#maybe she goes by gin in hell to fit in idk

[la-ro-ki]

have some fairly surface level redesigns of the girlfriends !!

uhhh charlie's cowlicks are meant to look reminiscent of devil horns and vaggie's hair was based off of a christian nun's habit/veil. big fan of the idea that the hotel's color scheme should be made up of pastels so there's that. ooh also symbol of the hotel being a butterfly for like a bunch of different reasons :3

[pedrito-friskito]

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

during - part fourteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

life goes on, for a time.

a/n: a BIG one wowowowowow okay the end of this one fully got away from me and I was possessed by SOMETHING but idk man fuckin’ enjoy, more on the way, thank you always for the love 🤍

word count: 6.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, backstory, canon typical violence and injuries, death/murder, guns, knives, drinking, some rough sex, ass-play, spit-play (POSSESSED I TELL YOU), joel miller is a menace and so am I.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new chapters/works!✨

You keep going.

It’s easier, honestly, that it’s ever been before. There had been so many moments, between the outbreak and seeing Joel again at that gas station, where you didn’t know if you could keep going, if there was enough left to make you want to.

Deanna had her ways, yanking you out of it more often that not with a bottle of gin and a you keep your chin up, girl. And the kids — well, one toothy grin from Emily or a cheesy joke from Henry and you knew you had more in you. Nick helped some too, though he was more of a distraction than a solution, something infinitely more evident to you now, to you both.

You’d hurt him, ending it finally, completely, the way you did, and his reaction had cut you deep, but it had to be done. You couldn’t keep up a charade, and in retrospect, yes, maybe you should have waited, stopped yourself from falling into Joel’s arms (and bed) again until you’d told Nick what was happening, but…

I can’t love anyone the way I love him.

It’s always gonna be him.

It would have unfolded the way it did no matter what.

It’s Joel. It’s always gonna be Joel.

And despite the guilt you chase away with deep kisses and glasses of liquor, it’s easier, to keep going. It almost feels…normal, in a way you haven’t felt in a long fucking time.

+

Life is still bleak as hell; there’s no getting around that. FEDRA’s been kicking into high gear in Boston, handing out punishments more than ration cards, refusing people at the gates, falling back on some bullshit about overpopulation, that there’s not enough food or beds or resources for any more people. 

You’ve heard rumours that the QZ in Philadelphia was overrun, that the reason there have been so many survivors at the Boston gates is because they fled to the closest QZ still standing. You’ve heard rumours about Kansas City, that FEDRA’s become more ruthless there than anywhere else in the country, that getting caught out past curfew gets you hung rather than beaten. Or worse.

Joel moves in, officially. Not that he has that many things to move into your apartment, but his clothes take up space in your closet, his toothbrush beside yours, and you wake up beside him every morning. You let yourself get used to it, to feeling his breath on the back of your neck when the sun comes up, arm slung around your waist, always keeping you fit against him while you sleep. It’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

Joel and Tommy take the handyman jobs in the apartment buildings, and you and Tess try to stick together, taking the same gigs more often than not. You pool your resources, and the three of them are quick to offer up help to support the kids, to take the pressure off you and Deanna. You’re grateful as all hell, and so is Deanna, despite her relatively grouchy demeanour towards you, ever since you told her you ended it with Nick, officially.

You thought she’d understand, to a degree. It had taken nearly a half bottle of gin in the early days of the QZ, but she’d gotten the full story out of you, the epic love affair of Joel Miller and Liv Stone, the unfettered version. You’d fallen asleep on her couch covered in tissues that night, woke up with the worst hangover you’d had since you were eighteen and got drunk with Anna on wine coolers over Spring Break. Deanna had offered you some sympathy, then.

But now, she’s been taking your — could you even call it a breakup? — your severance from Nick a little too harshly.

“He’s the reason I was in lockup the night Angie beat the shit out of me,” you’d reminded her, feeling a twinge in your side at the memory. “Or did you forget that?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Liv,” she’d thrown back, her face the harshest you’d ever seen it. “He put you in lockup to smuggle your friends through the gate. I’m not a fucking idiot. Don’t try and blame that on him. You got your ass kicked cuz you pissed Angie off, plain and simple. That’s not on Nick.”

“Oh, so then I should blame you?” You’d thrown a hand in her direction, and she’d glared so hard you thought she was gonna burn a hole through your skull. “I pissed off Angie trying to get those meds for Henry, which you asked me to do. So if you wanna start pointing fingers, start looking in the mirror.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t have gotten the meds for Henry?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You can’t talk yourself out of this, Liv. You knew what you were doing with Nick, all five fucking years. You knew exactly what you were—”

“It’s Joel!” you’d nearly screamed, tears crawling up your throat. “I never thought I’d see him again. It’s a second fucking chance, Deanna. I can’t waste that. I won’t. And I was as honest as I could be with Nick from the start. He knew about Joel, he knew I still loved him, he knew I couldn’t ever love him the way I love Joel. I never once told him I could.”

“Oh, and that makes it all better?”

“I know that I hurt him. But he hurt me, too, in case you give a shit. I know that I did a terrible fucking thing, I’m a terrible fucking person, and I’ll feel guilty about it forever, but it’s Joel. And I just…I can’t do anything else.”

She’d stared at you long and hard then, not so harsh a glare as before. She put her hands on her hips, boot tapping against the floor. “I have to go get the kids from school. Just…I’ll see you Friday, for dinner.”

You just nodded, swallowing hard, the tears retreating. “Friday.”

“Bring Joel.”

“Okay.”

(Dinner had been awkward as hell, to start. The kids had stared Joel down for the first hour, but by the time the table was being set, Emily was showing off her latest drawings and Henry was trying to rope Joel into a game of Monopoly. You helped Deanna with dinner, and while she was mostly quiet, before you left that night, she hugged you tight and whispered: “You’re not a bad person, Liv. You’re not.”)

After your official reconciliation with Joel — and subsequent fallout with Nick — Tess was the next person you went to. She stood firmly by the conversation you’d had in the food bank, kept to her agreement to join up with you to smuggle, and that was that.

You can’t force his hand in this.

Maybe I can.

You knew she had — Joel had given you the brief version of their conversation — and you were grateful, but it was just another thing you felt guilty for.

“You don’t have to,” she says to you. You’re outside the wall, heading for the hotel a few blocks out of the QZ, to scope out your route. Your drop is almost at the city limits, with some smugglers from Hartford, ones you’d happened across on the radio. You’ve been spending more time with Abe in the radio room in your spare time, trying to make as many new connections as you can. “Feel guilty, I mean. I didn’t give him to you. He was never mine to give. I knew that from the start.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He says your name in his sleep. I thought he was just mumbling for the longest time — y’know, Liv, live — then I figured it out. I asked Tommy once, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. And well, I know the rest now.”

You chew at your lip, bat swinging lightly in your grip, adjusting the backpack strap on your shoulder. Your bags are mostly empty; you’re anticipating a good food drop from the Hartford people, and they’d asked mainly for drugs in return, which you were happy to supply. You still have some left from the Providence drop, before Joel and Tess had showed up. It feels like a year ago, not a few weeks.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re alone, Tess.”

“I’m not alone,” she tells you quickly, an actual smile on her face. “I have you. And Tommy. And Joel, still, in a different kind of way. It doesn’t matter. Life’s too fucking short, and I couldn’t…” She trails off, shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not alone.”

You shoot her a glance, seeing the way her thumb is rubbing at the wedding ring still on her finger. It’s her nervous habit, you’ve noticed. “We’ll find you someone,” you say, almost jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, elbowing her gently. “I’ll set you up, add QZ matchmaker to my resume.”

Tess barks a laugh. “Please, god, just no fucking FEDRA soldiers, yeah? I don’t think I could deal with the amount of testosterone that fucker Cowan is carrying around.” She squints at you, turning to you slightly. “Tell me he was at least good in bed. He must have been, for you to put up with that bullshit.”

You force yourself to laugh in return, staring at the ground ahead, kicking pieces of debris from your path. “He was much nicer, when it was just me and him. And I hurt him bad.” You shrug, sighing. “It’s the past but he…yes, to answer your question, he was very good in bed.”

“As good as Joel?”

You nearly choke, sputtering out an actual laugh at her bluntness. “You really want me to answer that?”

“Hey, it’s just us out here.”

“No one’s as good as Joel,” you say, and she throws her head back with a louder laugh. “Best I ever had. Ever. In my life.”

Tess just keeps laughing, pulls the knife from her belt and taps it against your bat. “Amen to that.”

The conversation wanders as you walk. She tells you a bit more about Baltimore, the few smuggling jobs they’d pulled before they’d gotten kicked out of the QZ. Turns out, her plans had been similar to yours: get a FEDRA soldier on her side, entice them with the goodies she smuggled in, threaten them with blackmail. Rinse and repeat. And it worked, for a time.

“There was this one guy, Anderson. Joel never liked him, and really, neither did I, but he was one of the first we got to agree to help. And…you know, Cowan actually reminds me of him.” She huffs a laugh. “That’s probably why I hate him, just out of fucking principle.”

“You don’t have to hate him.”

“He’s FEDRA, he put you in lockup, and he’s a jackass.”

“I also cheated on him, technically.”

She shrugs, giving you a conspiratorial grin. “Best you ever had? You did what you had to.”

You just laugh, but the sound feels hollow.

“Liv,” Tess says, and you stop short, turning towards her when she grabs your arm. “Jokes aside, I just…I get it. Why you did what you did. I know you feel guilty, and I know Cowan said some shitty things to you, but…we do terrible things, sometimes. To survive.”

You scoff. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” With a sigh, you push forward, gravel crunching under your boots, and Tess follows suit. “Joel said that too. That he did some terrible shit out there to survive. That we’re not the same as we were. And we’re not. I’m not.”

“Yeah, well, the world hasn’t exactly left much room for shit to stay the same, has it?”

The bat swings in your grip, and you let the tip knock against the toe of your boot. “Not so much. Never thought it would turn me into a killer, mind you. But…we do terrible shit, right?” You glance at her from the corner of your eye, feeling her gaze locked on you. “And no, I’m not just talking about Infected.”

Tess nods, slowly, her throat bobbing. “I…I shot that soldier, Anderson. First FEDRA soldier I ever killed, probably won’t be the last. But, it was either me or him, and I shot first. Then again, cuz the first one didn’t kill him.” Her brow is hard, fingers twitching over the gun strapped to her thigh. “It was either me or him.”

You nod, and the memory is rising in your throat and spilling off you tongue before you can stop it.

It was early days, just after the wall was completed, when restlessness got the better of you and you wanted — no, needed — to get out of the QZ, just for a while. There were fewer connections, back then, less people out in the open, more dead on the roads. You didn’t like Geoff from the get-go, something about him just made you feel super fucking uncomfortable, like every word out of his mouth was drenched in grease. But, you didn’t know any better, back then, and you wanted to believe a deal was a deal.

“He set me up,” you tell Tess, tightening your grip on the bat. Retelling the story makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “He’d managed to get a few Infected locked inside this old hair salon, and threw me to the wolves, basically. Took the bat from me. I got fucking lucky; there was a straight razor left in one of the drawers, and I took them both down. It was the first time I’d killed one since the outbreak.”

“What happened to Geoff?”

“Once I got away, found him a couple hours down the road, got his gun off him and put a bullet in his head, got my bat back. I figured if he kept going, he’d just try and screw the next person he made a deal with, and on and on it would go. I had to end it.”

Tess nods. “You did what you had to.”

You scoff. “That’s not the worst part.”

After Geoff, you got jumpy. You didn’t want to let up on the smuggling, and you were still trying to find new connections, but you took more precautions. You brought a gun every time now, along with the bat. You only met in locations you chose, and refused anyone who tried to persuade you to go somewhere else. You didn’t trust people; you couldn’t.

“This guy, Eric, he just rubbed me the wrong way that day. He wasn’t a bad guy, per se; I knew he ran with some shitty people but he didn’t seem so bad. He met me down in the subway, simple ammo trade.” You blow out a breath. “I thought he was reaching for a gun, and I pulled the trigger before he could. Like you said: it was either him or me. And I chose me.”

You pause, waiting for Tess to say it again. You did what you had to.

“Three days later, his wife shows up at the gate, asking if he’d come through, toting this little boy that was a dead fucking ringer for his dad. I thought I was seeing a ghost.” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “They still live in Boston. Her son is the same age as Emily.”

It’s a few minutes, before Tess has anything more to say. “You couldn’t have known.”

“You’re right,” you agree, nodding. “I couldn’t. But it still doesn’t hurt any less. When they’re infected, it’s easier. Almost. I sometimes wonder if they’re still…them inside, but same thing. It’s either you or them, and you have to decide. You do what you have to — even if it’s terrible — to stay alive. To survive.”

Tess opens her mouth to say something in response, but all hell breaks loose before she can get a word out.

You’ve turned down the road the hotel is on, and there are cars everywhere, craters in the earth from the bombings, debris and decay everywhere you look. The bullets ring out from behind the vehicles, and you grab Tess by the handle of her backpack, yanking her behind a nearby truck. The gunfire makes it rattle. “Fuck!”

“These the guys from Hartford?”

“Shouldn’t be. We’re not even close to the city limits yet.”

When you chance a look around the truck, your heart jumps into your throat. There’s at least five of them, all with dark-coloured bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces, two of them closer than the rest. Guns drawn, scores of ammo hanging from their belts. You adjust your grip on the bat just as Tess screams, and you turn to see her being pulled away, one of the raiders yanking her by the hair. You shout as one tries to grab you the same, but you slip out of reach, swinging the bat. It makes contact with his knees, a loud crunch making you flinch. He falls like a rock and you pull your knife out quickly, slamming the blade into his skull.

You do what you have to.

Abandoning the bat for the moment, you grab the guy’s gun, averting your eyes from his face. It’s an automatic, and you pop up from behind the truck, taking aim and pulling the trigger. The three that hadn’t advanced don’t stand a chance, bodies falling before they have the chance to shoot back at you. 

The one holding Tess is trying to pull her into one of the storefronts along the side of the road.

“Hey!” you shout, the word nearly a growl. “Let her go, asshole!”

The guy turns, seeing his fallen comrades, and fumbles. It’s just enough for Tess to get her knife out and swing upwards. It ends up lodged in his throat rather than his head, and he drops awkwardly, clawing at his throat, blood pouring around his fingers. Bile rises in your throat, and you breathe slow as he hits the ground. Tess pulls her gun out a moment later, and the gunshot echoes through the road.

You sprint over to her, each of you giving the other a once over. “You good?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.”

“Who taught you to shoot like that?”

You actually laugh this time. “Cowan.”

Tess’s jaw drops. “Motherfucker.”

You collect all the guns and ammunition you can carry. One of the raiders has a nice-looking bowie knife on his belt, and you take it, sheath and all. Tess makes the rounds, filling her bag with ammo, while you try and leave some space; you still have to make it to the edge of the city.

Being as heavily armed as you now are earns you some weird looks from the Hartford smugglers once you reach the city limits. The chain link fence that was once the only thing standing between you and getting the hell out of Boston has not done well over the years. The metal is cut in a million more places, bent in others, no doubt the result of years of Infected climbing over, survivors trying to make it to the QZ gates. When you explain what happened, the leader — the one you’d been dealing with over the radio, a tall woman named Gwen — softens. “We lost a few of our own to raiders in New Haven. Shit’s getting dark.” She sighs. “Darker than it already was.”

The deal goes easily, which you’re grateful for. You throw in one of the guns and some ammo you pilfered from the raiders to sweeten the deal, and Gwen returns your generosity with some of her own: a carton of eggs. Fresh ones. It’s been a while now, since the Boston food bank has had anything fresh that wasn’t an apple or a tomato. Meat was becoming more and more scarce, and so were eggs. The ones Deanna used for breakfast were the powdered kind, sat like a lead weight in your stomach no matter how much coffee you washed them down with.

“If you have eggs, does that mean…chickens?” Tess asks, curiosity dripping from her voice, and you can’t help the way your stomach growls at the thought of chicken wings. 

Gwen laughs. “I’m not having the chicken or the egg debate with you, but yes, there are chickens. I don’t suppose you have seeds, in Boston? Fruits, veggies?”

“We do,” you nod.

“Bring us some next time, and we’ll bring you one of the hens in return.”

You and Tess debate the best way to cook a chicken all the way home.

+

Once you’re safely back in the QZ, you and Tess unload the guns in one of your caches, head back to the apartments to divvy the food up between you and Joel’s apartment, Tess and Tommy’s, and Deanna’s. She goes to take the food up to Deanna, and you pull out the bowie knife you’d nicked.

It’s as good an olive branch as any.

You find Nick out on patrol, standing outside the same alleyway you’d stopped in when Tommy had arrived in Boston, when Nick told you Deanna was looking for you. At first, he makes no indication he’s even noticed you, his eyes trained forward, hands glued to his gun, his jaw set.

“I know you don’t want to see me,” you say, your voice low, forcing yourself to look casual. “But, there’s something I want to say. Need to. Please?”

After a beat, Nick turns, his face still schooled blank, but when you step after him, deeper into the alley, the mask cracks. “What?”

“This is for you,” you say, pulling the bowie knife out from where you’d stashed it in your jacket.

Nick told you once, about a gift he’d received from his father, when he first joined the army. A knife, similar to the one you now hold towards him. The blade was engraved with his family name, the date he enlisted, sheathed in fine leather. He lost it, on Outbreak Day, in a fight with an Infected soldier.

“It’s…I know, it doesn’t make up for what I did. I don’t think anything can. But I just…I want you to know that I’m sorry, truly sorry, and if hating me makes you feel better, then that’s okay. But I never meant for things to turn out this way. And what I said before, about Joel, it’s the truth, but I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I hope you know that.”

He takes the knife from you, pulls the blade from the sheath, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he inspects it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs a laugh. “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that to me.”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” you say, nearly reaching a hand out to him, but stopping yourself. “I really am.”

After a long moment, he nods, still staring down at the knife. “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Liv. To be safe. And if that fucking…if Joel is the one to do that, then I have to be okay with that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “It’ll take some damn time, but I’ll…I’ll get there, I think. I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to be friends with him, yeah?”

You laugh. “I don’t. I just…I am sorry, Nick. I feel like a broken record, but…”

“It helps,” he says with a nod.

“Good.” It feels awkward, suddenly, and you take it as your cue to leave. “I’m gonna go.”

“See you around,” he says, and you just nod, heading towards the street, out of the alley. “Hey, Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a bad person. You did a shitty thing, but you’re not a bad person.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, Nick.”

He nods again, and you turn on your heel, heading back towards the apartments.

+

Time moves on. 

Nick still keeps his distance, but he doesn’t look at you with sheer hatred in his eyes anymore, so that’s nice. Deanna learns you’ve made peace with each other, and tells you you did good. It helps. The guilt still lingers a bit, but it helps. 

You keep up your smuggling, bringing Tess and Joel and Tommy — and any combination of the three — along with you every time. You teach them your routes, your hiding spots, where your caches are. Joel’s impressed, if not a little hesitant, Tommy of a similar mind. Tess remains firm that you’re a badass, and is always the first to volunteer to come with you.

You’re all still quiet, about your pasts, about the time leading up to the four of you being in Boston together. Except for what Tess told you, the story you returned — one she swore she wouldn’t pass on to Joel, one you knew you had to tell him yourself.

You will, in time. You know you have to. But…you’re not there yet. And in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t fucking matter.

None of it does.

Before you know it, it’s been nearly six months since they arrived, and you decide to celebrate, the only way you can in the QZ: food and booze.

“Family dinner?” Joel repeats, his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side. It’s early in the morning, you’re both getting ready to head out, pulling on clothes and shoving feet into boots. You usually sleep fully dressed, boots and all, but Joel’s tendency to get you naked has become a nightly occurrence, and sometimes you’re too worn out to redress when you’re done.

You turn on your heel, head for the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a jar of tomato sauce and setting it on the counter. Joel’s close behind, grabbing the jar when you put it down, smirking down at the label. “Look familiar?”

His jaw twitches, something nostalgic in his eyes. “Same shit I used to buy in Texas.” He smirks, setting it down again, sliding his arms around your waist. “Didn’t we make spaghetti, at my place? What was that, our second date?”

You lean back against him, covering his hands with yours, lacing your fingers together. “I made spaghetti; you tried to make risotto.”

“That’s right,” he agrees and his hands move to your hips, turning you to face him. “That was the first night we—”

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off, leaning up on your toes until your mouth brushes his. “It was.”

Joel slides his hands up under your shirt, palms curling around your ribs, giving you a hungry kiss. “And now you expect me to sit through dinner with…?”

“Tommy and Tess.”

He growls, ducking his head to bury his face in your neck. “To sit through dinner with my brother and Tess, thinking about that the whole time.”

You hum, tangling a hand in his hair. “I’ll be thinking about it too, if it’s any consolation. I’m always thinking about it.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he groans, nipping at your throat.

You’re both late, Tess giving you a pointed look when Joel pecks you goodbye when you meet her out front. “I swear, you two are worse than teenagers sometimes,” she mumbles, and you just laugh.

The day goes quickly — you and Tess each work a shift in the donation hall, which you’re told is shutting down, and the food bank — and before you know it, you’re back at the apartment, putting pots on the stove, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the space behind the fridge. 

You and Tess are already a little sauced by the time Joel and Tommy come through the door. Tommy has paint smeared on his cheek and Joel is laughing, that kind of belly laugh you haven’t heard since Austin. You grin as he kisses you hello, Tommy pecking your cheek once Joel disappears towards the bedroom to get changed. “Kisses from all the Millers,” you laugh, stirring the sauce on the stove. “Aren’t I a lucky gal.”

Joel pokes his head out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

Tess laughs with you, pulling the chair beside her out for Tommy to sit. She slides him a glass of whiskey a second later. “What the hell is on your face, man?”

“Ah, hell.”

The evening passes so comfortably, you wonder if you’re dreaming, for a moment or two. The boys both won’t shut up about how delicious your spaghetti is — even though the pasta is the flourless crap FEDRA hands out, your sauce more than makes up for it — and it’s not long before you’ve polished off the bottle of whiskey between the four of you. Your chest feels warm, from the alcohol, the good food, the company.

Once you’re all done eating, Tommy produces a deck of cards and convinces you all to play a few rounds of euchre. You and Tess team up and kick the boys’ ass, to the point where Joel declares you must be cheating, which Tess is having none of. “Never thought you’d be a sore loser, Miller!”

The game changes from euchre to war, and Tess and Tommy make their own rules, deciding to smack the table as hard as they can when the card matches, even if the other’s hand is already there. It has them both howling after a couple rounds, you and Joel just chuckling as you watch. Joel slides your chair closer to his, close enough that he can loop an arm around your neck, hauling you against his chest.

He buries his nose in your hair as you lean against him, moving down until his mouth is close to your ear. “How much longer we gonna entertain these two, hmm? I need you all to myself, baby. Need to be inside you.”

Your thighs clench, cheeks flaring with heat, and you smack him in the chest, burying your face in the collar of your shirt.

He just chuckles in your ear, low as anything. “You like that, huh, baby? You gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you? Always so good for me. Promise, I’m gonna make you feel so damn good, baby.”

You elbow him in the ribs. Hard. Hard enough that he lets out a low oomph, and both Tess and Tommy’s heads snap in your direction. You stare back at them, feigning innocence, whiskey buzzing in the back of your skull. “What?”

A few more games of cards, and Tess literally falls out of her chair, laughing the whole way down. Joel declares the night officially over, and Tommy gets Tess to her feet, half-carries her towards the door. “You need help?” Joel asks, and Tommy shakes his head.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. You two have a good night. Thanks for dinner, Liv.”

“You’re welcome, Tommy.”

The door closes behind them, and Joel lingers, locking the door, closing the curtains, clearing off the table. Meanwhile, you head for the bed, fumbling with the buttons on your shirt — Joel’s shirt, always Joel’s shirt — before giving up and falling forward onto the mattress, reaching for Joel’s pillow, bunching it beneath your head.

The bed creaks a moment later, Joel’s weight settling over you, hands planted either side of you, mouth at the back of your neck. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, missy.”

“You should fix that,” you slur at him, turning your face enough to see the shadow of him above you. You wiggle your hips, lifting your ass until it presses against his crotch, and Joel hisses. “You got promises to make good on, Joel Miller.”

“I do,” he replies, letting out a low hum as he drags his hand down your spine. “Don’t I?”

He shuffles back, and the loss makes you whine, but he slides your needs apart a moment later, grips your hips and lifts until your ass is in the air, face still pressed into the pillow. Joel doesn’t waste any time, fingers curling in the waist of your leggings and pulling them down, taking your underwear with them. You barely have a chance to breathe, his mouth covering you a moment later, tongue darting between your folds. “Fucking christ, Joel.”

He hums again, the noise vibrating through you, one hand coming down on your cheek in a quick spank a second later. You can feel yourself flooding his tongue, already wet from his teasing at the table. Reaching one hand back, you card your fingers through his hair, keeping him against you, angling your hips back to push yourself further into his face.

“Pretty girl,” he rasps, dragging the flat of his tongue up and down, back up and back down again. The rhythm makes your muscles tighten, the promise of an orgasm prickling at your senses. “Always taste so good.” He gives you another quick spank, the motion making your flesh tingle. “Always feel so good.”

“Joel.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he grumbles, diving back in for a moment before pulling back once more. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, just like I promised.”

You moan into the pillow, whining again when he pulls back, your hand falling out of his hair, flopping sideways onto the bed. You curl your fingers in the bedsheets instead, gasping loudly when he presses two wet fingers into you, right to the knuckle in one fell swoop. His thumb reaches up, pushes lightly between your cheeks, and you let out a choked noise you didn’t know you were capable of.

“That feel good?” he asks, and you nod, your face still pressed to his pillow. “You want more, baby?”

You nod again, furiously.

“Want you inside me,” you murmur, your eyes rolling back in your skull as his thumb presses harder. “Fuck, Joel, please.”

There’s the shuffling of fabric, the clink of his belt buckle, the front of his thighs pressed to the backs of yours. You turn your head slightly, just enough to see him, the hem of his t-shirt tucked between his teeth, his cock in his hand. The sight alone makes you clench around his fingers, biting your lip as he pulls them out. They dig into the meat of your ass a moment later, spreading you open just a touch more. His thumb stays where it is, and you watch, stomach coiled in anticipation as he leans forward just slightly, drops his jaw until the t-shirt falls from his mouth, and spits.

It lands right where his thumb is, slides down over where you’re already drenched, and he flexes his hips forward. You try to bury your moan in his pillow, but Joel reaches down with his other hand, fists your hair in his hand, tugs a little.

“I wanna hear you, baby.”

“The neighbours—”

“I don’t give a fuck, Liv. Let me hear you.”

A choked moan falls out as he slams all the way forward, burying himself to the hilt, his thumb pressing down at the same time. You keep your face to the side, keep your eyes trained on his. He lets go of your hair just to take hold of your hip, pulling back just to slam forward again, the feeling and movement making your thighs shake.

“Joel, fuck—”

“That’s right,” he grits, and his pace only gets faster, the apartment filling with the sound of skin on skin. It drives you wild. “That’s fuckin’ right. Say it again.”

He spanks you again, just that much harder, and you cum.

It hits you like a freight train, your back arching fiercely as you lose it, eyes screwed shut, thighs shuddering against Joel’s. Faintly, you hear him groan, barely aware of the next spank he gives. You’re half-sure you’ll have a handprint on your ass come morning, but you don’t fucking care. His name spills from your lips, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and your stomach flutters as he fists his hand in the back of your shirt and drags you up.

You can’t catch your breath, your chest heaving as he takes your chin in his hand, one arm banded around your middle as he keeps slamming into you, dropping his fingers between your legs. You don’t know where one orgasm finishes and the second begins, but he covers your mouth with his, drinks your noises down like they’re whiskey instead of moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips, his hips stuttering against your ass. “Love you so goddamned much.”

You flail a hand back, diving your fingers into his hair, tugging until his head moves back slightly, so you can look him in the eyes. “Then cum,” you murmur, leaning forward enough to bite at his bottom lip. “Cum for me.”

He does, his entire body shuddering with it, his grip on you like an iron vice. The warmth is delicious, spreading through your lower half like the whiskey had, only the feeling of Joel is that much more addictive, always leaving you wanting more. You both collapse forward a second later, a tangle of limbs and lips, never far from reach.

+

Joel wakes with a jolt. The nightmares have been less and less common, since he got to Boston, since he started sleeping in the same bed as you again, but they still show their faces every once in a while. Usually the drinking keeps them at bay, but tonight they’re intent to haunt him.

You’re not where you should be, tucked against his chest, and for a moment, panic seizes his heart, makes his hands go cold.

“Liv?”

You’re perched on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, staring out the window. His mostly unbuttoned shirt is falling off your shoulders, and when he calls your name, you glance at him quickly before your gaze moves back out the window. Joel doesn’t miss the shine in your eyes, and sits up slow, reaches for you, rubbing one hand up your back.

“You all right?”

“I’m happy,” you reply, head tilting back on your shoulders, face illuminated by the moonlight. “I am unreasonably happy, Joel. I’ve done so much terrible shit, and yet here I am, stupidly, unreasonably, unfathomably happy.”

He reaches up, pinches your cheek lightly, catches the tear in the corner of your eye. “Then why you cryin’, baby?”

“Cuz I know there’s a chance that I could wake up tomorrow, and it could all be gone.” Your voice cracks, and Joel sits up further, slides down the bed until he’s pressed against your side. “That you could be gone.”

“Never,” he tells you, and opens his arms to you, sighing when you fall into them, presses his mouth to the crown of your head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here, you hear me? I’m right here.”

PREV | NEXT

[peakytoms]

hey if you dont mind can you do Tommy shelby OBE for the fluff alphabet thing?

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?

Physically: Tommy is so attracted to skin, like soft and supple skin. Particularly the skin of your hips and belly that is just so smooth that he cant even fathom how soft it actually is. Its his favorite thing about you

Personality: Tommy boy is super attractive to wit and intelligence. He likes the challenge of a woman who’s not afraid to speak her own mind and banter with him. He’s always so super serious but when its just him and you, he loves just shooting shit with you

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He says he doesn’t because he’s all worried about like bringing a kid into a dangerous world and whatnot, also he doesn’t want to change the relationship you and him have by bringing in a massive baby cockblock, but he is lowkey obsessed with the idea of having a baby with you. He thinks that any spawn the two of you produce would just be the most perfect being in the world (duh its his kid, and he’s perfect, and its your kid and you’re perfect, how could the kid not be perfect?)

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He’s a closeted cuddler. 100%. This fool acts all tough and like women are just w/e but when it comes down to it, he frickin loves holding you close with you back pressed against his chest and his hands over your hips and tummy (he loves soft skin remember— but not in a creepy Jason way in like a romantic way)

Tommy usually cuddles you from behind, either when you’re in bed or standing up somewhere. BUT he also LIVES to be cuddled- which normally only happens when you’re both asleep but you just instinctually embrace one another. But because he is Tommy and a big manTM he will never admit to actually melting when he’s in your arms and his head is on your chest.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

You drink his gin, you bang. Badda boom badda bing

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world��))

Lel what is this asking? Like what Tommy thinks of you? Because he lowkey thinks you’re his whole world but he’s a big manTM  so he plays it off all chill like you’re just some meh chick when he’s in front of others, but when you’re alone??? He is literally wrapped around your frickin pinky toe and you’re the only thing that exists for him.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

This man is so emotionally repressed, he doesn’t even know. It could have been when he first saw you, could have been when you first talked to him, could have been when Polly decided she didn’t hate you, could have been when you got married. Is he in lov with you now? Does he even know? Idk?

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

DEPENDS ON HIS MOOD. TOMMY SHELBY OBE IS A SWITCH. One day he will want to destroy (with sexual pleasure) and the next day he would literally just want to sit next to you and run his fingers through your hair

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

He doesn’t. His hands are used for his big manTM walk, and he cant be messing about with any distractions, he is a BIG MANTM

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Because Tommy Shelby is a big manTMand most “big men” have like the tinest egos ever. This boy totally used the reaction formatio  defense mechanism and pretended he didn’t like you on bit but really he was thinking of you all. the. time. (men.)

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

HAVE YOU MET TOMMY?

YES FULL STOP.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You had to kiss him first because even though he is a big manTM, he was sooooo insecure

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

You do. Tommy Shelby OBE is a big manTM and pretends he doesn’t know what love is until he’s sure he’s not in it alone and wont embarrass himself with mortal “feelings” (nothing worse than emotions for T. Shelby OBE)

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

He has this memory of like the first sleepover you two had, and when he woke up he just assumed you left completely, but then he found you downstairs in the kitchen reading the paper and making some tea like it was your haus, and he just loved how well you seemed to fit into his life without any need for adjustment.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

SO MUCH. He buys you shit you don’t even know the function of. He knows what it was like to have nothing and now that he can have things, he wants them all and wants to make sure you have everything he’s never had.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Pale purple, you are obsessed with lavender. You smell like it, you have it all over your garden, you keep a pouch under your pillow, and you wear fabric in that colour as much as possible. Even just seeing or thinking of the colour reminds him of you. And he wont acknowledge it, but you know he takes the lavender pouch from under your pillow when he goes of overnight business trips.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He calls you all kinds of things. Mostly “darling” “my sweet” “little girl” “little bird” or “my love”

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

????????

I honestly don’t know what this is asking

He loves travelling in his caravan or by horse, as much as he loves cars, he loves the simplicity and peace of travelling like they used to.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

He lives in England so its always a rainy day, he does business all the time. BUT if its tumultuously raining day, you’ll convince him he should just work from home so he doesn’t drown (but he willingly drowns in other ways if you catch my drift…ignore me I’m drunk)

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Sex, freedom and whiskey sours

Also but also mostly—AVOIDING ALL EMOTIONS!!!

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Idk horses? He doesn’t like to talk business with you and really what else is there?

I just want it known, I feel in my heart that Tommy is punny though- he may not start conversations or lead topic changes, but he has good bants when he wants to actually contribute

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You ;)

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

This fool shows off everything. His cars, his haus, his suits, the big massive and ridiculous jewels he gets you (and makes sure arent cursed). if this man were Italian or Greek or a rapper, he be walking around with a million gold chains

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He doesn’t really. Just tells you, he’s going to marry you, doesn’t ask, no knee. Just gives you a ring, says hell marry you and badda boom badda bing

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Red right hand.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

He doesn’t really consider it until he meets your mum who basically yells at him for making you live in sin and not making an honest woman out of you, then he clues in that maybe he ought to just put a ring on it.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

He would totally be the kind of man to get a tiger just because he could, but he’s mostly just got horses until you force him to take in some doggos and kitties

These were so fun to do and soz I kinda was all over the place with this. I decided to do this drunk off my face so they are maybe not my best.

Thanks for sending it in nonnie!

[knitmeapony]

After Episode 10 of Mabel

Wherein our heroines engage in rampant speculation.  Spoilers for all of the Mabel podcast within.

Me: Oh God, in her journal Lily says she drowned in the carp pond when she was three.

GBO: I know, I don't know what to do with that

Me: I'm starting to wonder if it is a combination. That fairies are ghosts and ghosts are fairies. That when you die they can enter your body and that's how you become a changeling.

GBO: Eeeeeeeeeee Or, maybe more conventionally, dying is how you get to Arcadia. I mean, you come back. Sort of. I'm stuck on "There’s more than one way to kill someone." If you leave your world and come back, isn't that a kind of dying?

Me: Maybe. But I'm thinking like, maybe the fairies don't have faces until they take a body. Maybe that's why the girl in the mirror changes.

GBO: Oh fuck. Or. Or. Or Lily did die. And Sally made The Bargain, and the fae brought her back.

Me: The fae are the fae, and the dead are the Dead, but one rules over the other.

GBO: Maybe? I think Lily disappeared when Mabel was four, but I'm no longer certain who the "her" is in "They cut her out of the mountain for me." I still think it's probably Lily, but it could also be Mabel.

Me: Well, now I'm thinking about how Juniper as a flower symbolizes fertility and motherhood, and how lily as a flower symbolizes death. Oh God damn it. What if Lily isn't really Sally's daughter. What if she was a gift from the thing because she couldn't have a child? They made her literally cut her out of the mountain for her.

GBO: I mean, that is totally possible. I mean, juniper is also sort of undying - it's an evergreen, yeah?

Me: Yes it is. With poison berries I think.

GBO: Fuuuuuuuuu

Me: I think they have to be processed before you can eat them, which is why we have gin but we don't have juniper berry pie.

GBO: That doesn't sound at all appealing, but then, I don't like gin.

Me: Okay. New Theory. Lily was a gift given to Sally but Sally didn't give keep up her end of the bargain. So they level the curse at the family. Juniper, either a changeling or a fairy herself or maybe a human raised in Fairyland, tries to save her by bringing her back to the Fairyland. But Lily has too much in the real world, and can't go no matter how much she loves Juniper. Oh my God. Lily was thinking about all these things that tie her to the Mortal Realm, and she lists Joe who was supposed to wait at the bus stop but never turned up. How much do you want to bet that that is Anna's Uncle who disappeared?

GBO: Eh, not that much. I looked at the transcript, and they spell it "Jo," which makes me think it's a girl. It could be, but idk.

Me: Oh dang. Well instead, it's just going to make me believe once again that Lily was Sapphic as hell.

GBO: In other shocking and unforeseen news, the Vatican has just announced that the Pope is Catholic. (I am such a fan of having sapphics in podcasts. #makeitacliche)

Me: Glass that breaks at the end of episode 8, when Anna starts talking to someone, that's definitely Mabel coming through a mirror to save her right?

GBO: YUP Wait. No. The mirrors are brass, aren't they?

Me: Well some of them are anyway. The ones downstairs are, but I'm sure there are other mirrors.

GBO: Or is that just the frame? Okay, then yes. The brass mirrors are 100% a door to Fairyland, otherwise Mabel wouldn't have been able to piss off the girl in the mirror by covering them with black sheets. Oh, all of them, nvm.

Me: So Sally and Luna, Lily and Juniper, and Mabel and Anna. I guess this could also be a thing of playing out over and over again for Generations. I wonder how far back it goes?

GBO: Hmmmm. I don't know. Maybe very far back - but Oh I wonder if that's how Juniper's mother knew to warn her against Lilly

Me: Oh?

GBO: Because Juniper's mother is Luna, and she and Sally were... Not a well-supported theory, but. I guess, were the lipstick-kiss letters love letters or trying to collect on Sally's debt?

Me: Yeah, I mean imagine Sally's family trying to keep her apart from Luna. That's what she screams at all the Return to Sender letters. All those love letters, never being received or sent. Maybe that's the debt that never got paid. The promise that never got kept

GBO: Goddamn.

Me: Sally promised to love Luna.

GBO: Never read They weren't opened.

Me: Never even received. Stamp Return to Sender.

GBO: No, no, they had to have been received. How else would Sally have had them? They were addressed to her

Me: Oh man, I wondered why stuff that was sent to the house was also stamp Return to Sender.

GBO: Kinda confused now?

Me: So maybe Sally's family tried to return them, but they always kept coming back to the house, So eventually they just hit that because there was nothing else to do.

GBO: Well of course they kept coming back to the house Where else is the closest mailbox to Fairy Hill?

Me: Return to sender and send them back, and they showed up at the doorstep fresh and crisp and pristine like the money in Anna's wallet. Anna's uncle's wallet I mean.

GBO: They did get returned to sender. It's just that sender and recipient are basically in the same place.

Me: And then Luna finds out Sally's daughter has seduced Juniper, her daughter.

GBO: Good lord. Lilly was doomed after that, wasn't she?

Me: Setting up her daughter for a heartbreak. How mad would you be? Heartless child of a heartless woman, you'd call her.

GBO: Question - how does "They cut her out of the hill for me" fit in?

Me: Sometimes people are made for each other. Metaphorically or literally, the words are the same.

GBO: What if What if Sally's bargain wasn't with Luna? What if it was with him?

Me: I think you're in the same place I am. What if Luna was the one that was made for Sally, and then they thought she treated her like a rejected gift.

GBO: Ohhhh. Yes.

Me: Sally was lonely, and she needed someone to love and be loved by.

GBO: So she makes a bargain with him, and gets Luna. "She shouldn't have promised anything. Not to them."

Me: And then her parents find out, and they hide the letters, and they tried to make Sally you know, what they would call normal.

GBO: Luna tries, but no - oh god. What if What if it's not her parents keeping her from Luna? We haven't heard anything about Sally's parents. What if it's the house?

Me: Oh God.

GBO: Wouldn't it have the power to send letters back, if it thought they were a threat?

Me: Or to take them and hide them in a closet until it was too late To steal them from its mailbox and put them somewhere else. Or, oh no, what if the housekeeping the letters was how it protected her but not the way we think?

GBO: In, say, a box in the attic that used to have Christmas decorations. Elaborate?

Me: What if they tried to send the letters back, and the house knew that if the fairies so of the rejected messages they would hurt Sally? So it had the Return to sender sender letters in the Attic so at least it was a mystery and not a rejection.

GBO: Maybe.

Me: God, either way, what the f*** is this show?

GBO: Or the letters weren't love letters; they were trying to demand payment from Sally for Lilly. But the house loved Lilly too, and didn't want her to go back, so it hid the letters. That's why Sally got angry with Mabel when she kept trying to leave the house. I don't KNOW, it's AMAZING The house is protection against the fae.

Me: I'm thinking about making a crescent moon pendant out of mirrored acrylic, and Engraving I am not Moon and mirror I am flesh and Bone on it. Just in case anybody thinks that I'm a fairy.