I’m…down there-“

“Your pussy,” He supplies.

“My pussy…” The word sounds so foreign coming out of your mouth, “My pussy is…is…wet. Hot. Hurts a little bit. But I want you to…to touch.”

He looks up at you, “Do you want me to kiss you there?”

Your eyes squeeze shut.

“Yes, please,” In a single breath.

His tie is thrown somewhere in the ether. His suit jack joins it. Oh his baby. His sweet girl. The most precious thing…

He gets on his knees. Your dress had ridden up your thighs already. He’s eye level with your cunt. Cunt sounds so vulgar. It doesn’t fit with his image of you. But now, looking at it-

It’s soaked. It’s dripping down your thighs. It’s begging him to call it a cunt. He licks his lips.

He’s never done this before. He tried with his wife, but she’d screamed and nearly kicked him in the head. How dare he touch his lawfully wedded bride in a way that he wanted, but not in the way God had instructed?

So he let the matter rest. Until now. When it reared up on its hind legs and howled.

“Tell me everything,” He commanded, “Everything that comes into your head when my mouth is on you.”

“ Yes Jeb ,” You whine, “Jeb, please .”

He starts by kissing. Kissing along the folds of your cunt, before his tongue gets too curious. He groans at your taste. The taste of your arousal hits him harder than any alcohol Bill tried to tease him with. More tempting. A buzz so intense his brain is rewired to crave only this.

“ Oh my God…”

He smiles to himself. Yeah, God can watch you come on his face. The only goal now is to taste your orgasm. He focuses on your clit, flattening his tongue against it.

“Do that again!”

He does. He buries his face into your cunt. Another few hot stripes against your clit before he teases it. Licking around it, moving it side to side gently with his tongue.

Your fingers grip at his hair, “Like that…fuck…”

Hearing you curse, tasting you on his tongue. It makes his blood run hot. His wedding ring is still on. He stalls, just a brief moment before he decides if it should stay on.

He slides his ring finger inside you.

He sucks, kisses, licks just to make up for the second long loss of sensation.

If his vows meant nothing, if any other good ole Mormon boy could take his place, then the silly gold band he wore also meant nothing. His wedding ring is getting baptized in your arousal. Its new purpose was to remind him of this exact moment. He kisses your inner thigh, nuzzling the flesh with his cheek.

“‘ts good, so good.”

“You’re so wet, honey,” He whispers to you.

“Is that…okay?”

“Baby…”

Another finger slides inside you almost on instinct. He can make it better. He can always make it better, you just have to ask. He pumps them in and out of you, trying to find that spot inside you. When he does, your upper body almost jolts off the table.

“Baby, your pussy is heaven,” He breathes against your clit, “If I’d known this is what you tasted like, what you felt like, I wouldn’t have waited. I would’ve eaten your pussy way sooner.”

“ I need you inside of me.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he’s back on his feet. He unbuttons his pants, his gun holster and belt hit the ground. He takes himself out of his temple garb just to rub against you. Nothing in the way. He nearly cums right then.

The condom in his glove box suddenly feels like an enemy. He doesn’t want protection. He wants to sink into your welcoming heat with nothing in the way. Your legs are shaking around him.

“Can I…?”

“ Please, fuck, please.”

The tip presses in. You adjust fast. He presses in further and your eyes widen.

“That wasn’t all of it?”

“No, honey,” He smiles down at you.

“Is…is this all of it?”

“It can be,” He kisses your nose, “If you want, I can stop here.”

“Oh my God, you’re gonna kill me.” Your wide eyes scan his face and move between your legs, “My ex, he wasn’t as…”

“Do you want me to keep going?”

His hand moves back between your legs to put pressure on your clit. Your eyes roll back into your head.

“Yes.”

You're dripping onto the dining room floor by the time he’s flush against you. Your pussy grips him tight. He presses his forehead against yours. Your hands grip his shoulders.

He’s lost in you. His new God. The only thing to him that made any sense. It feels like a dream. If he moves too fast, it’ll ripple and fall away. His thrusts are slow and languid.

He has to savor you. The sound of your voice and the roughness of your breathing. Your kisses. The taste of you. The smell of your sweat mixing with your perfume. He wants to commit every bit to memory. He bitterly regrets not getting you completely bare. The thought of hidden beauty marks or freckles make him nearly pull out to undress you.

But-

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Better than your wife?”

“So much better. Never want anyone else’s cunt but yours…”

It isn’t a lie. He brings his lips to yours, brushing them together. He breathes you in. Your legs tighten around him. He rolls his hips faster into you and you cling to him.

“Stay with me tonight,” You whisper, “Can move your car into the garage or on the back lawn. And nobody will know.”

He kisses you properly, trying to distract you. He did say he was working late, but Rebecca would be expecting him to at least come home. It was tempting though. Getting to sleep beside you may be the first restful sleep he’d had in months.

The possibility of feeling this all consuming heat around him again made the offer sweeter. He ruts into you properly, pulls out all the way and slams into you again.

“I’ll stay, honey,” He whispers, “Go to bed with you.”

“Jeb-“

He fucks into you again, same rough tempo, “But I’ll have to leave early. Might not have time to fuck you again or say bye. I’ll have to leave you something to remember me by.”

He’s grabbing your hips, lifting you up to slam into you. You hiss. Your nails dig into his flesh. He can’t even begin to care about who might see the scratches on his shoulders, down his back. You made them. You blessed his skin with them.

Holiness is above reproach, isn’t it?

He leans down, tracing the hickies he’d left with his tongue.

Then he bites.

His teeth sink into a bruise like the flesh of an apple. Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling at his scalp. Lovely pain that makes his bite tighten.

You scream.

Your cunt clamps around him like a vice, you press yourself as far against him as you can. No inch of you can be separated. His name comes out of you like a prayer, like a mantra.

You come apart around his cock so hard, your body trembles in the aftershocks. You soak him, drip down him, and he’s a goner.

He doesn’t have time to pull out. His body is separate from his mind as he fucks you through the tremors. Fast, uncoordinated.

The world whites out for a blissful few seconds. The only thing is the feeling of filling your pussy. The only thing keeping him tethered to Earth is you.

You. You. You. Perfect you. Godly you. Made in His image.

It takes him a moment to regain his breath. For the world to slowly fade back into sepia color. The sunset is just starting. Orange floods the kitchen while the Sun disappears behind the tree line. Like a voyeur retreating after the event is done.

God was a pervert.

Jeb couldn’t blame him. His head lay between your collarbones. Your arms are shaking where they’re wrapped around him.

He just cheated on his wife.

He’s sure the guilt will come later. Not now though. Now, he’s too busy carrying you to your bedroom, laying you on the mattress and finally sliding the rest of your dress off.

“The curtain…” You say.

He gets up from his place on the bed to draw it. He fleetingly remembers that first night, when he helped you out of the glass.

Fucking a dead man’s wife in the room he died in can be his final sin of the day.

#laine is writing???#laine.txt #under the banner of heaven #jeb pyre x reader #under the banner of heaven fic

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backtothefanfiction · 9 months ago

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The Secrets We Keep | Part Two

Summary: Jeb is trying to work out the new normal for his life.

Warnings: mature, religious trauma, LDS, broken family, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Just trying to do what I can to fill the hole in the fandom. Enjoy

Two

It was a long drive back to East Rockwell but he had to do it. He had promised. For the sake of his girls, the reputation of his wife, they had to keep up appearances. They had told everyone at the congregation that because of his recent expertise, he had been poached by a station in Idaho to consult for a few weeks. On Saturday mornings he’d get up before sunrise and make the long drive back, just in time for some afternoon games with his girls before dinner, followed by their usual wind down routine; a calming evening activity such as reading or coloring. They would then start their bedtime routines, getting washed, putting their pajamas on, then they would all do evening prayers before they got tucked into bed.

Jeb was grateful whenever one of the girls excitedly asked to lead prayers, to show off to him how much better they were getting at it without him there during the week. It also meant he didn’t have to fake his way through it. He could still fumble the words, recite the old basic thanks from memory, but he still wanted his girls’ belief to mean something.

“Heavenly Father, thank you for my family. Thank you for bringing Daddy home safely. Thank you for giving him the tools to do his job well so we can have all of our nice things, such as sally doll and our bicycles and-“

“Caroline, honey.” Rebecca chastised softly when their daughter began to go off on a tangent.

“Yes, sorry.” she replied before getting back on track.

Once prayers were said, he and Rebecca would take a child each, carrying them to their shared bedroom and place them in their respective beds. They’d tuck them in, kiss them on the tops of their heads, before swapping and doing double checks on the covers and another forehead kiss to the other child. Rebecca would always check the kids night light, whilst he waited in the doorway. Then the moment his wife had left the room, he would whisper one last “good night”, before quietly closing the door.

Rebecca would always then turn and give him this look. The ‘are you ready to go back to how things used to be?’ look. But he didn’t even know what that was anymore. He’d give her a small shake of his head before silently moving through the house to his Mother’s old room, which now had become his.

He hadn’t been in it often enough to redecorate it. He also knew the moment he did the girls would soon get very suspicious about why his things were suddenly in there and not their Grandmothers. They had been doing everything they could to keep it from the girls in hopes that one day they would sort it out. That this would just be a blip on the long record of their marriage; but as the weeks went on, with every Sunday Service he sat through, his mind dissociating as the Bishop talked, he felt more and more like his marriage was over. She’d never leave the church and he’d never find his faith again, at least not in the way he once had.

“Ahh Jeb, good to see ya.” Tom said, shaking his hand.

“Likewise, likewise.” Jeb said, feigning a smile as he shook the older gentleman’s hand as they came out of the church.

“Hope they’re not gonna keep ya too much longer up there in potato country.”

Jeb bristled. He and Rebecca hadn’t discussed next steps yet, but he couldn’t hide the fact he had actually transferred permanently from everyone forever. “Umm actually, I’m thinking about staying up there you know. A position just became available and I think I’m gonna take it.” Jeb lied, his tongue feeling heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth.

“What, really? Rebecca never said anything about moving.” Tom said.

“We’re still discussing it.” Jeb blinked as he continued to lie, his head turning to scout for his wife’s whereabouts and if she was in ear shot before he continued the conversation. He was grateful when he saw her talking to Judy and Elizabeth on the other side of the front lawn as all of the kids had a quick run around together to let off some steam, before they all went back to Janice’s house for afternoon tea and cake.

“Well, it’d be a real shame to lose you all.” Tom continued as Jeb’s attention turned back to the older man.

“Yes. Yes.” Jeb said to him with a small tight lipped smile. “Umm anyway Tom, if you’d excuse me.” Jeb said, beginning to back away.

“Yes, of course, of course.” Tom said before turning to join a group of men chatting as Jeb made his way over to his wife.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jeb asked as he interrupted Rebecca’s conversation with Judy and Elizabeth.

“Hi, Jeb.” Judy greeted him kindly.

“Hi. Hello.” he said with a small smile and waved to each of the women, before guiding Rebecca a few steps away with a hand to her back.

“What? What is it?” Rebecca asked him when they were out of earshot of the rest of the congregation.

“I think I’m gonna go back early.” He told her.

“What?” she frowned.

“It’s just, it gets dark early and they’re saying there's gonna be a snow storm and I don’t want to be driving all night in it. Plus, I’ve gotta be in the station early tomorrow and I don’t wanna-”

She put a hand up to stop him. “I get it Jeb, I get it.” she said, but her tone was anything but cordial. “But, what about the girls, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“I’ll deal with that.” he said looking downcast, his hand shifting on his hip.

“Jeb.” she tried to reason.

“It’s fine.”

She shook her head. Said “No.” but he had made up his mind. Be damned the image they were trying to project. He loved his kids but being here was too much. He wanted to go back to his little motel room, put the TV on and sit in peace. To check out and forget for just a little bit before another day of work tomorrow.

“Girls, come here.” he said, turning away from Rebecca and calling out to his children. He bent down to their level as they approached him. He reached out for Annie, pulling her closer to him by the back of her head and placing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, but Daddy’s gonna have to leave early okay-”

“But-” Caroline began to whine.

“Caroline.” he chastised, dragging out her name.

“Fine.” she huffed as she avoided looking at him, her body swaying from side to side.

“I wish I could stay but I need to drive back. The weatherman said it was gonna snow and Daddy doesn’t want to have an accident, okay?”

“Okay.” they both grumbled in unison.

“I love you both okay?”

“I love you too, Daddy.” they both said as they both leaned in to wrap their arms around him and give him a hug.

“I’ll see you both next weekend okay. If the weather’s okay I’ll try and come back Friday night. How does that sound?” he said. He knew he was probably giving them false hope but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing the looks on his girls' faces whenever he told them he had to go.

“When can we come with you?” Caroline brazenly asked him.

“What? Caroline.” Jeb said, turning towards her.

“I want to go with you.” she said.

“Yes but sweetie, all your friends are here and Mommy’s here.”

“Yeah, but you’re not here.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he said, reaching a hand out to her, his thumb brushing tenderly across her soft cold cheek.

“Come on girls, time to go, it’s getting cold.” Rebecca called out to them. “Todd and Lisa have offered to give me and the girls a lift to Janice’s house and Michael said he’d drive us back home afterwards.”

“Are you sure, I mean I can drive you there before I go.” Jeb tried to say but Rebecca shook her head.

“No, I think it’ll be easier on the girls just to say goodbye now, okay.”

“Okay.” he reluctantly agreed.

“Girls, say goodbye.” Rebecca said.

They gave him one last hug and he reassured them again that he’d call every evening and be back next weekend before Rebecca ushered them towards Todd and Lisa’s car. They were a young couple. Not long married, still trying for their first baby and sending up prayers with the congregation every sunday for a speedy conception. Jeb gave them a small wave and a silent thanks, watching from the side of the road as they all climbed into the car and drove off, leaving him waving aimlessly to Caroline through the back window.

————————————————

The whole drive back he felt awful, his stomach in knots from his lies. The looks on his little girls’ faces as he told them he was leaving again. He wondered how long he and Rebecca could drag this out for.

The weather indeed had started to change two thirds of the way through his journey. He had stopped at a gas station to relieve himself and pick up a snack and drink for the road and on his way back out of the lot, it had started to snow. By the time he’d made it back into town it was turning into a blizzard.

He turned onto the town square, driving around the short one way system. It was like a ghost town, everyone inside away from the cold weather. Most of the businesses in town didn’t usually open on a Sunday anyway but he wasn’t surprised to find that the ones that were usually open had closed up early. All except one. He watched as the coffee shop lights were turned off as he approached before a figure stepped outside, fingers fumbling with the keys as she tried to lock the door. He slowed the car to a stop and rolled down the window.

“Hey, do you need a lift home?” He found himself asking.

She turned her head, searching for the source of the disembodied voice. She couldn’t help but smile to herself upon realising who sat inside the awaiting car. Jeb Pyre. Like a knight in shining armour. “Are you sure?” She asked cautiously as she approached the car.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen this weather? Anyone would be out of their mind not to offer.”

She smiled as he leaned over to open the door from the inside, encouraging her to take the offer. She shivered, letting out a little ‘brrrrr’ sound as she shook off the cold, her hands rubbing together.

“Here.” He said, leaning over to turn one of the heater jets in her direction, her hands instantly moving to search out the warmth.

“Thanks.” She said as he made a turn back off the square in the direction he supposed she lived from the direction she’d been coming from when they spoke a week prior.

“Ummm, where am I headed to?” He asked politely.

“Oh, I live on Fleeshman Street.” Goldie said cheerily.

“Fleeshman Street…” Jeb repeated, wracking his brain.

“Do you know where the library is?” She asked helpfully.

“Yes.” He said back softly.

“Okay, well head that way and I’ll direct you from there.”

“Okay.” He agreed with a small smile as he looked over to her in the passenger seat and then back to the road. “Does it normally snow this bad, this time of year?” He asked after a short pause.

“Sometimes. I mean, we do normally get snow in the winter but this is the first big snow storm we’ve had in a couple years, I’d say.”

“Okay.” He nodded, taking in the information. “How come you were still open so late?”

“Our managers a bit of a dick- oh sorry umm…” she wracked her brain for a less offensive word, but was surprised when he turned and said to her that it was fine. She looked at him sceptically. “Oookaay.” She said dragging the word out before turning back to look out the front windscreen as she continued her sentence. “Anyway, our manager doesn’t believe the weatherman. He’s a slightly older gentleman, kind of lonely and grumpy and really hates the TV, like with a passion. Seriously, don’t get that man started, he’ll rant about it for hours.”

“Okay, duley noted.” Jeb smirked.

“Bet there’s not much crime on a day like today.” She fished, looking to fill the silence that could so easily fall between them.

“You’d be surprised.” He said with a small chuckle and knowing twinkle in his eye, but as Goldie trailed her eyes down from his face to his attire she quickly realised he wasn’t dressed for work.

“But you haven’t been at work.” She quickly said, correcting herself with a slight scowl.

“Look at you, detective.” He joked with a smile. “What gave me away?”

“Your Sunday best.” It was an old suit now, but she had seen it on him in the past, back in the days she still took her Mother to church. She looked around at the couple of bits of rubbish dumped around the car, a carrier bag from a gas station closer to their home town in the back. She frowned as she asked, “Have you just driven all the way back from Rockwell in this?”

He was saved from explaining at the sight of the library approaching on the left hand side of the road. “Where am I going from here?” He asked deflecting.

“Take the next right up here.” She replied, pointing at the street in question, “My street is about halfway down on the left.” She filled in as she continued to scrutinise him and the inside of his car.

They remained silent as he took the right and then the left onto Fleeshman Street. “Where abouts-“

“Just in front of that silver car there.” She said.

Jeb quietly pulled into the space in front of the half snow covered silver car. They sat in awkward silence as the car idled. Goldie nibbled nervously at her lip before she broke the silence. “Umm, thanks for the lift.”

“Oh, no problem.” He promptly replied.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you around.” Goldie said as she reached for the door handle to let herself out.

“Yes, I’ll see you around.”

She had one foot out the door when she froze, turning back to him, taking a quick glance at the food packets and back to him again. “Would you like to come in for something proper to eat? I mean least I can do after you drove me home is sort you out with a proper meal.”

Jeb swallowed deeply, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck as he contemplated the offer. “Iii- uhhhh,” he began to say, “I umm should be getting back. I don’t want to accidentally get snowed in.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” She said in a quiet rush as she finally pulled herself from the car.

“Goldie-“ his voice called out as she was about to slam the door shut. “Maybe another time.” He suggests and she smiles, a halo of streetlights and snow glowing around her under his gaze and promise of a next time.

“Okay, Jeb Pyre. You’re on.”

#jeb pyre fanfic #jeb pyre fic #Jeb pyre #Jeb pyre x ofc #Jeb pyre x reader #andrew garfield characters #under the banner of heaven #multi chapter fic

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backtothefanfiction · 9 months ago

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The Secrets We Keep | Part One

Summary: It's another morning and Jeb is ready to clock in for another quiet shift at his new precinct. However he's no where near ready for what's waiting for him as he get's out the car.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Mentions of character deaths and disillusionment in religion, LSD, religious history/trauma, brief mention of the Lafferty case, marriage issues, meet cute, this is a reader insert character with a name and back story written in third person. Apart from a used nickname, the female character has no physical characteristics, imagine them however you want.

A/N: So when I said coming extremely soon, I meant a couple of hours. I've been sitting on this for a little bit now and although I am working on chapter three I have no idea how often this will be updated so bare with, but I think we can all agree there needs to be some more Jeb Pyre love over here. So without further ado, enjoy our meet cute for our childhood sweethearts. (@sincericida eat your heart out)

One

Jeb rubbed absentmindedly at his eyes. He hoped it would remove the tiredness in them, but secretly he hoped they’d act as an iron to smooth out the wrinkles that were forming at the edges of his eyes. He thought he’d gotten quite lucky with his genes. Despite being almost 36 now, he didn’t look a day over 29. Or at least he hadn’t. The Lafferty case had aged him. The stress and the fallout after, only making it worse. Now instead of looking 29, he looked closer to 32; which still wasn’t bad, but now he was far more aware of the dark circles under his eyes and the crows feet appearing in the corners.

He rubbed at his face again as he locked his car and began to walk the few short paces across the sidewalk to the stone steps that led up to the front of the station. Small patches of snow continued to linger in the corners from a recent flurry.

“Jeb? Jeb Pyre?” Her voice woke him from his stupor, his eyes squinting as he looked closer at her features. An act he knew would definitely do little to help with those crows feet.

“Goldie? Goldie Jensen?” Jeb frowned both with surprise and uncertainty as she started to make her way over to him.

“Wow. Nobody’s called me that in years.” She said cheerily as she came to a stop a couple paces before him.

“Wow.” Jeb sighed. “How many years has it been?”

“It’ll be 18 years this summer.” She replied.

“Wooow.” Jeb sighed again as he rubbed a hand at his chin, his feet absentmindedly stepping to the side and back again as he took in the information. It made him feel old. Sure running after his kids in the front yard also made him feel old, his lower back griping, lungs burning as he tried to keep up with them; but this, this predated Annie and Caroline. It even predated him meeting Rebecca.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were still in East Rockwell.” She continued to beam.

“I am. Well sort of. I’m in the process of moving because of work- it’s complicated.” He tried to explain. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Well I’ve been here for around 3 years now actually.” She nodded at him with pursed lips. “I uuhh… well it’s complicated.” She said, stealing his previous line.

He paused, “I heard about your folks.” His face fell. “I am so sorry.”

“Thanks.” She said, finally dropping her smile. Her head turned away from him, hands slotting into the pockets of her coat, eyes shifting to scan the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road.

“We uh- I lost my Mom too. About 9 months back.” He said, a faint wobble to his voice.

“I’m so sorry.” She replied, finally turning back to look at him again.

“Thank you.” He nodded at her politely. “She was um-“ he cleared his throat, his words growing sticky like tar in his mouth, “she was ready to go, you know. She missed my Dad… and of course with the dementia.” He said.

“Jeb, I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard.”

He just nodded, swallowing hard, hoping it would remove the lump in his throat. He’d loved his mother dearly; and although he had kept telling himself she had been ready to move on, though they had known it was coming a long time, it still didn’t make it easier; or him any more ready when she did finally go. It made it even harder once he had moved into her old room, the memory of his mother all over those four walls. His parents judging gaze silently screaming from the pictures on the walls as he slept separately from his wife.

“So you’re working here now.” Goldie said, her voice finding its natural sunshine once more, as she attempted to change the subject. “I heard we were getting a new detective in town but I never thought it’d be you. To be fair though, I never saw you moving out of our hometown at all- no offense. Figured you had your whole life planned and set out for you since you were 15 years old.”

“Well,” he let out a small chuckle, “so did I, but I guess things change.”

Her voice turned serious. “I heard about that case. That poor Mother and child. I can’t imagine what it must have been like going through that.” She reached out her hand, still resting in her pocket, towards him. It was meant to be a soft, caring gesture, but ended up just coming across a little awkward, the corners of her jacket poking him. Yet for such a hard subject matter, it was just what they needed.

“Yeah, umm, I guess that’s why I took the transfer, you know.” He said, trying to swallow that invisible lump again.

“Yeah, I bet.” She said to him softly. Her eyes were so warm and inviting, he thought he could just melt right into them. “Uh, well, I’ve got to be getting to work.” She said with a smile and another small wave of her hands, still stuck in her pockets. “I uh, work in the coffee shop, just across the square.” She pointed with her still coat covered hand, the puffa jacket zipper flapping about making him smile. “You should pop in some time. I sure would like to treat you to a coffee- or just a hot chocolate or something-“ she quickly interjected checking herself, remembering the LSD types she used to be surrounded by back home were anti coffee.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He said with a smile, already feeling lighter than he had 5 minutes prior, just by being in her energy.

“Good.” She smiled.

“Good.” He hummed back. She noticed when he said it he had a small glint in his eye, a sparkle that had not been there a moment ago when she had first seen him climb out of his car.

“So I guess I’ll see you round?” She asked.

“Yeah. Yes.” He confirmed with a small nod and a flash of his hand as she began to skip down the sidewalk in the direction of the square.

He turned to walk up the steps to the station but paused, checking over his shoulder to watch her, her head looking both ways before she crossed the street.

‘Goldie Jensen’ he thought to himself. There was a flash in his mind, a memory of kids playing on the playground in midday sunshine. Rolling down the small grass hill in the park. A kiss, placed upon youthful lips that had never touched another person other than their Mommas. He let his fingers ghost across his own lips at the memory as he slowly began to take the steps one at a time before entering the bustling little precinct.

Her fingers felt frozen as she tried to pick out the right key in order to open the little coffee shop, a small bell above the door jingling as it finally gave way. She quickly rushed inside, her boots rubbing vigorously against the doormat as her hands rubbed against each other, trying to get rid of the chill. She hated Winter. Christmas was okay, it brought in business; laughter between friends meeting for a coffee and a present exchange while the kids were at school. The lights that got hung across the square added a sense of magic to town. But then January always hit. The lights got taken down. People batten down the hatches with the post Christmas scrimp, waiting for the next payday all the way at the end of the month. The weather stays cold. The days stay short. But that’s how it goes. The same routine every year, just another number added to the end of the date.

She moved around the back of the counter, slipping through a little door in the back, her fingers automatically flicking on the switches and illuminating the quaint little cafe. She peered her head around the door frame as she watched each overhead light turn on before the fairy lights, that hung draped across the front windows, began to twinkle and glow. She smiled, there was no better sight in the world.

She shrugged her coat off of her shoulders, moving further through the back to the washing up area to hang it on a set of hooks, fixed to one of the walls. She flicked on the switch for the washing machine, allowing it to start warming through, before pushing back her fly away hairs from the cold morning wind and heading back out to the main shop floor to start warming up the coffee machine.

She smiled to herself as she began to pour a fresh bag of beans into the grinder. ‘Jeb Pyre.’ She thought to herself, ‘who’d have thought,” as she began to do her set up for her own coffee, pressing the grounds flat with the tamper before slotting the portafilter into the group head and pushing the button for the hot water to filter through.

As the coffee began to pour through, it mixed in with the smell of ground beans that were already permeating the space. It may have only been 8 o’clock in the morning on a cold dreary day in the middle of January, but somehow amidst the steaming smell of fresh coffee and the comfort of running into an old friend, it felt like spring had walked into her life a little earlier this year.

#jeb pyre #jeb pyre x self insert #jeb pyre fic #jeb pyre x reader #jeb pyre x ofc #under the banner of heaven #Andrew Garfield characters #meet cute #childhood sweethearts #crime #thriller #romance

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reidslovely · 1 year ago

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okay wait first ! just cause i’m curious.

what’s your hc of utbh ending?? how would you continue / end his story if it was up to you ?

I've already written a little about this a couple months ago but I never went fully into detail. I think he leaves the church personally, he seems very accepting of everything that happened and I know it takes a lot for him to pull out but it is what's best for him and his daughters and he knows that. I do see him and his wife separating but cohabitating for the sake of their girls. He's definitely a hot topic around the community seeing as he still works for the police department but is no longer an active participant in his church. However, being a part of his daughter's lives means more to him than anything they could say about him. He is always reminding them about the issues within the church and how it can be unsafe and if they ever feel like they're ready to leave they can work with that. He and Becca are cordial they do their best to co-parent and cohabitate but they do have rocky parts of their relationship.

I can see once his daughters are a little older that he moves out and probably relocates down to Vegas with Taba to work. However, I also hc that this is what he does after UTBH initially. He and his wife split custody with their daughters its easy because their homeschooled. However, I think Jeb would work to get them into a public school in Vegas once they're a little bit more adjusted to the living situation, maybe causing Becca to move closer.

So use which ever one you guys like we can go off of!

#jeb pyre x reader #bambi talks #utbh #jeb pyre #jeb pyre x self insert

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backtothefanfiction · 2 years ago

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Nano Update

I'm aiming to do a chapter a day instead of getting caught up on word counts but uuuuuhhhhh still struggling to get in my flow, although I feel like I'm moving forward more in chapter 2 and so am a bit happier. I'm currently sitting at 3769 words. Will I complete this chapter today? probably not. Am I gonna push to get over 4,000 words anyway... HECK YES!!!!!!!!!

and as a post dinner treat gonna come and work on one of my fanfic drafts. Which would you rather have sooner (e.i. which piece should I work on?)

#writing update #nanowrimo #poll #writing break #Peter Parker x reader #jeb pyre x reader #fanfiction #Andrew Garfield characters #wips

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sincericida · 9 months ago

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A torrid, transcendental and reflective fanfic, staring Jeb Pyre.

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backtothefanfiction · 2 years ago

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WIPS & 2024 Plans!

Hey ya’ll. So as hinted at I have a lot of ideas and works in progress so wanted to kind of do a little summary and tease some of the stuff I’m currently throwing around and kind of give and make a plan of action for the coming year regarding my content here.

I finally finished the office kinktober prompt after nearly two months of it being half written as said in the authors note, I am giving up on the idea of kinktober/kink til Christmas altogether. But there are still a few ideas that came from that list I do really want to write which will be included in the future ideas portion of this post but yeah… let’s just start with the current WIPs and what’s gonna come first.

Current WIPS (with summaries)

In order of completion with rough estimate of posting!

Spiders and Lace

1920s Mob Spider-Man Au where Peter starts dating a young socialite in order to get to her criminal brother.

(First Part releasing this December)

The Secrets We Keep

A Jeb Pyre (Under The Banner of Heaven) multi chapter story. Jeb is starting a new job in a new town after the Lafferty case where he meets an old school friend. Both of them are running from their hometown and hiding secrets, but will those secrets crush this new budding romance?

(Series starting in January, date to be announced)

WIPS Currently On The Shelf

These have all either been teased and parts not posted or one or two parts posted then currently abandoned. I have stuff written for these and aim to go back to them at some point I just don’t know if or when.

I Will Always Find You

A multiple part Pedro and Oscar character’s fic featuring different linked AUs looking at the idea of past lives and reincarnating with the same souls.

(I keep picking this up and putting it back down but I love the idea and it means so much to me and I want to do it right, so until I can do it justice, it’s on the shelf.)

Metanoia

When Mando takes on a job to retrieve a kidnapped young senator, the two of them end up on a journey that has Mando questioning his whole way of life.

(I have posted the first chapter of this but may take it down as I don’t know when I’ll go back to this idea and I think I want to adjust it anyway. This is basically just a story to really go into what I wanted from Mando’s journey meeting other mandalorians and how it makes him question his creed seeing how other mandalorians live and getting to really explore that inner turmoil.)

Future/2024 Ideas

Some of these may get written some time next year, some of them may come later, some may never get written at all, but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway.

No Body No Crime

Based on the Taylor Swift song, this is a murder mystery that would feature multiple crossover characters from Dave York (the murdered husband), Joel Miller (the accomplice lover), Jeb Pyre (the detective) and possibly a few other characters from across the Pedro, Andrew and Oscar character lists. I love this song and I do have a whole list of ideas just based on Taylor Swift songs which may become their own mini series with a song for each album, but I really want to write a multi chapter fic based on this song.

Untitled Joel Miller Fic

I already made a post with this idea. Inspired by the Mummy, as I feel Rick O’Connell and Joel Miller give me similar energy. However instead of fighting Mummies we’d be fighting Infected to hunt down different artefacts a particular bookish main character wants to protect and preserve. Think road trips, myths, history and unlikely allies with ridiculous sexual tension.

Triple Frontier Boys One Shot

I’ve been fantasising about a very naughty TF boys one shot which is pretty much straight smut and one rocking night for reader. I did start writing some bits for this a few nights back, but didn’t like it the next day but plan to return to it at some point.

Tis The Damn Season

Another of those previously mentioned prompts inspired by Taylor songs, Tis The Damn Season is a Frankie Morales one shot that may come sooner than we think as it’s an idea set at Christmas. Frankie goes back to visit his parents one time a year and always ends up back at your place on Christmas Eve like your very own Santa Claus.

—————————————————

So those are my current WIPS, ideas and plans. Let me know which you’re most interested in.

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backtothefanfiction · 2 months ago

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The Secrets We Keep | Part Three

Summary: things become tense when Goldie finds her colleague dead, luckily a friendly face is on the case

Warnings: mature, murder scene, dead mother and child, suspected overdose, debt, this is a murder mystery so all the things you expect from a crime drama

Word Count 2.8k+

A/N: I’ve had this sitting ready to go for a while, realised I hadn’t posted it yet so here we go. This is our big catalyst for the story. Some very serious stuff but don’t be deterred, especially if you like a murder mystery/crime drama. This is also fairly in line with the tone and themes of the actual series so, if you liked that and Jeb you’ll like.

Three

It’s almost 11:30 and the little cafe is crammed with people. It’s the first proper decent day since the snow storm blew in almost 4 days ago now. The place is packed with older couples and mothers from the area who have finally been able to get out of their houses now the streets and pathways have been fully cleared.

Some of the sidewalks are still icy and the patches of snow that sit in the shade still stand tall, but it’s slowly starting to thaw. Enough for things to be back to normal at least. Or they would be normal if Maria had actually turned up for work. Goldie and a younger barista named Fawn have been working tirelessly since opening the little cafe at 8am. Although Maria had been late a couple of times recently, she had never just not turned up.

Maria was a single mother to a little girl named Sofia. She worked three jobs to be able to keep the lights on and food on the table after she split up with her abusive ex. She had moved to the area to get away from him, taking whatever hours she could get. She would split her time between the cafe, the library and a little boutique selling greetings cards and usually she was very reliable, but over the last week or so, all that had changed.

“Hey, Fawn, do you mind holding down the fort for a moment whilst I go and try to call Maria?” Goldie asked, the moment a break seemed to emerge from the never ending stream of customers.

“No, of course.” The younger girl replied, as she wiped down the counter and began to restock the freshly cleaned cups back atop the machine.

Goldie took one last glance around the shop to make sure everything would be okay, before heading out back to the small office she used to do the rota’s and orders every week. She didn’t bother sitting as she quickly located Maria’s number and began to dial.

It rang… and it rang… and it rang- but there was no response. So she got out the phone book from the bottom drawer of the desk and called the library and the card shop, just in case she had double booked herself; but neither of the other establishments had seen or heard from her in days.

“Hey Dawn.” Goldie said, getting the younger girl's attention, as Goldie made her way back out onto the shop floor, slipping her arms into her coat. “I’m just gonna run around the corner to Maria’s apartment and see if she’s in. Neither the library or the card shop have heard from her. Linda O’Connell said she didn’t show up for her shift at the library Monday either.”

“Okay, I think I’ll be okay for a few minutes.” She said as a group of women at the front of the shop all stood to leave, the crowd thinning significantly.

“5 minutes.” Goldie reiterated again, holding up her hand as she joined the back of the group of ladies to exit out the front door.

Maria’s apartment was only around the corner from the cafe. It was only a small space, with a single bedroom her and her daughter shared and was situated right above a takeout pizza place. Goldie slipped around to the back of the building and up the couple steps to the entrance to the apartments and pressed the buzzer for number 3. There was no response. She tried again, but still there was nothing. She hit the button for the apartment above it instead.

“Yes, hello. Who is it? What do you want?” A croaky older man’s voice responded after a moment.

“Hi, I’m trying to get a hold of a friend in the apartment below you, she didn’t turn up for work and I just want to check and make sure she’s alright, but no one seems to be answering.” She explained through the intercom.

“Well maybe she’s out.” The man replied sharply, no doubt irritated at having been pulled away from whatever tv show he was currently watching.

“Please, if you wouldn’t mind letting me in so I can go and knock on the door and check.” She asked nicely.

“Uhhh fine, if it will get you to leave me alone, fine.” He grumbled and then there was silence.

It took a moment, but there was a sudden buzz and the sound of a latch clicking open and she pushed the door open, heading inside and making her way to the stairs, hopping up them two at a time.

When she reached the first floor and the hallway that led to the first three apartments, she knew something was wrong. The door to apartment 3 was ajar and a cold draft came through the gap in the open doorway.

“Maria?” She called out tentatively, but there was silence.

When Goldie pushed the door open, she was met with a plethora of final notice envelopes. Some lay stacked atop a small entry table just inside the door, others were scattered across the worn gray carpet, as if they had been knocked off by somebody in a hurry.

“Maria?” She called out again. “Sofia?” Still there was silence.

The entire apartment was dark, the position of the building and overcast sky casting shadows throughout the space. It was so cold it felt like the heating hadn’t been on in days. When Goldie reached to turn on the light switch so she could see better, she wasn’t surprised to find there wasn’t any power.

“Maria?” She asked again to the space as she came into view of the small kitchen living area and found the window wide open. As she stepped into the room to close it, she noticed a wet patch on the floor. It seemed to be a puddle of melted snow. How long had the window been open? Goldie thought to herself.

When she turned back around, she noticed the plates of food that had been left on the table from a dinner, who knows how long ago. The whole thing made the hair on Goldie’s neck stand up. Had they both left in a hurry? Did it have something to do with her ex? Or maybe she just couldn’t pay the bills anymore and went and moved back in with her mom. But as Goldie went to the bedroom to check to see if any of their things had been taken, she gasped in shock at the sight that befell her. Both mother and daughter were sleeping on the bed, locked in a tight embrace. Both pale as sheets and very clearly dead.

The window had been left open in here too and the room was absolutely freezing.

Goldie held her hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes at the sight. “Oh Maria.” She sighed sympathetically and then she began to cry.

It took her a moment to compose herself before she was able to call the police and tell them what she had found. The moment she hung up the call with the precinct she called back to the cafe to let Fawn know what was happening. Fawn reassured Goldie that Josephine would be starting her shift in 15 minutes and she could continue to hold down the fort on her own until then and stay on until Goldie got back, but if she was honest, Goldie didn’t know if she would be back. She remembered what it was like when they came to investigate her mother’s death before they determined it a suicide; and that had taken the better part of a day. It was already clear that this might not be so cut and dry of an investigation; and as the person who found them, who knew how long they would keep her for questioning.

She sighed with relief though when a familiar face entered the apartment with two other uniformed officers and another detective in plain clothes.

“Goldie?” Jeb’s brow furrowed as he took in her presence as she waited with her coat wrapped tightly around her in the middle of the main living area of the apartment.

“They’re in the bedroom.” She informed the group of men, pointing the direction of where she had found the two bodies and they each nodded.

As the two uniformed officers and the other detective made their way through to the bedroom, Jeb stayed back with her as he got out a notepad and pen and began to look around her at the room.

“Are you okay?” He asked her tentatively.

“I didn’t touch anything.” She informed him in response as he began to step closer to her. “I mean- I almost closed the window but I noticed the puddle of snow and thought it suspicious so I left it. There’s a whole load of final notice letters by the door too.” She began to ramble.

“Okay… okay.” He said softly and calmly, his eyes following hers to the pile of letters just visible in the entryway and back to her again.

“They looked so cold, Jeb.” She said, pained, as she sharply turned her head to him, as if she was only just remembering he was in the room.

He silently nodded as he began to lower his pad and reached a hand out to her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna find out what happened.” He reassured her. She shuddered slightly under his touch, but was still in too much shock to pull away.

“Pyre.” The other detective called sharply to his partner as he entered the room, two empty orange pill bottles in his hand. “Found these on the floor next to the bed.”

Jeb looked at the pills then to the plates of food and back to his partner once more. “We’ll need to bag up the plates and test them for any residue.”

His partner nodded in confirmation before turning back to join the two uniformed officers in the bedroom.

“How did you… um, know the deceased.” Jeb carefully asked as he turned his attention back to Goldie.

“She works- worked-” Goldie quickly corrected herself, “down at the cafe with me. She didn’t show up for her shift. When I called the apartment she didn’t answer. And when I called her other places of work they said they hadn’t seen her since the snow storm.” Goldie informed him and he began to add it to his notes.

“The door was open when I got here.” she added and he raised his eyebrows at the information.

“And you said all the windows were open too?”

“Yes.” she confirmed.

“Did you touch the door?” he asked.

“Ummm…” she thought back, her eyes blinking and becoming unfocused as she tried to recall her actions. “No.” she suddenly said proudly. “I nudged it open the rest of the way with my foot, I didn’t touch it with my hands.”

If Jeb found Goldie’s foresight to not touch any potential evidence interesting, he didn’t acknowledge it, just continued to ask questions and make notes, trying to get an authentic as possible statement as he could. “You said you worked with her, would you say you were friendly or knew much about her life outside of work. She didn’t mention anything about struggling to pay her bills?” He asked, pointing back towards the plethora of envelopes by the door.

“No. I mean she didn’t mention how bad it was. I knew she worked multiple jobs in order to put food on the table and keep a roof over her and Sofia’s head- I even babysat for her some evenings a few months back when she picked up a few shifts at a bar up the street, but that didn’t last long. I mean, we were friendly and we got on well, but I wouldn’t say we were close friends or anything.”

“Okay.” Jeb said as he scribbled in his notepad. “Do you know anything about…” he quickly searched back through his notes as he looked for the name you had given to the little girl, “Sofia’s dad or her mother’s relationship history?” he asked.

“From what I know it wasn’t good. She moved to town to get away from him after he was arrested. From what I understand he used to beat her.” Goldie said, relaying the information she had, to the best of her ability. “She seemed happy to have the fresh start and be away from him. Apart from the money trouble she seemed happy.”

“Okay…” Jeb acknowledged as he continued to keep tabs of the information. “Did you ever have a name?”

“No- but I think they were married, so there should be a record of that somewhere that should have the name on it. I think.”

“Okay, okay.” Jeb muttered to himself.

There was a faint knock on the door and they both turned their heads towards it. “Detective,” yet another uniformed officer announced himself. It was clear he wasn’t alone though.

“Yes, in here.” Jeb addressed him, ushering in the group of officers stood in the hallway. “The bodies are in the bedroom with Detective Williams.” Jeb said, pointing with his pen in the direction of the bedroom door.

“Detective,” another officer addressed Jeb, giving only a small glance in Goldie’s direction, as he and his partner broke off from the other group of officers that made their way to the bedroom. “What needs cataloging in this room?” He asked.

“I’ve yet to do a full sweep.” Jeb informed him.

The officer gave him a nod, “We can do that.” He assured and the two of them put on gloves and got to work.

The flash from the camera was distracting as they began to go around the room, taking pictures of things exactly as they had been found, before they began their search. Jeb continued to try and ask Goldie questions, but it was clear that with more and more officers going in and out of the apartment, the more she was beginning to shut down.

“Wait here a second.” Jeb said, reaching a hand out to her arm. She gave him a small nod as if to say she heard him and understood, before he went in search of his partner in the bedroom.

“Williams.” Jeb said, getting the other detectives attention. “There’s not much more I can get from Miss Jensen.” Jeb informed him. “She seems to be going into a small state of shock. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to personally give her a lift home. She’s an old friend and I’d just like to make sure she gets home okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s not like they’re going anywhere,” Williams indicated crassly to the deceased mother and daughter on the bed. As Jeb turned his head to officially observe the scene his stomach lurched. For a moment, he didn’t see Maria or her daughter, but Rebecca and Caroline. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing the vision to go away. When he opened them again he realised the coroner was there. He was attempting to work out a way to safely separate mother and daughter, however between the cold temperatures from the open windows and the rigor mortis, the chances of that happening here at the scene, was slim.

“Let me know on the radio if anything changes.” Jeb said, as he straightened up his jacket and coat, before turning to leave the room.

“Come on, I’m gonna take you home.” Jeb said softly to Goldie when he returned.

“That’s it?” She asked skeptically. “When they came for my Mom’s body the grilled me for hours.”

“Yeah, well, I’m handling this case and I think you’ve given me all you can and are willing to give me at this moment in time.” He reassured her, but his tone implied that he wasn’t doing this as standard procedure and had she been more responsive to his last three questions, no doubt he would still be asking them. Alas Jeb wasn’t like some of the asshole detectives he’d noticed in this town. In fact he wouldn’t be surprised at all if you told him it was William’s who had handled your Mom’s case. But for now, Jeb knew better than to push someone when their headspace was distracted.

“Okay, well then, I need to get back to work.” She started, but Jeb shook his head.

“Goldie, you’ve just found your co-worker and her little girl curled up dead in each others arms. If I take you back to work right now…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. “Look, I’m taking you home.” He said again. Though he could see her mouth beginning to open again, an argument forming on the tip of her tongue. Same old Goldie, he thought to himself. “It’s not up for debate.” He cut her off, his hand held out towards the door as he reached into his pocket for his keys.

He waited a moment, to see if she’d try again to protest, but gave a small satisfied smile when she gave in, wrapping her coat tighter to her body, as she made her way to the door.

#jeb pyre #Jeb pyre x ofc #under the banner of heaven #fanfic #Andrew Garfield characters #crime drama #Jeb pyre imagine #Jeb pyre x reader insert

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sincericida · 3 years ago

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I’d just like to say THANK YOU all Andrew Garfield/Peter Parker/Link/Jeb Pyre/ fanfic writers. Yeah, y'all are talented and amazing and what would the my addiction to Andy without your to feed my heart and mind with your exceptional works and talents. Y'all are important to me and other peoples. Keep up, we’re here! Very thank you again ❤️

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foreverrogers · 3 years ago

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Hii Hayes!!!

Congrats on 1.5k!! 🥰🥳 Very well deserved indeed. I love your work ❤️

I'm here to ask for some austen if you feel up for it. I was out of ideas for quotes so I went into my notes app and I found this from The Cruel Prince by Holly Black:

It turns out that having kissed someone, the possibility of kissing hangs over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was the first time.

I was wondering if you could write something on it with Jeb Pyre (or any of your other characters I love them all).

Love ❤️🥰

thank you thank you hun!!! i don't think I've ever written a blurb so fast, this quote is so perfect!

cw: post utboh, smoking, drunken kissing, allusions to loss of faith, very brief mention of hitting knuckles as a punishment {1.5k}

austen - the queen of romance. send me a favourite quote of yours (can be anything! books, poetry, plays, songs) and I'll make it the theme of a little blurb/dialogue

he had been drunk. the first time, at least. he still wasn't used to being drunk, had spent so many years being told it was a sin.

maybe it was a sin, but he didn't care anymore.

wanting you felt a little bit like that, too. like it was wrong, like you were something out of bounds he should feel bad indulging in, made him feel like a child sneaking treats out of the pantry when nobody was looking, waiting for somebody to come scold him, hit his knuckles until they couldn't reach anymore.

it didn't help that you were younger than him, not much but just enough for it to make everything feel a little scandalous, the pretty young thing at the front desk who had caught his eye on day one.

he had felt worse about it, then, when you had first met, about seeing you and immediately wondering what you felt like, what you smelt like, what you tasted like.

he got to find out all those things, eventually, in the alley of a cop bar at midnight during a retirement party. he had watched you slip out of the back door, finds you lit by the dim, flickering yellow of the street lights and the faint glow of your cigarette. god, you were bad. bad for him. a bad idea. reaching, knuckles waiting to be hit.

you smile at him when you see him approaching, all wide and warm, red painted lips curving deliciously.

he smiles back, smaller, a little less sure. he might be drunk, but he wasn't far gone enough to not realise he was encroaching on dangerous territory just by being here with you, alone in the dark. he still wasn't even sure if you thought about him like that, the way he thought about you, takes all the half glances he had caught over the past couple of months and calls them circumstantial evidence at best.

there's no greeting as he slides next to you, back pressed to the steady brick wall. all you do is offer him your cigarette, already burned halfway down and stained lightly with your lipstick.

"i don't smoke, but thank you, though."

you don't relent, keep your hands stretched between you, ash swaying slowly to the ground. "can you be tempted?" by more than a cigarette, yes.

he looks from the cigarette to you, watches the flutter of your lashes and those doe eyes looking up at him and thinks you must be doing this on purpose, putting on a show to draw him in, doesn't think anybody could look this beautiful without trying.

he takes the nub between his fingers without looking away from you, brings it to his lips with a long, steady inhale.

you start to grin at him, at some point in the seconds of his inhale, giddy realisation that he's done this before.

so maybe he had smoked, just a little, a few puffs behind the station when things got especially stressful, enough to take the edge off but not enough to come home smelling like smoke. you wouldn't mind, he thinks, if it was you he was coming home to.

"thought you said you didn't smoke."

jeb exhales, unwavering, relaxes against the building, proves to calm the hot anxiety spreading through his veins at this new proximity to you. "it can be our secret."

your smile softens, and you study his face so intently it makes his throat close up a little.

"needed a break?" he asks, just so he can change the subject, so he can break you out of whatever puzzle of him you were putting together in your mind. "from in there?"

he offers you the cigarette, and you accept it with a hum of agreement. "i don't think the wives like me very much," you mutter, look away to breathe in one last drag before snubbing it out against the brick. "don't trust me. think all i am is a skirt and a smile to distract their husbands."

jeb doesn't know what to say, and so he doesn't say anything.

there's nothing to do now, with the cigarette gone, has to give you his whole attention when you meet his eyes again. "do you find me distracting, jeb?"

there's silence, long and heavy.

jeb doesn't know what to say, and so he kisses you.

there's no delay, no surprise. you kiss him back like you had been expecting it all along, hooking your fingers into his loosened tie and pulling him to you until he's pressing you against the wall.

you're soft, like he knew you would be, soft where his hand comes up to cup your cheek and his arm moves to wrap around your waist. you taste like smoke and liquor and sugar and you smell the same, too, the sweet cut of your perfume and your lip gloss.

jeb doesn't remember the last time he kissed someone, but he sure as hell knows he's never kissed anyone like this, hot and hot and hot, molten honey dripping from your tongue.

the heavy back door opens with a screech, and by the time the two drunken officers stumble out of the bar jeb's already sprung to the opposite side of the alley.

they both fall past without noticing you, or the thick tension they walk right through, tripping over their own feet and into the deserted main road.

jeb's not sure if he's blanched or if he's blushing, but either way he's glad you can't tell under the dim lights.

he knows by the way you watch him as he walks into the station the next morning that you remember everything clear as day. jeb can, too, does more than just remembers it, can still feel you all over him like a haunting reminder of his indiscretions.

if he thought you were distracting before, he was unprepared for how distracting you were when you were trying. and you were really trying, always coming up with new ways to corner him, to get him alone in the copy room or the break room or even just walk past him in the corridor, brush arms without catching his eye.

every time he would try not to look at you, and every time he would fail, would find your eyes already lingering and the quirk of a smile on your lips. he tries not to watch the curl of those lips, tries not to think about kissing you again.

he gets the overwhelming feeling that you're playing with him, a dangerous game of cat and mouse he's certain he's losing, on the precipice of getting eaten alive.

it's a deserted night, a sunday, and with no one to go home to jeb stays at work long after the sun has set over the mountains.

when he walks into the car park you're leaning against the hood of his car. you smile at him, like you had in the alley. you're even wearing the same lipstick. "i was starting to think you might be living at your desk."

"just, uh..." jeb furrows his brows at you, steps slowing until he pauses a safe distance away, taken aback, undeniably confused. "had a lot of paperwork to catch up on... are you... okay?"

"yeah, 'course i am," you're still smiling, sickly sweet, tone almost too innocent, the type of innocence that only exists to hide something wicked underneath. "i just didn't really feel like going home by myself, so i was wondering if you wanted to... do something tonight."

he almost misses it. by myself. "... together?"

your smile brightens, amusement in your eyes now, and you breathe a gentle laugh as you tilt your head. "yes?"

jeb has to clear his throat, tries not to draw too much attention to the way he loosens his tie a little, an attempt to remember how to breathe again. "uh, what did you have in mind?"

"i don't know, anything, really. dinner? movie?" and, after a few beats, "or you could just take me home, if you'd like."

jeb gapes at you, just slightly, the lightest purse of his lips, and he doesn't mean to but he also can't seem to stop.

"don't look so scared," you smile, back to playing that faux innocence. it's sheer now, though, jeb can see exactly what's underneath, and it takes a lot more restraint than he's willing to admit to not give into it immediately. you take a slow step forward, and then another, soft clack of your heels against the concrete ringing in his ears. "i don't bite, promise."

jeb still hasn't closed his mouth, and now you're close enough that he thinks you might actually act upon it when you look at his lips. he speaks, only because if he kisses you again he's not sure he'll be able to stop. "dinner sounds nice."

come join my 1.5k sleepover!

#jeb pyre #jeb pyre fic #jeb pyre fanfiction #jeb pyre x reader #utboh #andrew garfield #hayes' 1.5k celebration #foreverrogers' 1.5k celebration #hayes muses #under the banner of heaven #queue <3

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foreverrogers · 3 years ago

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a black mile to the surface ⤞ a black mile (1/5)

Pairing: jeb pyre x f!singlemom!reader

Summary: it's the spring of 1986, and Jeb Pyre is a new man... or at least he's trying to be.

Warnings: single mom! reader, mention of LDS, a touch of angst, two (2) whole OCs, and that's about it!

Words: 2.1k

A/N: chapter one is finally here!!! a pretty short opening chapter but i think the next ones will be a little longer. i'm not entirely sure how i feel about the characterisation yet but this was so fun to write regardless! hope you enjoy :)

request something! masterlist // series masterlist

It's warm in this part of Idaho.

It had been the dead of Winter when Jeb arrived, a week after his first Christmas alone in Salt Lake, snow rolling in off of distant mountains that seemed to melt into the horizon.

They were beautiful, even if they had made the first couple months in his empty little apartment cold ones, coloured by frozen pipes and heavy clouds beyond frosted windows. He could recognise their beauty for beauty's sake, now. He thinks that might be all that matters.

Jeb meets you on the first day of Spring.

There's a warm gust of air as the doors of the station open, something sweet and floral carried in along with it. They had planted fresh flower beds outside the station over the weekend, bright pinks and reds and yellows to greet the new season, and Jeb thinks it must be the light scent of them drifting through until he looks up and realises it's you.

You're holding a huge bouquet of flowers, resting on your hip like a toddler, all white and subtle pink framed by pale craft paper. You smile at the officer at the front desk, seem to ooze a comfort and familiarity rarely seen in a police station, offer a greeting Jeb can't quite make out as you walk past.

Jeb doesn't mean to stare. Or rather, he doesn't mean to be so obvious about it, following your movements through the station with your wide smile and your bright eyes and your friendly waves. He thinks the clock might start ticking a little slower.

For someone staring so much, he doesn't realise you're walking towards his general direction until you're right there, only a few steps away with amused eyes narrowed at him, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

It's only a split second, when you hold his eyes and watch the light blush spread across his cheeks before he scrambles to look down, pretends to return to whatever work had been forgotten the moment you walked in.

He doesn't look up, even if the tug in his chest tells him he needs to, not as you breathe a quiet chuckle or as you stop only a few feet away from his desk, place a gentle knock on the door of his Captain's office. "Delivery," You sing, playful and sarcastic and bright. "Worst husband of the year award."

And Jeb doesn't mean to eavesdrop... But he was a detective, after all. Curiosity was half of the job. "You're a lifesaver, Y/n."

Jeb's first clue is that his Captain had never opened his door that fast in the three months he had worked there. Nor had he ever looked quite so tense, shoulders hunched, eyebrows pinched together, exhaustion etched into the creases of his forehead. The last time Jeb had seen him look this stressed there had been a stabbing on Main Street.

"Yeah, yeah. If your wife kicks you out it's my couch you're gonna be sleeping on, so, you know. Neither of us wants that."

Jeb watches his Captain sigh, runs a hand through his hair, follows the pattern of his receding hairline and the grey that's started to bleed into it. "Still, I owe you big time, seriously."

"Oh, that you definitely do," You beam, undoubtedly smug, pass over the bouquet and move to carefully fix the placement of the flowers as they sit in his arms. "I expect a bottle of the fanciest pinot you can find and unlimited access to your pool for the next six months."

"Done and done."

"Really?" You ask, and even turned almost fully around Jeb can hear the pleasant surprise in your voice. "That was... A lot easier than I expected. Pleasure doing business with you, I'll see you next time."

He ducks his head again as soon as he sees you start to turn, must have been too obvious because he only hears you take a couple of steps before there's silence again. A dim shadow falls over his paperwork, blearing yellow lights of the station blocked away.

"You're new, right?"

Jeb looks up, eyes wide, mouth shaping words that seem to slip out of his grasp as he reaches for them. "Uh, yes. Right."

You smile at him, and Jeb's unsure when he forgot how to act like a human being, only knows that right now his words and the colour of his face are failing him. "Sorry, I just know most of the people around here by now. Small town and everything," You explain, trail off for a moment as you watch him, something edging on fascination creeping into your features, like you were trying to read him, figure him out. You shake your head, seem to catch yourself. "I'm Y/n, by the way. I'm, uh, the Captain's sister."

"Detective Pyre," He introduces, holds his hand out to you before he realises he should be standing. The metal of his chair scrapes against the linoleum, a piercing shriek that earns a couple pointed looks he doesn't have to see to feel directed at him.

You just smile wider, reach out to shake his hand. Your nails are a neat, deep red. "First name Detective, last name Pyre?"

"Jebidiah," He corrects, immediately shakes his head at himself because when has anybody ever called him Jebidiah? "I mean Jeb. People call me Jeb."

You're still trying to bite back your smile as you drop his hand, nod lightly as you move to adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder. He tells himself it's just the cop in him that notices you're not wearing a wedding ring. Another clue. "Well, Detective Jebidiah Jeb Pyre, it's lovely to meet you."

Jeb opens his mouth, moves to say something his brain hadn't quite formulated yet and finds himself saved by the door of Captain Y/l/n's office swinging open again.

"Y/n," He calls lightly, leaning through the door frame with his phone clutched against his chest.

"Mhm?"

"Jack wants to know if you're still here."

You sigh, bring your wrist up to straighten the face of your watch. "Can you tell him I'll be home in ten?"

There's a quick nod before Captain Y/l/n retreats back into his office

"Sorry," You mutter, turning back to him with a shake of your head. "My son, I'm supposed to be taking him to a soccer practice later."

"You have kids?"

"Just the one, just started high school."

"You seem young to have a son in..." Jeb's saying it before he registers it, doesn't catch himself until he watches the smile creep back onto your face. "Oh, I, uh- I just meant that you-"

"It's okay," You laugh, smile and cheeks undeniably warm. "It's, um. Very flattering that you think so. But I just got married straight out of high school, so..." You trail off, look down for a moment and Jeb thinks he's embarrassed you, that he's already said something stupid to the first person that's been this nice to him in months.

"Hey, I'm from Salt Lake so there's no judgement from me," He tries, earns a surprised breath of a laugh as you look back up at him and- did he just make a... joke?

“Ex LDS?” You ask, still half laughing, and Jeb feels the rush of heat flood his face.

He smiles back, anyway, straightens his tie just to have something to do. “That obvious?”

“Well, if you live around here long enough you figure out the way only ex-LDS seem to talk about it.”

The phone at the front desk rings, draws both of your attention to it for a moment and seems to remind you that you have somewhere to be.

You check your watch again. “I should get going but, uh. It really was nice meeting you, Jeb.”

“Likewise,” He mutters, can’t seem to figure out why he’s suddenly out of breath.

—--

It smells like chlorine all the way in the driveway, like sweat and hot chemicals mingling in the air.

It's a warm day even for Spring, and in accordance with the weather, Jeb can hear the splashes and muffled yells of children emanating from his Captain's backyard.

He tries the front door first, a polite knock followed by a slightly more forceful one after a few ignored minutes. There's a sturdy manila folder in his grasp, the paperwork Captain Y/l/n had promised to finish up even on his day off. It's been almost a year now, but as Jeb absentmindedly taps his fingers against the card he thinks he's still not used to the missing weight of his wedding ring on his finger.

He gives up, before that train of thought gets too far, walks back onto the drive and search for the gate to the back yard.

"Oh, hi there!" There’s a woman greeting him, pitcher of lemonade in hand as she smiles wide and hospitable. "Are you looking for Jonny?"

“Uh, Captain Y/l/n, yes.”

“He should be just over…” The woman turns, scans the yard and Jeb mimics her actions, looks for the familiar face of his Captain and, instead, finds yours.

You're already looking at him, attention seemingly drawn by the exclamation of your sister-in-law, eyes narrowed through the glare of the sun. He doesn't realise you're not wearing anything but a bright red bikini until he's probably been looking back for a little too long, sat at the edge of the pool and kicking your legs slowly through the water as you sit back on your palms.

He was still getting used to this, maybe a little more than some of the other things that were rare sights in Salt Lake. There was a lot more skin, wherever he looked, expanses of it smooth and glowing in the sun and leading down to- Oh... He was definitely staring.

Jeb has to make the conscious effort to tear his eyes away from you, thanks whatever God he still believes in that Captain Y/l/n is already waving him over when he looks up.

He feels overdressed, suddenly, surrounded by damp children and bikini-clad bodies and his Captain wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks and a bright blue Hawaiian shirt.

Jeb offers him a pinched smile, lifts up his hand in a brief wave before starting across the yard, towards the other side of the house where the Captain waits beside the already open back door.

He almost makes it the whole way across without looking, because he doesn't want to be impolite and because for some reason the sight of you makes his face burn a little hotter under the heat of the sun. He does look, though, unavoidably, because he can feel your eyes on him as he passes and because he can't help himself.

You grin when your eyes finally meet, expression almost triumphant as you bring your hand up to wave, fingers wiggling through the shimmering heat.

There's another woman there, suddenly, in the water beside you and tugging at your leg. It pulls your attention away from him, and Jeb ducks into the house before he can be tempted to look back.

Jeb gets a whole fifteen minutes of work done before there’s a knock on the door of the study.

“Yeah,” The Captain mumbles, still half looking at his paperwork as he lifts his eyes to the slowly opening door.

“Sorry to interrupt, could I steal some records?”

You’re behind him, again, the smooth lilt of your voice floating into the small office.

“Of course.”

You make brief eye contact as you slip into the room, broken by Captain Y/l/n asking him a question he has to ask to repeat.

The white, oversized button up your wearing isn’t doing much to cover up the bright pigment of your bikini, nor is it even attempting to hide the bare slope of your legs, still sticky and damp from the pool, tracking faint wet marks across the carpet.

Jeb thinks this really might be becoming a problem.

—--

“Oh, before you go!”

Jeb’s hand is already on the handle to the front door, and he turns towards the voice behind him, watches as you walk up to him with a smile. You’re still only wearing that bikini, white shirt buttoned loosely in the middle. Jeb swallows.

You look over your shoulder and step closer than you maybe need to, just so you can speek lower. “We’re throwing a surprise party for Johnny next Friday. For his ten year anniversary as Captain. The cop bar in town at 8? Will you come?”

There’s something about the way you say that last questions, will you come?, the wide hope in your eyes that makes him falter a little before speaking. Jeb smiles. “I’ll see you then.”

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