#suede work boots

[murderballadeer]

this outfit (100% made by me btw!) is not remotely in season for june but it’s gonna slay so hard in the fall rest assured

[crewneck]

yes I am about to make these knee high black suede boots I found for 7 dollars my whole personality now :)

[lostchildofthenewworld]

this scene had me in a chokehold as a kid, real cinema

[genderlessghoul]

I've been wanting to do this post for a while now so here is EVERYTHING I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE GHOULS' IMPERA COSTUMES.

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about those, this is gonna be a very long one.

The costumes were designed by B Åkerlund, a Swedish costume designer who's worked with Ghost since at least Meliora (that's as far back as I was willing to scroll on her Instagram page lol). B Åkerlund has also worked for many other musical artists such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osborne, Blink 182 and Hollywood Undead (information from her own website)

The masks were made by Bob Basset, a visual artists who works a lot with leather. I find his work fascinating, you can look him up on Instagram (nsfw warning, there's a few naked ladies).

Fun fact! The horns are real cow horns. That's the reason some of them have gold tips, to hide the imperfections that come with working with actual horns.

He does have a shop where he sells his items, there's a mask there very similar to the Impera ones. You can also buy Papa's batwings if you happen to have 2500$ lying around!

The jackets are made on the same model as one of Papa's. The back is decorated with a spine-like design made from leather and cording. It's adorned with a few of our classic Impera buttons. Some of the hems were left raw and some deliberate weathering was done to make it look old and worn.

Fun fact! The shoulder pieces are not sewn into the garment, I would assume for easier cleaning. I don't know if they're held by strong magnets or snap buttons.

The vest (my beloved 😩) is made from flocked velvet in a paisley pattern, the front hems embellished with satin piping. It closes in the front with custom metal clasps that are riveted into the garment. The D parts are attached with what seems to me like wide elastic, which would lessen the pression on the clasps when moving around a lot. The back is made from two different types of fabric, I'd have to touch it to be able to tell you what they are. I assume the panels closer to the sides have some mild stretch to them. The top of the shoulders are decorated with Impera grucifix patches.

The shirts were not custom made for the ghouls, altho they were altered. The original shirt in the vintage painter linen shirt from Punk Rave and it is still being sold. Some of the cuffs were altered, removing the ruffles for some of the ghouls, but not all. They were removed for Dew, Mountain and Phantom, Aether's didn't have them either. As far as I can tell, all the ghoulettes still have them.

An unfinished piece of linen serves as an ascot, that piece is decorated with a metal devil skull. The colour of the skull doesn't appear to be consistent between each ghoul, Dew's looks gold almost bronze while Phantom's is a silver-like colour.

Another modification is the buttons, a small portion of them were removed in favor of our Impera buttons. Some of the ghouls have more buttons replaced than others, which is still a mystery to me.

The pants are called Jodhpurs, they were invented in the 1800s as horse riding pants. The wide part at the hips and thighs allowing for better movement. The ones the ghouls wear don't reach all the way to their ankles, they stop a bit past the calf muscle, hidden by the boots. (Yes, the ghouls are effectively wearing capri pants)

The boots are motorcycle riding boots, decorated by a grucifix. Like the shirt, they can still be bought online through the All American Boots website, altho the price tag is... Headache inducing to say the least.

The cape is a piece of costume that was only briefly worn on stage by the ghouls, Aurora being the only one who still wears one. I would assume it gets in the way of playing very easily. The cape itself is made of two fabrics, a light blue satin and a dark grey suede. The two pieces are not sewn together at the bottom, they move freely from each other. The cape is attached on the left shoulder with a harness piece that has one strap across the chest, decorated with a metal buckle, and one under the armpit.

Aight that's it for me, have a nice day byyyyye!!

[yanderestarangel]

tio miguel o'hara au

art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-

TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ notes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content you’re more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.

I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

[PART.1.]

♡ ┆Tio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.

♡ ┆ He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.

♡ ┆ You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.

♡ ┆ Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.

♡ ┆He is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.

♡ ┆When you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight ─ and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.

♡ ┆He always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinõ'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.

♡ ┆He drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you ─ you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.

♡ ┆Most of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.

♡ ┆He doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.

♡ ┆He always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.

♡ ┆He tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.

[nonsensical-pixels]

have a conversion requested by mirrorsedge11 on the simscord. it's @serenity-cc's hazelnut set (or at least part of it) for ts2! there are 7 horsey-themed items included in it to dress up your horse gal simmies with. all are, as the preview says, for young adult to adult females only. enjoy ~ 💖

i ended up not converting the jackets--they didn't work as accessories--and pants, which were too similar to stuff i already have. everything's low-poly... but more stuff under the cut!

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF 🐎

credits go to @serenity-cc for the amazing ts4 meshes & textures! 💕

Items Included

click on the previews to enlarge them! they're out of order but eh it works...

angela hat v1: 1706 polys, 10 swatches angela hat v2: 710 polys, 10 swatches, repo'd to v1 arizona dress: 6975 polys, 10 swatches, fullbody haywood top: 10 swatches, texture-based on a base game mesh marfa boots long: 2 versions, leather and suede; 27 swatches total marfa boots short: 2 versions, leather and suede; 27 swatches total

if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

::Download:: (Patreon - Early Access -Available for everyone from 26th Nov 22)

I was on a work trip and spent a lot of it in my hotel room, on Pinterest and a 70s themed set seemed like a very good idea. Doing the previews like a dodgy 70s catalogue seemed like a bad idea, but I did it anyway.

Carly Dress - Knitted mini-dress with striped collar, sleeve and hem detail

Linda Blouse - Button-down blouse with voluminous split sleeves

Joni Sweater -Fitted rollneck swearer in a rib knit

Diana Skirt - Suede Skirt with cutout pattern at the hem

Felicity Flares - Flared, high waisted trousers

Carole Boots - Heeled platform boots with a cursed 70s gummy sole

Deirdre Glasses - Large glasses with a subtly tinted lense

Jaclyn Scarf - Silk neck scarf tied to the side

Kate Necklace - Bakelite beaded necklace with beads in graduating sizes

Iris Earrings - Bakelite rainbow earrings

Barbra Earrings - Gold drop earrings with a tassel trim

[pennylanewrites]

save a horse, ride a cowboy [reiner braun]

now playing: what was i thinkin’ - dierks bentley

tags: f!reader, chubby!reader, unprotected sex, public sex, hate(?)sex, reiner calls reader a bitch and a cunt, fingering, cowgirl, forced breeding, impact play, dacryphilia, blowjob, tummy bulge, hair-pulling, dubcon

aot masterlist

reiner was raking a stack of hay inside the barn when something obscured the sun rays hitting him. he looked down at polished leather boots with a golden trim and his mood instantly shifted.

“reiner, my horse.” you snapped your fingers impatiently. his jaw locked as he swallowed an insult, and he removed his brown suede hat to talk to you.

you twirled a strand of your hair between french fingertips, bubblegum popping between your front teeth and sticking to your lipgloss as you stared reiner down. you made an annoyed face when he shamelessly checked you out. your plump thighs hid under the beige fabric of your equestrian pants and the buttons of your white collared shirt were due to pop any minute now.

“ain’t in charge of the horses, am i?”

“excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow. “you’re working for me, are you not?”

“i’m working for your father, miss y/n.”

reiner braun loved to get on your nerves. he despised you and your daddy’s money that you flaunted in everyone’s face. he despised your tight little equestrian outfit that costed more than his weekly salary, but most of all he despised your personality.

the way you acted like you owned the world, that every one of his father’s workers had to be at your beck and call, that you looked down at them as if they were dirt.

“my horse?” you pretended you weren’t staring at the beads of sweat that ran down his temple, or his strained muscles and the tan skin of his arms.

“right this way.��� he threw his rake away and motioned for you to follow him behind a tall stack of hay.

“is this supposed to be funny? there are no horses-ah!” you yelped when your back hit the wall, but before you could protest, reiner’s filthy, dirty hand slapped against your mouth.

“you act all high and mighty just because your daddy has money.” he growled next to your ear. “but i see how you stare at me.”

“get off me!” you managed to take his hand off your face, wiping your mouth frantically. “you’ll be fired before you know it.”

“bet this is one of your rich girl fantasies.” he pinned your arms over your head with just one hand, the other squeezing your cheeks together. “a filthy worker, fucking the bitchy attitude out of ya.”

“fuck you!” you spat at him, only for him to smirk, slowly wiping the spit that landed on his nose. a heavy hand came in contact with your cheek, making your head turn to the side. you looked up at him through glossy eyes, bottom lip quivering.

“you gon’ cry?” you shook your head from side to side. reiner’s calloused hand ran down your body, settling on your hip, where your shirt had risen up. he squeezed the plush skin before snaking further up your torso. his fat fingers fiddled with the hem of your bra, before bringing both his hands over your shirt, breaking the buttons apart with force.

“hey!” you covered yourself with your arms, only for reiner to bring them down.

“don’t worry doll. your daddy’s gonna get ya a new one.” he caged you between his arms, his lips hovering over yours. you felt his breath on your upper lip, his hands on your tits, shamelessly caressing the soft skin that pushed out of the top of your bra.

and before you had time to realise the situation you were in, chapped lips slammed against glossy ones, fervorous and hungry. reiner’s tongue slipped between your lips, and you let him, feeling the bitter aftertaste of whiskey on it. he pushed your bra down, your tits splaying out against his chest, and he pulled away to look at your curves.

“shame you’re such a cunt.”

your snarky response got lost in a sloppy kiss, reiner’s lips travelling down your jaw, your exposed neck, biting harshly. hesitantly, you brought your arms around his shoulders, fingers settling on his nape and playing with the soft ends of his hair.

a whine escaped your mouth when his hand traveled south, cupping your pussy over your underwear. he leaned down, pulling your pants to your ankles and left a loud smooch on your clit before lifting himself up.

his fingers pulled your underwear to the side, finally coming in contact with your heat. he wasn’t surprised to find you sticky and wet.

“how does it feel, miss y/n?”

“w-what?” your eyes shot open to see him licking his fingers, eyes gleaming as he stared at you.

“knowing a filthy worker ‘s gon’ be inside this little pussy.”

you looked around the barn. you were pretty well hidden, but still. were you really about to have sex with him? in the middle of a barn, in broad daylight? the mere thought made your brain foggy.

“i’m-”

“shh.” his middle finger brought your bottom lip down, before pushing in. eyes never leaving his low-lidded hazel ones, you brought your cheeks in, sucking on the finger. “good girl.”

the praise coming from his mouth went straight to your core, begging for him to pay attention to it again. you didn’t have to wait long for reiner to scissor two slick-covered fingers between your folds, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“shut up. ya wanna get caught?” his fingers entered your cunt with no warning, earning another whine from you. he slapped you across the face, hard, before bringing his hand to your carefully tied ponytail, pulling on it until the hairband snapped. his hand remained entangled with your hair, as his right one worked its way inside you.

you were tight around his two fat fingers, covering them with your slick as he scissored them inside you. you couldn’t begin to imagine what his cock could do to you.

“reiner…” you breathed out, fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. he picked up the pace, driving you further up the wall with the mere force of his fingertips. your walls squeezed around him and you tried closing your legs, but he pushed them apart with his knee.

“ya gon’ come already?” he teased, biting your earlobe. and before the knot in your stomach snapped, he pulled away from you, leaving you breathless.

“wha-why…?” you couldn’t even find the right words.

“bitches don’t get to come.” the sound of a buckle turned your attention to him. he pushed your shoulders down, and you fell to your knees in front of him, waited for him to pull his cock out of his underwear.

it was bigger than you thought it would be. wide-eyed, you looked up at him. it stood long and fat, painfully so, with a prominent vein down the right side and a pink leaking tip. he slapped it against your bottom lip and you obeyed.

hesitantly, you brought a hand to the base, pumping it slowly as you worked to fit the rest inside your mouth. with hollowed cheeks, you sucked him in, earning a low groan as his hand met the back of your head.

he pushed your head forward, then used your hair to pull you all the way back, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip.

“take it all.”

“it won’t fit.” you mumbled.

“it will.” he pushed you again, the hair on the top of your head being pulled all ways, making your scalp hurt. you gagged around his cock and flattened your tongue to scrape along the downside, earning a guttural sound from above. you kept pumping what part wouldn’t fit in your mouth, fingertips grazing against his tight balls, coating them with a mix of your saliva and his precum.

reiner looked down at you, ears red and eyes glossed over. he wiped the tears streaming down your face with a grin, licking his thumb after.

“turn around.” he pulled you up by your hair and kissed you sloppily, before gripping your hips to flip you against the wall.

one, two taps of his cock against your ass before he pushed your waist down. you arched your back for him and brought your arms back, holding your ass cheeks apart. he didn’t waste any time, used his tip to gather all the slick from your folds before pushing in.

“fuuuck.” he threw his head back, fingers leaving red marks where he squeezed your hips. “who knew rich pussy was so good.”

you sucked him in almost desperately, your face and torso squeezed against the wall as he stretched your pussy open.

“slower.” you mumbled, trying to shove him away. it was too much, too little prep, too dirty. he held onto your wrists, pulling them back so he could ram into you.

his tip grazed against your cervix and you were gone. your pathetic attempts to cover up your moans echoed against the wall and you tried so hard to keep your legs standing.

his cock was too much. too big for your tight hole. your gummy walls squeezed around him, wouldn’t let him pull out, not that he wanted to.

“stop squeezing.” he groaned, slapping your bare ass. your eyes squeezed shut at the impact, but he soothed the red mark with a soft caress.

“can’t…too much, reiner.” you mewled, turning over your shoulder to look at him. a few beads of sweat trickled down his temple and the veins in his upper arms were popping. the stained work shirt was bunched between his teeth so he could look at where your bodies met.

you suddenly felt empty. you turned around, ready to protest, to see him drag a wooden trunk on the floor. he sat down, pulling you in his lap.

“look at you.” he whispered in your ear before leaning down to kiss your marked neck. “fuckin’ a dirty labourer.” he looked up at you, hand smushing your cheeks together before kissing you harshly.

you lifted yourself up on your knees, lining his cock up with your slit and slowly sliding down. you threw your head back at the feeling. this position allowed more of him to push inside you, which he did with one hard thrust.

he didn’t wait for you to grind on him, no. his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you in place, he thrusted up violently, until you were screaming his name.

“shut the fuck up.” he slapped you across the face. you were too far gone to care, any sliver of attention he gave you going straight to your core to feed your impending orgasm.

“gonna cum…reiner, please.” chants of his name spewed out your mouth as the knot in your stomach finally came undone, and your walls spasmed around his cock.

“ ‘d ya come, little girl?” he gave you a lopsided grin, taking his suede hat off to place it on your head. you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and hiding your face in his neck.

“too much.” you whined, trying to push away from him.

“look at how you’re milking my cock. you want this, don’t ya?” he made you look down at where you two met. your eyes grew wide at the way his tip bulged against your stomach every time he thrusted inside you. he brought your hand over the bulge, pushing it down so you could feel how he fucked into you.

his breath hitched in his throat and he pushed you down, making you take all of him in a painfully good way. you felt his cock twitch and tried to pull away, eyes wide at the way he cockily smiled at you.

“you ain’t goin’ nowhere.” he stilled his movements, groaning loudly as hot spurts of cum hit your cervix and painted your walls white. a few tears escaped your eyes, but reiner kissed them away before his lips met your own in a soft peck.

“relax. you were askin’ for it.”

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 13

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to pregnancy, swearing, references to the hospital, references to an accident

South Trail, Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as their trail group walked steadily down the beaten dirt path. Dad was in the lead, as per usual, and Abby had beaten her in a game of rock, paper, scissors in order to come second. That left Charlie third, close enough to Savannah to hear every muttered complaint and snap of her camera as she took selfies.

“Jakey!!!” Savannah cried out as they emerged from the trees onto a lookout, the ledge watching over a field full of wildflowers. “We need to stop! I need photos of this for my followers!”

Charlie stifled a giggle as she saw her dad’s head slump forwards. This was the fifth time Savannah had whined about needed a photo opportunity since they had left the ranch, approximately five hours ago.

“Savannah, I—”

“This is the last one, I promise!” she squealed, clumsily pulling her horse to a stop and sliding down her side until her suede boots touched the ground. She practically threw her phone to Jake and went to stand on the edge of the cliff.

Jake grunted as he neatly dismounted and patted Firewall on the flank. “It has to be the last one or we won’t make it to the campground before nightfall.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever,” Savannah chirped as she struck pose after pose.

Charlie and Abby both dismounted and moved off the trail to stand in the shade of the trees.

“It would be mean to scare her and hope that she falls, right?” Charlie muttered under her breath.

“Charlie!” Abby let out a scandalized gasp. “She may be awful, but we can’t wish death upon her…though I would be lying if I said that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me as well.”

Charlie slumped against the tree, watching the horses drag their reins on the ground as they stood on the trail, waiting for their riders to be done. “She’s just…the worst.”

“I know. Why would Mum insist that she come with us instead?”

“She said that she wanted Savannah to have a chance to get to know us.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright then. Let’s let her get to know us. Then maybe she’ll wish she had never met us.”

“We’re not that awful,” Abby rolled her eyes.

“I know that, and you know that, but Savannah doesn’t know that. So, let’s make her think we’re the worst. Then she won’t want to marry Dad because it would mean having to spend time with us.”

Abby grinned, her eyes trained on a spot on the ground. “I think I know exactly how to start.”

Crouching to the ground, Abby scooped up a tiny chipmunk from where it was nestled in the roots of a tree.

“Hey buddy…” she whispered. “I bet you want to see what’s in our saddlebags.”

Charlie covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her giggles as they approached Angel.

“Do it now! Savannah’s got her back to us!”

Quiet as a mouse, Abby slid open the saddlebag and slipped the chipmunk inside. “And now we wait.”

Around noon, Buttercup wandered into the kitchen from the guest bedroom. She hadn’t been lying about having to work. Her deadline was rapidly approaching, and she had been struggling quite a bit with writer’s block, so she had taken advantage of the silence of the ranch house and the beauty of the view and spent the morning writing her heart out. Twenty pages later, and her groove had been interrupted by the grumble of her stomach. So, she saved her work and, slowly as to admire the pictures and paintings on the walls of her ex-husband’s home, she wandered out of her writing cave and into the kitchen, where she was faced with a sweaty Rooster.

“Oh…hey.”

He grunted at her as he dug through the fridge. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Technically, I’m in your way, since this is your home so…don’t worry about it.” All she received in return was another grunt, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you were against our divorce since the beginning, I know you hated the custody arrangement, and I know you blame me for moving to a different continent, but Rooster…” she sniffled. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them for me, when I wasn’t here…when I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself.”

She watched as Rooster sighed, his head hanging between his shoulders before he slammed the fridge door shut and turned towards her.

“Listen, it isn’t your fault. You were sick. I remember my mom talking about how she got sick after havin’ me, and…and shit, Buttercup, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And it didn’t help that we kept getting deployed. You were goin’ through it and none of us could see it. I know you fought like hell, and so does he. I just—”

“You know what its like to not have a dad around, so you wish things had been different for Abby. And you know what its like to not have a mom around, so you wish things had been different for Charlie. Right?”

He blinked at her. “Get your ass outta my head.”

She chuckled before the mood settled around them, still slightly somber.

“I should’ve been able to handle it,” she whispered, and Rooster sighed, leaning back against the fridge.

“Hangman should’ve been able to handle it too,” he shrugged. “I know I was pissed off at you for putting yourself first, and it wasn’t fair. I was more worried about how the divorce would affect the team dynamic, instead of worrying about how the divorce would affect you. But he screwed up too. He should’ve put you first, not the team. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Buttercup blinked up at him and he shrugged. “I started going to therapy after a bar fight when Charlie was like 2. Court mandated, but it helped. I let a lot of shit go.”

“Good for you,” she smiled. “I am grateful that they had you and Javy to lean on, you know. I’m not just trying to get back on your good side.”

“I know,” he shrugged and turned his back to her. “What do you want for lunch? I could hear your stomach grumbling from my room.”

She grinned and sat at the counter. “I imagine asking you for a salad wouldn’t fly?”

He scoffed without turning his back. “We eat healthy in this house, but we don’t eat rabbit food. What do you really want for lunch?”

She giggled. “What about taco salad?”

He turned and pointed at her. “Now that’s a damn good idea.”

It couldn’t have gone better if they had trained the chipmunk themselves. They had remounted and strolled along the trail for another fifteen minutes before Savannah started pawing at the saddlebag, looking for her oversized, bright pink water bottle. She was able to pry open the clasp of the bag and stick her hand inside. And then it happened…

The chipmunk launched into action, racing up her arm before Savannah could even realize what was happening and landed on her shoulder. Savannah freaked out, screaming and shaking her arm to try to dislodge it. Sweet Angel picked up on her rider’s anxious movements and started trotting down the trail, shaking her head this way and that.

Charlie and Abby watched from the rear as the chipmunk disappeared under the hem of Savannah’s designer t-shirt, Savannah screaming as the rodent searched for an escape. Angel reared up and Savannah clung to her neck. Both girls turned their heads to hide their giggles as their dad scooped the reins out of Savannah’s hands and gently pulled Angel back to the ground, soothing her in a calm voice. The chipmunk finally found an escape through the arm of her flannel, and leapt from Angel’s back to a nearby tree.

“Oh my goodness, Savannah!” Abby called, urging her horse forward. “Are you alright?”

“That was crazy!” Charlie gasped, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

She glared suspiciously at them but said, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Jake tied Angel’s reins to Firewall’s saddle and turned back to look at them. “We’re going to head to the campground now, okay, Charlie?”

Both girls gave him a thumbs up and he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to face forward, they leaned over and high-fived each other. Neither the chipmunk nor Angel had been hurt, but Savannah screams had been absolutely hilarious. Perhaps their dad suspected them (he knew enough about the great outdoors to know that a chipmunk wouldn’t just materialize inside a closed saddlebag), but perhaps their little prank had allowed their father to see a different side of Savannah.

Lunch with Rooster had been good. The taco salad he had whipped up had been absolutely delicious, the ground beef perfectly spiced, and the spinach base had been simple but brilliant. More than that though had been their conversation. He had filled her in on so much of Charlie’s life (and Jake’s life as well, since it was so tightly woven with Charlie’s). She had always known that Jake would be a brilliant father, but some of the stories that Rooster had shared with her had her torn between laughter and tears. The antics her husband and her youngest daughter had gotten up to were bittersweet to hear about. In her mind’s eye, she could see them happening. She could see Jake flying toddler Charlie over his head, could hear her phantom cries as he gathered her 8-year-old body in his arms and carried her to the car, her arm bent at a painful angle.

As she strolled along the gravel path towards the dude cabins, she could practically see the phantom figures of her family as they lived and grew here. Knowing she had missed so much of Charlie’s life here, she regretted her decision to stay behind on the trail ride, but she hoped that Savannah would be able to make a better impression on her daughters than she had made on her.

“Honestly…” she muttered as she approached Cabin 1, where her brother and Natasha were staying. “What kind of woman doesn’t want to write her own wedding vows?” She sighed and climbed up the few stairs to the porch. “And what kind of sadistic bullshit is it to ask your future husband’s ex-wife to write the vows for you?”

She shook off the question as she knocked on the door. It had obviously been some sort of territorial claim from Savannah, trying to show Buttercup that he was hers now, but Buttercup had no doubt about that. She’d hurt Jake too badly for things to ever go back to the simple, fun, and loving way it had been before.

Natasha threw open the door and groaned. “Thank god it’s you.”

She chuckled and entered the cozy, modern cabin. “Who did you think it was?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the comfy leather couch. “Javy. He keeps trying to come and talk to me.” Her friend shuddered dramatically.

Buttercup considered her carefully as she lowered onto the other side of the couch. “What’s the deal with you two? I thought Jake was the one you hated.”

Nat sighed and buried the scarred side of her face in the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Buttercup took the pillow from behind her and whacked her friend with it. “C’mon! You’re acting like he killed your dog or something!”

Nat snatched the pillow and tossed it back at her. “Why’re you being so pushy, bitch?”

“Because you and Javy have been at each other’s throats since we got here, and I had to kick you out of dinner last night before either of you said or did something inappropriate in front of my children. And I hated doing that.”

Natasha let out a low whine as she tried to bury herself deeper in the couch. “Sorry…I promise I won’t call him a self-important bastard in front of your children.”

Buttercup barked a laugh and cuddled down into her seat. “But why would you call him that? It’s so weird! I honestly thought you two were into each other back in the day.” Natasha shifted so that her back was towards her friend, and Buttercup read it all in the tense line of her back. “Oh my god, you were into him!”

“Shut up…” Natasha grumbled. “He was into me too.”

“Were you two hooking up?”

Natasha rolled to look at her again. “Yeah. For a couple of months. Whenever we were both at Top Gun.”

Buttercup squealed and crawled across the couch so that she was right next to Natasha. “I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha grumbled, pushing her off.

“So, what happened? Bad breakup? You act like you want to kill him.”

Natasha groaned. “No, it wasn’t a bad breakup. It wasn’t a real relationship.”

“Did he want it to be?”

Natasha buried her head in the pillow. “Yeah…he wanted to make it official after that last deployment. We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to risk it because…” Natasha paused and looked guiltily over at her.

“Because?” Buttercup prompted gently, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going.

“Because I saw how messed up you were after the divorce,” Natasha admitted. “Our jobs are–were–risky enough without being in a relationship. And if our relationship fell apart the way yours and Jake’s did?” She sighed. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t let it go. Then there was the crash, and he came to visit me in the hospital and…” Natasha’s fingers clenched into fists. “He told me he would ‘take care of me’. That he felt like it was time to retire and that he would stay with me and that it would all be okay.”

“And that’s…bad?” Buttercup leaned back, confused. “He cared and wanted to help you? Why is that a bad thing?”

Natasha shuddered. “I couldn’t stand him looking at me with all that pity. And besides, why did he retire? He had the best job in the whole damn world and he willingly gave it up? Are you kidding me? They all gave it up! I mean, okay, Bob makes sense because he wanted to help you but why the hell would the rest of them give it up? Fucking idiots.”

Buttercup bit her lip. A decade of living with the other woman told her that trying to talk to Natasha when she was this fired up would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. So instead, she said, “Where is Bob, anyway?”

Natasha shrugged. “He got a phone call and went for a walk.”

“What is up with him and these phone calls?” Buttercup mused as she folded her legs beneath her.

“No clue. But what is with you deciding to stay back and let Cowgirl Barbie go on the trail ride with your girls and your man?”

Buttercup grumbled at her. “He’s not my man, and you know it.”

“Does he know that?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Of course he does! He’s marrying Savannah, remember?”

Nat rolled her eyes and rolled off the couch before padding into the kitchen. “Of course I remember. That’s why I’m going to get wine. We’re going to need it.”

By the time they reached the campground, Abby was half convinced that Savannah had never been on a horse before. Even though she kept telling stories about her championship barrel racer back on her own ranch, poor Angel kept tossing her head at the confusing signals that her rider kept giving her. Charlie was fully confused. She’d done barrel racing before and the way Savannah was describing it, she knew she had never done it in her life. Her stories about shopping, drinking wine, and winning Miss Texas however, Charlie completely believed. No one could sound so excited about boring adult things if they hadn’t actually done them.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to share a tent with her. That had been a stipulation of her joining them. Her own tent. Not even shared with their father, just her. Luckily, Jake had packed a hammock that he had already strung up between two sturdy trees for himself, leaving the other tent for his daughters.

All three Seresin’s watched Savannah as she primped in front of her cellphone camera, taking selfies of herself near the lake they were camping by. Jake shook his head with a sigh as he finished setting up her tent and stretched.

“What do we think about a dip in the lake before dinner?” he asked the girls, a wild grin on his face.

Both nodded eagerly and bolted into their tent to pull their swimsuits on.

“Did you bring it?” Charlie whispered, and Abby nodded, pulling out a packet from her backpack.

“Uncle Roo gave it to me and I tucked it away for safe keeping,” Abby replied. “You distract Dad, and I’ll make sure it reaches our target.”

“Deal.”

Both girls quickly changed and headed out of the tent.

“Dad!” Charlie called. Jake turned from where he was talking to Savannah, his hands soothingly rubbing her shoulders as she scowled at him. “Can you help me put sun block on my shoulders? Mom would kill me if I came back burned.”

Jake grinned. “She’d kill me first,” he called back, turning from Savannah and strolling over to Charlie.

Jake sufficiently distracted, Abby snuck into Savannah’s tent and ripped open her packet. She sprinkled the contents everywhere. In her sleeping bag, in her clothes, on her hairbrush, in her shoes, and definitely on the inside of her hat.

With a wicked grin, Abby crumpled up the evidence and crept back to her tent to hide it in her backpack. She emerged just in time for Jake to finish lathering her sister with sun block, the two of them turning to her.

“My turn?” she smiled at him sweetly.

“Yeah, baby, c’mere.”

Charlie turned to Savannah, who was still trying to find the just right angle for her selfie. “Will you be joining us in the water, Savannah?”

The petite blond couldn’t hide her sneer. “I think I’ll pass, sugar, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Charlie shrugged. “You might want to get changed then. It’s going to start cooling off soon.”

Savannah smiled, the pull of her lips a touch too saccharine to be sincere, and said, “Thanks, honey. I’ll do that.”

As Savannah strutted into her tent, Jake joined his daughters and mussed their hair. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

He took off running, his long legs eating up the ground as his daughters squealed and sprinted after him.

By the time they emerged from the chilly water, the sun was hanging low in the Texan sky and the air had adopted a slight nip that spoke of the coming autumn. Charlie and Abby raced to get dressed in their flannel pyjamas and their thick socks. As they pulled on their matching PJs, they heard Savannah whine and swapped grins.

“I HATE THE OUTDOORS!” she shrieked. “Everything hurts, I have bruises everywhere, my hair is so frizzy, and I must’ve been bitten a thousand times because I can’t. Stop. ITCHING!”

The girls could practically hear the frustrated look on their father’s face as he faced her. “I thought you said you’d been camping before?” he asked, his voice cool under pressure.

Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, in a cabin like civilized human beings. You know, electricity and indoor plumbing? And we never rode to the cabin! We drove there.”

“Who took care of that prize winning mare of yours while you were gone?”

“The staff, as usual,” she replied as though she were talking to a small child. “They do everything for her.”

The twins could feel the rising tension even from inside the shelter of their tent. “Even ride her?”

“Duh,” Savannah giggled. “Daddy paid top dollar for her because I wanted to try barrel racing, but I hate riding, so now she just has babies that we sell. Daddy lets me keep the profit since she’s mine and all. Two of her babies paid for my month-long trip to Paris.”

Jake huffed a sigh. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”

“What does it matter?” she replied coyly, a branch cracking under her foot as she moved closer to him. “We have loads of other things in common, sugar.”

Charlie rolled her eyes at Abby before leaping out of their tent. “Dad! We’re starving! Can we get the fire going so we can eat?”

Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on Savannah. “You two go collect some firewood, and I’ll get everything ready.”

“Savannah, you want to come?” Abby called sweetly.

Savannah grumbled, her hands scrabbling against her chest and stomach. “Why am I so damn itchy!” she shouted, stomping her foot.

Jake huffed and turned to her. “You’re probably having an allergic reaction to something. Go wash off in the lake while the girls are gone. Take the calamine lotion from in my bag and make sure you cover all your itchy areas. I’ll get you some of my clothes to wear.”

“An allergic reaction to what?” she seethed, glaring at the twins as though she knew it was their fault.

“I think Uncle Rooster might have changed our laundry detergent,” Charlie supplied, grinning at her. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe…” Savannah snarled before stalking off, the sound of her complaining drowning out the twin’s peals of laughter.

Savannah complained that the hot dogs and smores they were eating weren’t on her diet plan for the wedding, but Jake promptly shut it all down by telling her they were her only choice. Grumpy and painted pink from the calamine lotion, she slowly munched on a hot dog, grimacing with every bite.

“Dad?”

Jake grinned at Abby and nodded. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“I know you’re supposed to tell us stories around the campfire…” Jake’s confirming nod gave her the courage to finish. “Could you tell us how you proposed to Mom?”

Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was about to complain again, but Jake cut her a look and she quieted.

“Sure, darlin’. If that’s what you want to hear…” Jake grunted as he settled himself further into his chair, his daughters watching him from a log across the crackling fire. “Let’s see…”

The San Diego Zoo, almost 13 years ago

Jake’s palms were sweating, which was saying something. He was the only pilot of his generation who had not one, but two air to air confirmed kills under his belt. He was ice cold under pressure. Nothing made him flinch. But strolling amongst the different animal exhibits with Buttercup had his hands damp and gross, no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.

She was pregnant. Pregnant. With his kid. His twins. This girl that he had known for all of what? Three months? Was having his children. His Buttercup was carrying two baby Seresins, and she wasn’t shrinking from the task either. In the last month since that fateful doctor’s appointment, she had dutifully taken her vitamins and avoided all alcohol, changed up her diet, started exercising more, and all in spite of the fact that she ended up on her knees in front of his toilet every damn morning. But she hadn’t complained. Not once.

My god, how he loved her. Her spark, her sass, that fire in her eyes that challenged him in all the right ways. She was brilliant. She was perfect. And he had to make sure she didn’t wise up and take off on him. Not that he thought she would. They’d exchanged their I Love Yous within the first six weeks of dating, and he knew they rang true, could feel it in every action she took. He wanted that. No, he needed that love every single damn day until the day he died.

“Giraffes are this way, darlin’,” he chuckled as he gently tugged her arm down the correct path.

Buttercup squealed and swung their hands between them. “I freaking love giraffes!”

He shook his head playfully. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“What?” she pouted. “My boyfriend takes me to the zoo to meet the giraffes and I’m not allowed to be excited about it?”

“No, you are,” he smiled, letting go of her hand in exchange for wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s cute.”

“You said it was weird,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but a good weird. I love your weird.”

“I love your weird too.”

He blinked. “I’m not weird.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who can name every type of military jet. In order of the year they were made.”

“Lots of pilots can do that,” he blushed.

“No they can’t, and you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” he teased. “The giraffes are here, you weirdo.”

She squealed again and tugged him along to the meeting area, where the tour guide was waiting for them.

The whole tour of the giraffe enclosure, Jake kept a close eye on Buttercup, who was drinking in all the information, and a close eye on his pocket, where the delicate emerald ring was hidden in a velvet box.

He’d had it for over a month. Funnily enough, he had bought it three days before the doctor’s appointment that had changed their lives forever. He hadn’t asked her yet because he didn’t want her to think it was just because he’d knocked her up. But he couldn’t wait much longer. The rumor mill was churning and whispers that members of Dagger Squad were going to be deployed had spread far and wide. He was one of the few members who hadn’t deployed in a while, so he knew it was likely that his number would be up, and he wanted a ring on her finger before he left.

Finally, the tour guide led them up close to the giraffes, who were milling about the wide paddock.

“I’m going to fill their food buckets so that they’ll come closer, and you can say hi, okay?” she grinned at him and, when Buttercup was distracted, shot him a quick thumbs up. She’d done an amazing job at acting like nothing suspicious was going on, and Jake knew that he owed her one hell of a tip.

Buttercup squealed softly as the giraffes came close, and Jake peeked over his shoulder to see the zoo’s cameraman ready at the fence.

“Buttercup?” she hummed in response. “Darlin’, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and I know I’m not the easiest man to get along with.” She hummed again, completely entranced by the gentle giant that stood in front of her. “Despite all that, I know that I love you. More than any man has ever loved another. You, me, and our babies are gonna be a family, and I would love for us all to share the same name.”

At that, Buttercup turned, her eyes filling with tears as she saw Jake on bended knee in front of her. “Jake…”

He grinned. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

She sniffled and smiled, brighter than the force of a thousand suns. “Yes. Jake, yes. Of course, I will!” She flung her arms around his neck and cried.

As Charlie listened to the story, her tear-filled eyes watched Savannah stomp away to her tent in a huff.

Morning broke, and with it, so did the silence.

Savannah shrieked and, based on the racket she was making, her tent was probably about to fall down too, if it hadn’t already.

Abby and Charlie shared a startled look and bolted from their tent. They hadn’t done anything. They figured having to listen to a romantic zoo proposal story had been enough torture for one night. But there Savannah was, screaming and shoving at her tent, which had seemingly collapsed on her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jake shouted, his boots hitting the ground as he took in the sight. “Savannah, what is wrong with you?”

“They did this!” she screamed, a pink painted nail stabbing at Abby and Charlie. “I know they did!”

“Savannah—”

“No!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I know they put that chipmunk in my saddle bag. I know they put something itchy in my clothes. And I know that they made my tent fall down on top of me!”

Abby turned to her father. “We didn’t make the tent fall, Dad. I swear!”

“You see!” Savannah shrieked. “The little demon admits it!”

“Watch it!” Jake growled, stepping in front of Abby.

Charlie bent to look at the ground in front of Savannah’s collapsed tent. “There’s hoofprints here, Dad.” She followed the tracks over to where Angel stood, her reins dragging on the ground. A thin black fiber hung out of her mouth. The exact same colour as Savannah’s tent.

“You expect me to believe that a horse collapsed my tent?” Savannah seethed.

“It looks to be that way,” Jake replied icily. “Now, you owe my girls an apology.”

“An apology?” she laughed coldly. “You heard the little brat. She only denied collapsing my tent, which means she did the other things!” Savannah sneered at her. “I know you’re the British one. I can tell a fake accent a mile away. And let me tell you this. You showing up here was the worst day of my life. I never wanted to be a stepmother! I thought maybe I could handle one kid until I could convince you to send her to boarding school, but two? No one in their right mind would want to be a stepmother to two little brats!”

Jake stepped smoothly in between them, both Abby and Charlie huddled behind him as he faced his fiancée. “Who says I would’ve sent them to boarding school? They’re my girls.”

“I am your girl!” she shrieked. “ME! M.E.! And if you want to marry me, then you have to choose! Because I’m not playing second fiddle to two little she devils anymore! Got it?”

“Then…” Jake chuckled. “I choose them.”

“Excuse me?”

“T.H.E.M? Them. I choose my girls. Got it?”

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[morallyinept]

O' CHRISTMAS TREE - A Post Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot

Summary: Joel chops down a fir tree and brings it home for you as a surprise.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Mature!GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 3.5k

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's all fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Wanings/triggers - Mentions of a previous illness, and descriptions of a panic attack. Other than that, you're safe.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Just some Christmas fluff with Joel. Oh, how I love writing for him. 🥰

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

Joel steps out, pulling on thick, worn mittens over his hands. The suede has long since worn away down to a dulled shine, and the stitching frays in places.

The barren landscape stretches out before him; a pristine canvas of crisp white snow, interrupted only by the dark silhouettes of brackish trees in the distance.

The air is crisp and biting, with each breath forming a delicate mist that hangs in the stillness of the frozen air around his weathered face.

Picking up the axe, he throws the rope of the makeshift sled over his shoulder, and starts forward, ankle deep in the snow.

As he delves further towards the woodlands, the snow becomes deeper, up to his shins, as he trudges in some pockets where the ground slopes and dips, and the cold seeps through the layers he’s put on to stay warm.

Although he can’t feel his toes in his right foot, numbed out as the snow fills the hole in his boot that he’s taped over repeatedly. He makes a mental note to see if the commune can spare him a new pair when he visits next.

The snow, untouched and pure, sparkles under the soft bokeh of the winter sun, casting a mesmerising gleam of light across the expanse. Joel has to wince, the tears in his eyes from the biting cold misting and skewing his view.

Despite the sun, there is a gentle wind that bites through his bones. The trees, their branches heavy with snow, stand like sentinels; their skeletal forms adorned in nature's own powdery decoration.

The woods, not too far from the simple abode you both rusticate in, beckons with the promise of hidden treasures - a place where he hopes to find the perfect fir tree.

Each step requires continued effort, the snow reaching knee-height now in some places, but he presses on though the dull ache waking up in his lower back.

The quietude of the woods is broken only by the muffled crunch of his footsteps and the occasional creaking of snow-laden branches. It’s a world hushed by winter, as if nature itself is holding its breath in the awe of its own transformation.

And Joel can't help to be infected with a slight sense of it too.

He stills for a moment, listening out, relishing in a moment’s peace, for it’s rare for most of his life.

As he scours the woodlands for the perfect tree, the cold seems to intensify. The chill in the air bites at his exposed cheeks turning them pink like Braeburns, and he pulls his collar tighter, fumbling with it through the mittens.

Yet, the sight of the scraggly tree, standing resilient in the midst of the snow-covered landscape, fills him with a warmth that transcends the physical cold freezing his veins. It isn't the majestic evergreen he’d envisioned, but it has a certain charm.

He knows immediately you’d pick this one too. Slightly undergrown, on the slant and looking a little bit sorry for itself. You always had a soft spot for scragglers; he reasons it’s why you’ve put up with him for all this time.

Why you tolerate his grumpy moods and quiet brooding, even if he doesn’t mean to be. Scars run deep despite the thick, white skin pulled taught over the surface of them. You understand more about him in contemplative silence than Joel does himself sometimes.

Disappointment etches on his face, replacing the usually ingrained frown that resides there. The others are simply too large for him to even consider carrying. He curses himself inwardly for getting old.

A noise startles him from his reverie and he freezes. He drops the rope of the sled and reaches for his gun on his hip, listening out.

It’s been a long time since an infected has happened on you both here, nestled up in the Wyoming mountains. Secluded away in your own privacy, and safety, from the decaying world below you in the valleys and cities you've long since retreated from.

Retirement, you’d said to Joel with a wispy smile, as you’d both put the finishing touches to the long vacated cabin you'd claimed as your new home together.

A home, and that there in itself was something Joel still struggled to wrap his head around most days. How you could tolerate him loitering in your space constantly; how you wanted to share a space with him, as small and as simple as it was.

It was a fairly simple life, but you’d made it a home for the past nine months with your mutual talents at scavenging; planting your own vegetable garden and breeding some chickens; trading with Jackson when you needed to.

You had what you needed, and what you didn’t need, didn’t matter.

Joel listens out as the sound of silence is greeted back and he relaxes his grip on the gun nestled in his holster. He picks up the rope and carries on forward towards the tree, glancing around his surroundings with some alert still ingrained.

He dusts off the branches, clearing as much snow off the drooping ferns as he can before he raises the axe and chops at the trunk.

It warms him as he puffs; the ache in his back starts to burn as the tree topples forward and snaps.

With the tree lugged onto the sled - a task that takes him longer than he would like to admit - he turns to make the journey back; the snow seems to have deepened in his absence as he wades back through it.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretch across the undisturbed snow. A melee of his footprints, the only evidence of its ruin.

The quietude of the approaching winter evening is almost palpable, broken only by the sound of his laborious steps, tired and husked breaths from his lungs, and the occasional whisper of the wind through the frost-kissed branches.

He wishes you could see this right now, he knows you’d love it; a picturesque snow globe.

But you're not quite ready for that yet, not quite better.

It’s been a while, a testing few weeks as the hideous fever took you over and left you completely bedridden. He’d been concerned when your body birthed a rash and seemed like it was spreading too fast to contain.

He still feels the tiredness hanging around his eyes from sleepless nights rubbing your back as you vomited up everything that was in your body. As you cried through the pain, bones aching with the slightest movement. As he watched you slowly wasting away when you couldn’t eat, despite him gently coaxing you.

His flannel shirt that you favoured to sleep in, once fit snugly around the curves of your body as you rode him in the mornings, now hangs off your skeleton revealing a collarbone too prominent for his liking.

You seem to be over the worst of it, or at least he hopes so, but it’s left you incredibly weak. Reliant on him to provide and take care of you, despite him assuring you that he would anyway, but he knows you relish your streak of independence.

Anything more than pottering around the cabin still leaves you breathless and sleepy.

He had Tommy send a doctor; practically ran down the valley and dragged him up himself to give you medicine and the once over. He stifled Joel's fears about it being something malignant, something terminal, but he knows it’s left a fissure somewhere that hasn’t quite sealed up yet.

You’re both getting on in age, and now that the world has gone to shit, advanced medicine isn’t a luxury anymore. He tries not to think about it. Tries not to go there as misty thoughts of what ifs travel back in time from the future to haunt him.

The cold, though biting, is accompanied by a sense of some brief clarity. It’s a world in hibernation, patiently awaiting the rebirth that spring will bring with it.

He wheezes as he pulls the sled behind him, feeling heavier on the incline back towards the cabin. As he trudges back home, dragging the piss poor excuse for a tree behind him, he can't shake a tiny, blooming worry that it might not be enough.

The weight of your recent illness has hung heavy on his shoulders and he desperately wants to see you smile again, to hear you laugh instead of crying and retching, if but for his own selfish need.

It feels like this winter will never end and Joel is yearning for the sun once more.

Entering the small dwelling, a modest refuge from the harsh outside world that you've both made your own, Joel carefully sets up the tree in a corner.

Its scraggly branches seem to stretch towards the warmth of the fireplace he lights afterwards, tossing logs on there he’d chopped the day before, eager to fill the room in spreading the warmth and some holiday cheer.

Determined to make the best of it, he reaches into his bag, hidden for weeks out of your curious eyes, craftily stashed under the faded rug beneath some loose wooden slats in the floor.

He leaves the shotgun and the cartridges safe in there, thankful that they've not been needed in quite some time.

Opening the bag, it reveals a collection of old baubles mixed in sizes and style, and a foray of tinsels - precious survivors from a world that has faced a devastating end to some traditions. They're worn and weathered, each telling a story of resilience through the passage of time.

The dim light from the fireplace casts shadows upon his broad back, the sounds of the flames snapping are a gentle rhythm he loses himself to as he sorts the baubles on the table, discarding any that are broken and sharp.

He hears a creak and turns to see you making your way down the stairs slowly with your arms wrapped around yourself.

He immediately fetches the blanket from the sofa and wraps it around your hunched shoulders.

You smile softly at him as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Your lips are cold,” you say dreamily.

“S’cold out.” Joel confirms with a chapped smile. “Ya feelin’ alright, should ya be up?”

You nod timidly as you step down the last step. “Don’t fuss, I feel okay.”

He wraps an arm around you and guides you towards the sofa, but you stop when you notice the decorations sparkling on the table.

“What's this?” You query as you run a shaky finger over the coarse glitter on a large bauble.

Blushing, he turns you gently to face the tree in the corner, and you gasp.

“Thought we could decorate it together, if ya up to it?” He mumbles.

“Joel…” You sigh, warmly. "You did all this for me?" A fragile smile plays on your lips.

He nods, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "Wanted to bring a bit of Christmas, 'specially for ya, darlin’."

Tears well in your eyes as you approach the tree, fingering the tendrils of the ferns with a tenderness that speaks volumes to Joel as he observes you.

“A fledgling,” you praise with a croak.

In that moment, the imperfections of the scraggly tree and the worn decorations soon to be adorned on it are forgotten. What matters is the resilience of its growth, that no matter how small it is, it can still seed into something uniquely beautiful.

The harsh realities of your pasts fade away, if only for a moment. The wonky, if but humble, Christmas tree, stands as a symbol of both of your endurance, and Joel feels that same sentiment radiate off of you as he steps towards you, and holds out an ornament.

You look down at it in your hands; a pearlescent Santa with a faded red smile and the bobbling on his hat has long since been torn off, just a single tuft of dirty fluff lingers in it's place.

"It's perfect. More than perfect.” You say in awe. “I didn't think we could have something like this again."

“It’s nothin’, darlin’.”

A quiet moment passes as you stand together, taking in the sight of the tree that now holds a profound significance. You lean against him as he wraps the blanket further over your shoulders, a mixture of emotions playing on your face.

"No. It’s everything, Joel. You've turned something ordinary into something extraordinary," you say, your voice filling with gratitude. "You're so sneaky," you smile.

He kisses the top of your head, his own eyes moist. "I wanted to make it special for ya."

“You did. Thank you for this.” You beam up at him.

You lean forward and hang the little Santa ornament on the tree, adjusting it carefully, as he passes you another.

Your hands move with a gentle grace, each ornament finding its place on the tree like a puzzle piece completing a picture.

He watches as you caress and admire each decoration; the memories they hold unfolding in the quiet of your mind, their origin and magic.

The flickering firelight casts a warm glow on your face, illuminating the etched in lines of your worn expression for so long. He feels it warm him, your joy; the fire is secondary as he observes you with a new lightness to his aching, splintered body.

Joel marvels at your resilience, the way you move with purpose, despite the weariness that lingers in your bones still. The blanket swamps you and eventually you discard it, warming from the heat of the fire.

He folds it, keeping it close by in case you should need it.

As the last ornament finds its place, you step back, admiring your creation, a quiet acknowledgment of the beauty Joel has coaxed from the woods.

You feel him lead you backwards into the soft warmth of his lap as he settles on the patchwork sofa with you, and you nestle close inside his arms. You both spend time ruminating in the comfort of silence.

He gazes at you with a soft tenderness on his features reserved only for you that transcends verbal words. Your eyes, heavy with the weight of your lingering illness that is taking it's time to shift fully, flicker with the remnants of exhaustion.

He tightens his embrace, as if trying to shield you from the shadows that threaten to encroach on your haven of warmth as the wintry afternoon delves into an inky twilight.

“Sleep, if ya need to. M’right here.” He says, shuffling the blanket over your shoulders once more and you curl further into his chest. “I’ll make ya some soup in a bit.”

“Mm,” you nod gently against him, the sound of his steadying heartbeat in your ear sending you off slowly into a stunted sleep.

You glance at the tree as you close your eyes, vacant of lights due to no electricity, but it’s perfect as it is; glittering brightly nonetheless as the fire makes the tinsel twinkle.

As your body weighs against him as you drift off, the worry on his own face seems to momentarily lift, replaced by a sense of gratitude for the moments like this that you still have together.

He tries to disguise the tremble of his hands as he rubs gently up and down your back, remnants of his fear still taking their time to vacate his body.

He sits there, cradling you in his arms, watching the scraggly tree stand proud and buoyant, no longer a runt deprived of growth, over your shared, quiet sanctuary.

The worries of the outside world fade, and in that intimate cocoon, Joel finds some solace in the simplicity of being present with the person he loves most. The person who he'd go to the ends of the earth for.

He wrestles with the fear that lingers in the corners of his mind - the fear of losing you, and realises this back and forth with it is not appeasing any of the angst that festers under the skin in pustules.

He wills his mind to settle, to not keep steering through the choppy seas of scenarios that haven't birthed into any fruition. But it’s futile, Joel is a thinker. Sometimes an overthinker, much to his detriment.

And in these quiet spheres - where he has nothing else to calm those turbulent oceans - he drowns in them, wholly.

The fear of you dying was a spectre that loomed over him like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over every moment you’d shared. It was a fear that gripped his heart with a cold, merciless hand, whispering doubts and anxieties in the quiet recesses of his mind.

The mere thought of a future without you sends shivers down his spine; a visceral ache that seems to resonate in agony through every fibre of his being.

It wasn't just the fear of loneliness or the void your absence would leave, but the profound emptiness that would echo through the spaces you had once filled together. Imagining a world where your laughter no longer echoed in the room, where the soft cadence of your voice ceased to grace his ears, was a thought too painful to fully comprehend, and he can feel it constrict in his heart as it freezes the breath around his teeth.

The prospect of waking up to a reality without the warmth of your body pressed tight against his, is a dread that haunts his every waking moment, only made more prominently so since you'd gotten sick.

The fear manifests as a silent companion, an unspoken acknowledgment of the fragility of life pounding into his chest.

He raises a hand to it, letting you slip out of his grip for a moment as he wills himself to swim through it, wills himself to calm down. To breathe.

You stir gently against him, the loss of the warmth of his arm pulling you out perhaps, as you glance up at him with sleepy eyes. The pain in his eyes, the strain on his face, rouses you upright and clutching at him.

He can see your lips moving, but he can’t hear you through the white noise that thunders through his good ear. He knows you’ll be telling him to breathe, to focus on your voice and your touch, even if the other voices tell him to stop fighting, to just drown.

Your thumbs stoke across the side of his face, your eyes boring deeper into him to pull him out.

You reach in and you pull him out.

A choked gasp at the back of his throat lets you know you succeeded as he comes back to you, leaving the ice waters of his inward terror to solidly freeze over again.

The fear is always a haunting presence, but so, too, is the love that binds him to you.

“Joel, come back to me,” you coax softly as his hands find their way over yours and fingers interlock tightly.

He buries his head in your chest as you wrap around him; absorbing his warmth, feeling the sweat matting the greying curls on the back of his neck.

Breathing the faint spices of him in; the smell of homemade soap, chicken stew, polished leather. You kiss his crown and he kisses your neck, arms clamped firmly around your lower back.

He glances over your shoulder, not able to meet your eyes yet and you give him time to find his way back to them though the self-inflicted shame he feels the need to flagellate himself with anytime a panic grips him tight. Despite your reassurances that he shouldn’t.

So you hold him, sitting in his lap and pull the blanket around you both and rub his shoulders as his chin rests on yours.

He eyes the Christmas tree and remembers, remembers you decorating it as his eyes settle on the little Santa ornament as he squeezes you tight.

“Ya hungry, darlin’?” he asks a little while later, his teeth clashing together as his chin stays firmly put.

“Yeah,” you confirm, continuing stroking.

Continuing to soothe the broadness of him, the strength of him. He’s so strong for you, so domineering in his stacked presence but like this, he’s a tiny mouse in your hands, terrified that you could crush him if you squeeze too tightly.

A few minutes later and he’s up after cracking out his back, lighting the stove and pouring soup into a pan to heat. He’s slicing into a loaf of bread he’d baked earlier in the week and you watch him from the confines of the sofa, where he’s instructed you to stay when you offer help, watching him as he tends to you.

But you do squeeze him tightly, you always will. He's yours to hold and squeeze and grip tight as you hold each other up in this world.

And you know you’ll both do it until your last breath departs each of you.

Joel takes a moment, whilst the soup is cooking, to glance back at you and he sees you up on your feet fingering the tree, readjusting and tweaking, and he smiles gently.

You made it through; you're still here with him despite the nightmares and thoughts trying to cut into that blissful relief. And he allows himself to finally breathe that relief in.

You turn back and smile at him; a full joyous grin thrown at him that he’s missed seeing so much as of late. It sparkles at him, flashes brighter than the tree.

And that, right there, is the best Christmas gift that Joel Miller can ever wish for.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

[bendycxmet]

content: 825 words. fluff, lil suggestive (mostly in another language), spanish speaking wolfwood, cowboy/vaquero wolfwood

Cowboy!Wolfwood who needs a farmhand for his ranch. He sees the desperation in your eyes as you peruse the shops in town, and offers you the position.

Cowboy!Wolfwood who is smooth in every way possible, all lingering gazes, hot, fleeting touches as he instructs and shows you how to fix the gate fencing in his cattle. The first time he brought you to his ranch miles away from town, he hopped off his horse and immediately helped you down as well, but instead of letting go of your hands, he gripped them tighter, turning them over this way and that, inspecting something you perhaps hadn’t seen. Your heart rate increases, a blush spreading along your body as he rubs his callused hands and fingers against the soft flesh of your own. “Que delicadas…” he muses, and drops your hands, sadly, the warmth of him whisked away with the biting wind.

Cowboy!Wolfwood dresses always in his signature suede sombrero, with a black and silver embroidered poncho constantly hiding the matching black underneath, the only difference being the brown leather chaps just running short from the bottom of his dirtied and muddy boots that stomp down the hallway early in the morning, rousing you from your sleep in your assigned bedroom. It’s an outfit that wouldn’t be flattering if it were on anyone else but Wolfwood. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood and you slowly become used to each other’s company, working in fluidity to keep the ranch running like a well-oiled machine. You discover he has a joking side to him once the ice thaws between the two of you, cracking constant jokes at you with a toothpick lodged between his teeth–a habit he now has as he attempts to kick cigarettes since you mentioned you hate the smell. 

As easygoing as he is, he takes his ranch responsibilities seriously. You watch as he rides his stallion, hands off from the reins as he twirls and lassos a stray calf, muscled thighs hugging his steed, hips following the rhythm of her trotting. Your eyes never leave his form, your body hot from watching his. A loud whistle cuts through your ogling.

“Mind opening the gate?” he shouts, chuckling at your stuttering. You quickly open it for him, watching as he guides the calf inside to join her herd. He stops in front of you, poking fun at your flustered state.

“I just think you ride Angelina so gracefully! I wish I could ride a horse as good as you.” 

He laughs lowly and moves to leave through the gates, but not before you hear him mumble “tengo algo más que puedes montar…”

Cowboy!Wolfwood isn’t just a cowboy living on the outskirts of a town that welcomes him, but he also holds the duty of a priest, going into town for Sunday morning mass, shaking hands with everyone, exchanging easygoing smiles and inquiries into each and every person’s daily life. From your spot across the street, you would think he was a different man from the one who curses when he gets a splinter, but a glance down erases all doubt as you see the same dirty boots that traverse the ranch home’s hallways peeking out from his priestly garments.

“Not very Catholic of you to wear your boots with those robes you know. Why not wear the dress shoes you have shoved in the back of the hallway closet?”

He leans down from behind to whisper in your ear, rosary gracing your shoulder. 

“It’s simply not how I work, mi cielo,” his answer comes quickly, quick enough that he’s conversing with a blonde churchgoer by the time you whip your head around. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s lingering gazes no longer linger, the grazing touches turning into caresses even in the midst of your duties. Your bantering and joking only intensify as does your chemistry, but Wolfwood begins to throw in more flattering remarks about your work, and you. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro. His nicknames for you begin to flow and ebb seamlessly into your conversations, so smoothly said that you nearly miss them each time. But he never turns his loving words into actions. You begin to get impatient.

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s eyes widen, his toothpick falling from his lips.

 “Come again?” he asks you. 

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí. Wolfwood, please.” 

He crosses the distance between you in half the time it would usually take him. 

“How long have you known what I have been saying?” he begs you, the embarrassment evident on his tanned cheeks, the callused hands you have been dreaming of holding you like that first day coming up to caress your jaw. 

“Desde el día que te conocí,” you say. Since I met you… I have loved you since the day I met you. 

He brings his face down to you, soft and sun-chapped lips meeting yours, his sombrero tipping to fall to the dirt behind him. 

a/n: pspsps @ayyydra and @aboveweirdest for all our screaming about cowboy wolfwood, i deliver some HCs xoxo

i tried to keep it gender neutral as possible but damn spanish is a very gender heavy language (that being said, there is many nicknames i wanted wolfwood to call you e.g. precioso/a (precious), hermoso/a (beautiful), querido/a (beloved) but the ones i wrote out are for everyone.

some translations:

“Que delicadas…” = "How delicate..."

"Tengo algo más que puedes montar…"= "I have something else you can ride..."

"Mi cielo. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro." = My heaven/sky/darling (idk it can mean many things). My soul. My heart. My treasure.

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí." = "If you don't kiss me in the next moment, I'm leaving this place."

"Desde el día que te conocí." = "Since the day I met you."

masterlist

divider

[tieronecrush]

water in your hands

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)

word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)

summary:

You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…

Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish

author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3

PART II HERE

dividers from @saradika

Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.

Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.

Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him. 

A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.

The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.

Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.

“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like -- 

Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”

A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.

“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”

“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.

“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.

Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”

Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.

“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.

Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy. 

“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”

Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.

The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.

He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:

You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..

The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).

It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.

“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm. 

He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”

Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.

“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”

He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.

“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”

“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”

That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.

“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”

“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.

Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.

Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.

So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.

You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.

The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.

But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?

You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.

Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.

Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.

Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.

“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”

“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”

“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”

Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”

He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.

“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”

You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”

The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.

“Any spot in particular?”

As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.

Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”

Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”

“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”

He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.

“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”

“Astrology?”

“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”

Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.

Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”

Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”

“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”

“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”

You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.

Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”

Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”

His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.

Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.

His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.

His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.

Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.

You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.

His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.

Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”

He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.

“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”

Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.

His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.

There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.

His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.

“Joel, please…”

His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.

“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.

Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.

“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”

With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.

His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.

He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.

“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”

“I know, baby. Let it happen.”

His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.

Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.

“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”

You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.

“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.

Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch. 

He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”

His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.

“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”

“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”

Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.

They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.

Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.

He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.

“You okay?”

Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”

His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.

He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.

Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.

So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.

He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.

He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.

A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.

Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.

He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.

Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.

The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.

“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.

He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.

“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.

“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”

The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”

You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.

 “What do you need to talk about?”

“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”

“Do you regret it?”

He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.

“No. I could never regret it.”

“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”

He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”

After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.

“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”

All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.

He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.

He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.

Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.

All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.

Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”

You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.

It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.

“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”

Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”

“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.

Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.

When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.

“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.

He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.

He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”

“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.

That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.

Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.

“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.

“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”

“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.

You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”

He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.

Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.

Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.

You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.

Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:

Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl

You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.

Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.

You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.

Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.

But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.

And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.

Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.

It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.

Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.

Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.

“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.

You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.

His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.

He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.

“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”

“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.

His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”

He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.

“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”

His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.

“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”

“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.

Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.

“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”

A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.

You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.

He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.

The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”

The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.

“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.

“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.

“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.” 

Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.

Joel.

He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.

At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.

Tommy asked him to wait outside.

Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”

He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.

Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.

Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.

“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”

Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.

“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.

He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”

That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.

His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”

Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.

He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.

“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.

“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”

He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.

Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.

“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.

You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”

You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.” 

You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.

As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”

if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.

taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🔭🔭🔭

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion check it out on Tumblr and Instagram

🔭 It’s funny how Capricorn Lilith becomes such a teddy bear when in romantic partnership. They let go of their hardest thing to do and that is control. They control everyone else, but find it hard to have the same control for their partner since they like them too much. So it’s like they become soft around them, their partner IS their weak spot.

🔭 I don’t know for you guys, but I’ve seen a lot of Sun conjunct Lilith and Sun conjunct Chiron relationships turn south. For example, if you are Taurus Sun and the other person is a Taurus Lilith. Or one is Scorpio Sun and the other has Scorpio Chiron. They always seem to start well and then completely turn, that you wonder if they even liked each other in the first place.

🔭 If you have Pisces Moon, your mum probably bakes great desserts. 👌🏻

🔭 I previously talked about 12th house shows what kind of shoes you like to wear:

Aries over the 12th house

- red shoes

- shiney shoes, shoes with glitters

- running shoes

- Timberland shoes

- chunky boots, biker boots

- wedge sneakers

- thigh high boots

Taurus over the 12th house

- tried and tested shoes, loafers, moccasins

- dance shoes

- espadrilles

- penny loafers

- Fred Perry

Gemini over the 12th house

- shoes from siblings

- oxford shoes

- Vans, Converse

- white sneakers

- plain black shoes

Cancer over the 12th house

- your mother’s shoes

- Keds, Vans, Converse shoes

- slip ons

Leo over the 12th house

- skate shoes

- flip flops

- Vans shoes

- orange, gold shoes, yellow shoes

- leopard prints

Virgo over the 12th house

- oxford shoes

- Jesus shoes aka Birkenstock 😂

- minimalistic sneakers, either all black or all white

Libra over the 12th house

- sandals

- sneakers/trainers

- Balenciaga dad sneakers

- wedge sandals

- leopard print shoes

Scorpio over the 12th house

- shoes with snake pattern

- real leather shoes

- creeper shoes

- Uggs

- flats

- platform shoes

- thigh high boots

- black and red shoes

Sagittarius over the 12th house

- cowboy boots

- ankle boots

- desert boots

- chunky shoes

- gladiators

Capricorn over the 12th house

- golf shoes

- shoes one of your parents liked to wear or actually wore and were passed down to you

- boat shoes

- flats

- vintage shoes, thrifted ones

- velvet shoes, blue suede shoes

- matte, faux black leather shoes

- pointy shoes

- chelsea boots

- cowboy boots

- Wellington boots

Aquarius over the 12th house

- Camper shoes

- silver shoes

- cowboy boots

- Converse shoes

- clogs 😂

- Clark shoes

- Dr. Martens shoes

- Crocs 😅

- silver shoes

Pisces over the 12th house

- ballerina flats, dance shoes

- flip flops

- wedge sandals

- purple shoes

🔭 Neptune in the 2nd house: you best earn money when in isolation!

🔭 People with many planets in 11th house will be highly impacted by a work association. Like you work in a tech company for example, right? You could belong to a computer science association, club, book club and will be hugely affected by that.

🔭 All Earth Moons need steady daily routine that to others seems a bit repetitive, but it helps others. Because, if they don’t have that, they start disassociating.

🔭 Neptune in the 2nd house: you attract partners and people with potential emotional problem.

🔭 Leo Lilith, Lilith in the 5th house or Lilith at a Leo degree: people would react very strongly if you were to express that you do not wish to have children. Or on the contrary, you could have children young and later regret it that you didn’t go after all the other things you still wanted.

🔭 A lot of Cancer Suns might feel like underachievers at times, because they understand that when you get sick, ill it is your friends and your family that will take care of you and NOT your job. And they really invest a lot in their friendgroup, it makes them also feel like they belong somewhere.

🔭 Virgo Mars (especially if they also have Virgo Lilith) are so good with dirty talk, because not only they have big vocabulary that they can think of on the spot, but also because they know no shame. They are outspoken, because they are not that easily embarrassed by words.

🔭 Virgo Lilith or Lilith in the 6th house: it will be hard for you to get work phone or a work computer and/or work from home

🔭 I’ve talked about previously that 4th house shows your life after retirement.

Aries over the 4th house: you might be really physically active, like join a run club, be more active and DIY, work on your home, disputes with family members or close friends, a lot of cleaning around the house

Taurus over the 4th house: investing money from savings, indulging more with said money from savings

Gemini over the 4th house: reconnecting with siblings, buying more property or renting it, moving to another city, but within the same country, gardening

Cancer over the 4th house: cooking more, perfecting a craft, socializing with friends a lot

Leo over the 4th house: spending a lot of time with grandchildren, start an Instagram creative outlet, “the fashionable grandma/grandpa”

Virgo over the 4th house: travelling a lot, learning, constantly reading, reading the morning paper, going to get coffee with friends, someone else comes and does chores for you

Libra over the 4th house: buying more clothes, marrying at a late age, like marrying for the first time or again at 45 or 65, falling in love and feeling like a teenager again, baking desserts, socializing, doing chores for other people, enjoying saved up money

Scorpio over the 4th house: issues with your mother, inheritance, investing money

Sagittarius over the 4th house: moving to another country, reading books, watching documentaries, socializing, having get togethers in your home, being a lunch host

Capricorn over the 4th house: spending more time with your parents, have a hobby that earns you money and doing it from your home

Aquarius over the 4th house: living abroad, finding a partner who is also your best (and probably only) friend too, spending more time with family, but online or talking to them through a videocall

Pisces over the 4th house: a lot of money issues, people you live with trying to throw you out of the home, potential support from other people, helping other people, you doing chores for others and them giving you food, having a lot of free time

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion check it out on Tumblr and Instagram

[bellysfromthefarside]

3 of 7 - Burger King Remake - Fill him up at the stadium

Travis is ordered to eat all the burgers at the van.

The next morning Travis went over to his university’s football stadium instead of to the burger restaurant. Bubba’s Burgers was going to experiment with selling burgers from a trailer outside the stadium before games. Today was the first try at this new aspect of the business. Travis was in the trailer working on the setup. The burgers were not going to be prepared on site, but instead would be cooked back at the restaurant and brought over to the stadium as needed. The first shipments had arrived and Travis was loading the trays of burgers into the heated racks along one side of the trailer. It was hot work, so Travis had taken his shirt off. He was a little sorry he had worn boots and jeans instead of shorts and flip flops, as it was warmer than expected. A knock on the door was followed by a shout. “Hey, it’s me…Tommy!” “Come on in, its open,” Travis responded. Tommy stepped into the end of the trailer. He was also a college student, but unlike the senior Travis, Tommy was only a freshman. He had started working at Bubba’s only a few months ago, just after his eighteenth birthday. Tommy was muscular, but leaner and a lot taller than Travis. He saw the shirtless Travis standing in the middle aisle of the trailer. “Man, your gut’s blown up huge,” Tommy said as he grinned, and put his hand on the top of Travis’ oversized belly. “You look like you’re eight months pregnant!” “Nah, there ain’t any babies in there,” Travis replied, looking down at Tommy’s hand still patting the protruding gut, “It’s just beer and burgers!” “So is everything ready for today or have you been eating all of our merchandise?” “Everything’s about ready…except we haven’t gotten’ the fries yet.” As the two we discussing the afternoon’s plans, the door at the end of the trailer burst open, and in walked their manager, Mr. Cleberg. Cleberg was in his 50s, a big man with a thick mustache who looked to have done some serious burger eating over the years. His dress shirt was tight and the large suede sport coat he wore appeared to be unbuttoned for comfort and not for fashion. “We’ve got a big problem boys,” Cleberg blurted out as he made his way to the center of the trailer, “a big problem.” The other two listened apprehensively as Cleberg described the situation. It seemed as though he did not get the correct permits to sell food at this location. There were several inspectors from the city looking around that day and checking for the proper paper work. The only solution was to somehow get rid of the burgers, and convince the inspectors that this was only a test run and not a set-up to actually sell any food. “I’ve called the store and told them not to send over any more burgers,” Cleberg told the boys, “But how can we sneak all of these burgers out without anyone noticing?” The three men were staring blankly at each other when a smile slowly crept across Tommy’s face. “You know,” he started, “there is something here, big enough to hold all these burgers, that we could fill up and get out of here without too much notice…” “And that is…” Cleberg wanted to know. “Travis’ belly!” Tommy stated and pointed at the huge round gut now very noticeable to everyone in the room. Travis looked down at his own belly, at Tommy then back at Cleberg. “Well, I can eat some of these, but there’s no way I can eat all of..” Cleberg interrupted, “Considering all of the burgers you eat while on the job, I think you CAN eat all of these. Now get busy! You’ve got some serious eatin’ to do!”. Cleberg turned to Tommy, “You come with me. We’ll see where those inspectors are.” He reached up to one of the shelves and pulled out a tray of burgers. Then Cleberg turned back to Travis. “You’d better get started!”

Travis realized he had no choice but to eat as many burgers as he could. He sat down at the counter and brought out the first trey as he heard the door close behind Tommy and Cleberg. “How could Tommy suggest I eat all the burgers?” Travis thought to himself as he took a big bite. Then he looked down at the growing round gut, “I guess that’s why,” he said to himself and let out a little chuckle. The first burger disappeared, followed quickly by the second. Travis was very hungry at the time and started to think that this was not going to be that difficult. He loved the taste of a juicy burger and enjoyed the feeling of a full stomach. The second tray came out and then the third. Travis had devoured about 15 burgers when he began to slow down. “Oooohhhhh, I’m getting full,’ Travis said to no one in particular. “I’m getting big too!” he had looked down at his gut. The belly was noticeably larger and now touched the edge of the counter. He backed his chair up a little to give himself a little more room. Travis struggled to eat the rest of the burgers, but he managed to get all two dozen into his now huge stomach. He leaned back in the chair and put his hand on top of the overstuffed belly. A slight smile crossed his face as he quietly celebrated his accomplishment. The door swung open and in walked Tommy and Cleberg. Both noticed the giant swollen belly attached to the young man sitting in the middle of the room. Tommy walked over to stand next to Travis and grinned. “Daammmnnnn…that’s a big gut,” Tommy noted, and started to pat the burger balloon. “It looks like you’ve finished off all ’em!”. “I… sure…did. All of the burgers are…buurrrppp… are in here,” Travis replied and pointed to his belly.

Source

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See you rounder! Tom

[hoodharlow]

Erasing Myself From the Narrative

AN: Y'all remember that angsty fic I scrapped? Well I brought it back and changed it up

Requested? No

Warnings: angst, Jack being 🤨🤨🤨, OC picking herself over Jack and smut

Word Count: 5.5k words

Luna tugged on her vintage snakeskin cowgirl boots and went to her closet for her suede beige trench coat. She grabbed her phone from its charger. She ran down the stairs when she heard the doorbell. She opened the door and threw her arms around her best friend of ten years, Jack. 

"I missed you!" Luna hugged him tighter.

"I missed you too." Jack held the back of her head and his other arm was around her back, dangerously close to her ass. 

"How was LA?" She asked, pulling away from the hug.

"What I should be asking you is: how was Paris?" He grinned. 

Luna had been in Paris the last few weeks interviewing with Givenchy. She had informally worked with them before to make some designs for Jack’s tour outfits. But Matt Williams, the creative director, reached out to her personally and asked her to send in her portfolio. 

She had a passion for fashion, Bratz pun intended. Thanks to her volleyball scholarship she was able to major in it when she went to Cornell. After graduating, she didn't have much luck finding jobs, even with her experience of working with designers and with small brands through summer internships. 

"I got the job." She shrugged like it was no big deal. 

"I fucking knew you would. What does the grilf think?" He asked.

The grilf was Luna’s grandmother. She was raised by her grandmother (and grandpa until he passed away a few years back) because her mom was a flight attendant and traveled a lot for work. Luna was a splitting image of her grandma from when she was in her twenties. Now at sixty, she looked just beautiful.  

Jack would joke that if he was her grandma's age, he would have been able to pull her. But her abuela was never moved by his charisma and laughed in his face when he would try to flirt with her. She would tell him to go for someone closer to his age range: ei. Luna. 

"I was going to tell her but I wanted to tell her in person. I was jet-lagged and slept the whole day. When I woke up, I found a note saying that she went to her book club." She explained. 

For a woman in her early sixties, Abuela had a more active social calendar than Luna. Luna had friends, but she was just very cautious of her actions and didn't do anything that could lead to any life altering consequence. Unlike her mom who did whatever she wanted with no second thought, which was how she had Luna as a high school sophomore. Luna saw what being careless could do and she did everything in her power to now get caught up in any mess. So she stayed to herself as much as possible, didn't partake in drinking or smoking like some of her friends, or had one night stands. She had her hookup, Jason Peralta, but that was as laid back as she got. She was the mom-friend of the group. The one who made all her friends send their locations and did multiple rounds when they would go out to make sure no one left. 

"I found out before the grilf? Wow, I feel honored." Jack grinned. 

"Don't, you just happened to be here." Luna shrugged.

"Man, fuck you. I'm leaving you and watching the new M. Night Shyamalan movie by myself." He frowned.

"That's fine, I'll hit up Jason." She pulled out her phone, waiting for him to call her bluff.

She wasn’t going to hit him up. If anything, she was going to just bury herself under blankets and  eat the whole pot of albondigas Abuela made while watching some Channing Tatum movies. Jason had called her earlier to see if she wanted to come over but she said no because she was meeting up with Jack. 

Jason and Luna have been on and off friends with benefits since she moved back to Louisville. Whenever they were off it was because he got to know some girl but it never worked out with his schedule. Jason played for Louisville FC and was constantly traveling which was why his agreement with Luna worked so well. They knew what they had was purely physical and if they didn’t know each other the way they did, they would have become a couple, but it never worked out. Sure they would go on an occasional date but there was an underlying agreement that it wasn’t going to develop into something serious. Another reason why it could never work out was because Luna had feelings for Jack.

Though she knew better than to act on her feelings. In the last ten years Jack never gave her a second glance. Luna was just one of the guys. She was his friend, his confidant. The one that helped him get the girl, never the girl. 

“Anyways,” Jack cut her off thoughts, “we should get going because I need to stop for gas. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Luna nodded. 

She grabbed her mini leather bag that matched her suede trench coat. She checked that her essentials: spare cash, lip gloss, chapstick, hair ties, gum and tampons were in her bag. She swiped her keys from the large bowl by the small table by the front door and made her way outside with Jack. She locked the house and texted Abuela that she had left and would call her later. 

Jack opened the passenger door for her. He averted his gaze away from her ass when she removed her coat before climbing on. Her skirt rode up her thighs, revealing her long toned legs. Jack closed the door and went to his side. When he opened the door, he found Luna’s ass in the air as she put her things in the backseat. Her cropped knitted sweater fell down, showing off her lavender and it took everything in Jack to not ask her if her panties matched her bra. 

“All set?” he asked when sat back on her seat. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, connecting her phone to his car. 

Jack drove to Costco to fill up his car. He pulled on his hoodie and covered his face while he waited outside his car as the gas filled up. He was typing away on his phone. She figured he was making sure everything for his and Urban’s birthday party was set. Though she didn’t miss the soft smile he had as he shook his head and typed some more. Luna felt a twinge of unease in her stomach but pushed it aside. Nothing could ruin her night with Jack.

*

Luna choked on her wine, trying her best not to laugh so hard at the story Jack was telling her of him and Clay at one of his rec soccer games. They went to eat dinner after their movie. Jack called in earlier and booked them a private room. He didn’t want the other nosy guests to film them for Luna’s privacy. He rarely posted her when he hung out with his friends because his fans always turned one post into the most elaborate conspiracy theory. He just wanted Luna to himself. He didn’t see his life without her and he would protect her with his whole being. 

Their server came by with the check. Luna reached for it, but Jack swatted her hand away. He put a few hundred bills on the leather folder and placed it on the edge of the table. 

“When are you leaving to paris?” Jack asked her, sipping his water.

“April, I have a few weeks to figure out my living situation. But Matt wants me in Paris as soon as possible so we can get started on the Spring/Summer show in June.” She said before eating some more tiramisu.

“So you won’t be here for the Derby?” he asked, almost pissed. He tightly gripped his cloth napkin, his already white knuckles turning Casper white. 

“One, relax, and two, no I won’t be there for the Derby. I can maybe try to be home but I don’t know.” Luna smoothed out his hand. 

“Sorry, I just wanted you here because I’m dropping my album around that time.” He said.

“You already finished your album? Oh my god, that’s insane.” 

She knew he’d been working on his album for a while. When she visited him on tour to get some outfits fitted for him, she could tell he was going through it. After one of his shows in Denver, he practically broke down in his hotel room and told her how exhausted and burnt out he felt. But he had to push himself because he knew he had a lot of people counting on him and he couldn’t let them down. They put a lot of faith in him since the start of his career and he was eternally  grateful for their support. Luna was the one to convince him to get back into writing for the sake of writing not for work. Little by little he built an album 

“I have a few songs that need to be finalized and trimmed but it’s done. The label is aiming for a late April release.” 

“That’s exciting. Are you going to do a mini CD signing tour like you did with the last album?” she asked, finishing her glass of chardonnay.

“Nah, I’m thinking of just letting this one speak for itself.” 

“Well I better get my own signed CD.” 

“Of course you are, I can’t break tradition,” he grinned.

They finished their desserts and made their way back to his car. Jack had his arm over her shoulders and Luna wrapped her arm around his back. Once in his car, Jack connected his phone and played her a few of his songs from his album. The one that stuck out to her the most was Blame on Me. She’d seen first hand the dynamics between his brother and dad but she never expected him to write a full song about it. But he did it in the most beautiful way. She was an only child that didn’t meet her dad and was raised by her grandparents. Despite that she was able to relate to it. That’s what she loved about Jack’s song writing. No matter how corny and braggadocious or personal the songs were, there was something that was able to strike home. 

Abuela’s red Audi was parked in the driveway by the time Jack pulled up to Luna’s place. 

“Let me walk you.” Jack said, unbuckling his seat belt before she could tell him no. 

Luna nodded and followed suit. They walked up the steps. Jack stayed back one step while she was at the very top. They were of equal height. 

“I’m glad we hung out tonight. I missed you..” Luna said.

“I missed you too. We should do something again before you leave for Paris.” Jack said, pulling her into a hug. 

They hugged for what felt like an hour and pulled back a bit, still in each other’s arms. Their eyes’ met with bright smiles. ‘Now or never’, Luna thought to herself. She leaned in to him, but Jack pulled back. 

“I’m sorry Luna, but I have a girlfriend.” 

She immediately burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Those two glasses of wine…” she trailed. “I’m sorry sorry. Um, I’m gonna go inside and pretend like that didn’t happen.”

“Luna wait,” 

“Good night sir,” she said, saluting him in a terrible British accent she did when she was embarrassed and wanted to get out of a situation. “I shall see you tomorrow kind sir.” 

She entered her home without letting Jack get another word in. 

*

Luna reached in her coat and pulled out a sky blue envelope. Inside was a birthday card with a letter she wrote for Jack. She didn’t have the guts to say goodbye. She looked over to where he was. He was standing off to the side while she took pictures with her friends and they all gathered around Kathryn, his girlfriend. Even she couldn’t deny that they looked good together. According to Urban she was one of the daughters of the co-founders of the label Jack was signed to. They’ve been seeing each other for a few months so it was still pretty new. 

Though what Luna couldn't wrap around her head was that he never mentioned Kathryn in their three hour long facetime calls. If she knew she would have kept her distance and not acted as impulsive as she did the night before. 

But now knowing this made leaving for Paris much easier. After her embarrassing almost-kiss, she spent the better half of the night looking for flights to Paris. She spoke to her grandma, leaving out the kiss, and they were leaving at night to New York since there weren’t any direct flights from Louisville to Paris. Abuela was joining her for the week so they could go apartment hunting so she could get settled as soon as possible. 

“Hey I didn’t think you’d show.” Clay said, pulling her into a hug. 

“I just came by to say hi.” she told him. 

“You’re not staying?” he frowned. 

“I’m needed in Paris and I have to leave tonight.” She looked at the envelope. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Give this to Jack later.” Luna handed him the envelope. 

“You can give it to him now. He’s around here.” Clay looked sound for his brother. He caught Jack’s gaze and waved him over. He was aware of the feelings she had for Jack. “You should–”

“I’m in a rush.” She put the envelope in his hands. She gave him a tight hug. “Thank you.”

Luna squeezed his shoulder and grabbed her coat. She passed Jack and didn’t give him a second glance as she exited the venue. 

Jack frowned and began to walk in her direction, but he was stopped by some friends and pulled to the photobooth. When he finally pulled away to go to the parking lot, Luna was gone. He went back inside, going straight to Clay. 

“Why didn’t Luna stay?” he asked his brother. 

“She had to go.” 

“Go where?” 

“Paris, she was called to leave sooner.” 

“Fuck,” Jack pushed back his curls. He pulled out his phone and called her so he could at least meet her at the airport to say goodbye. 

He’d been so busy, caught up with making sure Kathryn was comfortable that he didn’t know when Luna arrived. He wasn’t sure if she’d come after their almost kiss. An almost kiss that happened at the most inopportune time. If he was being honest, years ago he’d used to think it would be him and Luna that would have gotten together. But he could never bring himself to share his feelings for her. Mostly out of fear that she didn’t feel the same. He would rather spend a lifetime having her as his best friend instead of losing for the rest of his life. 

“What the hell?” he said to himself when the call didn’t go through. He tried again and the same thing happened. He looked at Clay and in a panicked voice he asked, “Can you call her? I think I have spotty service.” 

“Babe, Neelam said it’s time to cut the cake.” Kathryn said, walking over.

“Can you tell her to wait five minutes? I’m trying to–”

She cut him off with her nose turned upward. “Jack, your friends are getting a bit rowdy. Let’s do it now, yeah?” 

“Fine,” he gave in. He looked at Clay before walking towards the cake and gave him a pleading look to try to get a hold of Luna.

Clay nodded and texted Luna. She replied almost instantly and told him to tell Jack to leave her alone. He cursed, unsure how to tell his big brother that without breaking his heart. Luckily Jack’s coat was draped over a chair. He slipped in Luna’s envelope in the inside pocket and went to his brother, ready with a lie about how he had shitty service too.

* June * 

“How many other secrets were you hiding from me Kathryn?” Jack asked too calmly for someone who just overheard their now ex-girlfriend say she tried to baby trap him because she got financially cut off from her dad. 

“Jack–”

“Do you really think I was that stupid to fall for your shit? I’m sorry you’re not fucking responsible and got cut off by your dad, but you won’t use me for your bullshit. Please get your shit, leave my key and never fucking contact me ever again.” he said.

“When my dad finds out–”

“The same dad that cut you off because you spent your trust fund on partying? Yeah go ahead and call him. I was just on the phone with him and he also heard what I heard.” he crossed his arms.

“Fuck you!” she stormed off to their room.

She had moved in two weeks ago to his apartment in Atlanta and was barely settling in so it didn’t take long for her to pack up. A few minutes later she came back to the living room with her things. In her hand was a blue envelope. 

“Here, I found it in your jacket the night of your birthday party.” She said, handing it to him.

Kathryn left without another word. Jack made a call to the lobby and had her removed from the list of people that could be taken up to his penthouse. He then blocked her number and removed her from social media. While he packed for his Europe work trip while he went through all protocols about the break up with Neelam and had her make sure all NDAs were signed. 

Once he was done packing and Jack tore the envelope from the side and carefully took out the birthday card. He recognized Luna’s loopy writing. He began reading:

Jack there’s no easy way of saying this, but I’m in love with you. I have been for years. I don’t know when or how, but I am. And because of that, I’m leaving Louisville. I can’t be in the same place you are knowing I can’t be with you. I think it’s best if we end whatever friendship we have here. 

I need time to figure out who I am. I can’t keep seeing myself as the girl who’s pining over her best friend when you’re in a relationship.despite how I feel about you, I’m happy you found someone who you can love that same way I wished you loved me. 

Thank you for all these years of friendship. I’m sorry this is how I said goodbye, but it’s for the best.

-Luna 

Jack turned the paper around to see if there was more. He checked the envelope. The only other thing inside was her half of the strip of pictures they took in a photobooth a few years back. He kept his other half in his wallet. He used to keep it tucked in his phone case, but when he started dating Kathryn, he switched it to his wallet. 

He ran his thumb over Luna. He hadn’t seen her in almost four months and they felt like hell. He’d been in Boston for a few weeks filming a new project. He put himself into work. When he wasn’t working on music, he was filming something.. 

He hadn’t seen or heard from Luna since she left. She stayed true to her word and never contacted him. She blocked him on all social media. He’d even visited Abuela to ask about her but she always gave him vague answers about her whereabouts. All he knew was that she was in Paris, but he didn’t know how she was or if she liked the city. Well he knew she liked the city. 

The first time they had gone was on a class trip in eleventh grade and snuck out to see the city. He still remembered how in awe she was at the lights and how lively the people were. That was when he realized he had feelings for her, but he was too scared to act on them. More than anything he wanted Luna in his life and he didn’t want to risk anything. So for years he kept that to himself. He felt like an absolute idiot for not seeing that Luna felt the same. 

“Is this some fucked up joke?” He said to himself, crumbling up the letter. 

He sat down on the couch and rubbed his face in frustration. He couldn't believe he’d been so blind to see who he wanted the whole time had also felt the same about him. He made an incredibly big mistake and now he had to face the consequences of it. 

*

Jack’s knee couldn’t stop bouncing his knee as he and Urban approached the Givenchy after party. They had attended the show just a few hours ago, but were invited to the dinner and after party. His team was able to get him and Urban seats at the last minute. He’d been in Cannes the last few days for work and performances so he hadn’t had a chance to see Luna. 

He thought he was going to see her when he was getting his fittings, but she was working on a different floor. Then when he sat next to her grandmother at the fashion show, he thought she was going to approach them, but she didn’t. She walked out with Matt and everyone else that helped with the collection. She waved and turned on her heel to go back backstage. He hoped to see her at the dinner but she spent the whole time showing off her grandmother. He had low expectations of seeing her in the club because she was a homebody. If anything he would make up some excuse to go to the Givenchy house the next day. 

Jack had been at the club for less than five minutes and he felt exhausted and drained. He excused himself and went down to the bar to order sparkling water with cranberry and pineapple juice. There were three bartenders at the bar. Two of which were hard working, getting drinks out as fast as they could while the one next to Jack was busy flirting with a red head. Jack rolled his eyes and sat back waiting until the crowd lessened. 

A hand smacked down on the bar close to the bartender. “There’s a million people waiting for their drinks. If you could get your dick out of your brain for three seconds and make them that would be fucking great.” 

Jack recognized that voice.

“Luna?” 

She turned over and her face paled. 

“Um, hi.” she said.

Jack frowned. “Hi? That’s all you have to say after I haven't heard from you in months?” 

“This is not the place.” Luna said, not looking at him. 

“Babe, I told you to wait for me.” someone said. 

A tall guy with dark brown skin wrapped his arm around Luna’s shoulders. He gave Jack a once over, unimpressed. 

“Dominic, relax. I know him.” Luna shrugged her arm off him. 

“Oh than fuck, I used up my straight voice with Vivi.” Dominic said in a more salacious voice. He nodded his head at Jack. “So who’s this?”

“An old friend from Louisville.” she answered vaguely. 

“Right.” Jack’s jaw clenched. 

Without another word he got up and went back to Urban, who was with a group of models that hung to his every word. 

“Um wow, you were rude. What’s the drama there? Clearly y’all weren’t just friends.” Dominic prodded. 

Luna pretended she didn’t hear him and her eyes followed Jack. He waved to a few women who called his name as he went up the steps to the VIP section. He leaned over to Urban and whispered in his ear. They bro hugged and Jack was going back down the steps. 

“Tell Vivi, I’m not feeling well and called an Uber.” she told Dominic. 

She didn’t wait for a response. She gave him a side hug and trailed after Jack. 

“Jack, wait!” she yelled when they were outside. 

He turned around. “What, Luna?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry.” she said quietly. 

“For what exactly? For dismissing me to your friend like I’m nothing? Like this hasn’t been the worst few months of my life because you left?” He went off.

“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND JACK!” She waved her arms angrily. “What was I supposed to do? Watch you live your life with your girlfriend while I still pine for you? I needed to be away for my own sake and sanity.” 

“We broke up.” Jack revealed. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“If I had known sooner that I had a chance I would have acted on it, Luna.” 

Before she could ask him what he meant, he captured her lips with his. The kiss was slow like a test in the waters. Lust quickly took over as their kiss intensified. He held her in place with his other arm as his lips dominated her. Luna whimpered into his mouth when Jack deepened the kiss. They pulled away, breathless, Luna realized they somehow ended up back at Jack’s hotel suite. 

“I fucking love you, Luna.” Jack murmured against her lips.

“I love you too, Jack.” She smiled.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”  

“Me too.” 

With that Luna pulled Jack into another deep kiss. Without breaking their kiss, he grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up. He carried her down the hall to his room. Jack tossed Luna on the bed and slipped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. Luna reached over and unzipped her leather calf length boots, a birthday present from Jack when he first earned his first big royalties check, and placed them on the floor. 

He crawled on top of her and gently pulled her chin, bringing her lips to his. One of her hands found its way to Jack’s curls while the other dug its nails onto his back. She moaned out into his mouth, feeling his hips rut against her core. She shifted around so her legs were more open for him to move more comfortably. They continued to kiss as their hips kept moving in sync with each other.

“Wait.” she pushed him off her.

“Are we moving too fast? I’m sorry–”

“No, I have to check in with my grandma so she doesn’t think I got kidnapped like in that one Liam Neeson movie.” 

She went to the living room part of his suite where they discarded their jackets and her bag. She quickly sent her grandmother a text that she was catching up with Jack and that she won’t be home until the morning. Abuela replied instantly with a ‘finally’ and a ‘use condoms’. She rolled her eyes and joined Jack in bed. 

Jack gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and returned to kissing down to her chest. He pushed up her dress until it was off of her, revealing her breasts to him. He tweaked one of her nipples while he nipped and sucked her other breast. Satisfied with the love bites on her chest, he kissed down her stomach to the band of her panties. 

Luna cleared her throat making him look up at her. “You’re clean right? I don’t have condoms, but I’m on the IUD.” she asked. 

“Yeah, I haven’t been with anyone since Kathryn.”

After their break up, he got tested and came out clean.

“Okay cool.” Luna nodded. 

Jack sat back on his knees and pushed her legs open. Her arousal glistened through the lace of her panties. Luna lifted her hips, so he could remove her panties. He slowly pulled them off and tossed them to the side then climbed back in bed. He licked his lips and placed her legs over his shoulders. 

Shamelessly, he spit on her clit and sucked it, making her moan. Then he wiggled his tongue at her entrance. He moaned out at her taste. It was taking everything in him not to ravish her. He took his time with her, savoring her. Minutes passed when he finally slid his middle and ring finger in her. She gasped at his touch. Her hands tangled in his hair pulling it for relief.

“Fuck!” She moaned out. He sped up his fingers then he slipped them out of her and rubbed her clit, bringing her to her climax. 

“Jack!” She repeated his name over and over as she came. Jack licked her release and laid back next to her. Luna rolled over and placed her leg over his waist. 

“I love you.” She said softly. She stretched over to kiss him. 

“I love you too, Luna.” he mumbled against her lips.

Jack pushed her hips so she was directly on top of his crotch. They kissed for what seemed like hours. Teasing touches here and there, only to end up wrapped up in each other’s arms. Jack was hugging her back while Luna placed her hands on his chest. She slowly moved her hips against him. 

“I always knew our first time would be with you on top.” Jack commentted. 

“You’re so fucking corny.” Luna laughed, covering her mouth. 

Jack pulled her hand away and sat up so he could kiss her properly. Luna reached between them and slowly stroked Jack. Then she lifted her hips, lining herself over his cock. She slowly slid all the way down his length. She moaned out at how good Jack felt inside her. She rocked her hips against him, getting used to him. She slowly bounced herself up and down while continuing to rock her hips against his. He sat up and brought her closer to him. Luna’s arms tightened around his neck. Jack bucked his hips upwards to meet her thrusts and she let out a soft moan.

“Feel so good, Jack.” she whimpered.. 

Her orgasm came out of nowhere. She clung to Jack as she continued to ride him. He still kept thrusting into her through her orgasm. But he slowed down, letting her come back from orgasm only to take her once more. 

“Want you to finish in my mouth, Jack.” Luna said, pushing back his sweaty curls. 

“Yeah, whatever you say.” 

Luna playfully rolled her eyes and shifted her body so she laid horizontally. She spit on his length and slowly jerked him off with both hands. She slipped him as far as she could take him. He let out an incoherent sound until she reached the back of her throat. She did it a few more times, egging him on. 

She pulled away, with a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth, and kissed down his length. Luna slowly bobbed her head up and down his length, getting her mouth used to him. She took him a little deeper each time. One of his hands gripped the back of her head, keeping her in place as he thrusted into her mouth. Luna let out soft moans. Her hands gripped his legs, nails digging into his thighs. She continued to stroke him as he came, taking all of his release. She cleaned him up and cuddled next to him.

“So we did that…” Luna trailed off after a few moments of silence.

Jack pushed himself up against the headboard. “Do you regret it?” 

“Do you?” She asked.

“Fuck no.” 

“Okay, good.” She giggled. The bed sheet covering Jack’s waist caught her attention. There was a large tent shape formed. “Already? It wasn’t even five minutes.”

“My dick can’t help that you’re finally naked with me and not a figment of my imagination.” 

“I guess we should do something about that.”

“We should.” 

Jack gently pushed her back on the bed. They slowly kissed, having all the time of the world. Unbeknownst to them was that Urban had entered his suite and was going to give Jack some information about Luna that he acquired. He unlocked the door separating his suite and Jack’s. 

“Yo, you better buy me some blunts with all this shit I have for you– ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Urban yelled, pulling off his soundproof headphones. 

Jack covered Luna before Urban could get a look of her face. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What the fuck? That’s all you have to say? Here I thought my best friend was fucking heartbroken but you’re out here getting his dick wet. I went out of my way to get you some info on Luna.”

“Hi Urb.” Luna sat up, covering her chest. 

Urban took in the scene in front of him. “Nevermind. I’ll let y’all continue. Pardon me for interrupting.” 

He put on his headphones and went back to his suite. 

“Sorry.” Jack mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing could ever embarrass me after my grandparents walked in on me and my date for junior prom.” she said. 

“True and I didn’t get the condom stuck in your pussy like bitch ass Tristian.” Jack said.

“I completely forgot my date’s name. How do you remember?” 

“I had to keep tabs on my competition.” He shrugged. “And I won.” 

“Is that so?” She arched an eyebrow.

“You’re naked with me in Paris. I call that a win.” 

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