#possibly being broken up and Tommy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintrwinchestr · 1 month

Text

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places.

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks.

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again.

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you.

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up.

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear.

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms.

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now.

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump.

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside.

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive.

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones.

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been.

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch.

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen.

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive.

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female.

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him.

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs.

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears.

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.”

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole.

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them.

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time.

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so.

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.”

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway.

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget.

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another.

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

422 notes · View notes

pathetichimbos · 1 year

Text

Thomas cries a lot.

He's always been sensitive, every since he was a kid. The names other kids and hell, even adults called him cut deep every time he heard them.

Idiot.

Monster.

Freak.

Tears pluck at his brown eyes harshly as the majority of the schoolyard torments him, the teachers turning blind eyes to the mistreatment, too busy making their own comments about his mother and family to intervene.

"S-Stop--!" He hiccups, hands desperately covering his face as he shakes against the metal fence, "G-Give it back!"

"Come get it, Freak!" The little boy taunts him, holding the mask Thomas' mother made for him high in the air, the group of children around him erupting in laughter.

"HEY! What the hell's goin' on over here!?" Hoyt hollers as he yanks the bully up by his wrist, the kids mocking laughter interrupted as they scatter, "What the hell's wrong with you, boy!? Did your Daddy raise you to take shit that ain't yours!?"

Hoyt plucks the mask from the kid's hand as he shakes his head, wide eyed and scared at being caught red handed.

"That's what I thought, so why don't you scatter before I give him a call and tell him what the hell you've been doin'."

"Yes, sir!" The kid darts as soon as Hoyt lets him go.

"Little shit." Hoyt mutters, kneeling down to help Thomas put his mask back on, "Now, I done told you, Tommy, you can't cry everytime one of those little bastards says some shit to you. Man up, you're too damn old for all that whinin'..."

Thomas nods, wiping the tears from his red eyes as Hoyt takes him back to the truck.

Man up...

That's what Hoyt and Monty always told him, their words not much kinder and cutting even deeper as they picked at him everytime he cried.

Over the years the tears eventually turned to anger, and isolation. Hiding himself away from everyone and everything around him, protecting himself from from harsh world around him.

...And then there was you.

Sweet, excitable, gentle you.

"...Tommy...!" Your voice is tired and sweet, clearly having just woken up when Thomas came in the room.

He watches as you stretch, waking up a bit more as you look up at him, a small smile on your face.

He's tired. It's written on his face, eyes droopy and shoulders slumping, standing over the bed, looking down at you.

"C'mere." You reach for him, hands grasping as you gesture for him to climb in bed.

He does as he's told, climbing under the covers and into your arms, melting into your warmth as he lays on top of you.

"Mmm..." You hum, relaxing as your arms wrap around him, your hands running up and down his back, sending shivers up his spine, "...My Thomas..."

He sighs at your words, melting even further against you as your hands gain rhythm and begin rubbing his aching muscles, working up and down his shoulders and back as he buries his face in your neck.

You lean your head against his, the smell of the shampoo you bought for him filling your nose as you continue rubbing his back, "...I love you..."

The arms around your waist tighten as he presses further into you, completely engulfing you in his presence.

How?

How is it possible for you to love him so incredibly, and so deeply that he doesn't even need to hear those words to know their truth? How could you possibly break down every piece of him, every broken part and hideous truth and still make him feel like the only thing that matters in the world?

You can feel him start to shake. He's been working so hard, for so long. He's exhausted, and worn down. His body is scarred and calloused. His mind is weary and weak.

And every insult, every hit, every bad thing that he's ever gone through was worth it, if it means he can feel this loved for the rest of his life.

You feel his tears before you see them, the quiver in his shoulders, the hiccups in your ear as he tries to hold it back.

"Oh, Tommy..." You mutter, kissing his hair as you rub his back, "It's okay, sweetheart, you can cry, I've got you..."

And for the first time in a long time, he does.

He cries into your shoulder, a shaking and sobbing mess as you patiently hold him through it, running your hands through his hair and rubbing his back as you coax him.

"There we go..." You coo as he pulls back, holding his face in your hands while you kiss his tear stained cheeks, his mask long forgotten before he climbed into bed, "Do you feel better, love?"

He nods, letting out a deep sigh as he relaxes against you again, feeling more relief than he has in years.

"Good..."

...Thomas cries a lot. After years of believing he was never good enough to be loved, of believing his place was being locked away in the basement, forever shielding himself from the world that hated him, he was proven wrong by a single person who loves him more than every good thing put together.

And that thought alone brings tears to his eyes.

#having thoughts #and feeling ways #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

2K notes · View notes

tinybrooms · 7 months

Text

Our Last day, or maybe the first - Pt 2 Thomas Hewitt x fem Reader

NOTE: Since part two was very acclaimed, I want to clarify that I have gained confidence and will bring more than a second part, I also want to say that this is an adaptation of the movie but with changes made by me so that the character fits better with the environment, I hope you enjoy my work, love for all here ♥

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary, Stockholm syndrome

Part 1 here!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked out the dirty window of the police car, you knew there was no escape, there would be no way for you to run away from the Hewitt's without getting killed and you had to find a way to make everything as good as possible for you and for them

-You're very quiet, honey - the old man looked at you in the rearview mirror with a sarcastic smile - Nothing bad is going to happen to you, Tommy wouldn't let someone hurt you, right?

Your eyes barely looked at him and quickly returned to the window trying to control your sobs, you felt more than insecure in that car with that disgusting man, for some strange reason you knew that Thomas was also someone dangerous, his hands could break your bones with a single squeeze if he wanted, but his mere presence made you feel safe, as if you had this giant beast in the palm of your hand who would be willing to do anything you asked, everything except let you go.

-We have arrived, come down before Thomas arrives, we don't want him to find you here and get angry, do we? - The man smiled opening your door in a sarcastic way of being a gentleman.

You had no other option, so you went down carefully, the visibly overgrown grass scraped your legs as you walked behind him towards the huge house, many questions were running through your head while your eyes looked everywhere looking for a quick way to escape but everything seemed useless, Thomas should be nearby and could reach you at any second and end your life.

The house was dirty, there was dust everywhere and stains on the wooden floor that seemed to have never been polished the footsteps sounded as you entered a room where a man even older than the one who had brought you to that house was looking the television

-Go get ready Uncle Monty, we have a beautiful guest today and we will have a great feast for dinner - the disgusting man smiled looking at you touching your chin to which you only reacted by turning your face in disgust.

-Who is she? ..- the old man with glasses sat up looking at your body from head to toe while he scratched his crotch.

-She is Tommy's girlfriend, pretty don't you think? The boy is very lucky - they both laughed looking at you and then felt something cold on your arm which made you turn your head noticing how the now ''sheriff'' was pointing a gun at you - walk pretty girl, we don't want Thomas to arrive and found a hole in your beautiful body, right?

Your eyes widened as you walked in front of the man, guiding you to where he told you, climbing the long stairs towards a corridor that was barely illuminated by the poor rays of sun that came through the windows.

-Here, this will be your room come in now - the barrel of the gun pushed you in the center of your back, making you enter a room arranged in a feminine way but even dirtier than the rest of the house, it was obvious that no one had entered to that place in a long time, there was dust even on the bed and spiderwebs on the night lamps - make yourself comfortable, Tommy will arrive soon

The man closed the door leaving you standing in the middle of the large room and after a few seconds making sure he didn't come back quickly you ran to the window to open it and look into what seemed like an abyss, if you jumped out of it you wouldn't get out without a broken bone if you weren't lucky enough to be killed by hitting the floor.

You were trapped by that family of murderers, there was nothing to do just wait for them to end your life.

Your feet slid against the floor, sitting against the window while you hugged your legs crying, your tears wet your skirt, you could only hear your own sobs and heavy breathing losing track of time until you heard the door open, your wet eyes trying to focus was he the disgusting old man? or maybe Thomas?, you could notice a small, plump figure taking slow and careful steps approaching

-Don't worry, I won't hurt you - a kind, feminine voice sounded as the woman's hand extended so you could take it and help you get up from your place on the floor - tell me your name little one.

-y/n…my name is Y/n…please don't hurt me - your voice was broken between your cries of desperation and fear.

-I'm not, come to bed with me - the woman walked slowly guiding you to the bed while she made a gesture of disgust when she saw all the accumulated dust and sat you down next to her - I'm mama, Thomas is my little boy ya'know, he's my Baby you must be the girl from the slaughterhouse right?

-Yes, I worked with him in that place-your free hand carefully cleaned your cheek while your other hand held it Luda caressing it slowly with her thumb

-I see, you are a pretty girl and you look like those educated people who are not stupid like we are - her eyes looked at you with little kindness - I know what you are doing, you are kind to Thomas so you don't end up like his boss right?

-No…I…I don't - your head shook quickly, looking at her - I would never treat Thomas like everyone else treated him, I was just kind and…and I ended up here, I don't know what I did wrong, I didn't want to hurt him, i don't want to hurt no one - your crying again made Luda soften her gaze realizing what they had put into you.

-Don't worry, you see Thomas won't let you go soon, it's the first time I've seen him be different from how he's always been and I don't want you to break his heart, try to get to know him, my boy is a sweet man, give him a chance and we'll give you a chance

Her hand delicately patted yours, standing up looking at you from the doorway giving a deep sigh.

-You better remember what I told you, dinner will be ready in a while, get ready to look good.

What was happening with that woman's words, they seemed to go round and round in your head, should you give them a chance?

You walk to the bathroom and was disgusting, clearly the same as the room, so with just a little water you cleaned your hands and face, just the thought that you would be downstairs surrounded by strange people made you feel nauseous but something even deeper made you miss Thomas, he hadn't shown up all day or maybe not in the room and you were curious to know where he was.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the figure that was looking at you from the bathroom door which you could see in the reflection of the mirror and made you jump in fear.

-I see that you are getting pretty for dinner, mama wants you to come down and join us, we put another plate for you - the old man dressed in a police uniform smiled at you, rudely looking at your body to which you could only respond with your gaze towards him the floor settling slightly.

You followed him through the dark corridor barely lit by a couple of lamps and then up the stairs that made every step you took sound with a creak in the wood.

-Look who has arrived, our beautiful guest will be with us tonight - the old man moved a chair away from the table, inviting you to sit down, you just approached with fear, sitting down without saying anything, looking at everyone around you, there was the old man with glasses. and the woman who looked at you through the strands of her blonde hair.

The plate was in front of you, empty and cleaner than you expected, the song that played on the old radio in the distance made you dissociate from the speech that the man was giving until you heard his gratitude to the ''sheriff for accompanying them that night on the table'' your eyes traveled quickly to the casserole, just as everyone was in disbelief at what they were going to have for dinner that night.

-Don't worry doll, just like in the slaughterhouse, meat is meat - the man smiled sarcastically, serving you what looked like a stew on your plate.

-I'm not hungry…thank you - you looked at him with fear, regretting your words when everyone looked at you with some annoyance.

-Food is sacred and we must be grateful for what the Lord gives us, now eat - Luda looked at you, scolding you apparently she had taken what they had told her very seriously, now you were her ''little girl''

It was after a few minutes when you heard a door open but no one came in, it just stayed open until the policeman looked and smiled a little excitedly, moving his hand inviting whoever was in the shadows to come through.

-Come here boy, we don't want you to miss this first dinner with your girl, right? - The old man served another plate, placing it next to yours.

Thomas doubted it a little but after sighing (which almost sounded like a growl) taking courage, he entered with his head down, sitting down sadly and despite being next to you, he took his distance.

Your eyes stared at him, as if his face had a magnet for you, he looked different, he was no longer wearing the bloody apron, his clothes were clean as were his face and his hands, even his nails looked clean and with a pink color that you had never noticed

-Don't they look cute together mama?

-Shut your mouth Charlie, stop bothering them and eat once and for all - The woman looked at him, annoyed, eating from her plate.

-Hoyt mom, Charlie is dead now my name is Hoyt

The tension could be felt in the air, despite the conversation that the other three were having, you felt their gaze on you as if waiting for you to make a mistake in something so they could kill you but there was no way that was going to happen, your mind was somewhere else while Your hand slowly turned the spoon inside the plate, playing with the food, losing your appetite more and more, sometimes you felt your eyes get wet but you took a deep breath and convinced yourself that everything would be fine, at least for a couple of days in what you found how to escape from that place.

Your trance was broken when Luda took your plate pushing it away, scolding you again for not eating anything.

-I'm…I'm sorry, I don't feel at all well - you looked at her embarrassed and afraid with your hands in your lap - can I go and rest?

-It's been a long day, hasn't it? Come on, go rest honey - the woman patted your shoulder lightly and then took another plate and walked to the kitchen.

As soon as you heard those words you stood up as quickly as you could, almost running to the stairs, the only thing you wanted was to get out of that place and be alone, but when you got to the room and made sure that the door was closed properly you realized the problem which you had gotten yourself into.

Being careful not to make noise, you began to clean the place, at least dusting the nightstands, removing the spiderwebs and also arranging the sheets, leaving only those that looked cleanest, you opened the window wide so that the breeze from the night could enter and when you were ready you sat on the bed.

You carefully removed your heels that, despite being low, made your ankles hurt, then you removed the bun from your hair, feeling a relief in your skull and finally you opened the buttons of your blouse, opening it completely to take it off but something stopped you making you close it quickly with fear when hearing the door suddenly open.

-Thom..Thomas hi - you looked at him embarrassed, closing the blouse in a hurry, your hands securing the fabric, looking at him nervously.

He just approached slowly, with his gaze everywhere but on you.

-What are you doing here? -Despite the little light in the room you could see his eyes through the long strands of his hair.

But the huge man only stretched out his arm towards you, offering you something that he was hiding in his giant hand and making you copy his gesture but in your case offering your palm to receive what he was going to offer you.

-What's that? -You looked at him curiously, his fingers barely touching the palm of your hand as they opened, letting an apple fall out- oh…is it for me?

Thomas just nodded, looking at the other side of the room. Over the years he had learned to be careful and alert to every situation that happened around him and with you, his sensors worked harder than normal, noticing every millimetric gesture you made. He knew that you had not eaten anything and the humanity that still remained inside him made him know that that was not fair for you, after all you were there because he wanted it that way, not because you chose it.

-Thank you, I'll eat it before going to sleep - you smiled shyly, taking the apple with both hands, looking at it carefully, trying to look for any defects but it was perfect - are you going to sleep too?

He just shook his head, playing with his hands as they grabbed the fabric of his pants and after so many months you could notice his arms, which now that they were clean showed scars and wounds that still looked open.

-Thomas, what happened to you? are you hurt? - Your natural state of worry made you leave the apple on the bed, approaching him, but he just rejected your touch, moving away, making you also walk away from him in fear - I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just… you are injured

He shook his head, looking at his arms, quickly lowering the sleeves of his shirt covering himself and before you could say anything else he quickly left slamming the door so hard that it made the nightstands shake.

Had you done something wrong? His rejection made you feel something inside your chest, a pinch that made you sigh as you sat down and took the apple again, looking at it carefully with the night light.

What was it you felt? After all, you weren't there for pleasure, but strangely he made you feel it.

Part 3 Soon...

Tag List: @leslie-sawyer @nonfunctionalmf @multy-fandom-lover @trainboom @not-neverland06 @venussinsreblog

#slasher #slasher community #slasher fandom #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beggining #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #tcm #thomas hewitt smut #texas chainsaw the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre

559 notes · View notes

brummiereader · 7 months

Text

MASTERLIST PART TWO

Unchained Melody (Part Three)

Summary: As an uncomfortable tension settles between you both the next day, Tommy finally musters up enough courage to say what needs to be said, only to be interrupted by a scornful Governess, then two unexpected visitors later that day. But as night descends on Arrow House and your guests return to their homes, your husband tells you of the uncomfortable reality, and turmoil you had left him in as he drowns himself in his most reliable friend, and remedy to numb the pain. Whisky.

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 5291

Authors note: A quieter chapter before things finally come to a head after an eventful, terrifying day in the next part.

Two days. You had been back for a total of two, full days. Not only had you and Tommy been avoiding the hard discussion that desperately needed to take place, you had learnt that the Governess who was hired to care for your son had also been keeping your husband company. Or to be more accurate, keeping him company in the martial bed you once shared. You didn't think it possible your heart could ache anymore until last night when your eyes landed on Tommy's sheepish gaze staring back at you as you left your son's nursery, and you came face to face with not only his disheveled appearance but his belt shamelessly unbuckled as the Governess sauntered from the dimly lit room they had both left. It didn't take much for you to come to the anguished realisation of what had occurred in your absence as you tormented yourself for the remainder of the evening with images of your husband making love to the woman you felt had replaced you, all while a painful nagging of self- conscious thoughts plagued your sleepless night.

Did she satisfy him better than you ever did? Was her body more attractive to him than yours? Did he...love her? As a barrage of unstoppable questions you had no answers for other than the ones your worried mind could conjure up, you dragged your shaky body timidly down the winding staircase the next morning, every part of you fearing you would break down into a puddle of pitiful tears for the hundredth time once again.

You were weeks, if not days from having enough willpower to return to Arrow House, you'd tell yourself. Whether you truthfully believed it or not, it was the sole dream you held onto, wishfully hoping your husband hadn't forgotten you, praying he and your son would show you mercy if you ever returned to them. How could you have been so selfish to think he would've waited? That he wouldn't have moved on? You thought to yourself as you scrambled to piece together your shattered heart from the embarrassment you felt for being so foolish. Your place in the grand house you once called your home was thoroughly understood. You were now, the other woman.

Smoothing down the front of your dress, you closed your eyes, desperately trying to compose yourself before you entered the dining room and let your true feelings slip.

"Good morning Mrs Shelby, some tea perhaps?" Frances greeted you, stood next to William cutting his toast into smaller, toddler-sized pieces as you entered the room. Mrs Shelby...Was you still? You thought to yourself as you walked to the end of the large mahogany table with Tommy sat at the head, looking at the end of the burning cigarette resting between his fingers, anywhere but you, anywhere that would hide the shame in his eyes and the regret uncomfortably wrapped around his chest.

" Yes, thank you, Frances" you answered quietly as you looked to the seat beside Tommy. Your seat. The seat saved solely for the lady of the house. A simple, once mundane decision as to where to sit suddenly felt like the most cementing finality to your broken marriage. Forgoing the position you once held, you made your way around the table to sit next to your son as Tommy's eyes flew up, darting to the unoccupied chair next to him then back to you, huffing as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ashtray. What did he expect? Tommy, the man always a step ahead of everyone else, couldn't fathom that someone couldn't just soldier on like him, ignoring the fragility of such a situation, and have things left unspoken without resolution.

With his tired body relenting to yet another issue that needed to be faced, he slouched into the frame of his seat as he turned his head away, running his hand down his tired features as a headache from guzzling half a bottle of whisky in an attempt to numb his guilt the previous night started to thump furiously across his forehead. He too, hadn't slept.

" William, eat your toast son" Tommy said clearing his throat as he sat up noisily unfolding his newspaper whilst staring at you, trying to garner your attention and have you finally look his way. But with your refusal to do so, a mutual silence descended between you both as you tended to your son and ignored your husband's blatant attempts to show you how unhappy he was with your choice of seats. Was he looking for an argument? Was that what he wanted, a slagging match to tally up who was more in the wrong?

" Some more water for your tea Mam" Frances said as she walked in and placed a floral china teapot in front of you as Tommy looked over his newspaper, stealing another glance before furrowing his brow and returning his eyes to the first line of the business collum he had read, and re-read at least ten times already.

The latest happenings in the world of finance that would normally have him buried deep in thought each morning held little to zero interest as his worries drifted to what you were thinking, occupying every space in his restless mind. Did you think he was still having sex with her? That she had replaced you? That he loved her? Tommy nervously thought to himself as his paper lowered, and he watched your lips graze over the porcelain cup in your hand as a dusting of particles illuminated by the morning sun glittered gracefully around you. Captured once again, Tommy's feelings of melancholy that once shrouded him suddenly subsided and an urgent need for reconciliation swept over him as his fingers inadvertently inched across the freshly laid table cloth closer to your hand.

"Y/N, can we tal..." he said apprehensively as you finally looked up to see the anguish engulfing his tired face when the door flew open and the Governess strode in, quickly causing him to snatch his hand away.

" Frances, tea" she demanded looking to Tommy giving him a smirk as he glared at her, his jaw tightening within seconds at the mere sight of her smug face.

" Staff eat down in the kitchen, unless invited otherwise" Tommy mumbled, lifting his newspaper as the tension that had slowly simmered between you both came thundering back tenfold into a suffocating pressure that was weighing the room down. Fuck, she needed to go. Tommy thought to himself as she sat down beside him without a care, taking your place once again, thinking she had the upper hand in the situation. Her little stunt filled with veiled threats the previous night had Tommy calling up and down the country all morning gathering as much information as he could on who she was, and her own little secrets she wished to keep from seeing the light of day. Brazen enough to make such threats, Tommy was no fool to think she hadn't safeguarded the intel she had acquired on him. And until he had dealt with whoever had been entrusted with said information, be it family or friend, her unwelcome presence in the house would have to be begrudgingly endured.

" Mummy" William smiled up at you with jammy cheeks, and a single toothy smile whilst kicking his legs back and forth, single handily bringing a smile to your face and a distraction from the frosty stare the Governess sat across from you was sending your way.

" Hi sweetheart..." You replied quietly, running your fingers across his plump cheek as a tear settled on your lashes, never tiring from hearing the sweetest of words spoken to you.

" Don't talk with your mouth full William" the governess barked, breaking the tender moment between you both and shocking you out of the one delight you felt you were allowed to enjoy.

" Give it a rest, would you? He's two bloody years old" Tommy snapped back, having had enough of her overbearing, over-controlling attitude towards his son, your son. Why the hell did he even go there, with her? Tommy thought to himself, wondering if it wouldn't be easier to just throw her in the cut.

" More, more, more" William's little voice squeaked as he pointed enthusiastically to the glass dish of strawberry jam in the center of the table as a quiet chuckle left Tommy's lips and a smile graced your own at his sheer determination, and the learnt knowledge of his sweet tooth he could have only inherited from one person.Tommy.

Reaching for the jam, you pulled it towards you when a hand suddenly grabbed the opposite end, sharply pulling it back into the middle of the table.

" Do you want him bouncing of the walls, hm? Did you eat a lot of sugar when you nursed him? That certainly explains a lot" The governess peered down at you, not giving you an opportunity to reply before coming to her own judgment as you recalled into the back of your seat and a sudden surge of self-doubt engulfed your stomach, your ability to be a mother suddenly brought into question over something so meaningless as a second serving of jam. As your eyes cast down at the cold cup of tea in front of you, every interaction you had had with your son since your return had the feelings of inadequacy that once darkened your mind seep rapidly back into your fragile thoughts.

As you shrank into yourself, numb of William pulling at the sleeve of your dress while the Governess continued her barrage of unwarranted parenting knowledge, Tommy watched as your tearful eyes looked up at him, pulling at his heart until he could no longer withstand the torment of seeing you look so vulnerable. Throwing his newspaper onto the empty plate in front of him, Tommy abruptly stood up, glaring at the Governess as his teeth grounded down onto eachother. Her overstepping into the role you solely held as William's mother getting on his last, and final nerve.

" It's just fucking jam!" Tommy's voice rose, reaching over the table placing the small bowl in front of William as the Governess lips pursed together, and she folded her arms in annoyance that her lecture had gone ignored. "Enjoy my boy" Tommy said walking behind your son, placing a tender kiss to the crown of his head as he looked to you before swiftly leaving the room with some urgent calls to be made, and preferably an anchor and rope to be ordered.

" Well..." The governess scoffed as her eyes darted from the slamming of the dining room door to you, glaring at you up and down. "You certainly have soured his mood. And to think he was finally starting to enjoy life again" she commented as her fingers curled around the cup in her hand, sowing yet another dousing of blame into your troubled mind. Was she right? Had your unexpected return thrown Tommy's apparent newly founded happiness into chaos?

Sat at the living room bay window with a book resting in your hands you had little to no interest in, your eyes darted up from the pages to see your husband outside patting down one of his newest race horses on the freshly pruned grass. Tommy always had been stubborn about anything that would show the slightest ounce of vulnerability in him. So to see him occupying himself with a four-legged creature rather than any two-legged human that could neither, answer back, nor confront him came as no surprise.

Returning to the pages of your book, Tommy, who had chosen the most unusual of spots to inspect his horse, that just so happened to be in viewing distance of you, couldn't help but glance up every other second to get a quick glimpse of you all while internally berating himself for acting like some nervous teen boy psyching himself up to talk to his crush. With a heavy sigh leaving his throat, Tommy looked your way, throwing his cigarette onto the grass with determination to have his thoughts settled once and for all, and finally discuss what needed to be said. But just as you looked up to see Tommy striding towards you, his mustered up courage to have the conversation he had been avoiding took another blow as a car screeched around the corner, interrupting him once again.

" Where is she Tommy?" Polly demanded to know as Esme slammed the car door behind her and they both marched up to the house without the slightest of greetings to him.

" Fuck sake" he mumbled under his breath pointing to the house as you abruptly stood up, bracing yourself for what was to come while your eyes darted to your husband leading his horse away and the living room door seconds away from being thrown open.

" Esme..would you..bloody hell..." Polly grunted, as they pushed past one another through the door frame, when the Lee girl slipped through first and came running up to you. Stepping back your eyes widened, readying yourself for the inevitable, only to be quickly welcomed into a tight hug.

" Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" She said, wrapping her arms around you as your body relaxed into hers and tears began to streak your face.

" Es, I...I don't know. I'm so sorry" you cried as she cupped your cheeks, brushing your tears away with her thumbs whilst you internally scolded yourself for not opening up to the friend that had become a sister, and most cherished supporting hand throughout your pregnancy and labour.

" I would have come with you. God knows I need a bloody break" she stifled her tears with a laugh, pulling you back into her arms as you reached your hand out for Polly who was stood behind her, her trembling hands hovering over the smile beaming across her face.

" I told him, I told you all" Polly said with tears welling in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, stroking the hair away from your face as you cried into her shoulder. " I checked, I made sure" she said closing her eyes as she clutched the black Madonna around her neck, silently thanking her ancestor's guidance. " Look at you" she said cupping your face as she pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, relief sweeping over her that you was still in one piece. "Come let's sit, before we all lose our footing" she said sniffing back her tears as she linked her arm into yours and led you to the two large cushioned sofas in the middle of the room.

" Where's William?" Esme asked as she looked around the grand sitting area only to see his toys scattered along the floor.

" With the Governess" you said, diverting your eyes as Polly shot Esme a sharp look, or rather, a warning.

" ABCs and 123s, he's two years old for god's sake. Should be out with the horses, in the mud and the meadows, not stuck between four walls. Never did me any harm" Esme huffed as she let her tired body and aching back from another baby weighing down her stomach fall into the feathered stuffed sofa. "What was Tommy thinking hiring that witch?"

" Esme!" Polly warned her as she looked back to you with a tight smile, holding your hand within her own. "Tommy hasn't been in his right mind for a long time"

" It's ok, I know they're together" you said biting, your bottom lip as you looked to the mantel place. Your pictures with him still sitting there neatly one by one. Memories stuck in a flash of a moment, cruelly tormenting you for what you had given up, and what you desperately longed for once again.

" Together? Whoever told you that?" Polly asked, furrowing her brow. " Love, as crude as it is, Tommy... Well I don't think there was ever any feelin..."

" It's ok Polly, It really is" you said cutting her off, trying to reassure yourself and subsequently avoid any further discussion on the topic that had consumed all your thoughts of late. " I burst their happy little bubble"

"Don't think the crate of whisky he has my John bring to his office door once a week, like some bloody delivery boy would agree with you" Esme said less than tactfully as Polly's head snapped to her. "What?" She said bewildered as to why Polly's eyes were suddenly boring into her very soul.

"Esme, why don't you go get us something to eat? Biscuits perhaps" Polly said as your sister-in-law furrowed her brow, crossing her arms.

" Biscuits?" Esme asked frowning, like it was the most bizarre, most confusing of questions to ask someone.

" Yes, bloody biscuits. And a bottle of whisky" she said as Esme stood up with a huff. "The good stuff, he keeps hidden in his office cabinet!" Polly called out as Esme waved her hand above her head mumbling to herself before shutting the door.

" Oh love" Polly said, moving her attention back to you with a heavy look of worry as she stared into your eyes, only sadness and shame to be found in them. "Why didn't you come to me?"

" I was scared you'd judge me Polly, that I couldn't cope when every other woman around me makes it look so easy" you sobbed as she pulled you into your arms.

" God knows there were moments when I wanted to run from it all, Esme too. The only difference between us is, you battled through when we buckled. You didn't have to love, we were here for you. We would have held you up" she said, holding you In front of her as she dabbed your tears from your cheeks. " Your pain is my pain. I would have walked the lonely path of motherhood with you, holding your hand all the way" she finished, cupping your cheeks when Esme walked in with a large cake on a polished silver tray, and one of the finest bottles of whisky Tommy possessed tucked safely under her arm.

" No biscuits, but I found another one of these fucking cakes again" Esme huffed from holding the heavy monstrosity in her hands.

" Give me the knife " Polly demanded with her hand out, her brow raised as she waited.

" Don't think I'm capable of cutting a bloody cake, Polly?"

"Esme" Polly's eyes narrowed in, their once mutual disdain for each other now a daily power play of Polly trying to assert herself over her nephews wild hearted wife.

"Shelby's. Stubborn, the lot of you" she said handing the knife over as she sent you a quick smile." So, you and Tommy had it out yet? " Esme asked, curious as to where you both stood with each other now you had returned.

"I think he tried to. At one point" you replied, recalling the brief moment in the dining room before the Governess barged in, interrupting his chances. " He won't forgive me, I know he wont"

" You focus on little William for now, Tommy can wait. It may do him so good to mull things over, before he says something pigheaded " Polly said handing you slice of cake. She and Esme may bash heads on many things, but the inherited trait of stubbornness was something she couldn't deny. And unfortunately for you, Tommy's headstrong, unyielding nature was the vain of the whole family's existence.

" I can't stomach anymore of it" Esme said, refusing her plate as she made a beeline for the whisky instead.

" God, me neither" Polly agreed, dropping the knife as she took Esme's glass tumbler from her.

" Why, what's wrong with it?" You asked inspecting it, noting it's familiarity to the cake you would often bake.

" Oh, you didn't know?" Polly smiled as she sat back in her chair, her eyes playfully glimmering from the amber liquid bouncing off the sides of the crystal glass in her hand " Every Saturday Tommy insists on that bloody fruit cake you used to bake that weighed more than a newborn baby on being made. He sends that poor old cook up and down the country in search of the ingredient Tommy insists is missing"

" He hated my fruit cake" you chuckled, looking down at the plate in your hand as the memory of happier times when you had become adamant on perfecting your baking skills before the birth of William on a reluctant Tommy flooded your thoughts.

"He still does. But it was a little part of you he couldn't part with" she winked at you as she poured herself another glass of whisky. " I'm starting to think he just enjoys watching the torment on Mr Giles face as the kitchen staff gather around to hear his weekly verdict every Saturday evening" Polly laughed into her drink at her nephews dry sense of fun, and the growing stockpile of cake enough to build a small house stored in the pantry." Why don't you bake him one?"

" Polly, I don't think a cake will fix this" you sighed, casting your eyes down to your lap when she cupped the side of your cheek, turning it to face her glistening hazel eyes.

"No. But it might make him smile. And that would be a sight"

As you said your goodbyes to Polly and Esme out in the grand foyer, grateful for the afternoon you had spent with them and their comforting words, Tommy stood watching by the front door, a pang of jealousy settling in his chest at everyone's ease with you like no time had passed, and mounting frustration with himself that he couldn't do the same.

" All is forgotten then, eh?" Tommy said in passing as the sound of the front door closed, his spite quickly finding a way to weave itself back into the iron cast wall he had slowly let down as he sulked off to his office once again, leaving you with his dampened mood for a fresh crate of whisky waiting for him.

One and a half years ago...

" Tommy this has to stop" Polly said, hovering over his desk, her nephew's head buried deep in a stack of maps, newspaper clippings and letters.

" Not now, Pol" Tommy replied, stubbing his cigarette out before returning to the large plan of Birmingham's canal system on his desk. Wide-eyed and restless. Polly was certain he hadn't slept in days, if not weeks.

" Enough Tommy!" She shouted, trying to snap him out of his madness as she snatched the large map away from him, her eyes pleading with him to give up, to rest.

" I will not fucking stop! Do you hear me?! I will not stop until her body is found!" He bellowed, pointing his finger into the desk as tears welled in his eyes and his face reddened with fury. "Just leave Polly...Go" he sighed, pinching the skin between his brows, his tired body unable to keep up with another argument with his Aunt, and his relentless search for you.

" There's no body to be found Thomas" Polly said as he walked around his desk grabbing the map from her hands before dropping into the sofa and pouring himself not a finger, not even two, but a whole glass of whisky. " Enough!" She said, marching over to him, throwing the remainder of the bottles contents into the fire place before crouching down in front of him. " You can't dull it forever Tommy. You have to listen to me, she's not passed over"

" Polly Stop" Tommy replied, burying his hands into his hair, scrapping his nails along his scalp at the stress tightening around his skull.

" You won't find anything"

" Polly stop, stop STOP!" Tommy's voice crescendoed until a sob of cries left his lips and his shoulders slouched over his body, drained of any rational thought left. " She's dead Pol" Tommy said looking up to his Aunt with an empty, lifeless stare as his hands fell down onto his thighs. Drunk, beaten down and hollow. Tommy had not an ounce of will to carry on. The second half of him was gone, and if it wasn't for William, he would have gladly welcomed the sweet release of death and joined you if it had brought him peace, and you back into his arms. "She's fucking dead..."

As you rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in search of a bottle of brandy you were certain was the missing ingredient from your fruit cake Tommy had ordered Mr Giles to bake every weekend in your absence, a loud crash quickly followed by your husband shouting every blasphemy known to man had you jumping away from the cupboards, and your own choice of profanities quickly leaving your lips.

" Shit!" you heard Tommy mumble as you slowly approached his office door to see him steadying himself with one hand on his desk as he poured the remaining contents of a bottle of whisky into a glass while blood dripped from an open cut on his hand. " What the fuck you looking at, eh?" Tommy said stumbling back and forth as he pointed at the large portrait of himself hung in his office. "Dickhead"

Just go to bed Tommy. You silently pleaded, watching him ease himself into his leather chair as he buried his head in his hand, replaying every moment from the day you had left to every hour he would spend trying to find your body over and over again in his head, letting his emotions fester inside, clinging onto them in an attempt to change their outcome. Watching him reach for another bottle of whisky, you opened the door and walked in, fearing he would drink until he passed out.

" Is everything ok? I heard a noise" You said, looking around his usually immaculate office stacked with paperwork and broken furniture.

" Fucking fantastic sweetheart " Tommy replied, trying to unscrew the cap of the bottle as you carefully walked around a smashed lamp on the ground you could only assume got in his way. " Fuck..." Tommy sighed, his injured hand rendering his attempts to open the large whisky bottle useless. Removing the satin belt around your dressing gown, you took his hand, gently wrapping the soft fabric around the deep gash across his knuckles as Tommy watched on in silence, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as your delicate touch stirred his unwanted emotions once again.

" There" you said letting go, waiting for him to say something, anything to break the palpable silence that had descended between you both as his eyes roamed down your body, and he opened mouth to say something pigheaded, exactly as his Aunt had predicted had he not been left alone to wallow in his own self pity.

" Do you wanna fuck?"

" Jesus Christ...get some sleep Tommy" you sighed, shaking your head as you turned for the door. He had every right to be angry at you, but this, this you didn't have to deal with. A drunken Tommy was an unreasonable man, and you now regrettably wished you had let him drink himself to sleep, and pass out on the floor.

" No? Thought it would stop me from hating you so much" he stated coldly as you came to a stop, his words piercing you as deep as he had intended them to.

" You already have someone that's been keeping your bed warm, our bed warm. Don't you Tommy?" You said, unable to keep your bitterness contained any longer as you turned to face him, and he came to face the outcome of his harsh words streaming down your cheeks.

" I shared our bed with nobody Y/N" Tommy pointed to you as he stood up, taking the large map he had mulled over for the past two years from his desk as he walked past you to the fire. There was no lie in his words. Never once had he tarnished the most intimate part of what was left of you. No matter what he had done to dull his grief in the past, every night Tommy would faithfully return to your martial bed unaccompanied, desperately holding onto the memory of your body wrapped warmly in his arms. " I thought you were dead" he said, the vows he had made to stay faithful unknowingly severed, crushing him more than any broken promise he had ever made.

" I know" you sobbed as you slowly approached and stood beside him, welcoming the comforting warmth from the fireplace as you looked into the towering orange flames and crackling wood burning below them.

" Do you know how long I looked for you?" He said, glancing up at you as you shook your head, feeling a surge of nervousness at where the conversation was suddenly going. "One year, six months and twenty two days" he said, throwing the folded document into the fire, watching the hours he had spent mapping each river, each stream and every canal burn into ash.

" Tommy...I'm so sorry. I should never have let you think that I was dead" you apologised, brushing your tears away as Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the last piece of paper melting away.

" Searched every forest, every train track until the only thing that was left was the waters, hoping your body hadn't been swept out to sea" his voice grew louder as his anger began to pump furiously beneath his skin.

" Tommy please..." you pleaded as your eyes welled with tears once again, trying to turn his stiffened frame to face you as his hand tightened around the intricately carved mantel, his knuckles turning opaque from the heat rapidly coursing through his veins.

"Polly put an end to it. Had my men stop me from leaving my own house for weeks on end. My own fucking house!" He continued, slamming his fist into the wood with a strong enough blow to split it, leaving a fractured line running permanently through the middle.

" Tom stop, please!" You begged him, trying to pull him away from the raging flames, from the raging fire within him.

" Enough!" he shouted as his hand came up to strike you when your eyes widened and he stopped himself, stumbling back in horror at the terror on your face. "Fuck!" He bellowed from the depths of his lungs, turning away to the door to hide the tears welling in his eyes and the shame on his face.

" Tommy, It's...it's ok. It's ok" You cried slowly approaching him, your body trembling with each step. " Let's sit down, and talk. Yeh?" Your shaky voice tried to reason with him as your hand brushed gently over his shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of his back.

" Now you want to talk, eh? he said, choking out a stifled breath as he brushed his tears away before turning to face your silent pleas to stay. "I'm afraid..." he sighed, bringing his hand up to stroke along your cheek as your fingers held tightly onto the front of his shirt came up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. "...I'm afraid you may be too late my darling" Tommy said scrunching his eyes closed as his lips hovered over yours, your sobs intensifying into hopeless cries before he pulled your hands off him and left without another word.

Fear of you leaving him again, fear of never being able to forgive you. Tommy Shelby, the most feared gangster in Birmingham, was in fact a man scared, a man so conflicted with the most vulnerable of feelings he had pushed down to the very depths of his heart for the past two years. Love. His broken heart still madly, still deeply in love with the one and only woman of his life. You.

PART FOUR

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr (unable to tag) @abaker74 @fuseburner @hummusxx @xvintageghostx (unable to tag) @sagecodm @isabbellagonzalezz88 (unable to tag) @girlwith-thepearlearring @minaxcarter (unable to tag) @cleverzonkwombatsludge @saltburnwhore @outlanderuniverse @anastacia-lynn @sofiblossom @akemiixx01 @thelastemzy @xxbeckybeexx-blog @cyphah @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @kammsinn @nadloves @esquivelbianca @bruher @honeymoon8 @amberpanda99 @outlanderuniverse @whorefortim

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby series #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders series #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you

651 notes · View notes

papipedroo · 10 months

Text

Traitor (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Four of Whiskey Tears

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

You found yourself sitting at Maria and Tommy’s kitchen table the next morning. Your shirt pulled up as Maria looked at the bruise forming on your side. You were grateful to them letting you stay in their guest room last night and most certainly for the next couple of days.

“So explain to me again how you got a giant sized bruise on your side.” Maria asked as she assessed the damage that had been done.

Your gaze fluttered to your hands as if I was being asked by my own mom, “I tried to kill Heather.” I mumbled.

Maria looked up from the wound, “You tried to kill Heather.” She repeated, “But why?”

“She threatened Ellie and so I tried to kill her.” You didn’t think it was that bad.

Maria sighed, “Sweetheart. That’s not how we deal with issues here.”

“I’m sorry…” You frowned apologetically, “Not for trying to kill her, but not being civilized about it.”

“Well that’s a start I guess.” Maria placed an ice pack on your bruise, “Thankfully nothing is broken. Did she do this to you?”

“No.” Your throat tightened as you answered, “Joel did.”

“He what?” Maria’s eyes widened, “He did this to you?”

“Joel did what?” Tommy stepped in the kitchen. He made his way to the fruit bowl, grabbing an apple.

“He… He pulled me off of her. I don’t think he meant to hurt me. I just…” Your sigh felt like a heaviness settling on your chest, “He didn’t realized his strength when he shoved me.” At least you hoped he didn’t…

“I’m going to kill him.” Maria seethed as he hand tightened into a fist.

You raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m sorry you can kill Joel, but I can’t kill Heather? Where is the democracy in that?”

“Oh hush.” Maria wanted to nudge you like she usually did, but held back given your current state, “I just don’t understand why he’s being this way.”

The two of you were both talking that you didn’t see Tommy leave, only when you heard the door slam did the both of you go silent.

“You don’t think he’s going over there do you?” Your voice trailed off as your mind ran through all of the possibilities that could happen between the two brothers.

Maria shook her head, “They’re Millers. A punch, a couple of words, and then they’re good. It’s what they do. Maybe Tommy can knock some sense into his brother.”

“She said something to him… Don’t abandon me.” You muttered as you mulled over the events of last night, “It looked like those words really got to him and I just have this unwarranted feeling that she’s manipulating him. Like she’s tightening her grip around what he cares about most which is saving the people he can save.”

“But why would she manipulate him?” Maria’s brows furrowed, “For what reason?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head before looking at her, “But I refuse to let her tear apart my family. You should have seen her last night Maria. She knew what to say to get under my skin and it worked. Joel took her side.” You looked out the window to see the sun rising slowly, “Again…”

“I’m telling Mikel that you can’t go on patrol today.” Maria muttered as she cleaned up the table.

You gave her a stubborn look, “But it’s my turn to go on patrol, I’m not going to let this keep me from my job. I need to protect this place too.”

“What? You can’t go like this.” Maria countered with a look that only a mother could give.

You gave her a smile as you placed the wrapped ice on the table.

“I’ve traveled the road far worse than this. I can do it, trust me.” You stood up, ignoring the dull ache.

You were grateful that it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were also grateful for the chance to be out of Joel’s sight today.

“See you! Oh and tell Ellie for me that we are having a snowball fight as soon as I get back.” I waved at her goodbye before greeting the chilled morning weather.

It was warmer than yesterday, that was for sure… You thought as you made your way to the stables to meet Mikel.

“I wonder if Ellie is going to wear her jacket today.” You muttered with a motherly tone, “She better be.”

The morning light greeted the home, but it felt anything but comforting. Not with one person of the family missing.

“Miller.” Ellie greeted her dad as she sipped on her orange juice.

It was the orange juice that her mom spent the other day making. It made all the more reason for Ellie to glare at the old man who looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

“You callin me Miller now?” Joel huffed as he grabbed himself a coffee mug.

“Yep. Because until my mom comes back, you Miller are nothing, but a stranger to me.” Ellie huffed.

Joel gave her his famous unimpressed look before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He tried to think of the best way to explain what happened last night. How he reached the top of the stairs and found his firefly trying to kill someone in their home. How he just didn’t want anyone else to die. How he couldn’t understand why she hated Heather so much… Before he could say anything to Ellie, there was a banging at his door.

“Joel!” His brother’s voice carried through the wooden door, “You better get your ass out here right now before I kick this door in!”

“Jesus.” Joel shook and set his coffee down.

Of course he couldn’t have a quiet morning to think about how he would apologize to his firefly and talk about what happened.

His boots thudded against the floor as he made his way to the front door. Another bang from Tommy made his jaw clench.

“What is so important—” He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Tommy was swinging at him. Joel’s eyes widened as he leaned out of the way and grabbed onto his brother’s wrist.

“Jesus Tommy, what the fuck?” Joel grumbled in disbelief.

“You’re an idiot Joel.” Tommy huffed as he yanked his arm to free his wrist, but to no avail.

“I conquer.” Ellie spoke from the kitchen entrance, her orange juice in hand. M

Joel rolled his eyes as he let go of Tommy’s wrist before he turned his attention towards Ellie. He nodded his head towards the direction of the stairs, “Go get ready.”

She groaned, but listened to him nonetheless as she clambered up the stairs.

“You hurt her.” Tommy stated, his tone was more even after his short burst of anger.

Joel gave him a look that soon turned into defeat as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

“I know I shouldn’t have kicked her out, but they were going to kill each other Tom. I wasn’t exactly thinkin clearly at that moment.” Joel explained.

“No.” Tommy shook his head as he shoved his brother’s shoulder, “You. Hurt. Her.”

“What do you mean?” Joel pressed.

Tommy continued as the weight of his words settled in to Joel’s heart, “I walked down the stairs this morning to find my wife tending to your girl with a massive bruise on her side.”

Now it was Joel’s turn to look guilty as he finally realized what he had done. Accident or not he hurt her… Joel looked at Tommy with worry, “A bruise?”

“She said you shoved her.” Tommy elaborated.

His words held a darker tone, one that Joel rarely saw in his brother except for the time back in the day when Tommy would call wasted from a jail cell. This was different though because it wasn’t Tommy bashing someone’s head against a bar… No… This was Joel’s fault and Joel would get eaten by a clicker before he would deny that.

The pieces came back together quickly. Joel vaguely remembered last night, but he knew that he pulled her off of Heather to try to break up their fight. He just didn’t realize how much strength he had used.

“Shit.” Joel seethed.

“Yeah.” Tommy agreed, “Just you wait until you see Maria. She’s pissed at you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her Tommy. I would never… I didn’t mean to.” Joel ran a hand through his hair again, this time with anxiety and guilt rushing through him, “Is she okay?”

“It’s a big bruise.” Tommy’s gaze softened at his brother’s distraught state, “But there’s nothing broken. She’ll be fine in a few days.”

Joel nodded before immediately reaching for his winter jacket and shrugged it on, “I need to talk to her.”

“Can’t.” Tommy stated simply.

Joel turned to his brother with furrowed brows, “What do ya mean I can’t?” He muttered.

“It’s her route today and knowing that girl she convinced Maria that she could go.” Tommy looked up at the where the sun was, “You can try, but I’m not sure they’ll be there.” Tommy explained, his arms crossed as he watched the way his brother’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’ll take my chances.” Joel grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.

“If she ain’t there then can grovel to her when she gets back.” Tommy proposed, “Hopefully then she’ll be less likely to stab you.” Tommy joked as he turned and walked down the steps.

Joel carried on walking when he heard his brother call out to him.

“Word of advice brother. Get your shit together and kick Heather out before you loose your firefly for good. There’s no use in protecting someone else when you end up loosing someone you care more about.”

“Where is he going?” Heather made her way out of the door.

“To get his girl back.” Tommy looked to Heather, “Look I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on, but I heard enough to know that you should stay out of their business.”

“He is my business.” She said defiantly.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, “No. He’s her business. They’ve been together a lot longer than you’ve been stayin here.”

“Tell me.” She looked Tommy in the eyes, her voice still as sweet as ever, but her gaze held something different, “Right now. If he were to choose between her and me. Who would it be?”

“I suggest taking that offer Tris gave you and move out…” Tommy said all that she needed to hear, “If you’re as nice as you seem then you can provide this act of kindness.”

“Today preferably.” Ellie muttered as she pushed passed Heather and walked towards Tommy.

“Yeah.” Heather muttered before she walked back inside and slammed the door shut.

“I am not spending the day with her.” Ellie began to walk, “Come on, I’m hungry and if you’re here then I know that Maria is the one making breakfast.”

Tommy chuckled before following after the girl.

You were trudging through the snow, seeing the barn on a few steps from you. Mikel stood by two saddled horses, his dirty blonde hair was covered by a tan cowboy hat, weathered by age and sun.

“Morning.” Mikel waved at you, his accent thick.

You remember asking him the first time you both went out on patrol together. He told you his parents were from Romania before they settled here in America.

“You look rough. You doing okay?” Mikel watched how my stride was slower than normal.

“Yeah. Everything’s good.” I nodded my head not wanting to get into your private business with Mikel. He was a friend of course, but you like sharing your problems with anyone outside of your family. Thankfully he didn’t push the topic.

“You found a new hat.” I commented as I reached for one of the horses’s reins, “Hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“John gave this to me. Pretty cool don’t you think?” He tipped his hat before getting on his horse, “And no. Not long. I just came out when you showed up.” Mikel handed you a rifle.

“Thanks.” You said and went to check the barrel to make sure it was loaded.

“You don’t have to. John said he loaded it.” Mikel said.

You smiled at him, “Sorry, it’s a force of habit from Joel. I can’t help it.” You looked back down again to check the gun until you heard his voice.

Speak his name and he shall appear.

“Firefly.” He called out to you.

It made you look up, forgetting about the gun as Joel engulfed you in his strong arms.

“Joel—”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promised I would never hurt you and I did last night.” Joel curled his fingers into your hair as he breathed in your scent, “Don’t go today sweetheart, I’ll go. Just please stay with Ellie.”

You pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, “No.” You stated firmly as you carefully pushed him away even if you were ripping your heart out of your chest, “I need time away from you right now and waiting worriedly for you to come home safe won’t help that.”

“You’re the one who hurt her? I should’ve know it was you.” Mikel stepped up beside you, “Why don’t you leave her alone old man.”

Joel’s fist clench as he clocked in on the young man with a hard glare, “What did you just say?” The word barely got out, sounding more like a muffled growl.

“You heard me.” Mikel pushed Joel’s shoulder, “She deserves better than you. Someone who can protect her.”

Joel didn’t try to fight back, of course he didn’t. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten you by pummeling the young guys face in. No he stood like a force that couldn’t be moved and let Mikel shove him as if he were some tough guy when in reality, Mikel’s shove didn’t even make Joel stumble.

Joel’s glare hardened, “I know she does, but I don’t think you’re the one to decide what she wants.”

“Mikel stop.” You placed a hand on his arm and pulled him back, but he slipped from your grasp heading straight to Joel.

“Oh, but I think she’ll let me with the cute little obedient thing that she is. After all she lets you run all over her does she not?” Mikel whispered so lowly in Joel’s face that you couldn’t hear what he was saying, “It will be easy to get her to behave once she’s mine.”

He took back everything he just said. He could pummel this guys face in. Joel’s fist connected with Mikel’s jaw within the two seconds it took for Mikel to smirk. That smirk however was wiped clean off his face as he fell harshly into the snow.

“Fuck!” Mikel cried out as he clutched his jaw from the seething pain.

“Joel!” You gasped at the sight, unsure of whether to be angry or appalled. You decided that both reactions would do.

“I’m sorry.” Joel apologized to you and only you for having to see that. He didn’t apologize to Mikel who clutched his jaw in pain. He hoped that he would feel that punch for weeks, maybe even have a fracture in his jaw… But Joel could only hope.

“I can’t believe you right now!” You cried out absolutely frustrated over the entire morning. Joel’s eyes widened as you stepped towards him and shoved him back. He couldn’t be angry with you though. You didn’t know what Mikel said. He just let you try to push him, “You’re the one who did all of this. You have no right to be angry!” You yelled at him before turning around.

You reached down to help Mikel up, “Are you good to go on patrol?” You asked him as you looked at the bruise already forming on his jaw. Mikel muttered a yes, a glare directed towards Joel.

“Go get on your horse and we’ll head out.” You told Mikel who walked over to his horse without complaint, being sure to hide the smirk growing on his face.

“Don’t go.” Joel’s focus was solely on you, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to take your hand, but held back, “He—”

“I don’t care what he said or what you just did Joel. Go home.” You glared at him.

“I don’t like him around you.” He pressed, his glare zoning in on Mikel.

“Well tough luck Joel. You don’t get to go around being jealous over the fact that Mikel’s my friend after all the shit you’ve done to me with Heather.” I spat out her name like it was venom, “Go home Joel. I don’t want to see you for a while.”

His face fell, “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know what I mean right now.” Your gaze flickered to the ground, “Please.”

Joel sighed, his shoulders tense and angry at himself for being unable to convince you to stay, “Fine.” He agreed gruffly, “As long as I know you’re coming back tonight.”

“Why should I come back?” You muttered.

“For Ellie.” He knew it was a low blow, but he didn’t want you to leave them.

“You’ve pushed me away for months Joel. What do you want me to do?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the anxiousness that you felt.

“I know.” Joel nodded numbly, “I just… Fuck.” He sighed, “I don’t want anyone else dying on my hands.”

“People die Joel.” You explained as you stepped back, “It’s choosing who you love more. Her or me. And to be honest… I don’t think I’ll like the answer you give me.” You turned away from him and mounted your horse.

“You.” He said when the only thing left of you was your horses hoof prints in the snow, “Always.”

It was an awkward first thirty minute ride for you and Mikel. The two of you kept to yourselves and welcomed the timid silence.

“Is he always like that?” Mikel muttered.

“Not always… It’s been…” You sighed as you adjusted the gun on your shoulder, “Is your jaw okay? He’s got a pretty strong right hook. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “I’m tougher than I look. What do you even see in someone as broken as him?” He wondered as he looked at you.

That question caught you off guard and it took you a moment to answer, but you knew the truth. It lied deeply in your bones, an echo of your heart.

“Everything.” You looked up to the sky, “The good, the bad, the broken, I see everything…”

“I could treat you better you know.” Mikel fixed his hat, “If you gave me a chance. I think we would be good together.”

You breathed out a laugh, “Oh really now?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He dipped his head towards you and put on his best Texan accent, “You bet darlin.”

The two of you broke into laughter.

“We’ve gotten along well for months have we not? If you give me a chance I can show you how you should be loved.” He continued, a hopeful look in his blue eyes.

“Thanks.” Your tone was a lot more calm than from earlier, “But I have my Joel waiting for me back home even if we are fighting.” You gave him a soft smile, “I’m glad that we are beginning to become friends though. I hope we can keep this friendship.”

“Me too…” He replied and you felt that was enough.

Maybe if you paid closer attention you would see something was off. The shadows in the trees or the hand tightening around a rifle.

“Let’s head out a bit further today.” Mikel suggested and you nodded your head.

“Alright.” You answered.

You should have paid more attention.

Joel entered the house with a heavy sigh and a deep ache in his chest. That did not go as he planned… He fucked up. He really fucked up and now he wasn’t sure if you would come back. It was like you were slipping through his fingers and he could do nothing to hold onto you.

“What did you do?” Ellie spoke up.

Surprised at the voice, Joel turned around to face Ellie who sat on the staircase behind him. Her boots were still untied, but it looked like she had been sitting there for a while.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Joel asked.

“Since I heard you groveling up the steps.” Ellie crossed her arms, “What did you do?”

Joel cringed at her words, “I… I fucked up.” Joel took a few steps towards her.

“I can see that, but how bad?” She pressed, “She is coming home isn’t she? She is right Miller?”

He grabbed onto the staircase railing to help him sit on the step, but it didn’t make crouching down any easier, “I don’t know…”

Ellie snorted, “You really are old.”

“Shut up.” Joel spat as he finally sat down beside her.

“What did you do?” Ellie asked again, “Why are you so worried she isn’t coming home?”

It was quiet for a few moments before Joel finally answered Ellie’s question, “I punched Mikel.”

“No!” Ellie gasped, “You didn’t!”

Joel nodded, “I did.”

Ellie knew that Joel didn’t act without reason, “What did he do?” She asked this time.

“He isn’t good for her.” Joel answered, not wanting to relay the words Mikel had said to him to Ellie. She would go chasing after the two and pummel Mikel to the ground.

Ellie wanted to lighten the mood and so she smirked, “Bet you were jealous.”

Joel glared at her from the corner of his eyes, “Was not.”

She started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It must have been hilarious, “Oh you definitely were!”

Joel only grunted at her in response not wanting to continue this conversation anymore. He wondered if maybe Tommy would have a job for him today… He could sure use the distraction.

Ellie wiped at her tears, “You know I really don’t know what she sees in you. I mean I do, but I don’t.” She explained in the nicest way she possibly could which for Ellie was being very blunt. Something that her and Joel had in common.

Ellie and her honest words have always made Joel irritated, but he knew deep down that she was right. At least about this.

It was a while before Ellie looked towards him again. She saw the sullen look on his face and watched the way his scowl seemed to deepen even more. Carefully, Ellie rested a hand on his shoulder, as delicately as she could as if she was about to startle a bear.

“You saved who you needed to save. Now it’s time to let Heather live her own life and bring mom home.” She said.

Joel sighed deeply, knowing the kid was right, “I don’t know what she sees in me either.” Joel answered her honestly. He couldn’t tell her that she would come home and why should she? He treated her horribly and now it’s hitting him in the chest. Making it tighten as if he couldn’t breathe. It was the same feeling he felt when they first arrived here. When he thought that he couldn’t protect his girls and now… Now he feels like he’s loosing the one woman he’s grown to love, “I’m going to go see Tommy about some work. I’ll be back later.”

He feels like he’s lost her for good and that truly terrifies him…

It’s been more than a couple of hours since you first es headed out on your patrol.

“How long have we been out here?” You asked as you looked up at the darkening sky.

“Not too long though we should probably head back soon…” Mikel’s voice trailed off, “Let’s just head down this bend and we’ll turn around.”

You agreed to his suggestion and the two of you continued down the snowy bend. It was a few more minutes of riding before you saw that Mikel was squinting at something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I don’t know…” Mikel stated and the two of you rode a little closer to see what it was.

You both looked at the abandoned building that was down the hill.

“What is a cabin doing out here?” You asked.

“Don’t know. No one has ever been out this far…” He muttered, “Let’s go check it out.”

Mikel’s words only prompted you to move forward as you both traveled down the snowy hill and towards the small cabin.

It looked to be old, and most likely unused as there was no smoke billowing out the chimney from this chilled weather. The two of you cleared the area first before circling the home. Mikel went around back as you entered the cabin. The opened door provided some light, but not enough to see the inside of the cabin in its entirety. It wasn’t until you pulled back the tattered curtain to the windows that you realized the place fully furnished.

You thought there wouldn’t be much to it, scraped barren from the world that had been pushed upon it, but you were wrong… And you didn’t like that you were.

You looked around carefully, not finding anything else out of the ordinary until you ventured further towards the fireplace. Even though there was no flame or smoke to the coals, they were still hot. An unwelcome chill feel over you as you quickly stood up, much more alert than you were previously.

You remained silent as you crept to the front of the house, gun now raised as you went to find Mikel. You hoped that he was still walking about outside and that whoever was here previously was long gone. You slowly stepped outside, eyes immediately locking onto the figure in front of you. You expected to see raiders, a clicker, hell a bloater would have made more sense then Mikel standing there with his own rifle directed towards you.

You didn’t lower your weapon as you asked him, “What are you doing Mikel?”

“I need you to listen to me. Please.” His request was a near plee, something that you found irking.

“I’m listening.” Your eyes darkened at him.

“I fell for you the first time I saw you all those months ago. You were like a breath of fresh air and rain. I did everything to get near you, even fixing us to go on routes together when Joel left. She said I could have anything I liked if I did what she asked. She promised me this.”

“She? What you mean she?” I muttered as I wracked my brain for an answer that could explain all of this.

“She said I could keep you.” Mikel’s grip tightened around his gun as a crazed look fell over his eyes, “I followed orders. I did everything for this moment and now. Now it’s my turn to have what I want.”

“You led me here.” You realized, “This is your cabin.” You didn’t want to listen any more to his words. The only thing on your mind was getting back to your family. Your eyes narrowed as you squeezed the trigger without hesitation, but you didn’t get the recoil that you were expecting. You tried again… Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Your anxiety picked up when you began to realize this.

“You can shoot all you like. There’s no bullets.” He stated and that was all the answer you need. That’s why he handed you the gun earlier. That’s why he was assuring you it was loaded. You should have checked. You shouldn’t have forgotten about the damn gun. You should have checked. Joel would have…

Joel.

You wished for everything in your soul that he was here with you right now. Fuck. Quickly you threw the gun to the snow and ran as fast as your legs could carry you.

Mikel sighed as he aimed his gun at you, “I was really hoping that you would see it my way.” He fired without hesitation, shooting you in the leg, “I did this all for you. For us.”

You gave a blood curling scream as you fell, staining the cold white snow in the warmth of your blood. You heard more footsteps and the sound of horses from behind you and you knew then that your home was about to be destroyed.

“Everything is prepared for your arrival.” Mikel stated, “Don’t keep Heather waiting.”

“Another successful raid.” One of the guys chuckled out, “She’s too cunning. I knew that was why John kept her around. And that girl? You gonna share?”

“This one is mine.” Mikel answered and you could hear his footsteps head towards you.

“Joel!” You screamed his name even if he couldn’t hear you, “Joel!”

Mikel straddled your waist, digging the bit of his gun into your wounded leg, “You’re still screaming his name even after everything he’s done to you? I am better than him!” He yelled as you cried out in pain, “Why can’t you see that?!”

You turned and watched over half the town population of raiders heading towards Jackson. It left a horrid feeling inside your gut as you could do nothing lie in the snow.

Your only thoughts were of Ellie and Joel.

“I’ll make you see that I’m the one for you.” He whispered in your ear.

Please survive. You must survive.

Silence fell over Joel and Ellie as Heather served them dinner. They were both lost in their own thoughts as they waited for her to come home.

“It’s getting late… Do you think something happened to her?” Ellie asked as she peered out the window the darkening sky.

“I’m not sure dear. Maybe they had to find shelter from the weather picking up?” Heather placated as she served them.

“I’ll go check with Tommy, see if she’s there.” Joel began to stand.

“But your food.” Heather pointed to his untouched plate, “You should at least eat something before you go. Don’t you think?”

“I’ll be back.” Joel reassured, “You two can eat without me.”

“I’m coming with you.” Ellie stated as she pushed her plate aside, ready to join him on his search.

Joel immediately shook his head while he was putting on his coat, “I don’t want you catching a cold out there. I’ll go find her.”

“Promise?” Ellie’s eyes showed her worry as she looked up at Joel.

“Promise.”

“Stay safe then. I’ll look after Ellie until you get back.” Heather nodded towards Joel. He returned the gesture.

“And Heather?” Joel called out.

“Yes?” Her gaze looked hopeful.

“We’ll discuss more about your move with Tris. I think your well acquainted with the lifestyle here to start building your new life on your own.” He said before heading out.

“I hope you like meatloaf.” Heather ground her teeth as she tried to remain calm from Joel’s biting words.

But she would make him see…

Not at all… Ellie thought as she looked at her plate. She cut into the meatloaf as she watch Heather serve herself. It looked off, but she warily took a bite and swallowed the unknown substance.

“Why are aren’t you eating yours?” Ellie asked as she slowly chewed her food.

“Not that hungry I suppose, but that just means more for you.” It was the way Heather’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes that made Ellie feel uneasy.

Slowly she put down her fork, feeling nauseous, “I’m not that hungry either.” She said, but she had already eaten some of the dinner, “I think im going to go lie down.” She tried to stand, but the room spun and she ended up crashing to the ground.

“Sweet dreams dear.” Was the last thing Ellie heard before falling asleep.

She would make him see that they are meant to be together.

Joel checked the barn first before heading to his brother’s house. He quickly noted that two horses were still missing from there stables. That only let Joel’s worst fear come true at realizing she wasn’t over at Tommy and Maria’s house. It made his swift walk into almost a jog as he raced over to Tommy’s.

“What do you mean she hasn’t come back yet?” Tommy asked the moment Joel barged in, letting them know what has happened.

“I don’t know. I was hoping she would be here, but her horse is still missing. I think something has happened to her.” Joel ran a hand through his hair.

“Well round up some folks and head out there on a search.” Maria insisted as she stood up.

“That sounds like a plan. I’ll get—“ Before Tommy could finish his sentence multiple gunshots could be heard through the town.

“What’s that?” Maria’s eyes widened at the loud noise.

“Whatever it is. It doesn’t sound good.” Tommy murmured as he quickly put his boots on.

Joel’s heart was racing as he tried to keep a level head, “Tommy, Ellie—“

Tommy nodded his head, “Go get her and bring her here. Maria you stay and keep an eye out for them okay? I’ll go find out what’s going on.”

“It sounds like a raid.” Maria sounded worried as the gunshots continued, now paired with yells and screams.

“That’s why I need you to stay here, arm yourself, and hide. Wait for Joel to come back with Ellie and I’ll be right behind them okay?” Tommy pressed a tender kiss to Maria’s forehead before he and Joel were out the door, armed and ready for a fight.

“I’ll head with you for a couple blocks and then break off okay?” Tommy whispered to Joel.

Joel grunted with a nod as the two blended in with the night.

It wasn’t long before Joel was silently hurrying up the steps and threw his front door. The house was dark and it seemed oddly quiet as he searched the place for any sign of Ellie. He quietly made his way upstairs and to her room where he was pushing the door open. He expected her to be awake, packing her backpack, but instead she found her unconscious and tied with duck tape on her bed. His footsteps were quick as he rushed over to her, but froze when he heard the clock of a gun.

His piercing eyes flitted over to the corner of the room where the moon shined on Heather’s face. There she stood with a gun pointedly in Ellie’s direction. She knew what she was doing. His life meant nothing to him, but Ellie… Well she was his world.

“You know I really thought you were smarter than this Joel.” Heather tsked with a sigh, “I thought this would go a lot smoother too, but you just couldn’t choose me could you?”

“What did you do to her?” Joel’s gun was facing her with no hesitance to kill if he got the wrong answer.

“Don’t worry, I only drugged little Ellie that’s all.” She tilted her head, “She’ll be fine as long as you are cooperative so why don’t you be a good boy and put down the gun.”

Joel slowly lowered to the floor as he placed his rifle down, “Why are you doing this?” Joel’s voice dropped lower as he quickly assessed the situation.

“Didn’t you hear? This town is in need of a little remodeling and I know just the group to get that done.” She smirked.

“You don’t mean…” Joel’s fist clenched at the feeling of betrayal seeping through him.

“Oh yes. Surprise! You should be happy. All of this couldn’t have happened without you.” Heather smiled.

“I didn’t.” Joel huffed defiantly.

“But you did. You helped me dethrone John. Took him out so I could be on top and it’s quite nice up here, but I don’t want to be alone. You’ve shown me just what love could feel like and I know that we could rule this town together now that your precious firefly is out of the way.”

“What did you do to her?” He growled and Heather rolled her eyes.

“You’ll never see her again, I can promise you that.” She laughed, “And you dug yourself too deep to gain her forgiveness Joel. Something you’re never going to get from her again.” She stepped towards him, “Why don’t we just have a glass of whiskey and forget about her hm?”

“What. Did. You. Do.” His tone was as harsh as the gun fire outside.

“Why do the tiny details matter? She’s gone. You’ve made it perfectly clear when you casted her aside. I saw it in your eyes Joel. You feel something for me!” She urged, “All you need to do is just give us a chance.” Heather pleaded, “You, me, and Ellie would be good together. We will be the perfect family.”

“No.” Joel’s tone held no room for consideration, “You’re not her. You’ll never be her. I don’t know what kind of delusion you have where we end up together, but it will never happen.”

“Oh fuck you.” She glared at him, “Is this really because of her?” Her hands shook with rage as she held the gun.

“She means more to me than you will ever know and if she is dead. I promise you, the infected will be the least of your worries.” He threatened.

“Really now?” She scoffed as she tried to subdue her anger, “Why don’t you worry about the girl you still have left hm? You really want me to be the villain here then fine…”

Her gaze narrowed as her gun clocked, “Dawn is coming your way and it’s about to bleed red.”

#joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro is daddy #pedrostories #joel miller angst #joel and ellie #whiskeytearsseries #whiskeytears

729 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

Secret Admirer

Steddie Week 2024, July 1: Mystery / secret relationship / One Night Alone by Vixen

wc: 2131 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

cw: negative self talk (steve), allusions to unhealthy use of drugs and alcohol (eddie), and one horny paragraph

In the first few letters, Eddie had tried to disguise his handwriting. It occurred to him after a while, though, that there would be no reason for someone like Steve Harrington to recognize it, so he stopped. And he was right, nothing happened.

Steve hasn’t figured out the secret admirer letters he kept answering were written by none other than the official Freak of Hawkins High. Hell, Steve hasn’t even worked out that he’s a he. Though a few vaguely worded sentences every now and then suggest that Steve might not be assuming she either, which is…interesting. Possibly nothing, but interesting all the same. And Eddie knows he’s probably just stringing himself along by doing this, but he’s about to repeat his senior year of high school for the third goddamn time and this is a better option than drinking or dipping into the harder stuff that Reefer Rick expects him to sell. Broken heart likely, but at least he doesn’t wake up with a headache or the shakes.

Now it’s well into summer, and the PO Box he’d had since he was sixteen (for Blueboys and other mags that would get him equally tarred and feathered if anyone finds out) gets mail every damn day.

Eddie looks down at the most recent letter, rereading it for the hundredth time with a joint in one hand, several empty beer cans littering the bedspread and floor of his room around him.

Dear Secret Admirer, Hey, I’m sorry if I came on too strong in my last couple of letters. I get why you don’t want to tell me who you are. We probably went to high school together, right? You don’t write like a middle schooler and no one who graduates sticks around in this stupid town besides me. I guess that makes me stupid means you probably knew me when I was still a douchebag. Sorry about that. I hope I never said anything to you or let Tommy push you around. Except I don’t know why you would’ve started writing to me in the first place if I had? It’s not like I would’ve written back if I was still that popular guy who everyone talked to and thought was so cool. Yeah, I admit it, I thought I was hot shit back then too! But it turns out, they only give you the spotlight as long as you don’t put a toe out of line. Don’t point out when they’re being assholes. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit some people will say when they think you already agree with them about everything. Anyway, I’m trying to be better now. Genuinely, if I’m not, if I’ve been an asshole in these letters at all, please tell me. And it’s not like I’m tired of writing to you, I just. Wouldn’t getting to talk in person be even better? Or we don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to, that’s okay! You can come by Scoops and tell me it’s you and I’ll give you a free ice cream cone or something, whatever you want. Because actions speak louder than words, right? You keep sending me all these nice letters, and I’m not the best with words so I want to give you something too. (I don’t mean that like That wasn’t a come-on, I swear. Shit, I should rewrite this again but this is already the fifth draft, it’s not getting any better than this. Sorry.) — Steve PS, I don’t know if you have been to Scoops already, but if you’ve seen my coworker’s whiteboard I swear I’m not interested just because I keep striking out. Turns out I don’t actually know how to talk to girls without being weird. It’s weird being done with high school and not have that stuff in common to talk about, and I used to be this cool guy that I’m really not anymore so I panic and all this bullshit (who am I kidding) bullshit comes out my mouth and it’s EMBARRASSING. Anyway. I really like your letters, it’s been great having someone to talk to even if it’s not really talking a face to face thing, and I’m not just saying that because I’m kind of a loser now. Anyway, have a nice day! Fuck, Robin is right, I SUCK

The first bullshit in the postscript is crossed out so hard there’s a tear in the paper. All the scribbled out bits are borderline illegible, like Steve really tried, but Eddie can still make out most of it and can guess the rest from context. The very last word, for example, is totally obscured, but he has seen the You Rule / You Suck board, so. Yeah.

It makes his heart ache, the way Steve talks about himself sometimes. The way his insecurities bleed through artlessly on the page like coffee stains. Eddie alternates between wanting to wrap him up in soft things to protect him from whatever sharpness left him so cut open, and wanting to smother him with kisses for the bravery in being so genuine with a nameless, faceless stranger.

Except Steve isn’t his. Steve is straight, for all he’s apparently being kind enough not to make assumptions, and could never want Eddie in the same way. And it’s not fair, the hanging back that Eddie’s been doing, holding out now that Steve has come to look forward to his letters just because of a little (huge, massive, life-threatening) fear of rejection.

He’s been dragging his heels so long that Steve is feeling rejected, and that just won’t do.

Sighing, Eddie takes another long drag before stubbing the remaining nub of the joint out. Scrubs his hands across his face and considers getting another beer. Or maybe forgetting the corner he’s backed himself into, with Steve wanting to meet—not only to satisfy the curiosity of knowing who his secret admirer is, but because he actually seems to like the person writing to him. (Actually wrote that they didn’t have to talk if Eddie didn’t want to, Jesus H. Christ, why did he have to be such a fucking sweetheart about that?)

It’s late, and he’s already stripped restlessly down to just his boxers for bed. He could push it all aside, push his hands down the front of his underwear and get lost in different thoughts about Steve for a while, for the trillionth time. God knows that always works to clear his head, sometimes twice if he’s ambitious about it, enough for sleep to take him.

Instead, Eddie drops the letter on his bed and hunts around on his desk for a notebook he can stand to tear a few more pages out of. Once he has what he needs, he chews on the end of his pen for several minutes before putting it to the paper.

Steve, my beloved, It has been some time since I’ve replied. My deepest apologies for that, as it seems like you’ve taken that to mean something I absolutely did not intend. I received all of your letters, and “too strong” is not how I would describe them. They were lovely, sweetheart. I have reread them many times, I have slept with them under my pillow, I have cried happy tears over them for the thought that you might actually share my affection enough to want so badly to know who I am. Very quickly, to address some of your questions and concerns: One, we did share some years in high school, yes, and I’m pleased to read that you think my writing is at a level appropriate to someone approximately our age. (I wish more of my teachers shared that view, but alas, I’m pretty sure that most of them hate me. Except for the drama teacher, who would let me get away with murder as long as I didn’t stain or break any of his props with the act.) Two, Hagan was a dick, but more to my friends than me directly, and the worst you ever did was laugh when I dropped my books a few times, that sort of thing. Water under the bridge, fuck high school, etc. etc.. Three, you have not engaged in any assholery in your writing, or in any of your actions that I’ve seen in a long time. And four… you should’ve left the double entendre (i.e. the “I want to give you something too”); I wouldn’t have minded. Obviously I think of you as prime boyfriend material—thoughtful, good sense of humor and humility, and whenever those younger kids swing by to pester you at the mall you put up a good front of being exasperated and annoyed, but through all that I can tell you care about them. (They say never trust someone who would hurt an animal, it works for kids too.) But you’re also a total smoke show, baby. The effortless way you moved around the basketball court, same as in the water when you were still on the swim team, and in those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off with this paragraph. It was a relief to write that, to be honest. I am not without my fantasies, you see; in a lot of ways, they’re all I have. The real reason I’ve been hesitant to respond to all of your heartfelt entreaties to meet, sweetheart, is that I’m afraid. I’ve been head over heels for you for so long—for your looks before anything else, I’ll admit, but the douchebag boy from high school that you mentioned is long gone. A man stands in his place, and what a man you are. In writing to you, I wanted to make clear first and foremost how ardently I admire and love you, lest my feelings be mistaken for mere tawdry teen lust. And hopefully I’ve succeeded. If so, can you see now how actions can be carved in with the words? It is the intent that shines through, and I can read in between the lines, Steve, that you are being genuinely honest with yours. All those disparaging remarks you made about yourself in your last letter, both crossed out and not, are probably you being too hard on yourself, but they speak to the fact that you both understand you’ve made mistakes in the past and are trying to pay penance for them. That, along with your fantastic hair and magnificent ass, are just a few of the reasons I remain, as always— Your Secret Admirer P.S. I don’t mind weird. Like it, even. Bring it on, big boy. P.P.S. If all I could ever have with you is one night alone, I’d take it and be grateful.

Eddie’s letter is almost twice as long as Steve’s, but whatever. That’s par for the course; he never expected Steve to be much of a wordsmith, even though the guy is clearly putting in a lot of effort. Writes drafts, apparently. Unlike Eddie, who bangs all that out in pretty much one go and merely skims it before sliding it in an envelope, sealing it in, slapping on a stamp and address, and throwing it off the bed.

Then he falls into bed and strips his dick to the thought of Steve reading the letter and thinking about his mouth, half in a hot anonymous way and half in some imaginary reality where Steve knows it’s him and wants this just as badly. Of Steve groaning out how good it feels and maybe wanting to hold him after, fall asleep together, like they’re…

The next morning (or afternoon, whatever, it’s summer vacation), Eddie reviews his slightly fuzzy memory of the letter after stepping on the envelope and realizing, oh, right. Overly verbose and dramatic, the way he always is but even more so when tipsy. And… fuck it. One horny paragraph, he decides, won’t be the end of the world. Maybe it will scare Steve off; maybe he’ll enjoy it. Let fate decide, just like at the dnd table.

Eddie shoves the envelope into the mail drop box just outside the trailer park gate on his way into town and sends a prayer out to no god in particular that he hasn’t just rolled a nat one.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

Tagging some folks who expressed interest about this story in my Wiggly Wednesday post last week, let me know if you don't want to be tagged going forward: @steviewashere @cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve

@rozzieroos @lunaraindrop @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

#steddieweek2024 #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #scoops words #secret admirer steddie

373 notes · View notes

princessfbi · 4 months

Note

bucktommy + “come here”

Bucktommy

"Come here."

No matter how many times Tommy did it, Buck didn't think he'd ever get used to the slight thrill that rushed through him when Tommy's fingers tucked under his chin and lifted his head.

He just wished it was under different circumstances. The wide worry in the cobalt blue that Buck could've sworn were one eyelash bat away from sweeping him up like a hurricane turned icy and hard in an instant. Fury rippled through Tommy's expression as his movements turned stilted and uncompromising, shifting Buck's chin further up and to the side so he could get a better view of the bruises. The same bruises he'd been hoping to put off from showing his boyfriend for as long as possible.

But after three months of going slow before becoming official, there wasn't much Buck could hide from his boyfriend these days.

It was usually something he loved. Tommy made him feel seen in a way he didn't know he wanted to be seen until one night in his kitchen during quiet confessions and a similar instance of Tommy's fingers tucked under his chin.

Tommy wasn't kissing him then though. In fact, besides the firm weight of his fingers, he looked almost... devastated. Resigned.

"He did this to you?" It was a question even if Tommy didn't say it like it was. Buck pulled away from the prop of Tommy's fingers and ducked his chin down as he cut his eyes to the floor.

"It's not a big deal." He tried to step back so the lie wouldn't land on Tommy and stain him too. But Tommy's hands, his big beautiful hands, curled over his waist and pulled him back to him.

"Evan!" Tommy's eyes flashed with something Buck couldn't quite catch but that was probably because he was still too busy being starstruck by the way Tommy said his name.

He loved how Tommy said his name. Like it mattered. Like it was important. The only other people who ever managed to handle the weight of his name without the normal strain had been Maddie and Eddie and they had witnessed to all the ways life had added more pressure to the load.

Tommy said his name like it was effortless.

Still, Tommy sounded upset and that was the last thing he wanted to do so he shook his head and met his gaze again.

"It's really nothing. I should've been watching where the hose line was."

Tommy's brow arched and Buck could see he didn't believe him. "The hose line? Seriously?"

Buck leaned into Tommy's hold and settled his hands on his chest, rubbing up and down so Tommy knew that Buck was fine. Really. He was fine.

"I clipped my face on an open compartment door. Hen checked me out. Nothing's broken. I promise that I'm fine. It's just a little bruise. It's nothing I can't handle."

Anger flared in Tommy's expression again as his jaw ticked. "You shouldn't have to."

And no, he shouldn't. Buck should have been coming home from a shift where his muscles were sore but his heart and stomach were full from another shift in the greatest job he'd ever had where Bobby was his captain and they had family dinners that didn't feel like hostage situations.

But everything would get fixed. Bobby would figure how to get back to his team and they would be waiting for him. He had to believe that.

Buck thought about pretending like he didn't see exactly what had taken root in Tommy's worry. But Tommy wasn't the only one who could see things other's couldn't.

"Baby," Buck said as he cupped his cheek. "You got out."

"He's doing this to you because of me." Tommy bit out.

"He's doing this because we aren't scared of him." Buck corrected. "None of us are."

They'd all been practically daring Gerrard to suspend them. Hen had been the first to point out how it wouldn't be so easy to get rid of them now that the chief had made a media frenzy of their crew. Gerrard may have been in charge but they didn't bend like they used to under the sharp oppression of his command. They clashed into a bruising, straining stalemate that didn't have an end date anytime soon.

But the team would hold. It's what Bobby would've wanted.

That didn't mean Gerrard didn't make their life a living hell.

Tommy frowned as he let out a long breath from his nose, his hands coming up to circle Buck's wrists so he could kiss the bolt of his palms.

"Ice," Tommy said decisively. "You need ice so I can kiss you properly."

Buck grinned despite the pain that pulsed along his cheek where he was sure the purpling bruise looked worse than it was.

Gerrard could say or do whatever he wanted to Buck. It wouldn't change the fact that, at the end of the day, Buck had Tommy to come home to and could kiss wherever he wanted. And Buck would do whatever it took to keep Tommy away from the dark cloud that was his former boss. The same boss who made him so afraid to be seen that he'd hid for years.

Buck would take a million bruises to the face before he ever let that happen.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #the ally and the beast #my fic writing #royal decree #buddie-buddie #prompt game

361 notes · View notes

megalony · 5 months

Text

What's My Name

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @shauna-carsley @dottirose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1

Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: While they're both on shift, (Y/n) starts to become disorientated and unwell. And Tommy and her dad don't know what to do when she starts having memory problems.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quiet grumble vibrated at the back of Tommy's throat and his eyes furrowed and winced in his sleeping state. The end of his nose crinkled and he frowned, confusion flooding his brain as he began to wake up.

Why was he waking up? Why did it feel like he had only just gone to sleep five seconds ago? Surely the alarm wasn't going off already?

When he blinked and tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he groaned again. The bedroom was pitch black. It was still late into the night, or possibly early in the morning. It wasn't the alarm that had woken him. After another second, Tommy realised it was his phone quietly vibrating on the dressing table which he could hear.

Tommy's nose crinkled again when he took a deep breath and started to realise how he was laid.

His right arm had gone completely numb and he soon realised that was because his arm was beneath the pillow (Y/n) was laid on. Her neck was directly on his arm and her right hand was clutching his wrist like she thought he was suddenly going to disappear in the middle of the night.

Tommy was laid on his right side with his lips and nose pressed down against the top of (Y/n)'s head. With his height, he usually tried to stay as close to the headboard as he could or else his feet would dangle over the end of the bed.

And his left arm was secured around (Y/n)'s waist beneath the cover, his fingers subconsciously digging into her waist and hip.

With a quiet groan of discontent, Tommy lifted his head from the pillow and pulled his left arm free from the covers. His bare chest pressed into (Y/n)'s back and he took the opportunity to kiss the top of her head while he stretched across and grabbed his phone from her side table where he dumped it when he got in.

He didn't bother to check the caller ID before he answered and pressed the phone to his ear, letting his head flop back into the pillow.

"Hello?" His gruff voice was thick with sleep and two octaves deeper than usual but he didn't care. He could feel sleep ebbing away at his mind until a crisp, low voice crackled through the other end of the line and sharpened his mind awake.

"Kinard, it's Robson."

Oh God, why was his Captain calling him?

When he pulled the phone away from his ear and squinted at the bright screen, Tommy all but huffed in distaste. It was four in the morning. The Captain was calling him at four in the morning. Why? What did he want?

Didn't he know that Tommy had gotten home at half eleven tonight- last night? Just over four hours ago? He had been in bed for all of four hours before being disturbed.

"Kinard?"

"Yeah… yeah, what's up?"

"I've had two people from the A shift call in sick, a chopper should have been sent downtown half an hour ago and I've got a broken train on the subway. I need a pilot and you're on call. Can you come back?"

That wasn't fair. Tommy let his annoyance be heard in the way he growled animalistically and huffed through his nose. He hadn't had nearly enough sleep to be going back on shift, especially if he was going to be there for a while. But did he actually have a choice in this? He was on call. Whether he went in right now or turned up in a few hours after some more sleep, Tommy was still going to have to go on shift.

The sooner he went in, the sooner he could come back home and come back to bed.

"You know I'm supposed to have eleven hours between full shifts, right?" The cocky tone to his voice gave away that he wasn't about to pull the law book out here.

He could, if he really wanted to. Tommy could be petty and state that in his contract, if he had just done a full twelve, or even a twenty four hour shift, he had to have eleven hours before his next shift. It could be classed as breaking the law if he didn't get enough rest between shifts and went back in how after only four hours of sleep and of being at home.

But this was the job. This was what they had to do when they were struggling for staff and it was an extra shift. Tommy could ask to have his next shift off as a swap for coming in today. Then he could recover and spend some time at home with his wife before going back to work.

"Are you gonna pull the book on me, or are you able to come in? I'll pay you double and you can head home early, I swear."

"Double, and I work today instead of my next shift."

"Deal."

When he hung up the phone, Tommy tossed it back on the side table and brought his hand up to rub at his eyes. He'd done a good negotiation there. Usually it was rather hard to make a deal with Captain Robson. He wasn't cruel or harsh by any means, but he wasn't always as easily understanding like Bobby.

He took a moment to run his hand up and down his face and try to wake himself up.

His body was crying out for sleep. He needed rest. But he had a feeling this shift might go quick. The morning shifts usually did pass by swiftly especially if they were busy. And Tommy would clearly be up in the air flying this morning and hopefully he could spend a bit of time back on the ground. Too much time up in the air with a foggy brain crying out for sleep wasn't an ideal situation.

If need be, Tommy would swap with someone on the team and take over on the truck so he could leave the chopper.

After a few seconds, he looped his arm back around (Y/n)'s waist and began to feather his fingers up and down her chest and abdomen. He pressed his chest into her back and tilted his head down until his nose and mouth were pressed into the crook of her neck.

It took him by surprise just how warm (Y/n)'s skin felt against his touch. He could feel a layer of sweat coating her skin and she was radiating heat like a house in winter.

He pressed a soft kiss against the base of her neck before slowly working his way up, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake up until his lips reached the tip of her jaw. He peppered his way down her jaw and leaned over so he could peck her cheek. The touch made (Y/n) shiver, but she stayed mostly burrowed down with her face burrowed into the pillow and her hand still gripping his right wrist.

"Honey," His voice was still laced with sleep, but it was much smoother now. He let his teeth graze against her jaw while his palm pressed down against her stomach to try and wake her. "I gotta go back into work now."

Moving his hand up, Tommy let go of her waist and gently curled his hand around (Y/n)'s wrist that was clinging to his hand. He uncurled her fingers from his wrist and pulled her arm up so he could kiss the back of her hand. His touch seemed to stirr her this time. He felt her shuffle back into him and her head tilted in his direction, lifting from the pillow. But she didn't bother to open her eyes.

"Home… going home,"

Her words made Tommy frown. He couldn't be sure what she muttered afterwards, but those words were enough to make him smile and wonder what kind of dream she was having. He pecked her cheek and entwined their fingers, holding her hand against his bare shoulder while (Y/n) nudged her head back until she pushed her temple against his shoulder.

"No, no baby we're home now. You with me?" He waited a few seconds until (Y/n) finally seemed to wake up and listen to what he was saying.

When she didn't answer, Tommy leaned over with his chest pressed back down against her shoulders and he stole a kiss. The touch shocked her awake a little more and he felt the surprise in the way she gasped before her lips began to move against his own and her tongue darted across his lips.

"Babe…" Her voice was nothing more than a quiet pant against his lips and it made Tommy hate himself for agreeing to this.

He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay right here with her, where he belonged. But if he went now, he would be gaining a full day off with her the day after tomorrow- which was technically today since it was now morning. He knew (Y/n) would be on shift today and then tomorrow she would be off and now they could spend the day together.

"I gotta go back to work honey, you gonna be okay if I go?" The thought of leaving didn't exactly sit well in Tommy's gut when he looked down at his wife.

(Y/n) had been off work three days ago with a cold and although she promised Tommy on the phone this afternoon that she had felt better today, he wasn't inclined to agree. And now he could feel her starting to sweat, despite the cold air circulating through their bedroom, he wondered if she was starting to feel unwell again.

If she didn't want him to go he would ring Robson back and try to bargain to go in later this morning if he could. He would go in the same time as (Y/n) went for her shift, if she was well enough. So he could make sure she was alright and actually going to make it through her shift.

"Hm." She nodded and pulled her hand free from his so she could run her fingers across his cheek and steal another tired, sloppy kiss from him.

He knew if she didn't feel well enough she would call in sick. When they first started dating, (Y/n) had a hard time admitting when she was unwell and tried to keep going on shift even if she felt rough or could barely keep her eyes open. Now though, she was more easy-going on herself and understood it was okay to take a break when needed.

And she would be on shift with her dad. Tommy knew his father in law would keep an eye on (Y/n). Bobby would make sure she was okay and send her home if he thought she was too unwell to carry on with her shift.

"Alright then, I'll call you when I'm coming off shift."

(Y/n) grumbled quietly when Tommy's warmth suddenly disappeared from behind her. She no longer felt like she had a full length hot water bottle pressed up against her. There wasn't a secure arm around her waist or a face tucked lovingly into the crook of her neck.

She felt cold and alone and suddenly unsafe without Tommy wrapped around her, engulfing her in his large frame.

She could hear him shuffling around the room, getting dressed in the dark so he didn't have to put the light on and disturb (Y/n). Once he was dressed, (Y/n) suddenly felt his fingers beneath her chin and he tilted her head back into the pillow so her face was aimed up towards his.

"See you soon honey. Love you." His lips glued to (Y/n)'s and stole the little air left in her lungs while his thumb caressed her chin like he was drawing patterns on her skin. When he pulled back, (Y/n) lifted her head, trying to follow his lips and move with him until he pecked her temple and nudged her back into the bed. She needed to get some more sleep.

"Love you." She murmured softly, feeling a dull ache in her chest when his chuckle subsided and his footsteps started to become distant as he left the room.

***

Tilting her head from left to right, (Y/n) tried to get her eyes into focus and take note of her surroundings.

Everything was blurred. She was seeing double.

Nothing seemed to make sense in her mind and everything was spinning.

Her body slumped back until her shoulders and the back of her head bashed into something cold. She let her weight drop back and allowed her body to slide down until she was crouched down on the floor.

She was leaning against a fire truck. Why was there a fire truck here? Where was she? What kind of emergency situation was she caught up in to be near a fire truck? Was she hurt?

(Y/n) moved her hands and held them out in front of her. Both hands were shaking and she could see the veins popping up on her hands beneath her skin. She was burning up. Sweat was glistening on every part of her exposed skin and she could feel it making her shirt stick to her frame. Her body was overheating. Her hair was sticking to her temple and beads of sweat rolled down the side of her neck.

Her lungs burned as she tried to take deep breaths and work out what she was doing and where she was, but nothing was making sense.

You're supposed to help people.

A small, nagging voice in the back of her head tried to make sense of this, but it wasn't working. How was she supposed to help people? What was she supposed to do?

Her trembling hands moved up to cup her ears, drowning out the noises she could hear while her eyes fell closed. Ignoring the flashing lights making her temple throb and the bright midday sun that was beaming down on her like a spotlight.

She wanted to go home. Where was home? Was home near here? Home was with her dad. Where was he? Where was Bobby?

Her hands left her ears and a shudder jolted through her entire body when something on the truck slammed shut. Whether it was a hatch or a door or just someone retrieving something, (Y/n) wasn't sure. But the shockwave that rattled through the metal truck made her head pound and had her body coiling forwards.

She moved to press her hands down on the floor and slowly push herself to her feet, whimpering at how uneasy she felt when she was on her feet and how unbalanced she was. Whichever way her head wanted to lean, the rest of her body slowly started to follow until she was swaying left and right as she tried to walk forwards.

But she didn't know where she was going.

"Hey Bobby, where'd you want me?"

The tiredest smile Bobby had ever seen flooded his son-in-law's face and he watched Tommy hold his arms out at his sides while he took a look around the scene. He walked away from the truck he had just been driving and headed over towards Bobby who was sending his team this way and that to try and make sure every car on this bridge was evacuated.

At least six cars had piled up in a crash and they needed to evacuate them all and assess who needed urgent medical attention, who could walk away from this and who needed transport to hospital.

For a moment, Bobby looked at the younger man in front of him and looked around. They hadn't asked dispatch for air support. They had asked for another team and at least three ambulances, but no one was in dire need of being air-lifted to hospital.

But it clicked when he finally realised that Tommy was in the matching uniform. Dark blue shirt, thick black overalls and a black and florescent yellow jacket. He was here on ground support today. He was here as a firefighter, not a pilot.

And since this was Bobby's callout since his team got here first, Tommy's team would be taking their lead from him.

"Hey… weren't you on shift last night?" Bobby reached over to clap one hand on Tommy's shoulder before he looked around the scene again.

"I'm on call this week."

"Ah. Well, in that case, there's three cars over there who haven't been evacuated yet. Find (Y/n) and take her with you, I need everyone off this bridge."

"Copy that."

Tommy could feel the tiredness washing over him like waves lapping at the sand. But his mind started to vibrate and liven up at the thought of finding his wife. He hadn't seen her at all yesterday from being on shift and they only exchanged small talk last night when he came home and climbed into bed.

He wanted to see her and talk to her and ask if she was feeling any better. And maybe steal a kiss or two if he could.

His eyes darted around the scene as he looked for that familiar style of hair or the matching jacket that had his last name stitched across the back.

It didn't take long for his eyes to land on that all too familiar frame he had memorised down to every last mark, scar and mole on her skin. But as his eyes drank in the sight of his wife, Tommy couldn't help but furrow his brows and tilt his head to one side.

She wasn't walking properly.

For a moment, he thought she might have sprained her ankle or done something to her knee with the way she was walking. But after a few steps, he realised she wasn't actually walking like she was in pain. She was walking like she couldn't seem to hold herself upright.

Her body was leaning forwards while she had one arm locked around her waist and her other hand deadlocked at the back of her neck, scratching into her skin.

He watched the way her eyes danced across him before she went back to scouring the scene like she was looking for something in particular.

Tommy took a deep breath and picked up the pace to meet (Y/n) halfway. He stopped in front of her and reached his hands out to gently hold onto her upper arms and stop her in her tracks. His thumbs brushed up and down her arms over her jacket and he leaned his chest back and tilted his head down until his pointed chin was pressing down into his chest so he could look down at her.

"Honey, you okay?" He tried to smile but (Y/n) wasn't looking at him properly. She was constantly darting her eyes from left to right, briefly looking up at Tommy before she went back to scanning their surroundings like she didn't know or understand what was happening.

He watched curiously as (Y/n) reached her arms out and held onto Tommy's arms just below his elbows and her grip was so tight he could feel her nails digging into his jacket.

She was sweating. And shaking. And she was swaying back and forth like she didn't know how to hold her own balance.

Tommy let his hands glide up her arms to her shoulders and he carefully pushed her jacket off her shoulders. He slid the thick material down her arms and let it fall into a puddle on the floor, curving around the back of (Y/n)'s boots. He could see from how badly she was sweating and her shallow breathing that she was running a temperature and in this heat, she didn't need an extra layer to make it worse.

He pressed the back of his hand against her temple which seemed to bring her back to reality while his right hand curved around the back of her arm. Keeping her stood as close to him as possible and holding her up so she didn't wobble or take a tumble.

"(Y/n), are you with me?" His hand left her temple and moved to cup her chin so he could tilt her head up to interlock their gazes.

"You… you know my name?"

"What?"

Was she trying to joke with him? Was this another way of teasing him because he rarely ever said her name anymore. Tommy had so many pet names for her that he couldn't remember the last time he'd called (Y/n) by her name.

And both their teams knew this too. It was something Evan liked to tease him about while Bobby thought it was endearing since he himself wasn't used to calling Athena anything but her name or the occasional 'honey'.

Tommy let out a small chuckle and rolled his eyes while his head dropped down at an angle. And his thumb began to glide up and down (Y/n)'s chin, moving dangerously close to her lips every now and then.

"I think I know my own wife's name by now, don't you?"

The way (Y/n) latched her hands around Tommy's arms again made him stand up straighter and tense his arms beneath her touch. She was beginning to shake worse and when he realised she had tears trickling down her face, panic surged through his heart that started to hammer away against his ribs.

Tightening his hands around her arms, he tried to force himself to smile to try and keep her calm because he could see she was starting to panic.

He nudged her back until she was taking a few steps backwards, letting him guide her towards the concrete wall separating the two sides of the dual carriageway on the bridge. He nudged (Y/n) back until she took the hint and slumped down onto the concrete wall with a thud. Her knees trembled and her body leaned forward while Tommy crouched down in front of her legs.

"You don't look well, honey what's the matter? Talk to me." His hands left her arms to begin smoothing up and down her thighs instead.

He noticed how she didn't pull away or push his touch away, but the way she was looking at him made him feel uneasy.

Whenever (Y/n) was ill, she could cling to Tommy. Whether that be to get him to wrap her up in a hug or to cling to him for comfort or just rest her head on his shoulder for some form of touch. She would always wrap herself around Tommy and it was something he loved about her.

But she wasn't clinging to him right now. She was barely responding to him at all and it was frightening.

"Talk to me," He coaxed again, his tone gentler and quieter this time, letting her know his focus was solely fixed upon her.

"I… I don't… where am I? I don't wanna b-be here…"

"You're on shift honey, see?" Tommy reached out and feathered his fingers across the LAFD logo on the left side of her shirt before he pointed at the fire truck behind him.

What was going on right now? Why was (Y/n) confused about where she was or what she was supposed to be doing? Where on Earth did she think she was? What did she think was going on to make her this frightened and reverting back into her shell?

"You're important… someone important… I-" The shaking started to increase throughout (Y/n)'s body until she was trembling back and forth on the wall as f she was about to fall down onto Tommy's lap.

Tears jumped free from her lashes and fell down the bridge of her nose, making glistening tracks in their wake as she started to sniff and gasp for each breath.

The way Tommy pushed up on his heels and brushed the tears away made (Y/n)'s heart stutter. She reached out to cup his wrist and kept hold of him, but the fear in her eyes made Tommy want to burst into tears too.

"What's my name?" Utter panic dwelled in Tommy's voice that dropped down an octave as he stared at his wife. "Honey, what's my name?"

She shook her head.

She couldn't answer him because she didn't know the answer.

But despite not knowing his name and not placing who he was, her grip stayed paramount around Tommy's wrist, refraining him from pulling away from her. She was clinging to him even though she didn't know who he was. She was staring at him with such fear and confusion in her eyes that it made Tommy want to be sick.

There was nothing he could do. What was he supposed to do? How could be rectify this and make her remember him and understand what was going on?

"Bobby, I need some help over here."

Tommy moved one hand and waved out until he finally caught the Captain's attention and waved him over. All while his other hand stayed cradling the side of (Y/n)'s face since she was clinging to him.

There was something familiar about him. Although (Y/n) couldn't think of his name or place why she knew the person knelt down in front of her, she knew there was just something about him that was recognisable.

He was important. He was special, but she didn't know why. It was like there was a dream lingering in the back of her mind, telling her that she knew him from somewhere. His face, chiselled and handsome, was memorable and familiar but all the answers were locked up in a safe, hidden away in the depths of her mind that she couldn't delve into.

The more (Y/n) tried to think, the worse she began to feel. The more she tried to think why she was here, why she was dressed so similar to the man in front of her, why she was at some sort of crash sight. Why she was so groggy and burning and on fire and feeling sick. The more her head started to ache.

A sharp pain was igniting in the base of her skull and firing down her neck like bullets travelling the expanse of her spine.

She wanted to be sick. She wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. She wanted to go home. Where was home? Why wasn't she back in Minnesota? This wasn't her home town, she knew that for certain.

Wherever she was, this was unfamiliar.

"Dad!" As soon as her eyes found her dad rushing towards her, relief sparked so hard in her blood that (Y/n) couldn't feel her hands anymore.

Her body bolted up from the wall so fast she stumbled into the man kneeling in front of her legs.

She felt his hands grapple to hold onto her hips, preventing her from falling onto his chest and keeping her up on her own two feet. Once she was steady again, (Y/n) pushed forward and reached her trembling arms out for her dad.

It was such a relief to have Bobby pull her into his chest that her vision suddenly went white and her mind started to blank and turn to mush. Static fizzled and popped in her ears and her body swayed forward into her dad's arms until he braced his hands on her hips and held her upright.

"Sweetheart what's the matter?" Bobby moved his hand to run up and down her back while he glanced over at Tommy for some sort of explanation.

"I wanna go home."

"She's delirious and feverish… Bobby, she doesn't recognise me or where she is." Tommy's hand reached out as if to rest on (Y/n)'s shoulder but he pulled back, thinking better of touching her if she had no idea who he was. "We need to get her down to the hospital, now."

Tommy swallowed dryly and felt his throat threatening to close up as he looked from Bobby, down to his wife, and back again.

She didn't remember him. She didn't know who he was or where she was or what was going on. The only person she was sure about was her dad. They needed to get her checked out. This had to be more than a simple cold or a fever for (Y/n) to be this confused and frightened and experiencing memory problems.

(Y/n) tucked her face into Bobby's chest and bound her arms tighter around his torso until she was almost cutting off his breathing.

He kept his left arm bound around her middle, holding her weight up for her against his chest while his right hand moved to cradle her face. He tilted her head back so she was looking up at him, and he realised how flushed her skin was and how she was burning up against him.

"Sweetheart… do you know where you are?"

"Home, wanna go home." She muttered breathlessly into his shirt, smothering her face into his chest again so she didn't have to squint in the bright sunlight or focus on anything in particular.

"Okay, let's go get you to a doctor first, hm?" Bobby leaned down to kiss the top of her head while his hand continued to smooth up and down her back.

He didn't want to pester her with questions, not when he could feel her crying quietly into his shirt. Asking questions she couldn't find the answers to was only going to distress her even more and she didn't need that right now.

He leaned his cheek on top of her head, locking eyes with Tommy while he held his radio.

"Hen, I need the ambulance prepped and ready to go… (Y/n) needs an assessment and a trip to the hospital."

They heard a bundle of responses, Hen agreeing with them, Chimney asking if he needed to call Tommy. Evan and Eddie asking what was going on and if she had got trapped or hurt out on the call.

But Bobby didn't answer any of them. He looped his arm around (Y/n)'s waist rather than her back and started to guide her away from the wall and towards the ambulance parked just behind the truck on the hard shoulder. His other arm looped around her chest and his hand began to glide up and down her back to try and keep her calm.

He could feel Tommy close on his left side, keeping (Y/n) held between them while Tommy dared to rest a hand on her shoulder. Relieved when she didn't pull away or flinch or scream at him to let go.

But as the three of them made a slow walk towards the ambulance, Tommy suddenly stopped and jerked his arms out in front of him when (Y/n) started to fall.

Her feet bent awkwardly beneath her and her body tilted to the left, bumping into Tommy's shoulder before she flagged in Bobby's arms and her mind shut down.

Both of them grabbed hold of her, stopping her from hitting the floor with a bang as she went completely limp.

Bending his knees, Tommy curved round so he was in front of (Y/n) and let her head flop onto his shoulder. He curved an arm behind her legs and one around her waist and as quickly as he could, he shifted her round and lifted her up bridal style. Her face stayed pressed against his shoulder while Bobby held her hand and placed her arm across her chest so it didn't hang down at her side.

"We need to go." Tommy watched his father in law break off into a sprint towards Hen to get the gurney from her. His panic a silent agreement that they had to go now and they had to move quickly.

Tommy's eyes darted ahead and then back down to his wife, limp, sweating and trembling in his arms like they were in the arctic instead of under the burning LA sun.

What was happening to her? And why didn't she remember him?

***

"Hey sweetheart, how you feeling?" Bobby let his gaze linger on (Y/n)'s hand that he had been holding for the last hour or so.

He slowly moved her hand so he could kiss the back of her knuckles and run his other hand up and down her arm. He smiled softly across at her, watching the way (Y/n) dragged her free hand to shakily brush across her eyes and nose and wake herself up a little more.

She pushed herself up and took a look around.

She was in a bed. She was in a hospital room, wearing a hospital gown. There was an IV taped into the back of her left hand and monitoring stickers that she realised now felt itchy and uncomfortable over her chest. And she could feel the wires rubbing against the gown and tickling over her arm.

"Cold," (Y/n) murmured as goosebumps started to prickle on her skin when she realised she was actually cold.

She watched the way her dad hung his head down and smiled while he moved their entwined hands to rest down on the bed next to her thigh.

"You were burning up so they turned the A/C on full and put a fan on, you're almost back to normal temperature now though."

It made (Y/n) feel like one of the desserts her dad made for the parties they were always throwing. Like she was starting to melt or become overcooked and needed to go in the fridge before she turned to mush.

But she felt like she was at a normal temperature now because she could register that the room was freezing cold and she was at the point of shivering.

"Alright sweetheart, can you tell me what day it is, or the last thing that you remember?" Bobby let go of her hand to smooth his palms up and down his jeans. He could feel the worry ebbing away in his chest and eating out his heart that was hammering three times as fast against his ribs.

He wasn't sure he was prepared for what answers she might give him. They didn't know if she had been suffering memory loss or if she had just been extremely confused. And they didn't know what time zone (Y/n) thought she was in since she couldn't remember who Tommy was, and she had been with him for the last five years.

It was almost frightening for Bobby to wonder what time (Y/n) thought she was in and what she might or might not remember.

When her dad let go of her hand, (Y/n) suddenly felt even colder and lonesome. She ran her fingers up and down the creases in the thin sheet that was draped across her legs and pulled up to her waist. But when she lifted her gaze, her head tilted to one side and her lips parted.

Something soft swirled in her deep eyes and her lips quirked into a smile as she reached a hand out across the room.

"Tommy…"

She hadn't realised he was in the room with them until now. Her gaze locked on her husband, stood as close to the door as he could get like he thought he might need to make a quick exit anytime soon.

He was stood with one leg crossed over the other and his body slanted at an angle while his left shoulder was pressed against the wall. He was facing the door with his head tilted down so his cleft chin was tucked against his chest. And he had his arms folded over his chest, showing off the way his muscles in his biceps tensed and how his work shirt looked a size too small for him.

But when his name passed through her lips, Tommy's head snapped to the right.

His blue eyes went wide until his pupils almost took over the whole expanse of his eyes and his lips parted, but he couldn't find anything to say.

She recognised him. She'd said his name. She knew who he was.

He pushed his frame off the wall and bolted across the room until he could collapse down on the side of the bed next to her thigh. His hands reached out for hers but her hand was already out, cupping the side of his face before he could grab her.

His fingers glided up and down her arm, ghosting over her pulse point as if to make sure she was actually speaking to him and this wasn't just some kind of wishful dream.

"You know my name." He muttered in disbelief before he turned his head to the right and pressed his lips against her wrist, kissing over her pulse. He leaned his cheek into her touch, wanting to melt on the spot when her fingers cupped his cheek and the underside of his jaw and he felt her thumb going across his cheekbone.

"It'd be a bit embarrassing if I didn't… I married you, didn't I?" Her voice was quiet and crackling from how dry her throat felt, but her words were like the softest string quartet Tommy had ever heard.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

He could of just sat there in awe of his wife and beg her to say his name over and over and over until it was the only thing he could understand and be sure of. But Tommy wanted to make sure she didn't have any gaps in her memory and that she hadn't time-skipped but still forgotten some of her memories.

"I… I was home, getting ready for work… you'd gone really early, but I- I don't remember going to work, or coming here." She could picture herself getting dressed at home. She could see herself looking at the bed with disappointment that she had woken up alone because Tommy had been called away so early.

She had barely gotten to hug and snuggle with him before he was gone again like a vague dream she could barely recall.

The relief in Tommy's eyes told (Y/n) that what she remembered was recent and she could tell he was overjoyed.

Had she really forgotten who he was? What had she said or done to him to make him worry she wouldn't remember him when she woke up? Oh God, what had she done to him?

Tears welled up in her eyes and she could barely register her dad kissing her temple, muttering that he was going to go and get Athena and bring her up before he left the room.

As soon as the door closed, (Y/n) brushed her thumb across Tommy's cheek and bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying. She felt her spine clicking into place as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his temple. The touch almost made him jump, but the way he leaned his head back and stared up at her with those big doe eyes made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter with adrenaline.

"Baby did I, did I really forget your name… forget you?"

"Only for a moment. You knew I was someone important." The soft, intoxicating smile on his lips made (Y/n) want to smile, but all she could do was take short, puffed breaths.

"Why?"

"You got a viral infection, encephalitis. But we caught it in time, you're gonna be just fine now. And you remember us all and who you are, so no more tears, okay?"

Tommy kissed over her pulse point again before he leaned forward and moved his hands to cradle her face.

He pulled her in for a kiss, tasting the salt tears over her lips and feeling them trace onto his face when she couldn't seem to stop them. He stole the little air left in her lungs and grazed his teeth along her lip while their noses brushed together and he couldn't help but smile against her lips.

"As long as you remember me, honey, it's all good."

#911 imagine #imagine #bobby nash #tommy x reader #tommy kinard #tommy kinard imagine #tommy kinard 911 #tommy kinard x reader

307 notes · View notes

peppermintquartz · 3 months

Text

The second time Tommy meets Philip and Margaret is not under the best of circumstances.

Maddie is wrecked with worry, Jee is confused about why her daddy can't sleep at home and why her Uncle Buck isn't here, and Tommy himself is approximately three broken Kit-Kat bars from completely snapping.

So when the Buckley parents show up at the hospital, Tommy is not in the best of moods.

"Why are you here?" Margaret says when she sees him, instead of asking "How's my son?"

"Because I'm waiting for the outcome of the surgery," Tommy says, pretty curtly, but after fourteen hours following a full shift he is about to keel over. He's seated right now, having no further energy to pace, with his elbows on his knees, his head aching from the fluorescent lights and endless activity all around him, and his heart steeled against the worst possible outcome. "I mean, it's certainly not for the ambience."

"Maddie called and told us that Howard and Evan were in the building when it collapsed," Philip says before Margaret can react to the sarcasm. "We wanted to be here for Maddie."

"For Maddie, of course it's for her," Tommy says, and he is so beyond sick with worry that he can't force aside the irritation nor hide it with civility. "She's gone home with Jee-yun. I promised to keep her updated. If you're looking for her, I suggest doing so tomorrow morning when she's had hopefully at least an hour of sleep."

Margaret glances at the light above the operating theater doors and wrings her hands. "How long has it been? I can't bear this."

Tommy doesn't even look at his watch anymore. "Fourteen hours, thereabouts. Howie's just come out two hours ago."

A whole building. A three-storey building. Howie was on the top floor, so he was freed from the rubble first. Evan was on the ground floor. The 217 and the 124 had been on the scene, Tommy flying five casualties from the wreck directly to hospital, one of whom was his friend. All the while he had to internally battle the screaming need to claw apart the debris, with his bare hands if necessary, to get his Evan out of there.

Philip hugs Margaret. "He'll survive. He's always done so, since he was a kid. You know how it is with him. Scrapes and cuts and falls. He'll come out of this without trouble."

"I can't bear waiting here," Margaret whispers again. "You know I don't like..." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

"I know, I know it feels like it's Daniel inside, but it isn't."

And Tommy loses it.

Logically, he knows that Philip is merely trying to reassure his wife. Logically, he knows that they are trying; the mere fact that they are in hospital to check on Evan and Howie is a statement that they are trying.

Every other part of Tommy, however, explodes with incandescent rage.

"Daniel? Daniel?! Evan's in there, fighting for his life, and you can't even focus on that?" he spits out. "The only reason why I am even talking to you is because you made Evan. You brought him to this world. And you don't deserve him. Every day I see how much he loves, how openly and how bravely he loves, and to know that you both treated him the way you did... And now you come here, to the hospital, and you talk about being here for Maddie and, and thinking about Daniel, instead of your son who could've died today!"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tommy realizes that he's on his feet, his fists clenched, towering over two older persons who are shrinking away from his six foot two frame. Suddenly drained, Tommy licks his dry lips.

"Go see Howie," he says in a low voice. "You probably can't go in yet, but find out what you can to tell Maddie."

Philip clears his throat. "You'll let us know when Evan is out?"

"I'll call Maddie." Tommy sits again and stares at the wall opposite. Green. Dull, lifeless, bland hospital green. He hears the Buckleys walk away. "Philip, wait."

"Yes?"

"Sorry about the outburst. Also, you're supposed to call him Buck. Remember that."

Philip sighs again. "Of course. We'll see you later, when Ev- Buck is out of surgery."

#bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #i wanted some parent-related angst so #madney #mentions of chimney and maddie and jee #protective and bitchy tommy my beloved #yes buck would tell tommy about daniel obv why wouldn't he

310 notes · View notes

dreamsinmoonlight · 4 months

Note

Dude, you could do a fic where the reader goes looking for Yandere Alastor at the end of the battle with Adam (where is he mad? Insane?... You know in the last ep)... The reader was worried about Alastor, but found him At the worst moment, maybe Alastor will collapse and go crazy... Maybe because he saw that the reader is also hurt? Or there is a revelation for him where he discovers that he is in love with the reader...

It's up to you, I just want to see a fanfic about it!!

(Here we go, I was thinking a lot about this one because honestly I love me a good old fashion insanity moment because of invocation of the "berserk button is hurting that person" trope. Mmmmm~

Modifying it a little just because I lean into the going insane because someone you care about is hurt (also I have another ask involving finding Alastor after the battle). So instead of being when he gets to the radio tower...

How about we rewind and let it be, oh, during the battle? Hehehe~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, reader, Adam

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Genre:

Summary: The fight is raging but all you can think about is one very dangerous deer....)

Reckless Abandon

Hazbin Hotel was not falling without a fight, not if the residents and their friends had anything to say about it.

There were exterminators everywhere, angels everywhere and anywhere you looked. It felt, to you, as if the sky itself was falling, was being torn asunder, and though you knew that there was a shield, a barrier you believed in more than you believed in anything else, still something in the depths of your gut couldn't help but worry.

Someone screamed your name and you narrowly avoided a sword coming at you from the side, the mad flickering face of the angel who had tried to kill you so close you could almost make out each pixel in the mask they wore. By instinct you struck out and punched them, though some part of your brain understood it would likely do little; still they didn't seem to expect it from you and it connected, throwing them for a loop and to the ground for a moment.

"Good job toots!" Angel called out with one of those friendly grins of his that you could never help but return; he leveled his tommy guns and continued to shoot away, trying to bring down as many of the flying monsters as he could.

"Thanks Angel!" you called back and looked around; Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious, even Nifty was running around stabbing admittedly already downed angels. But everyone was doing their best, fighting and honestly there seemed almost to be a chance, a small possibility, they could survive this. You could survive this.

You never meant to die and come to Hell, but no one ever did. Still in the years you'd been there you'd only ever felt actually happy at the hotel; Charlie was such a good kind person and Vaggie's devotion to her was heartwarming. It was never boring, never uneventful, and never anything less than a trip from the very day you came to their door, looking for a place to stay to get away from the far worse denizens than yourself. And somewhere deep down you'd admit, only to yourself, that what made you feel the happiest was the presence of one demon in particular.

You glanced up as you thought about him and almost immediately wished you hadn't. That shield that you believed so in, you saw with your own eyes it crack, you saw it break, and you saw the figure of the scariest of them all: Adam. He'd broken it down, he'd broken...

"Alastor's shield," you whispered, as the others saw it too, as it dawned on them what happened.

He was supposed to be able to keep it up, give them enough time to thin the herd more. No one expected Adam to be so powerful to be able to break something created by the Radio Demon, the Radio Demon. Alastor stood up to Lucifer, to the Vs, to other Overlords, he was the monster in the dark, the grinning Cheshire Deer Cat of Terror, and Adam had punched one of his barriers into nothingness as easily as he could have been punching a marshmallow.

That feeling of worry returned and it tasted of blood. You licked your lips and looked around. The others were worried too but all recovered, getting back to work, not letting this stop them. You tried to do the same, to remember the plan: if the shield went down then Alastor would take out Adam, keep him out of the fight largely so you all could handle the exterminator angels better. He was the most powerful of you, the most dangerous, the most vicious, he could handle this, he could do this, he...

He....

You looked towards the roof of the hotel, towards where you knew that cannibal Overlord was, where Adam had touched down and was now fighting him.

He was....he was too important. To you at least. You ripped a sword from a dead angel nearby and used it to cut through any other that got between you and the entryway to the hotel. You knew you were being stupid and reckless and silly because this was Alastor you were thinking about after all. But still, still, that bloody taste of worry had you and you couldn't get it to go away no matter how much you swallowed.

By the time you reached the roof things had reached a major head. Tentacles, shadows, a split second in which maybe, just maybe this would go better than the dread inside you predicted. But that colossal angelic asshole known as the First Man just had to be a dick and you stepped out in time to see him attack Alastor, breaking his staff and the confusion that filled you was matched by the unfiltered sound of the Radio Demon's voice. "What just happened?....Fuck."

"Alastor!" you called out and moved to try to get over to him.

What could you do? You were just a sinner, another of the souls trapped in Hell, prey to the angels, prey to the Overlords, prey to everyone. You weren't anything special, anything important, just another person who failed to be good in their mortal life and ended up down here instead. This was the greatest demon you knew and the most dangerous angel you knew of, and you, you were nothing.

But seeing Adam slash at Alastor, the Radio Demon go flying, be hurt, you narrowed your eyes and gripping tight the angel blade you'd stolen, you snarled with an intensity you weren't used to, an aggression you didn't know from within you. He stepped closer to Alastor, smirking, gloating, and not paying any mind as you came at him from the side, moving swift and deadly.

The blade dug in deep and the blood came a golden hue that should have beautiful if not coming from him. The grunt that came from Adam was less pain and more annoyance and he looked down at you like he might an ant. "What the hell bitch, you really want to fucking die first? Cuz I can totally do that for you."

For someone so big he moved quick. And his hand gripped around your throat tight, cutting off air and circulation very quick. Sinners shouldn't need to breathe, that was stupid, but you knew this sensation, you knew the feeling of choking and as he lifted you off your feet you struggled, let go of the sword to claw at his hands, to try to free yourself. His mask showed no more mercy than his troops did, the cruelty and sadism of beings who didn't even deign to show their faces when they came down to kill you; you reached out, wanting to at least see if you remove it, maybe scratch out his dumb eyes before he kills you. Give Alastor the time to get something done, to recover. At least you'd stopped this monster from hurting him.

Blood rushing through your ears as consciousness started to wane, you could have almost sworn you heard a chuckle, dark and familiar even without it's filter. Good. He was okay....

Adam was seconds from snapping your neck when a shadow tentacle lurched out and pierced his arm, forcing him to drop you. Already out like a light you fell limply but were caught by Alastor's own shadow that carefully held you in it's arms before returning to his side. The Radio Demon chuckled still, through the blood, through the pain, through the madness threatening to come forth as his form started to twist and deform, taking on his more demonic state.

"Have to disagree with you there," he hissed and smiled, feeling the changes, feeling the crawling of the Winter under his skin, the creature hungry, always hungry, and the chain that held him in place; the shadow moved to cover both of you as he continued, "Radio's not dead, but it is ending this broadcast."

Adam laughed through his own pain as the two of you were teleported away to safety and Alastor groaned as you reappeared elsewhere, hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying to hold back the madness, the insanity, the Winter. His eyes slipped towards you in the process.

You should have not been up there, you were supposed to be out on the battlefield with all the others, with the fodder and the ones that mattered. You were a fool and an useless pawn, barely entertainment; you were not a monster, you were barely a sinner. You showed up at the hotel looking for sanctuary; you got along with them all and he found your presence....

Not unlikeable. Because you seemed to like him, knowing what he was, knowing who he was. You never treated him as anything less than a terror among demons but it didn't escape his attention how you perked up when he turned his usual gentlemanly facade towards him, as if he could ever be anything but to one of the fairer gender. But you never seemed like the type to try to face Adam knowing it could only be your death and the image of you moving at the much larger angel, sword in your hands, and your expression, it was burned in his chest.

You were not supposed to be there and you were not supposed to anything but something to throw at the angels to distract them, in hopes that Charlie would survive another fight. But the way you called out his name and the way your smile would shine when you looked at him, when he'd pet your head, when he'd tease and torment the other hotel residents, when he made all sorts of silly comments and puns. You, this stupid little sinner who didn't even really belong because what redemption was there for someone who wasn't even really a bad guy? What was your sin?

Alastor realized he didn't even know that one. It never mattered. You never mattered. But now you did.

The realization made his skin crawl more and he started towards the hotel again, arriving back after the battle, to his tower destroyed, to the rubble and debris and his own mind screaming.

He was a monster and he nearly died. He, the great Radio Demon, almost destroyed. For saving his friends. His friends. And then there was you and his mind raced more. No this could not be, no this would not be. The Winter and hunger under his skin crawled more and approaching his equipment he dug sharp claws into the metal, leaving gashes in his wake.

No.

Not him.

But yes. And there you were, still asleep, still hurt; he turned to look at you and saw the bruises on your neck and thought of you clawing at Adam, ready to go down fighting. There because of....

Him.

An emotion he didn't recognize crawled up alongside the hunger and he tilted his head before reaching out with those sharp cruel claws to draw them, all too gently, along your cheek. His smile twitched, his eyes narrowed.

" 'Altruistist Alastor, died for his friends'," he mocked himself, "I'll find a way around this damned deal, just you wait. But tell me little one, what is this emotion I feel creeping up inside me? If you created it I expect you to explain it."

You didn't answer. Of course not. He took you from the shadow and cradled you carefully in his own arms.

Whatever it meant, whatever it was, it made his madness feel both better and worse. The hunger was dispelling a bit but now all he could think about was you.

How strange.

#hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #okay maybe not as yandere as I've made him before?#also couldn't decide what kind of animal i wanted sinner!reader to be here #i mentally had a little bunny in my head

151 notes · View notes

kidvoodoo · 4 months

Text

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

#my art #kidvoodoo #my writing #jeest #jeest infection #käärijä #jere pöyhönen #joost klein #mafia au #so I guess I’m doing this now 🙃#I can’t make any promises on this story I’m afraid #I don’t feel confident in my writing but I’m trying my best lol #also this is fiction it is not real and I don’t wanna hear anything from people like #if you don’t like it don’t read it #it’s a silly little story about some silly guys who will probably kiss and stuff #also Jere’s boyfriend Pokédex will make an appearance plus many more cameos hehe #it will primarily be jeest infection though

161 notes · View notes