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drugsorgasmsandcheese · 10 months

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i’m not going anywhere | j. miller

joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of joel’s suicide attempt, mental health problems, reader & joel being purely in love and devoted to each other i love it 💯, age gap (reader in 20’s, joel in 50’s), violence, murder, death, angst, reader being ellie’s mother figure YES MA’AM, flashbacks in italics, reader has a past with david, no word count cause i forgot 😔

i bet your shoulders can hold more than

just the straps of that tiny dress

that i’ll help you slide aside

when we get home

joel watches you from across the room, talking to some of the other women in jackson. he sees you laughing, the sight of your smile putting him at ease, knowing that you were at least comfortable.

it’s been a few months since the three of you arrived in jackson: yourself, joel and ellie. ellie was the first one to settle in, happy to be somewhere that wasn’t the QZ or the outside world, and you were soon to follow after her. all you ever wanted was a peaceful place to live, and jackson was the closest thing to it. and joel, he was the last, but only because he couldn’t settle until both you and ellie had.

the dress you wore was white and short, it hugged your chest tightly and pushed your breasts up like a corset would. joel didn’t know where you found that dress, but he’s glad you did. all he’s been thinking about is taking you home, slipping that dress off your body and worshipping you like a theist to their god.

he walks over, places his hand on your waist in a gentle grip and forcefully smiles at the rest of the women. “excuse me, ladies, need some time with my girl.” joel watches as the women nod enthusiastically, he doesn’t know if it’s because they like how he treats you or just like him. he doesn’t know because he can’t read other women, he’s only ever spent his time learning you.

“hi, honey.” you smile brightly at him, looking into his eyes with such care that joel feels himself melting under your gaze.

“missed ‘ya, darlin.” he tells you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, causing you to giggle.

“was only across the room. could’ve joined in the conversation.” he hums, continuing to press a series of kisses across your face. “joel!” you squeal playfully.

“wouldn’t be able to focus when i got you by my side, darlin.” his southern twang hits in the pet name. “‘specially when you wear that dress. ‘s sin, baby, look at ‘cha .” he runs his hands up and down your hips, drawing you in closer to his chest. you smile at him, hands hooking together round the back of his neck. “feel so damn good against me, sugar.”

you giggle. “then do something about it, tex.” joel stares at you, hunger flashing through his brown eyes as he drunkenly takes you in. he’s drunk off you, the idea of you, the thought of you. he’s wrapped around your finger, and if he has it his way, you’ll be wrapped up in the sheets together in no time.

i’ve seen em carry family

and the steel drum weight of me

effortless just like that dress

that i’ll help off

that day was the worst. joel being injured meant you and ellie were left to your own. she trusted you, she always did, you had always cared for her. before marlene, before joel; there was you. you taught her the tricks with her knife, you taught her how to tackle, to fight, the same way your uncle taught you when the outbreak began.

two innocent, vulnerable women seen by themselves in the wilderness would’ve caught anyone’s attention. especially ellie, a young girl who seemingly looks alone and lost. you knew you should’ve fought harder to have her stay with joel whilst you collect supplies. it wasn’t her fault you both got caught in that position, you should’ve warned her.

but it was too late.

you were both locked up in delegate cages across the room from one another. david torments you by talking to ellie. he doesn’t know that you’re not the same scared little girl you were way back when your uncle was still alive, but he will know soon. when his time has come.

he seems giddy as he walks over to her, child-like charm in his step, maybe from all the years he’d snatched it away from other children did he take it for himself. you didn’t understand that before, but you do now. you understand perfectly. you know who he is, what he does, you watched and experienced it for an entire three days.

but, for whatever reason, you’re back in his trap, ellie by your side. making every killer instinct in your body heighten.

you looked over to her. she was sat down whilst you were stood up. she’s looking at you in what you know is fear, and for a second, her face blurs and you’re staring into the eyes of your fourteen year old self. you’re snapped out of it by david telling her to look at him, not you. his hand reaches behind the bars of her cell. that’s when you snap.

“move the fuck away, david.” you hiss, body pressed up against the bars of your cell. he looks at you, smirks, before turning back round to face ellie. you know you’re letting him win by reacting to his psychological torture, this warfare he seems to have mastered countless times, but he doesn’t know who you are now, what you’re capable of. so you showed him.

ellie stood watching as you stabbed him with his own machete. you didn’t notice she was still with you, but ideally, you should’ve known better. you should’ve known she doesn’t go anywhere without you.

you’re crying out, over and over again as you face the brute that is reality as it strikes you in the face, harder than the machete does to david. ellie almost faced the same fate you did, she’s seen too much, she’s been through too much, she’s only a kid. you could’ve done better to protect her. you could’ve-

hands cupping your face stop your train of thoughts and your actions. joel is knelt down next to you, looking at you with such sincerity and love that you can’t even process that his injury is healed and that he’s here. his hands feel so soft, so tender. they are calloused and rough from years of hard labour but the way he holds you suggests differently, like he’s spent a lifetime waiting to hold you.

“baby, look at me.” his texan accent heightened. “sweet girl,” his pointer finger gently taps your cheek “look at me. i got you. ‘s just us, baby, ‘s just us.” you feel ellie by your side again, and you unconsciously lift your arm for her to tuck herself into your side as joel welcomes you both into his waiting arms.

“‘s just us.”

—

you had come back to the house after being out in the school the entire day. you had never considered yourself as someone who liked kids, too sticky and messy for you. ellie was the only exception, and she had been with you since you were a teenager.

maria was opting to give you the job at the school per your request. you wanted something easy, something that didn’t require you to look over your damn shoulder every waking second. you wanted to settle, to rest, to find peace, and you finally had the opportunity to do so in jackson.

when you got to the house that joel, ellie, and yourself were staying at, you didn’t expect to hear shouting. you ran up the stairs, just in time to see joel leave ellie’s room. you glare at him, hitting his shoulder with your own as he walks past. you make your way over to ellie, but you can tell by the way she doesn’t look your way that she wants to be by herself. you whisper to her, before leaving and walking into joel’s room.

“what the fuck was that?” the venomous tone in your voice causes his gaze to snap towards you. “the fuck did you say to her.”

“calm down-”

“calm down? calm down?! you tell me what you said to her right now, joel.” you move towards him, finger pushing into his chest. he sighs, gently moving your hand away.

“started talking to me about loss. she doesn’t know what loss is.” he says with such certainty, like he’s confident in his words and that makes the urge to hit him heighten. joel shakes his head. “ain’t her damn father, either.”

“think about what you’ve just said.”

“darlin-”

“dont darlin’ me! ellie watched her best friend turn into a fucking infected and couldn’t do anything until i showed up! you know how much she begged me not to kill riley?” your eyes tear up. “she begged, pleaded with me, joel. i couldn’t risk it. i couldn’t risk riley hurting her. i couldn’t live with that.” your breathing is erratic. “then tess, then sam and…and you pushing her away isn’t helping.”

you’re angry, you’re in his face practically hissing at him. “we’ve all lost something, joel. she lost her childhood, her best friend. the only people she has right now are me and you, and if you’re not willing to be there, then fucking go! ‘cause i’m staying, with or without you i’m staying with her.” a tear slides down your cheek, and you’re quick to wipe it away.

“you may not be her father, but the way you act with her says otherwise, ‘nd i’m not giving that girl another person to lose. so either stay, or don’t bother. but if you choose the latter…don’t come near us again.”

—

“don’t tempt me, darlin’.” joel smirks, lips lightly grazing your cheek as they make their way back down to your lips. he pecks them one, two, three times before you’re pulling him in for a passionate and heartfelt kiss.

“not doing anything.” you laugh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers twirling into the bottom of his curled hair and he elicits a hushed groan. “just showing my man some love, that so bad, tex?”

he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. “say your goodbyes, baby, ‘m taking you home.” joel lightly kisses your forehead. “ellie’s staying with dina tonight, means you’re all mine.” he smirks, kissing your forehead again.

“oh really?” you grin, now holding his hand in yours. his smirk widens, and it tells you that he’s not joking. that you have ten seconds to wander off to say your goodbyes or else he’s carrying you over his shoulder out of here. “i’ll be back.”

he watched you walk over to the women, giving them all a gentle hug as you wave your goodbyes. telling them that you best get home before ellie starts to grow concerned. when you’re finished, you walk back over to joel, who wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as you walk away.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

“i’m scared.” he says. you look up at him, arms folded over your chest. it’s not long after your earlier confrontation about what he said to ellie. you’re both sat across from each other, him sat at the dining room table and you on the sofa.

“about what?” you ask.

“she…i can’t protect her. not like you can. i’m old an…and i’m tired, darlin’. i ain’t made for this, can’t look after myself, let alone a teenage girl and yourself.” he doesn’t look at you whilst he speaks. it’s like he can’t say it to your face, saying it to your face means the truth in his admission and he’s not ready to look into your alluring eyes and face the reality of his feelings.

“you’ve taken care of us pretty damn well, joel.” you sit up, arms no longer folded but bent and resting on your knees.

“but i won’t for much longer. i’m so much older than you, sweetheart, i’m fuckin’ deaf in one ear and i ain’t as sharp as i used to be. ellie needs someone to protect her, ‘s why she’s got you.”

“she has you too.”

“i can’t help her, can’t be the man you need, either.” he takes a deep breath in, and your eyes catch the way his hands slightly tremble. he’s never been like this with anyone, so vulnerable, so open. him and tess seemed to have their own dynamic. business partners, friends, lovers, whatever the fuck it was, but you can tell by the lack of eye contact and body language that he never opened up to her like he’s doing with you right now.

“when…when the dogs were there, smelling her. i knew they smelt something on her, but i didn’t do anything. all i could do was stand there and panic.”

“you couldn’t do anything. any movements we made would’ve made everyone suspicious.” you state.

“couldn’t even protect my own daughter and-” he shakes, you can see the tears in his eyes and he’s not even looking at you. “i failed her, and ‘m gonna fail you both now.”

you stand up immediately, walking over to his chair until you’re stood between his legs. your hands find their place on either side of his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks and brushing away his tears, forcing him to look up at you. you hesitate, but your thumb gently traces the scar on his temple, and you hear him take a sharp breath in at the simple, yet doting touch of the place that marks the darkest time of his life after the death of his daughter.

“you’ve never failed us. not at the beginning, and definitely not now. you’ve done so much to protect us, tex. taking on a fourteen year old girl is a lot, but taking on me, too? well, i have to applaud you for that.” he laughs. “but don’t think i don’t admire you for what you’ve done. hell, most men out there would’ve ditched us when they had the chance but you? you stuck by, guided us, saved us, loved ellie like a daughter. a…and, you’ve made me feel at home.” a soft smile graced your lips. “everything you’ve done for us, been for us? that’s home.”

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

“i’ve got you.” you say, grabbing his hand, rubbing your hand over the watch. “you didn’t fail sarah, you’ve never failed ellie and you could never fail me.”

“but-”

“no buts. you will never know how proud i am of you and everything you’ve done for us. to open up like this…” you sigh “i just…i’m glad you did.”

he removes his hand from yours, wrapping them both around your waist and pulling you into him. his head rests on your stomach, and your hands find their way into his hair. “home.” he mumbles, and you feel the smile on your chest.

i bet your back can carry more than

just the weight of your button down

one by one they come undone

when we get home

you stand by as you watch joel enter the house. three days, three damn days without him by your side because he was on patrol. you couldn’t blame him, it’s his part in making the community of jackson safe. besides, you knew he’d lose his mind if he had to sit around all day and lack any form of agency. he’d been in this world for too damn long to not find a piece of his mind in protecting others, especially you and ellie.

joel walks over to you, embracing you in a tight hug as he places a small kiss on your forehead. it’s followed by one on your lips, to which he smiles slightly, tipping his forehead so it meets yours. “missed ‘ya so much, darlin’.” his texan drawl makes you laugh.

“missed you too, baby.” you place both hands on either side of joel’s face, pulling back slightly to admire all that is him. his scars, his soul, his heart, everything. “ellie’s missed you too. been waiting on your arrival the entire day.”

joel chuckles, kissing you on the forehead. “i’ll go give her this, then.” he pulls out a book from under his arm, something you completely missed when he entered your house. he holds it up to you, and you read the name. a soft smile graces your lips, and you feel yourself wanting to tear up.

“she’ll love it.” you whisper.

it’s a couple hours later, the three of you having just eaten dinner, and joel and ellie are sat on the couch together. the tv is turned on, but joel is nowhere near paying attention, all of it is on ellie. she reads out the jokes in the joke book he gifted her, he complained about the bad ones, laughed at the good ones, and even shared some of his own.

you find yourself admiring them both, smiling wildly as you watch their dynamic. you knew you had the best relationship with ellie, but nothing could compare to how joel was with her. like a father, he cared and loved her without overstepping ellie’s boundaries.

and that? that’s all you could ever ask for in a man.

i’ve seen you carry family

and all my insecurities

one by one they’ll come undone

when we get home

you stand before joel, blood splattered on your clothes and covered in bruises in visible places. you hated to know how you looked underneath. you sat perched upon the counter in the bathroom as joel runs a cloth under the running tap, dabbing it on your face to remove the dried blood.

it was a patrol gone wrong. you thought you could handle it by yourself, you had done in the past. but when your patrol partner had lured you into a raiders den, it had all gone south from there. they got a fair few hits and wounds onto you before you remembered who you were, and you showed them no mercy.

brown, puppy dog eyes stare down at you, it’s almost comical. a hardened man with the softest expression on his face, all because you were bruised and injured. he sighs, placing the cloth on the side. “need you to take your clothes off, sweetheart. see if there’s any more damage.”

your eyes immediately snap up to meet his, panic arising in your body so much so he saw it in your face. “hey, ‘s okay.” his hand gently cups underneath your jaw, keeping your eyes on his. “ain’t gonna do anything, baby. just need to clean you u-”

“no.” you shake your head feverishly, cutting him off. “no.”

“got to make sure you ain’t hurt anywhere else.” he stares at you, and he looks so concerned and worried that you cave. pulling off your jumper and shirt, stood in your bra and sweatpants, completely exposed.

joel’s eyes trace your body, and you feels his eyes catch the wounds, but the scars that cut across your skin in a variety of places. he stiffens up, hand hesitantly reaching out to gently trace one, much like you had done with his.

he looks up at you when he’s done, stepping closer with his hand on your hip, where the scar his finger had just traced lingered. he tips his forehead to meet yours, both of your eyes closing. “i gotcha, sweet girl. always do.”

he pulls back and grabs the cloth from the sink, running it under water again before he starts to clean the cuts on your body. he traces every scar on your skin, each time making you shudder from the sheer amount of love he dedicates towards you, ensuring your comfort and trust, much like you had done with him.

he’s got you. he always has, always will.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

falling on top of you, joel’s hands travel underneath the hem of your dress, pulling down your panties. you sit up, pulling the white dress over your head, now completely naked and bare in front of the man you love.

joel tips your head up so you look at him, admiring your body as you sit naked and bare. he starts to take off his own clothes, pulling you close to him so he hovers of you. he kisses you lips passionately, your arms winding round his neck as you pull him in closer.

he chuckles as you moan when he bites your lip, pulling away to kiss down your neck, your chest, all the way down until he looks up at you, asking for permission.

you nod, and let him ravish you.

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere

because i’ve seen you

and i know you

and i’m not going anywhere.

a/n: fun fact, this was gonna end in tlou2 with joel and reader being murdered together but i said no <3

taglist: (if you want to be added, pls message me!!)

@theeblackmedusa @joeldjarin

#Spotify #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #ellie williams x platonic!reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou

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illusioninfnty · 1 year

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day 3 ; quickie

↠ sam giddings x reader

fandom: until dawn word count: 1.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, dom!reader, "Tex" as reader's nickname, physical descriptions of reader (tall, muscular), cunnilingus, fingering, praise

kinktober m.list || read on ao3 || takes place in the same universe as and before the events of outlast

You loved your friends dearly, but it was almost impossible to get some quality time with just your girlfriend when they were around.

Your group’s annual trip to the Washington’s cabin during winter break was, yes, a time to spend with each other and away from the stress of the real world, but it doubled as a fun little vacation for you and your girlfriend.

Everyone was hanging out in the living room, eating snacks and debating what you guys were going to do for the rest of the night when Sam stands up.

“I’m going to go take a quick bath,” she says, wiping her hands on a napkin and taking a final swig on her drink before handing it to you.

“Ugh, seriously?” Jess whines. “I wanted to go in there!” You rolled your eyes, seeing as Jess clearly did not up until Sam announced it. Her bottle of beer was almost empty, and her hand was still stuffed into a bowl of popcorn.

Sam sighs, wringing her hands. “I'll be five minutes, tops. Won’t even notice that I left.”

Jess groans as she turns back to whatever conversation she was having with Emily. Sam disappears upstairs, and you know this may be your only chance to have uninterrupted one-on-one time with your girlfriend.

You wrap your mind trying to find an ideal lie to tell to the group to sneak away and join Sam. “I’m going to go see if she grabbed a towel.”

No one seems to mind you except for Mike gives you a knowing stare, raising an eyebrow as if to say really? You send a glare his way and hold up a middle finger to him behind your back. You can hear his muffled laughter as you turn to follow Sam.

You slip into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind you. Sam had been taking off her clothes, her shirt already discarded to the side and her hands fumbling with the bra hooks.

She gasps and spins when the door slams, her body tensing up. But she immediately relaxes and strides over to slap your shoulder.

“Tex!” Sam hisses. ��I told Jess I’d only be—”

“Five minutes. I was right there, you know.” You start to slowly unbutton her shorts, sinking to your knees in front of her. “I can do a lot in five minutes.”

You seat Sam down on the edge of the tub as you fully remove her shorts, leggings and underwear. You start teasing her, marking kisses on her inner thighs as you move your way up to her pussy. She lets out a shaky sigh, gripping the edge of the cool, white, tub.

Sam is already starting to get wet, her insides glistening as you move to eat her out. You swirl your tongue all around, making sure to pay attention to her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans out as you glue yourself to her pussy. Her hands find your hair and she tugs, anchoring herself as she arches herself into you.

You can feel her wetness all around your mouth as you pull back, licking your lips. You only had five minutes, so you knew you needed to move quickly.

“Get in the tub,” you instruct as you begin to take off your own clothes.

Sam complies eagerly, swiveling her hips and submerging herself in the water that she previously drew. You join her moments later, straddling her as you kiss her, cupping her face with your hands.

She moans into the kiss, and runs her own hands up your chest, teasing your breasts. She squeezes them, ghosting her thumbs over your nipples. Goosebumps begin to cover your skin and a shock is sent down your spine.

You press your body to hers, grabbing her hips to grind yourselves together. You move a hand down her stomach pressing a finger over her clit. Sam gasps at the sensation, allowing you the opportunity to move your tongue into her mouth. The kiss you share becomes sloppy, saliva escaping and rolling down your chin. Sam pulls away, a string connecting the two of you.

“Are you only going to kiss me or what?” She remarks teasingly, panting slightly from the intensity of your makeout.

You laugh, and at the same time move your hand to carefully insert two fingers, beginning to pump them in and out of her. “Baby, you know I’ve got more,” you reply. Water starts splashing all around you as you maneuver your fingers, some of it escaping the rim of the circular tub.

“Oh my god,” Sam whines. Her cheeks are flushed now, and her chest heaves as she catches her breath. “Fuck, that feels amazing.”

Her hips subconsciously buck against your fingers as she chases more of you. You add a third, a yelp leaving Sam’s lips. You soothe her with another kiss and thumb at her clit while pumping your fingers in and out, curling them inside her walls.

“There you go. You’re being so good for me.” Sam whines at your praise and her head falls back. You can feel the way she clamps around your fingers, simultaneously clutching onto your arm. Her feet kick in the water from the pleasure.

Sam’s orgasm comes after a long build up, her moans becoming louder and you increasing in pace inside her. Her walls flutter against you, and even underneath the water you can feel her release coat your fingers.

You pepper kisses all over your girlfriend’s face as she begins to come down from her peak. You start to drain the tub and wipe it clean from any leftover evidence of yours and Sam’s short escapade.

A loud banging from the door startles the both of you. “Sam?” Jess’s voice rings from behind the door. “Come on, Sam! It’s been, like, a while!”

The two of you stare at each other with wide eyes for a second before scrambling to dry off quickly and put your clothes back on.

“Just a minute!” Sam calls out, her voice strained from before. You’re able to get yourself looking presentable before your girlfriend and instead of trying to hide, you open the door just as Sam finishes buttoning up her shorts.

An annoyed Jess meets your gaze, who looked surprised to see you for a brief moment before annoyance passes across her face. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms and juts a hip out, glaring at you and then Sam, who pokes her head out from around you.

Sam looks a bit sheepish and apologetic, but you just roll your eyes. “The bathtub is clean. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“God, you’re so annoying. Get a room!” Jess strides past you two into the bathroom.

You turn to her and smirk. “Don’t worry. We are.” You pull Sam along, rushing to your shared room to finish what you started.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sam giddings x reader #samantha giddings x reader #sam giddings #until dawn #until dawn x reader #sam giddings smut

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johnwickb1tsch · 6 months

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A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 7 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

They take you outside. They take you outside.

“Which house is this, John?” You lay your head on his shoulder, and he kisses your hair.

“Mexico.” The fact that he feels comfortable telling you where you are speaks volumes about trust.

Either that, or he’s confident you won’t get away. Ever. And he’s absolutely right. He can outrun, outmuscle, outwit you at any point. Not to mention he’s got a clone with the same capabilities.

Part of it is this; the fact that you can’t run or hide without your boys finding you. The knowledge of being owned and tracked and possessed wholly.

The other part, the one you lie to yourself about - you have to, really, for the sake of self preservation - is that you’re completely in love with them. Smitten. Consumed. Captivated and bewitched by your captors. You don’t want to run away most days.

Especially not when you’re pressed between them and being pampered and kissed and played with - sweet, awful pleasure the only thing you can focus on. Absolutely drunk on the balance of rough and soft, light and dark.

Tex is good with his mouth - of course he is. That silver tongue can do more than talk you into a writhing, soaked mess. As much as he adores helping John edge you for hours and making you sob in frustration, he likes it a little better when you’re overstimulated, babbling and bargaining, only able to chant his name as he makes you cum endlessly.

John is… different. Slower. More patient. Builds you up and down, watches and listens, observes - tilt of his head, tiny smile, “pretty girl likes that a little too much, huh?”

He’s sickly romantic, the kind that only exists in Hallmark movies. Always thinking of you, grabbing flowers and little gifts while he’s away. Bringing home trinkets from Paris and Brazil and even bumfuck Ohio. Obsessed with kissing you, holding your hand, calling you beautiful and pulling you closer and ruining your little heart.

Even when he’s rough, fucking you into the couch cushions at an almost inhumanely pace and mottling your cervix and hips and ass with bruises - even then he is rubbing your back, brushing your hair off your shoulders and littering sweet soaked kisses on your skin, praising and sweet-nothinging and groaning that you’re his, his, his.

Tex presses himself into the other side of you, skin sparkling and scratchy from salt and sand, and hands you a beautiful iridescent pink seashell. “Get in the water.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” you tell him, grinning, brushing sand off his cheekbone.

He chuckles. “Nah, but Johnny is.”

They both pick you up and drag you into the clear ocean ripples while you laugh and scream, take you out past where you can touch so you have to cling to them.

Sometimes, though, you want to run. Taste freedom and independence again. You want to feel needed instead of always being so needy. You miss volunteering at the animal shelter, working in the little book shop.

Sure, the boys want you. Sometimes, too much. Sometimes, you have to use that lock on your little cozy nook room to shut them out because you’re so overwhelmed and overworked. But they don’t need you, can’t really gain anything from you; not like the sick, dirty cats or the elderly women who forgot their reading glasses and need help finding a particular selection.

After you’re done playing in the water like children, laughing and splashing and getting sun drunk, you find yourself wrapped in a beach towel and cat napping on the big couch by the bay window.

“Wanna wake her up?” Tex asks John, plopping down beside him and offering an open, frosty beer.

“Let her sleep,” John says, flipping the page of his book and taking the drink.

Tex grins. “Aw, I don’t think she’d be too disappointed after she realizes I’m sucking on her little clit.”

John shuts his book, puts it on the stand.

“What?” Tex groans like he’s about to get lectured. Just like you’ve become used to them, they’ve become used to each other. Sometimes it’s a recipe for disaster. The first day you were alert enough to wake up and eat and drink after the bullet, they got into a fight. And not a verbal one.

It was actually terrifying. You thought Tex was going to meet the pearly gates when John curb stomped his already beaten face, so you had jumped in front of him to stop the next smash of a foot and earned yourself torn stitches and bloody bandages as a reward for the sudden movement.

“We need to figure out what we’re doing, Tex.” John looks over at you, watches how the sunlight bastes your shoulders and glows on your pretty skin.

Tex is looking at the same thing. “I’m not leavin’ er, John. And she sure as hell ain’t leavin’ me.”

“She needs to make that decision.”

“My ass. You think she’ll be safe out there? Think just cuz you put a bullet into father and son that sister and mother won’t come knockin next?” Tex takes a long pull on his bottle and leans elbows on knees. “You can go if you want, but y/n is stayin’ with me.”

John gives him a dark look. “You know I won’t let you, Tex.”

Tex laughs cruelly, leans back and spreads his arms over the back of the couch. “Then you’re gonna have to fuckin’ kill me.”

“John? Tex?” Your tinny voice cuts through their tension, immediately gaining full attentions. You hold out your hand to them, eyes half lidded, smiling softly. “Come lay with me?”

They sandwich you between their big heated bodies, curing the goosebumps brought on by the conditioned air. It reminds you too much of the cold steel room where Bradford kept you on ice, so you start to cry. Again.

It’s become such a common occurrence, now: one or both of them cradling and shushing and rubbing your back as you sob on their chests or laps. You cry more often than not. Sometimes you’re able to hide it, but not right now when you’re sleepy and vulnerable and so close to them.

Tex kisses the tears off your face. “Hey, honeypie, it’s alright, c’mon, I gotcha.”

“We’re right here, y/n.” John brushes the hair off your shoulders and kisses your salty sunned skin. “We’ll protect you.”

“Nobody’s gonna hurt you again, m’kay?” Tex tilts your chin up and kisses your head.

You wonder how in the hell they’re still so empathetic to your plight - any other man would be annoyed, telling you to let it go, reminding you that you’ve already cried about it a zillion times before. But not Tex and John. Never your boys.

They say they’ll protect you, but if they’ve already failed to do so, doesn’t that mean they can drop the ball again? Doesn’t that mean anyone could just come and plummet you into an unbridled world of violence and torture? What if they leave? What if they decide they don’t want you anymore? You’re helpless here - can only rely solely on the two people you’re cuddled between and it’s making you spiral into an internal inferno of chaos and doubt.

You feel like you’re losing your fucking mind. You feel powerless.

You fall asleep in their arms, fresh tears drying on your puffy cheeks, holding onto Tex’s waist, legs wrapped around John’s calves.

They wake you up for dinner, and you’re in a shit mood again, all venom no honey, squirming out of the cuddle pile, glowering and losing your towel in the process.

Before you can grab it back, Tex snatches it, holds it away, grinning.

“Give it back,” you tell him, trying to take it but only succeeding in pressing your belly into his beard.

He nips your skin and blows a little raspberry, and you screech, pulling away before a puckish arm can coil around your waste.

You groan, cover yourself, shivering on the cool wood floor. “Fine. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Need some help?” Tex asks.

“I can manage.”

You can feel his eyes on your ass as you walk away.

Do you feel bad about being bitchy? A little bit. Although it never really deters Tex. As much as he complains about your attitude problems, he gets ten times more impish when you have them. You just wish you didn’t find him so incredibly damn hot while he’s handling you like he would an angry hamster.

While you’re showering, whatever John is cooking smells delightful. It wafts around you, mixes with the hot steam of the shower, makes your stomach clench in longing. Hangry, then, maybe.

Pressing on your ribs wrong while you’re lathering still gets you groaning in pain. It’s taking a long time for this shit to heal, and it makes you wonder how exactly John can just take one and keep going like it’s a normal Tuesday. Your first few days of consciousness were agony. Morphine, IV drips, rolling the wrong way and screaming, John’s hands always two seconds away from wrapping around Tex’s throat.

“Please stop fighting,” you had asked them, woken not by their bickering but John’s low, guttural growl.

Four hands immediately on you, soothing, cooing, feathering over your skin like it was made of glass. You sort of felt like the oblivious kid in the divorce. They were so mean with one another, but always so soft with you. It was when you asked them to get along like they had been before that they actually started to try.

Honestly, though, them actually getting along means your undoing every single time. There are no upper hands to be had against the two when they share one common goal, and usually you’re the one begging in the end.

Your tiny crumb of power, whether you like it or not, is contained in feminine wiles, and sometimes you use it just to spite them. Especially since they can’t be rough with you because you’re still healing from said nasty bullet.

You pick out a pair of cheeky lace and silk panties and grab some cotton shorts that make your ass look great to pair with them. To literally top it off, you slip on a shifty tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

You check yourself in the mirror, turn around a few times, smooth your hands down your tummy and legs, bite your lip to plump it up a little bit. Fuck the shorts. You slide them off and leave yourself in the panties and tank top.

Now, you’re ready.

You feel like the vulnerable bunny walking into a cage of chained Dobermans. All eyes on you. You press the issue, bend down in front of them to pick up something John dropped.

You think maybe this will be the night he actually fucks up and maybe burns a piece of chicken, and, oh, wouldn’t that scratch your ego just right.

You press into him, lean your weight against his solid mass because you know he can handle it, and put the towel back onto the counter. “John Wick leaving a rag on the floor?” You tsk. “Sloppy tonight, eh?”

He raises an eyebrow down at you.

You tuck a rogue hair behind his ear, pausing to tickle your finger over the sensitive shell, and then turn your attention onto Tex.

He’s all hooded eyes and bobbing Adam’s apple while you saunter up to him and fix the collar on his shirt. “Not you too,” you sigh, grinning his devil’s grin right back at him.

“Playing a dangerous game, rattlesnake,” he tells you, tugging softly on the bottom of your top.

You try to remain composed, take the seat beside him. “Sure, Tex.” A little eye roll.

“Someone wants to sit funny for a few days, huh?” He grabs the bottom of your chair and tugs you closer.

“Are you forgetting who took a literal bullet for your ass?” You ask him, pursing your lips and batting your eyelashes.

John chuckles.

“You’re about to take more than that for me—”

John surprises you both. It’s hard to get used to his constant stealth mode. He sets hot plates down in front of you, then takes his own place at the table. “Y/n, we need to talk.”

“Great, I love hearing that.”

He shoots you a stern look that reminds you he’s not Tex, and you back down, spiky fur softening.

“Things have settled down. No one is out for your blood anymore. You’re safe to settle down somewhere new with the bounty and start again.”

Tex’s head twists so hard you hear his neck crack. “You sonofabitch, what did I say, huh?”

John levels a glare back. “She needs to make her own decision.”

Tex slams an open palm on the table, makes you jump and yelp. “I’m gonna—”

“Stop!” They both turn attention to you. Tears well on your bottom lashes, shoulders shaking in anger. “Really? All this time spent and you’re just gonna let me go? And act so—” you resist the urge to scream, but end up with a softer version of it -“fucking aloof about it?!” You whip around to face Tex. “And you, you fucking big bully, you just make all my decisions for me, huh?! Treat me like I’m incapable of thinking for myself.” Your yell drops to a quiet quiver, salty liquid spilling down your cheeks. “Both of you never even stopped once to ask me what I wanted. You’re both too concerned with using me. Like I’m some fuck toy who doesn’t have any say in…. In anything. And now you wanna end it?” You look back at John. “Just like that?” You shove your plate away. “I’m not your fucking chew toy.”

You stand up and walk out the door, slamming it for good measure, stomping and sobbing, following the sound of dark ocean waves. It’s pitch black out here, the only light provided by a shy, foggy moon. Still, you walk. You walk until your feet get sore and tired and you have to sit down on the sand and ruin your cute underwear.

They don’t come after you, which you think would satisfy you, but, instead, it makes you even angrier. They don’t give a shit, and that’s apparent now. They don’t care and they never did. You selfishly hope there are more Bratva members out here with your name in their pocket just so you can prove a point.

You sink into warm sand and sob on the dark beach, cresting waves drowning out your pathetic cries.

Johnwickb1tsch:

It is late, by the time you return to the villa. You are listless and tired from crying. You see a single lamp on inside the house, but you don’t want to see them yet. A part of you yearns for them, even after your fight, like a missing limb, but the other half of you can’t stand the thought of facing them. They’ve been so sweet after your ordeal, and yet you know they’ll probably have cooked something diabolical up for you, for daring to show your true feelings about it all.

You are covered in sand. It really does get into everything. At the poolside you strip down, using the outdoor shower to rinse off. The pool is infinity style, affording a view of the beach beyond. Subtle lighting around the courtyard throws the various tropical plants in dramatic shadow. Kroton, monstera, palm trees, organ cacti and prickly pear, and a pink bougainvillea bush that is almost as big as the house. You love the garden here. You love this house, if you’re being honest.

You dive into the pool. It’s not very often you get to have it to yourself. Usually one or the other of the boys is shadowing you. Pulling at your swimsuit, stealing kisses and sending you to pieces in one way or another. You resent it, the effect they have on you, even as you’re not sure you can give it up.

Floating on your back, naked as a jaybird and looking up at the stars, you wonder what your life would even look like now, without them. Could you ever be content in the real world again, knowing who and what you left behind? Women would sell their souls to have just one of your assassins in their bed—and here you are, complaining that you have two.

If that’s not human nature in all its absurdity, you don’t know what is.

“Fuck,” you sigh. You want to scream it at the sky, but you don’t want to wake them, if they in fact are sleeping, and not sitting up in the shadows waiting to ambush you.

What do you want, actually? What would really make you happy?

It’s a question you’ve never been terribly good at answering for yourself, and that was before the shit got weird. You love animals. You’d enjoyed volunteering at the shelter. You imagine turning this beautiful compound into a fucking zoo of creatures who were discarded by people, if the boys gave you half the chance. That probably wouldn’t fly. And what if you all have to flee again? What would happen to the babies? It wouldn’t be responsible.

Then you think about what they might say, if you proposed conducting an actual relationship. Living in a place where you could come and go as you please, and not be kept in total isolation. Go to the fucking store without a hulking shadow of a bodyguard by your side. Get a cup of coffee, go to the library. They could come and go too. Dinner at seven. How was your day, honey? Well I popped a low-level state representative who wasn’t getting the picture from 600 yards, then I picked up my dry cleaning.

Ye gods. You have to keep reminding yourself that this is not normal.

“For a minute there I though we’d caught ourselves a mermaid.”

The silence could not last, of course.

You right yourself to tread water in the deep end, looking up at Tex standing at the poolside with his muscular arms crossed. His face is thrown half in shadow, his eyes glittering like obsidian orbs; why does he have to be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen? Next to John, of course—but they’re practically fucking twins, even if they won’t admit their physical similarity.

When Tex starts to pull off his t-shirt you pipe up, “Sure you want to do that? Mermaids are famous for drowning men.”

Tex pays you that wolfish baring of teeth, kindling a familiar fire in your belly. What is wrong with you, that you so love to fight with this dangerous man? He always wins. Every fucking time. And yet you keep coming back for more. Maybe you’re the crazy one. Doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results, and all that…

“Them’s big words, from a gal who can barely touch the bottom even in the shallow end…” he teases.

“Fuck you.” You splash at him, but he’s already shimmied out of his shorts and is jumping in with you. It’s a pleasure to watch him glide through the water, truth be told. Long of line, bare skin, sinewy muscle—it makes you mad all over again, how the sight of him moves you. He surfaces an arm’s length from you, spitting water playfully into the air while pushing his dark hair out of his face. When he reaches for you, you splash him in the face.

“Don’t touch me. I’m still mad at you.”

He makes a show of wiping water out of his eyes, even though he’s already soaking wet.

“Cuz I’m such a bully, huh? Always tellin’ you what to do?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mere, you little rattlesnake.”

It’s like arguing with a brick wall, and his grip on your arm won’t be dislodged. You already know this—but you kick out anyway. Your foot finds his ribs; the push of it makes your side ache. The “oomph” you get out of him in answer is almost worth it though, and for good measure you do your damndest to dunk him.

“Goddamn, woman,” he curses, spinning you in his arms so he can drag you to a part of the pool where at least he can stand.

“Let go of me.”

“Can you just listen for once?” There’s a surprising earnestness in this request that makes you still in his arms, all ears.

“Yeah?”

He gathers you to him, your back to his front, and the warmth of his bare skin against yours in the water with his arms around you is a distracting thing.

You wait, but he’s not forthcoming.

“I’m listening?” you prompt impatiently.

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.”

He laughs in the bend of your neck, though there is an edge to it. He grazes your cheek with his teeth, but he doesn’t bite down. This man has an oral fixation worse than a puppy dog. You’re never sure if he wants to kiss you, or eat you.

“I’m no good at this,” he finally admits.

Well that’s the understatement of the century.

“You know, the more you think about what you want to say, the more time you have to convince yourself of a lie?”

The sound he makes behind you is more growl than sigh. “Fine. I’m fucking crazy about you, alright? And the thought of being without you feels like feeding my heart through a woodchipper.”

Hearing this makes you go dead still in his arms. It was not the thing you expected to hear from this man, ever. Suddenly you feel hot all over; there’s a ringing in your ears, your heart is in your throat. You remember what Bradford said about Tex. Psychopathic narcissist. Which means, from a text-book standpoint, that he will say anything he has to, to manipulate the people around him to his liking.

But goddamn, if it didn’t sound like he meant it just now, when he said he cares about you.

Does he mean it? Can you trust a damn word that comes out of this man’s mouth?

Do you want him to mean it?

You don’t fucking know. And you’d better say something back fast, or you’re going to be in a world of fucking trouble.

“I am…quite fond of you as well, for some reason.”

This makes him snarl, pinching your side that didn’t take a bullet. “Ow! Ok, ok!”

“What was that? Last I checked, people don’t jump in front of a bullet for someone they’re just fond of.”

“Fine. In a split-second decision…the thought of the world without you in it seemed intolerable to me.”

This, however, does not appease him.

“You just can’t say it, can you?”

“Why should I? You’ll punish me either way. I lose no matter what, in this game.”

Tex flings his arm in a wide gesture, sending crystalline drops of water flying in an arc towards the house. “You call this losing?” he demands hotly, and now you sense you’ve succeeded in truly making him angry. “Holed up in a mansion in Mexico with two men who love you more than life itself? We were ready to die for you, when Bradford took you! Don’t that mean anything at all?”

You’re so mad that the last part of that statement hardly registers with you. “Holed up? I am your prisoner. John says he loves me but he’s ready to let me go. You say you love me but you won’t give me the freedom to live. Your dicks are very nice but I need something more than sitting around the house waiting for the two of you to pounce on me!”

“What do you need?” The question is so calm in comparison to you and Tex’s yelling that the both of you fall silent. John has joined you, standing like a tall shadow at the edge of the pool, the yellow lights at his back illuminating him like a fiery halo. In that moment for all the world he resembles something that just materialized from the fires of hell.

“Freedom,” you answer before you have time to think about it, or before Tex can stop you. “I don’t like being kept in a cage.”

John is still as a statue, only his hair stirring in the salty breeze coming off the sea.

“And the two of us?”

Tex’s grip around your waist tightens, vibrating with tension, as though he’s scared of what you’ll say. He doesn’t shut you up though, silent for what may be the first time in his life, waiting for your answer.

“We can work something out.”

In the depths of the shadows, you almost miss the slight curl of John’s lips at the corners. “Well, that’s nice to hear.” You can’t tell if he means it—or if he’s just amused by you.

You watch as he strips out of his clothes to join you in the pool, and you know…nothing has really been settled, and you only sort of feel better about your situation. Talk is easy. What they actually decide to do with you? Remains to be seen.

Yet when John cups your face in his big hands, kissing you so sweetly you start to tremble—in Tex’s arms, his hot mouth upon your neck, his long fingers gliding down your belly to dip between your legs—maybe it’s all a problem that can wait until tomorrow. Or next week.

Or next month.

You do kind of like it here, with them.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

There's a ringing in your ears as you blink. Looking at the phone screen. Apparently, you now have a new bank account, a new identity and a whole new life.

A life without them in it.

When John brought up the 'coversation' last month, you had an outburst.

But now, when he has made all the decisons on your behalf, made all the arrangements to ship you the fuck out of his life-- of their lives, you sit in silence.

The conversation began a few...minutes ago? You aren't entirely sure. Because you are busy trying to keep your breathing normal and not let your tears show.

If they can take decisions for you, discard you like nothing.

They do not deserve to know how easy it has been for them to shatter you.

"One of my friends will drop you to the airport. From there, contact this man, he'll lead you through the security."

John speaks as if he is dealing with any other person as he slides a paper with a name and number on it, even a picture. He sounds strange to you now.

Indifferent.

Stoic

Unreadable

And of course, Tex makes no appearance. You have not seen him the whole day. You should have seen the signs. But you naively thought he was running some errands.

What a dumb litttle woman you have been.

Stupid.

"Finally got bored of me?" You don't know if its your voice, or your eyes but something vulnerable and readable flashes in his eyes.

"I am doing what is right for you." He has the guts to look and sound sincere.

You fist your fingers and let out a slow, quivering breath, trying to keep your voice stable through this.

You realise that you are in love with them.

You are so in love with them that even breathing hurt, looking atnthe screen showing the promised 2.5 million made you feel like a protstitute.

So you really were their 'expensive' whore.

Tex's words ring in your head.

"And when did you decide what's right for me?"

Your voice does not come out as strong as you would have liked, but you want to pat your back for keeping it from cracking. For keeping the tears from filling your eyes, for keeping yourself from breaking down and for letting it show that your heart now is in pieces - tiny but sharp pieces - pieces that would go unnoticed - but make one bleed.

"Because I know that it is for the best." He asserts.

Your giggle is unexpected, but it somehow helps. "Oh, yeah?" you shake your head. "Now you decide what's best for me?"

"(Y/N)---"

"When can I go?"

Enough of this game.

You do not want to hear anything else, you do not even want to look at him, at them. If Tex isn't here yet.

Good.

You think spitefully. He should not show his fucking face!

Anger, restentment, betrayal, heartbreak and helplessness-- everything amlagamt into a dangerous fusion that oddly numbs you. But you know that this is the silence betfore the storm.

They do not even deserve to see your outburst. You will not give them the satisfaction of any reaction at all.

There is a charged silence from his end. And when you finally manage to glance up from the screen. You almost curse out loud.

You don't know what he is thinking. But it does not seem any good.

"You think---"

The ringing of the phone becomes your saviour. You think you actually felt the growl on your skin seconds ago. Why else would there be goosebumps on your skin. Why else would your heart be thumping?

When he picks the phone, he keeps his eyes on you, but you revert your gaze back on the phone screen. Oh, you now have a new phone as well. A parting gift from them. It feels more like a return gift.

'Hey party's over, you can go hom enow, and yes, thank you for being our little plaything. Here, a return gift. Happy Journey!'

You almost laugh at your own mental mimicry.

----

John's friend arrives within an hour. You have packed your bags mechanically, but you've meticulous about it. Nothing of you would remain with them, and no part of either of them shall go with you.

The shirt you've been wearing for so long that it now basiclaly smells like you?

It actually belongs to Tex, you remember, because he would always joke about you robbing his wardrobe every time he would see you in it, only to rob you out of your breath the next moment.

So, the shirt is left in the empty closet.

The two-in-one shampoo that saves time? It s John's, so it is left on the counter.

You shove down the sob itching to emerge and steele yourself. Tex is still nowhere to be found.

Bastard.

You load the bags at the back of the car. Only two bags. Funny how your life has been alterned permananently, you are to 'start afresh' and all you've got are two bags to begin with.

Oh, and a fat bank account.

The man and John speak in Sapnish, John does most of the talking for a change. You just want to get in the car and sit down.

But you stop, somehow. Soemthing tells you to turn around. Something in you is sure that Tex is here. You know it is most probbaly your silly heart, still whimpering like the stupid fucking thing it has been for so long. You want to finally listen to your mind. But as soon as you hold the handle to yank the door open, a painful tug at your heart makes you freeze.

Listen to your fucking brain for once!

See where your stupid heart has got you---

Fuck it!

You turn around, almost hoping to see Tex, so much the image of him standing a few feet away flashes before your eyes even before you turn around.

But there in no one behind.

The fiery hope fizzles into cold nothingness in you.

No one is standing there, hoping to see you, no one is there, rushign to stoip you, to stop John. To stop this.

There is no Tex.

You scoff lightly.

But you promise yourself that this is the last time you make a fool out of yourself by listening to your heart.

You should have seen this coming. But you were just a lonely, love-starved, pathetic little woman, weren't you?

Yanking the door open, you get inside the car. The man, John's friend, joins shortly after, taking the driver's seat.

He greets you in accecented English, and you reply politely, despite the effort that it takes to be civil with anybody at themoment. You feel John's eyes on you, but you refuse to look his way.

"Can we go now?"

You ask the man, barely keeping your voice from cracking. The man nods and starts the car, but only after approval from John. You bite your lips, keeping your tears at bay-- its not easy, but you have turned into an expert in bottling up emotions at this point of life.

John's ears are ringing, and his eyes are blurry as he watches the car taking a turn, completely disappearing from his sight. He blinks, relenting under the stubborness of his tears. One tiny drop finds an escape to his cheek. Silently, he turns around.

Tex is standing a few feet behind him. He has been there ever since you walked to the car with her bags.

He simply did not have it in him to face you. So whene you turned, he hid behind a wall.

John undertands Tex, and he knows that Tex would never forgive him for doing this.

But John likes to tell himself that is the better of the two when it comes to 'doing the right thing'. Angels do not belong with devils. They're cursed, doomed beings, destroying everything good that touches them, defiling that they touch.

You don't deserve that.

John tells himself for the nth time. Maybe, if he convinces himself, it would be easier to make Tex see his reason one day.

He watches as Tex silently walks back inside the villa, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tammykelly:

You would sit and stare at the walls of each airbnb for hours. Hours would turn into days, days - into weeks. You were losing count at that point, having learnt that a passing minute could turn into lingering eternity when every day was just a routine of waiting. So patiently waiting for the impossible, you weren’t sure you were breathing.

And you were hoping they’d come bursting right through each door, as it would crack open under sizzling fire and stand agape, akin to the gates of oblivion, forever sucking you into the whirlpool of tarnished hopes.

But they never came, always teasing you with a fog of a visit in your dreams, so flawlessly unattainable, even in the thicket valley of your own mind. You could practically feel their presence, looming somewhere behind you. And yet when you did turn your head, you’d always be greeted with only shadows, playing dirty tricks on you.

And what came to fill that befuddled void was an unstoppable force of burning tears and searing pain you carried in your chest every time you’d go on a new road trip across Europe.

Eucalyptus trees, turquoise sea, passing by the road, birds flying high, sometimes matching the speed of the car.

It wasn’t them leaving you feeling discarded that made you mad. It was the fact that it was the decision made for you. The taken away chance for you to fight for your own freedom and liberate yourself on your own terms.

Crowds of people laughing, dancing, cheering, a few couples kissing and hugging slipped by your sight.

And who would’ve thought that the freedom, once forced upon you, tasted like emptiness, and boredom turned out to be second to the suffocating loneliness. For now, instead of being caged in the glass house, you found yourself waking up every day to the ringing sound of the cage that was your own subconscious, slowly erasing parts of you.

The excitement of the first few days would always vaporise into the thin air, the towns, the mountains, the forests, the beaches - everything turning into a never ending lane in between the world you daydreamed about behind the world you were escaping. For freedom, with no one to share, became a burden just for you to carry.

This is probably what they wanted, you’d think every day, staring at yourself in the rear mirror of your rental car. For you to hate your own company and long for their so bad you wanted to curse your own existence.

They’d always play a game of push and pull with you, giving you everything that you wanted in a controlled amount - just enough for you to feel satisfied and less than enough that you keep coming back for more.

You drive the car down one of many hills of Italian Riviera, onto an empty secluded beach, then stepping into the nauseating midday sun accompanied by the loud crying of cicadas. The scorching sunlight and eucalyptus shade being the only things that kiss your skin, as you leave your sundress discarded in the backseat. Soft sand embraces your feet, slowly guiding you to the warm crystal clear blue water, letting you escape deeper and deeper in, until your bikini is fully wet and your chin touches the surface. Your eyes close, your breath in synch with your heartbeat fueled by the fleeting thoughts.

You exhale one last time, emptying your mind, and let the Mediterranean sea swallow you whole.

- a flashback -

You feel your head come above the surface, air filling your lungs, and then late noon sunlight graze your wet hair, as you walk out of the turquoise pool, emerging slowly, your eyes locked on the dark chocolate ones that devour each curve of your body, too distracted to notice you calculating your steps. You reach the pool bed and grab the towel, drying yourself, the sunlight shining over you in the most flattering way, making the man beside you hardly resist pulling you onto his lap. You feel his arms find their way around you in a firm embrace, and in a swift motion, the towel is discarded somewhere on the floor, droplets from your bikini are now falling down onto his skin.

“Hey”, you say softly, making yourself comfortable, at the price of his discomfort.

“You’re a fuckin’ goddess, you know that?” - Tex’s lips fall on your chest and trace a line up to your jawline.

“Never noticed, no”, you tease, your fingers on either side of his face, making him look up at you. A little naughty butterfly sets an array of flowers blooming in the bubble inside your heart, as you watch him study you with the eyes full of a promise to devour you right then and there, meticulously edging you on, before the other hawk comes for his piece of the prey.

Having nowhere to run means you’ve got nothing to lose.

You kiss him deeply, feeling his arms pull you flush against his chest, before you pull away right when the scales are about to tip not in your favor.

Your gaze penetrates his dark irises, igniting more fiery canons he throws your way in a form of his fingers digging deeper into your hips and waist.

Out of the two, Tex is more impulsive. And impulsivity means a behavioural pattern. And where’s a pattern, there’s a loophole. And where’s a loophole, there’s a way out.

Your ears catch his voice before your brain registers it.

“What?”, - Tex chuckles, making your resurfacing back to him speed up its pace.

“Nothing”, - you whisper, your fingers touching his cheekbones.

A small smirk turns into a wolfish grin, as he continues: “It’s never nothing with you. You told me once, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal. So tell me, what’re you hidin’, my rattlesnake?”

Him leisurely drawing absentminded circles on your hips makes your chest rise and fall a bit deeper, as if setting off in-built alarms. You lock your jaw and let go.

“Sometimes my mind still wonders back to that kidnapping day”, the circles stop, “as I remember watching you and John obliterate the enemies, I kept thinking how graceful you two looked, as if almost entranced in a dance, deadly one at that”, his jaw plays under your fingers, “as time passed, it made me wonder, what more can you do for me?”

You notice a flash of darkness sparkle through his gaze, as if a shadow of a thick lone storm cloud approaching, but never leaving, with lightning brewing deep within.

Tex growls: “Oh, you’re so spoiled,”your cheeks flush a deeper tone, “we’re ready to kill anyone for you, is it not enough?”

You can’t keep your eyes off his, so you reply: “Although I do appreciate the thought, it’s not”, his eyebrow twitches, “you know, it’s easy to break, to kill and to bring destruction to the doorstep of anyone who dares to encounter you. But you know what’s hard?”, you let a pause escape into the abyss, “sacrificing and living”.

His head tilts, “we’re both willing to sacrifice our lives for you”. You pull away.

“I know, you do, but that’s not what I mean”, you tell him, “getting killed in the name of love is easy. But giving up what you love is not”. The hairs at the back of your neck stand up, for your heartbeat quickens at the look, emanating from his narrowed eyes.

“What are you talking about?”, he asks lowly.

A shallow breath escapes your lips when you feel tears pool in your eyes, before you can speak again: “You keep dancing with the death because you were born to be its angels. You love hunting, because you were born to be hunting dogs”, you let yourself run your fingers through his raven locks, feeling your chest tighten, “but you know better than anyone that death always catches up to you, you can’t outrun it”, your eyes wash over his face, “hounds get shot down too”.

You feel a vibration of his laughter echo through you, as Tex’s voice softens: “Well, that’s one way to call us old”.

You smile bitterly, feeling a single tear roll down your cheek. “Oh, you don’t think your employers just gonna pat you on the back and thank you for your service, do you?” Tex’s fingers wipe your cheek gently, butterflies in your belly forming a growing gurgling sensation of an upcoming avalanche, “the difference between a dog and a man is that dogs can’t talk, they act on instinct”, he watches your eyes search his, “either way, both of you will always remain a liability. There’s no grace in dying and no dignity in fighting a losing game”.

Suddenly, you hear another deep voice quietly respond, sending shivers down your spine, as its owner steps into the light, away from the shadowy greenery.

“So, what are you saying?”, you hear another pool bed creek, as John sits down.

“Devils are forever bound to Hell”, you feel an instinctive urge to wiggle out of Tex’s grip and let your feet touch the ground, “so don’t fucking drag me into it. Make your choice”, you tell them, both men now looking up at you, their laser sharp pitch black eyes staring right through you, goosebumps arising on every inch of your body.

“You know it’s not that simple”, Tex says lowly, earning a glare from John, which he shrugs off. You raise an eyebrow.

“Is this your final answer, Tex?”

He doesn’t reply.

You don’t take your eyes off Tex, while you hear John’s voice pierce through you: “We’ll always choose you”, making you slightly step away.

“Doesn’t seem that way”, you reply in a tone that matches his and turn around, speed walking back to the mansion.

You immediately feel the AC blasting, while you pace your breathing, as you step inside and walk into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water with shaky hands. You glance into the window, watching the boys’ backs, as they lean closer to one another, whispering secrets not meant for your ears. Secrets that the tree shades will evaporate and never reveal.

You feel your hand clasp the glass harder, your vision focusing on the blurry reflection of you, tears making your silhouette on the window glass even fainter, as water slips past your lips and down your throat.

- the present -

As you look away from your reflection in the bar window, lazily skipping over LA street view, you put the glass down, the burning sensation in your mouth tingling pleasantly.

So much for fighting to be a puppet master when in the end it’s always been their game, for they were the ones who invented it. Haunting you. Taunting you. Tainting you. Akin to the glass in front of you, stained with your fingerprints and lipgloss.

Fuck, your breath fogs the glass.

You hear the bar doorbell ringing, letting the late night air in, and, after a few seconds, a bar stool a few sits over scraping, as the person sits down. You look up from the glass and into the mirror behind the illuminated shelves that hold liquor.

You suddenly feel like your stomach is flipping somersaults, as if air was knocked out of your lungs. For when you watch the stranger’s reflection, you can’t help but notice the singularity of similarities, wondering whether you’re seeing double.

How many Jesus-looking handsome devils are there?

You forget that it’s not polite to stare and he pretends not to pay attention to it. After a few seconds you inhale again, as if starved for oxygen, your heartbeat overpowering the loud music in your ears.

You fail to see a scrawny middle-aged guy sitting down next to you, missing his chatting up and lewd looks, as he’s checking you out. Finally, your eyes lock with your mirrored ones, your jawline hardens, as you try to move away from the noisy stranger. As you take a sip of your drink, he tries to snatch your hand, which makes you jolt and snap your hand back, throwing him a deadly glare. Instead of taking the hint, he grabs the back of your stool and spins your seat, so you’re facing him.

“Fuck off”, you hiss at him.

“You’re so rude”, - the guy moves closer and you - further from him, your skin crawling with unpleasant thoughts, “someone’s gotta teach you manners”, placing a hand on your bare lower thigh, above your knee. You exhale with a smirk on your lips, before grabbing his palm, curling your fingers and digging your nails into the centre of the thinnest part so hard that bloody creases appear, making him yelp. Fingers of your other hand wrap around the thumb of the hand you’re clawing in, and you’re not shy to painfully bend it in such a way that if you put more force to it, it’d break.

“Remind me again, what was it about the manners?”, you whisper, dangerously low, the guy’s cries drowning in the music. His other hand claws at your arm, as he calls you names. You yank his hand hard, as he does the same in his direction, which leaves deep scratch marks, then grasping his collar, your wide crazed eyes staring into his drunk red ones.

“Don’t try me”, you growl, “I will bite”.

“You crazy fucking bitch”, the guy grabs you with one hand, his glossy eyes filled with rage, his hot breath fanning over your face. As his other hand moves to slap you, you turn to the side briefly, noticing dark obsidian eyes staring right at you, when the stranger’s hand wraps around the guy’s wrist.

“Don’t be rude to the lady”, he says to the drunkard, as you let go of the guy. You lean back, watching the stranger’s eyes glow, akin to jet-black nothingness of the dark matter in space.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy asks the stranger, who turns his attention to you:

“Is he bothering you, angel?”

You nod, your gaze never leaving his, making you feel an almost familiar sense of security, as you fall deeper into the bottomless fiery pits of his eyes. Before the guy can say a word, the handsome stranger is forcibly throwing him onto the ground, then casually asking the bartender to call the security, ignoring the guy’s threats to call the cops. You watch the stranger squat in front of the drunk guy and tell him to stay quiet, which he doesn’t listen to, making the first one roll his eyes.

You hear a sound of his fist colliding with the guys head, knocking him out. The stranger’s black eyes find yours, pulling you into the intricate labyrinth that is his curious gaze.

“Happens all the time”, he explains, his presence close enough to make you feel the heat of his body, but respectfully away that you don’t feel like he’s intruding your personal space. All thoughts completely leave your mind, as you don’t think you have it in you to divert your gaze, especially when the security drags the drunkard out onto the street.

You feel blood flow to your cheeks when the man’s eyes study you with the same intensity you once knew, making your stomach turn and throat dry up, as you absentmindedly reach for your drink. You force yourself to look away, blinking the fog of memories clouding your consciousness, as if a waterfall washes away the imprints it once knew. You let the pretty devil read your body language, not paying attention to him sitting down next to you, as you look through the window, into the depths of the night, for a split second thinking, indeed, you’re seeing double.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost”, the man’s voice reaches you, once again the illuminating black hole of his irises not letting go of you, as if the sound and space around you are nonexistent anymore.

“Maybe I did”, you reply, pleasant tingles all over your body mixing with barely noticeable shivers, coating your flesh, your mind fully in control of your thoughts and actions, despite several cocktails.

You break the thick silence between you: “Do you, like, have a twin or something?”

“No, why’d you ask?”, - he responds, his gaze slowly increasing the heat of your body.

“Sorry, you just remind me of someone”, you apologise, hiding the truth behind the sip of your drink.

“Are you running away or looking for them?”, - the stranger asks.

“I dunno. Maybe a little bit of both”, your lashes flutter.

You feel him lean closer, the speed of your heartbeat rising.

“What’d you do if you saw a ghost?”, he whispers, your eyes lock on his again.

You bite your lip, thinking for a second, and tell him: “Well, it’d depend on where I see them. If I saw them in my apartment, I’d ask why the fuck they’re here rent free. If I saw them in a Church, I’d probably meet Jesus right then and there. If I saw them in an alley, I’d probably punch them so hard I’ll send them back to where they came from”.

Your eyes find his playful smile so enjoyable for some reason, when he teases: “You’ve got spirit”.

You mirror his expression: “No, just a whole lotta anger”.

You both let a pause vapour into the air and then he speaks again.

“So, which one is it?”, he asks, searching your eyes.

“Well, I’m here and they’re there. End of the story”, you let out before another beat passes by, as your mind and heart fail to create any excuse not to keep up with him.

He tilts his head, his short messy hair falling all over his forehead. “So, what brings you to the city of Angels? Business or pleasure?”

“Haven’t decided yet, maybe both”, you say, watching a wolf-like grin appear on his lips, a smirk you know all too well, which makes your heart sting just a tiny pinch.

“Looks like you need someone to do a whole lotta deciding for you”, - his eyes glimmer with a shade of darkness you can tell brings no good but a cheeky pretext for more.

“Excuse you, you don’t think you have anything you can offer me, do you?”, you match his smile with one of your own.

“Depends on what you’re looking for”, the man replies, watching you feign curiosity.

“Depends on what you have to offer”, you raise an eyebrow.

“So you do want something from me”.

“Huh, maybe the question is what don’t I want”.

You feel the heat of his body on yours even stronger when he moves closer.

“Maybe the question is what can you offer me?”, he asks, earning a glare from you. The counter meets with your arm, as you lean on it, your body now facing his.

“What are you looking for then? Business or pleasure?”, you throw one leg over the other.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, angel. It could be something you can’t give me”, he leans back, looking down at you through his lashes.

A pause washes over you two.

“What, cat’s got your tongue?”

“No, I’m thinking”, you tell him.

“Think faster”, he urges.

Deja vu much?

You exhale, smirking: “Fuck off. You’re a prick”.

“You can’t expect to receive something without giving something in return. So, that makes you…a…what?”, he waves his hand absentmindedly.

“A fucking saint”, your voice sounds as a matter of factly.

“Quite the opposite, actually”.

“Yeah, you ever see a saint doing charity work?”

“I’ll let you know when I see one”

He’s so devilishly handsome it’s annoying.

Your jawline moves but you don’t dwell on the feeling of rising heat under your skin.

“So, what is it that you want”, you ask flatly.

“Stick around and find out”.

“Nah, I’ll have to check my calendar first”, you pretend to think, “hmm, I don’t think so”.

You catch a tiny sparkle of interest grow bigger in the eyes opposite yours, though he doesn’t move a muscle, buying into your pretence when you both can feel the underlying truth on your fingertips.

“Can I buy you a drink”, his low voice vibrates through a thin layer of deceptive indifference. You note how his eyes are the opposite of the ones that embody icy coldness laced with a warm hue that you’re used to. His irises are so warm with a glint of a cold breeze, blowing through them.

“No, but you can pay for mine. I don’t drink much, especially with scruffy strangers”.

The man waves to a bartender who’d just come for his shift, you hear the voice of a man behind the counter: “Good evening, John”.

Oh, so help me God

“Put the lady’s drinks on my tab and get me a glass of Ardberg”, he turns to face you, “name’s John Constantine. You’re indebted to me now”.

“For a fucking drink?”

“Three, to be exact”

You laugh.

Guess you’re not escaping the devil tonight

“You’re such an asshole, John. So what is it that you do for a living”

“I hunt”

Fucking Hell

“And then I help the souls leave this realm”, he continues.

Even better

“Like, with a bullet or a prayer?”, you draw circles on the glass ring.

“A little bit of both”

“That pays well?”

Constantine smirks: “One does what one can”.

“You like it?”

“Not at all”

“Why’d you do it then?”, you ask quietly.

“To atone for my sins”, your eyes can’t help but notice an almost sad glimpse appear in his irises and then switch off back to a playful hint. He watches you look at him with wide eyes.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You nod, expectantly.

“I don’t do bullets these days”

“So, you’re like…Killer Preacher? Fiery Priest?”

“Haven’t thought of it like that. But yeah”, he replies, as your heartbeat almost makes you nauseous, the ephemeral sensation of being watched from a place you can’t see making your ears turn red, you almost don’t hear him finish his sentence, “I’m not a killer. On God”.

You force a giggle: “Sure”.

Constantine’s eyes loom over yours once more, taking in every micro expression of yours, when he suggests: “You’re sure you don’t want a drink?”

You look him right in the eyes when you take his drink from his hand and down the rest he hasn’t finished yet, then saying: “Yeah, thanks. It’s been nice knowing you, John Constantine”.

He quirks an eyebrow: “You drank my shit and you’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m done with killers”, your heels make contact with the floor and you begin to walk away.

“Be seeing you, angel”, Constantine throws your way, neither of you turning around, as you reply: “No, you won’t”.

You go outside and light a cigarette with a trembling hand, staring into the darkest part of the alleyway, fear slowly subsiding and blood pumping in your veins with a newfound purpose of hot radioactive anger.

There’s a Nietzche saying, “and if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you”. For you can sense that two pairs of eyes are locked in on yours, shining in the darkness.

John notices a venomous smile playing on your lips and a hint of glowing in your eyes, not from the street lamp but rather the thoughts brewing in your mind, as he’s gripping the wheel tighter, the pain causing him to feel more grounded. Tex feels like they’re both staring at the reflection of them, him and John hiding in the shadows, you - right there, embraced by the light, forever favoured by the bold fortune. For “he who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster”. For you turned out to be a true angel in the city that is the land of the devils.

Just as you throw the cigarette out, your ears pick up the sound of the doorbell before you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Well, you sure took your sweet fucking time”, you tell Constantine, offering him a cigarette.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for me”, he says before popping a piece of gum into his mouth, as you put the pack into your purse.

“No way in Hell, ew. It’s just taxis take for-fucking-ever here”

“Waiting for the ghost?” he sits down next to you on the bench.

“Yeah. I think I’m going ghost hunting tonight”.

“There’s more than one, I take it?”

You nod and continue: “And I also think I’m gonna take you up on that offer and let you humour me”.

His eyes glow with the same hue as yours: “You’ve figured what you can give me?”

You smirk: “Yeah. I got a debt to pay off, after all, third time‘s a charm, remember?”

“4, in your case”

“3 and a half”, your firm voice claims.

Constantine leans closer, grinning, his gaze devilishly capturing yours in a bargain your body could never deny.

“Thought you were done with killers”, he growls, his quiet voice making shivers roll down every inch of you.

“I guess not tonight, no”.

“Why a change of mind?”

“You look like you’ve been through Hell and back”, you let him get closer until your faces are just millimetres apart, not caring whether your other devils are watching or how they’re feeling anymore.

“Damn, I’ve been called worse but, wow, my God, angel”.

“I wonder what gives”, you tease, letting a Tex-like accent slip past.

“Mhhmm, what makes you say that?”, Constantine’s eyes urging you to lean back, as you recross your legs.

“Because I know what Hell feels like”.

“Well, I am most certain you did not wait for a sympathetic shoulder to cry on”, he purrs, placing his big warm hand on your knee.

“No, I did not”, you send a small smile his way, allowing his hand to travel up your bare thigh, “I don’t want ghosts following me anymore”.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”, he says, his watchful eyes boring into yours, your heart flutters.

“Who are you to tell me what I do and don’t know”, the sound of your whisper hiss-like.

He smirks: “Okay, do pray tell”, his gaze never leaving your irises.

“I know what devils look like because maybe Hell is other people”.

You let distant sirens be the only sound filling the street.

‘So, you’re running away?”, Constantine breaks the spell, as you feel his skin on yours clearer than ever, ignoring the alarming temptation to stare into the darkness again and seek answers that’ll keep you up at night.

Instead, you tell him: “You keep calling me angel like it means something. I’m far from that. I’m no angel, and I think you’re no devil”.

“Are you sure, little dove? Appearances can be deceiving”.

“But the eyes never lie. And see, you can’t be really running away, when it wasn’t your decision to leave. So, I’ll take my chances”.

Abruptly, all of his warmth leaves your personal space, when he leans back and tilts his head: “You’ll have to pay if my head gets bitten off”

“Make sure to keep it on your fucking shoulders then”, you retort and pull him by the tie.

- 6 months later -

Constantine rolls over, though one of his arms still around you, both of you flushed with after sex glow, rocking messy hair. There’s a pack of unopened cigarettes on your nightstand, he reaches out over you and grabs a pack of gum, offering one to you first and throwing the next one into his mouth. You get up from the bed, Constantine’s eyes following your naked form. He rolls his eyes upon seeing you turn around and cutely blow him a kiss, before the bathroom door clicks shut and he starts to get dressed.

After a while, as the scent of coffee fills the apartment, he hears the sound of you walking across the room, the chair scrapping against the floor and cricking, as you sit down at the table with a towel wrapped around your hair, opening your UCLA mock exam book. He looks up at you from the two cups he’s just poured and sets one in front of you, his eyes glowing.

You glance up, thanking him.

“Last push?”, the corner of his mouth quirks up a little.

“Yeah”, - you set the cup back down, “God, I really did forget what it feels like to be this nervous a week before the exam”.

“You’ll do great, this is just an entrance exam for the undergraduate program, how hard can it be?” he teases, “plus you’ve already gone to college”.

“Yeah, you know I never graduated. Also shut up, genius, see if you can take it”, you mock him before burying your head in the book. Suddenly, you hear a phone buzzing on the table, looking over and seeing it’s Constantine’s, the screen lighting up with a call from “Angela”.

“Your girlfriend’s calling”, - you muse, sliding the phone to the man.

“She’s not my girlfriend”, he states, his eyes not leaving yours, as he ignores the buzz.

“You should take it”, you tilt your head up, as a shadow falls on your face, feeling Constantine’s hand somewhere behind you, “seems important”.

“She can wait”, you feel a whisper pass over right above your ear before he leans closer and his lips find yours, the scent of coffee and gum mixing on your tongues. You break the kiss after a while, lightly smacking his chest.

“I gotta study, John”, you pout, ignoring his wicked grin.

“I know, just giving you a little motivation”, Constantine downs his coffee and winks at you, before walking over to the sink to wash it.

“Ew”, you say, though your eyes follow his movements, as you bite your lip, smiling. As he turns around with a cheeky smirk on those gorgeous lips of his, you roll your eyes.

“Get me something to eat, will you?”, you ask.

“On it”, he laughs, “be right back”.

“Don’t be too long”, - you take a sip of the coffee, as he’s leaving the kitchen. Just as you start revising, you hear his voice calling you again.

“Hey”, you look up, “I’m proud of you, angel”, Constantine smiles at you.

“Get outta here, already”, you throw a cramped paper ball his way, your chest filling with butterflies, making you giggle, as you set your eyes back on the study paper.

You hear the doorbell ringing and Constantine telling you: “Don’t get up, I’ll get it”.

“Thanks, cutie”, you reply, dodging the said paper ball.

After a door click, strange silence greets the air, turning warm LA air icy cold.

“What the fuck”, you hear a voice that makes your blood freeze. “Who the fuck are you?” a deep voice repeats.

“I’m John. The owner of this house. And who the fuck are you?”, Constantine replies and you hurry to the door, your eyes taking in the scene of two men, standing almost chest to chest, about to come unleashed upon one another in a deadly dance of bulls.

Your eyes then lock on dark obsidian ones that spew fireballs.

“Y/n”, the man with long hair, holding a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers, exhales your name softly. Before he can utter another word, you are right up in his face, punching him in the nose, as hard as you can, making him stumble back with blood now dripping down his lips and chin.

“What the actual fuck?” the man exclaims, clearly he didn’t expect such a warm welcome.

Your eyes lock with Constantine’s.

“Nice one”, he high fives you, as you smile at him,“that’s one of the ghosts, I assume?”

“Number 2, actually”, you reply, calmly watching Tex look at you with confusion but his bloodied fingers wrapping around the bouquet, knuckles white, his eyes growing darker with each passing second.

Constantine’s eyes peel off yours and assess Tex.

“Can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, asshole”, he says and you almost feel a breeze pass you, as he launches forward.

A screen freeze frame:

Constantine’s fist raised, the other grabbing onto Tex, Tex’s hand with the bouquet about to collide with Constantine’s face.

The angle pans to you.

You look into the camera, amused, yet terrified.

Shit

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You take the blood speckled flowers and put them in a purple glass vase by the window where the filtered sunlight can illuminate and nourish the pretty stained petals. The silky roses and lilies - what a combo - invite you to run your fingertips across them and smell the heavy sweetness of the cluster.

After you take your time with the flowers, you go to Tex, sit beside him and dab at his swelling face with a cool washcloth. John watches this display with a barely contained scowl, hip against the counter, cigarette pressed tightly between his lips, bag of frozen peas pressed into his own blooming bruise - you had insisted he blunt the freeze with a rag so his skin didn’t get damaged.

“I’m sorry,” Tex says, and it makes you pause. Takes you aback.

“What?” It’s really the only thing you can manage. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say he’s sorry and genuinely mean it. However, the enchantment is short lived when you realize that his repentance is probably a ploy to get you pliant and small for him again.

“I said I’m so-“

“I heard you, Tex, but come the fuck on. You actually think that shit is gonna work?”

Ah, there’s that punchable, handsome, toe curling half raise of his mouth. “It was worth a try.”

“You want another black eye?” You ask him.

“You know I’ll take anything you wanna give me, rattlesnake.”

“Die in a fire.” Despite harsh words, you’re still cleaning the caked blood off his face. You think that says way more about you than it ever could about him, but you’ve learned not to question yourself too much nowadays. If everyone else is resigned to being immoral, selfish douchebags, then why shouldn’t you be?

“I miss you.” This is his reply as he sports an almost infatuated expression on his face. He looks like a love sick puppy, and you kind of don’t mind it. Submissive suits him. Begging, strung up to the headboard, cock angry and purple, dribbling fat liquid pearls onto his belly, still having the audacity to be cheeky even while he's so desperate he’s humping air.

“You thinkin’ about me, huh, darlin?” He blows you a kiss and you scowl. Still, your face is hot, hands shaky, breath uneven. Curse this man for his ability to make your cunt throb traitorous in zero point five.

“Where’s John?” You deflect.

“I’m right here.”

You turn to Constantine. He’s got the full icy bag pressed to his face without a buffer again. Remedying his disobedience with a sigh, you snatch the veggies, slap the washrag back on, and then place them to his cheek gently. “You’re gonna get freezer burn.”

He holds you steady on tiptoes, broad hand pressed into your waist, leans down to kiss your top lip. “Who’s John?” He asks.

“A friend.”

Tex snorts. “You know, I’m startin to think ya like him better than me. Every time we have a homecoming, the first words outta your mouth are always ‘where’s John?’”.

His poor imitation of your voice, if you’re giving him credit, actually does make you giggle. “That’s cuz I do like him better than you, Tex.”

You can’t see the way he shoots Constantine a heavy stink eye. “Clearly. Now come’er, you missed a spot.”

Instead of glaring at him, you smile, grab a coke from the fridge and lean into the counter to sip on it. “It’s cute that you still think you’re the boss of me, Tex.”

His grin turns into a sneer. “What? You think just cuz you got a little bodyguard now, I can’t still slap that pretty buxom bottom all red and raw?” He flexes a bulky hand as testament to that, and you hate yourself for shrinking a little bit. Half out of fear, half because your insides give a violent boil of desire that you’re afraid both these men can feel despite distance.

Constantine, in true fashion, rolls his eyes. “Where did you find this guy? The bargain bin of Tractor Supply?”

“Close. A diner in Ohio.”

“Hey, I was the best lookin’ guy in that Diner, thank you.” Tex is back to his usual lazy grin, tipping an imaginary hat.

“You never change, do you?” You ask him, shaking your head.

“Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” he shrugs.

You can try to deny it all you want, but you did miss Tex. That dangling piece of your heart - held by only a tearing thread of muscle - reattached when you saw his beautiful face, leaving you warmer and sturdier and… fuck. Happier.

It’s not your fault. He should be outlawed for the combination k.o. of those handsome features, deep honey voice and annoying, endearing wit. His black hair has grown disheveled and wild, stubble thickening into a wiry mess that you want to tug at. Constantine is always clean shaven, and, god, you miss having constant rugburn between your thighs.

And those hands. Jesus, those big, beautiful, chunky hands, all bruised from beating Constantine into the ground. It wasn’t a fair fight. Although of similar height, Tex’s burly stature overpowered Constantine’s lithe frame. If it wasn’t for John knocking Tex back a couple feet with a burst of black flame, he’d look a lot worse right now. And it’s a good thing he did it sooner rather than later, because you were just about to attempt to pull Tex off of him.

However, that pulse of dark magic created a brand new set of problems. Because Tex now has a, to quote John Constantine, “worrying” symbol burned into his chest.

“The sixth seal of what?” You ask John as he digs through his messy desk of papers and odd collectibles. Occult bobbles and silver trinkets, brown stained parchment from careless papercuts, a few extra lighters. Finally, he rips a book from the bottom of a drawer.

“Saturn.” He flips through, reads faster than you can think, comes dead stop at a page with the identical marking on Tex’s chest. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You say, leaning over him and trying to read Latin. “What does oh mean, John? I’m worried here.”

“Pentacle of Saturn. Creates a magnet for demons and dark hearted creatures.”

“Meaning?”

“Howdy Doody is fucked.”

“I heard that!” Tex calls from the kitchen.

After a hushed discussion with John - well, it starts as a discussion. “So, take it off him.”

“I can’t. I need help.”

You fix him with a stubborn look, grab his t-shirt and drag him over. “So, get help.”

“What’s in it for me?”

You kiss him hard, lick your sharp tongue into his mouth and press him back into his office chair as he tugs your hips down into his lap.

You’re not nice about carding your fingers through his thick hair, and he gives the same treatment while he palms your thighs and ass. You tug his velvet mane back to reveal the long pillar of his pale throat and nibble at his pulse, making him groan and shift under you.

Your cheeks only burn a little bit while you smile down at him, hand still holding his head back. The other heel of your hand puts a little pressure on the thick bulge in his pants, and he bucks into you.

You chuckle. “Would you ever tell me no, John?”

His voice is sandpaper, thick with saliva, it induces a violent shiver from your head to your toes. “Only if you asked me to.”

You pat his flushed cheek, kiss his sensitive swollen bruise. It’s like this more often than not. Ever since that day in the alley where he pressed you into the cold damp concrete and fucked your eyes into the back of your head, you’ve been clinically diagnosed with ‘can’t keep your hands off eachother’ disease.

Whereas Tex and John would only give you what they thought you deserved - held you under a tight thumb and always made sure you were the one licking boots and begging for thread - Constantine can’t fucking resist you. He’s at your beck and call, completely enchanted despite being the magic user in the relationship.

Having a man like Constantine at your feet, by your side, it’s a heavy drug, and a damn miracle if you don’t end up fucking like feral beasts a few times a day.

A heavy, interrupting knock on the front door pulls you from his lips. You feel his baby hairs stand on end, skin prickle in goose flesh, watch his eyes curtain black. He’s a thrumming ball of dark energy, a black void meant for consumption. It’s his bodies malefic defense against black magic. It puts your heart in your ears.

“Fuck.” He picks you up, outer calm betrayed by a sickly nervous sweat beading on his skin, and sets your feet on the floor.

“Are we about to die, John?” You reach out to grip his forearm, and the look he gives you makes your blood cold.

“I need you to go out the back door.” He pops open his weapon cabinet and shoulders a big rifle out. “And I need you to get away from here. Fast.”

“John, I don’t-“

“Do it. Fuck.” He rethinks being demanding, grabs you with one hand and presses his forehead to yours. “Please, Angel, I need you safe.”

You’ve come a long way from that sniveling, scared girl kneeling in gravel with a 9 mm barrel pressed to your temple, but John is right: despite your fierce independence and growing sense of self worth, you have no tools to fight against whatever monsters are knocking at his door.

“What about Tex?”

He kisses your head. “Can he shoot a gun?”

“Yeah?”

John cocks the rifle. “Then he can hold his own.” Your attempt to follow Constantine’s request is very short lived. Turns out, demons are smarter than anyone gives them credit for. As soon as you make it over the threshold, you’re grabbed up. Four men, occult symbols written permanently into their flesh, heads shaved bare. They grip you by the throat and the wrists, but you still have your feet. You lash out, catch one in the groin, and as he stumbles back you have enough leverage to palm another’s nasal bone into his skull.

Then, you run. Gunshots echo behind you, and, of course you’re worried about your own skin, but what about Tex and John? What about them fighting off even more of these brutes? The desperate thought almost gets you to turn around.

Suddenly, your legs seize up, and you land face down on the pavement. It’s like you’ve been paralyzed, rolled over by tons of crushing weight. Your lungs tighten and breathing gets exponentially harder. You feel your bones creaking under the stress of an invisible steam roller. Gravity is a thousand times sharper down here.

A little kick to your thigh is child’s play compared to the boulder crushing your chest. “This is Constantine’s bitch?”

“Yeah, I know, underwhelming.”

You don’t exactly mind the insults - you’re being suffocated by a slow, unyielding force and that seems to be the more pressing issue.

“Kill her?” You didn’t hear the first part of the sentence because your eardrums were popping painfully.

“Yeah.”

And, actually, death would be preferable to suffering like this, feeling like you’ve been shoved into a 3 inch underwater steel drain pipe, like every breath you take is the last one your lungs can handle before they explode.

The weight lifts, air filters through your throat, your body spasms back to life. You can move again, breathe again; it’s painful and glorious. You turn around, and there is your dark angel. In the flesh. Hair nestled back behind his ears, collar tucked neatly on his shoulders despite the dark brown stains slashing through it.

You forget that you’re supposed to be mad at him, especially when he’s looming over a pile of bloody bodies - saving your life once again.

“John?” You breathe.

The stoic expression you fondly remember is contorted in agony. He holds his hand out for you, and you let him pull you to your feet.

It only takes you a stunned few moments to remember that he abandoned you after using you for months on end like a rag doll.

You rear back and slap him hard across the face.

You give yourself kudos - he does flinch a tiny bit. Then, he’s on you, cradling you to his chest, soothing hands rubbing over your head and back, big deep rumbles shaking his broad chest. You lash out with your hands, hitting and scratching, screaming at him to get the fuck off you and that you hate him and that you wish he were dead, but he is unfazed. A force to be reckoned with. Just like you remember him.

He cradles you calm, holds you like he’s never going to let you go again - you have no idea - and, in the same way that Tex repaired a piece of your broken heart, John’s embrace stitches the entire thing back together in some visceral, risky surgery that leaves you agonized and whole again.

Your tears stain his jacket.

#wicked johnson fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick #john wick x y/n #yandere john wick #tex johnson #tex johnson x you #tex johnson x reader #john constantine #constantine 2005 #constantine x reader #john constantine x reader #constantine x you #john constantine x you

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makethatelevenrings · 5 months

Text

Angel by the Wing - Thirty-Two

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

Chapter Warnings: Jake Seresin is a moody little bitch but nothing new

“Honeys, I’m home!” Bradley called as he opened the front door to the townhome. He dragged his suitcase in behind him and looked around for either one of his partners, but instead was met with a hissing cat.

“Uh…what is that?” he asked. You scrambled out from the bedroom and lit up at the sight of him. Bending down, you scooped up the little cat who instantly stopped hissing and instead cuddled close and purred.

“Hi, sorry. Skipper is a little territorial, we’ve learned.”

“Skipper,” he repeated. Jake came back in from where he was working in the backyard and grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before crossing the room in short strides, laying his hands on Bradley’s waist, and kissing him soundly.

“Yeah, Skipper. He’s our new cat. Because your girl is manipulative as hell and I’m a sucker.”

“If you didn’t want the cat, you shouldn’t cave to blowjobs so easily,” you retorted. You let Skipper down onto the ground and the cat wound around your feet before going to inspect Bradley’s suitcase. He bent down and extended his hand to the small tabby who sniffed him and then rubbed his furry little head against Bradley’s palm.

“Good. He likes you,” you exclaimed. You stepped over Skipper and reached up to cradle Bradley’s face. He dropped his duffle bag and enveloped your hips with his large hands. You breathed him in as you pressed your lips against his and Bradley hummed low in his throat, pulling you closer until the small swell of your stomach pressed flush against him.

“I left for a week,” he murmured when he pulled away. “How did she grow so much?”

“Her papa has been feeding her pretty well,” you said, glancing towards Jake with a fond smile. Jake leaned against the wall, a small smile on his face as he took in the sight before him. You gestured with your head for him to come closer and he pushed away from the wall and joined you two, trapping you in a government property sandwich.

“Missed you both,” Bradley murmured against Jake’s shoulder. The blond finally relaxed, his shoulders curving into the weight of his lovers. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“Other than the fact that I was coerced into getting a cat?” Jake teased. “No, nothing much.”

You remained silent but you nudged your nose against Jake’s jaw and kissed the corner of Bradley’s lips before wiggling out from between them. “Do we need to unpack anything?”

The two men shared a quick glance, both picking up on the sudden mood change. Jake shook his head to explain that he knew nothing and Bradley frowned and quickly followed after you as you headed towards the bedroom.

“We made some more space in here and then we’ve been thinking about selling the bed in the guestroom to make it into a nursery,” you explained.

Bradley nodded along and then cleared his throat, glancing back at Jake as he slid his hands around your waist and pulled you back into his chest. “We can talk about all that later, sweetheart. I’ve been gone a week and if I don’t kiss you two right now, I think I might just wither away.”

You snorted but allowed him to drag you towards the bedroom. “Alright, alright. C’mon, Tex. Time to show him your new trick.” Poor Skipper found himself locked outside of the bedroom.

When the three of you finally collapsed in a pile of sweaty limbs and heaving chests, Bradley traced lines along Jake’s pecs, his fingers brushing against the hickeys you left behind.

“Pretty sure this is defacing government property,” he teased. You huffed out a laugh and rolled onto your back, revealing the small bump that was starting to show. Both men were drawn to it like a beacon, their hands coming down to cover your skin as though they were guarding you from the world.

“Have you ever considered moving?” Bradley asked quietly. “Get a house maybe down by Penny? Something with more space?”

Jake abruptly pulled away from the two of you and stood up from the bed. He tossed on the basketball shorts he had been wearing. “I’ll go grab some water for us.” You felt the loss of his warmth acutely and rolled onto your side so you were closer to Bradley. He tucked you in against his side and whispered something in your ear.

Jake appeared in the bedroom doorway with two glasses of water in hand and took in the sight before him. Was this what his mom meant? Was he always meant to be the one on the outside?

Jake Seresin was a good lay, but he would never make a good boyfriend and certainly not a good father.

Tag List:

@mizzzpink @xoxabs88xox @dreaminglandsworld @khaylin27 @loveforaugust @atarmychick007 @itsmytimetoodream @krismdavis @emma8895eb @startrekfangirl @hangmandruigandmavav @lunamoonbbyy @sihtricswife @jstarr86 @drakelover78 @abaker74 @emma8895eb @hardballoonlove @nerdgirljen

#abtw #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #rooster x reader #hangman x reader

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hisyntha · 2 months

Text

The Bartender

WARNING: This story contains EXPLICIT CONTENT and you are here by WARNED. Read at your own risk. Oral, three-some/ mention of four-some, vulgar language

A/N: thank you so much for reading, this is posted on AO3. I enjoyed writing this a lot so I hope you enjoy it as well. I recently started watching supernatural again and couldn’t help myself, anyway, ENJOY!!! 💕✨

It was an unusually slow night at the bar, with only a handful of patrons scattered about, nursing their drinks and chatting quietly. As the door swung open, the bar's calm atmosphere was shattered, and my gaze was drawn to the trio like a magnet. The two men, their suits a stark contrast to the casual attire of the other patrons, exuded an air of confidence and authority. The taller man, with his long hair and chiseled features, seemed to embody the phrase "tall, dark, and handsome," while his companion, sporting a Tex-turned-crew cut, appeared more rugged and rough around the edges. The young woman, dressed in a fitted dress that accentuated her curves, trailed behind them with an air of quiet compliance. As they approached the bar, their eyes scanned the room with an unspoken understanding, as if they were on a mission.

My gave warm and welcoming smile before I asked, "What can I get ya?" My hands moved on their own, quickly whipping up a tequila shot and pushing it forward to the shorter man. His smirk was a mixture of amusement and mischief, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes met.

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” He shot me a quick wink before slamming the empty shot glass down on its rim. I nodded grabbing a cup and filling it with ice before looking to the taller one.

As I poured the whiskey with a gentle flourish, I turned to him with a sly smile, my fingers drumming a tantalizing rhythm on the counter. "And what about you?" I purred, my voice husky as I raised an eyebrow, my free hand resting suggestively on my hip, hoping my tight fitted clothes would draw him in closer. He gave me a slight, uncomfortable, look before glancing at their female companion who stood between them, not exactly paying attention to me. I kept my flirtatious smile up, but deep own, I was hurt and taken aback by the look he gave me. Something was off with this one, it only seemed to make me want him more. I’ll just have to up my game.

With a courteous tone, “I’ll just have a draft,” his eyebrows arching slightly as he did so, his lips compressing into a subtle line. My eyes locked onto his, my mind whirling with tantalizing thoughts as I looked him over again. I couldn't help but bite my lip, my thoughts conjuring up images of him in a different light – one that left me trembling with anticipation and my heart racing with excitement. My hand reached under the bar, slightly bent over knowing my breast will definitely catch his interest. With a quick pull, slightly bouncing, I pop the bottle cap off and placed it in front of him. His gaze averted me before he turned around, once more scanning the bar. I hid my frown turning to the petite woman, but before my lips even parted she spoke up.

"I'll take a shot, whatever you prefer," she said, her voice as smooth as honey, yet devoid of any warmth or flirtation. Her words hung in the air, and I noticed her gaze linger on me, waiting for a response. Without thinking, I crafted a buttery nipple and slid it across the bar to her. A faint furrow appeared on my brow as I turned away, feeling an inexplicable tension in my chest. There was something unsettling about her, something that piqued my curiosity. I'd met many people before, effortlessly reading their emotions and intentions, but this trio was different. I needed a breath of fresh air. I looked to my coworker, giving him a quick way to take over the bar before I slipped out to the storage room then out the back door to the empty alley way.

I lit a cigarette and took a long drag, savoring the bitter taste as I paused to inhale the toxins. The cool night air filled my lungs, and I let out a slow exhale, feeling the stress of the evening's events begin to dissipate. As I stood in the alleyway, lost in thought, I shake everything off dropping the half cigarette and stepping it out. I made my way back inside, deciding to take a chance on striking up a conversation.

“So, you guys aren’t from around here are you?” I give my best smile watching the three. I noticed the paperwork spread out on the counter top of the bar as the woman began to quickly shuffle it back together into the folder she had.

“Uh, no we aren’t.” The taller one gave another tight lipped smile, placing his empty bottle in front of me. I quickly pop another one from him trading for the empty one.

“I see,” the tension seemed to rise in my chest, but they seemed as calm as daisies. “Well, if you’re staying for a bit longer I’d love to show you around.” The shorter one seemed to chuckle lightly, leaning on the bar, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips.

“I’d love to,” he paused waiting for me.

“Oh, Amy.” I smile softly, his eyes trailing me up and down.

“Amy.” He repeated softly that earned an elbow jab in his ribs. He hissed glancing at the women, but the taller one hid his amusement by drinking his beer. “well, I’m Dean and that’s my brother Sam.” He jesters to him and his brother while his other had loosened his tie like he hated wearing it. I raised a brow taking note that they were brothers, I wouldn’t have guessed that. Dean opened his mouth but was cut off.

“I’m Y/N.” Her voice never changed from earlier. My brows raised slightly but quickly shaking the expression away. I study her a small moment while her gaze was fixed elsewhere. Her skin was flawless, not a scar or pimple in sight, long hair pulled in a tight pony tail, curves of her body well accentuated by her dress. I couldn’t help the slight jealousy I had building up in my chest by looking at her. I finally shook the thoughts away pressing a smile.

“Well, Sam, Dean and Y/N,” I began, “If you need anything while in town, you know where to find me.”

———

I watched as the trio finished their drinks and left the bar, and I couldn't help but feel an unexplainable urge to follow them. I excused myself to my coworker, claiming I needed to leave early and for him to close up without me. My mind racing with a growing sense of curiosity. Without being seen, I slipped out of the bar and into my car, the engine purring to life as I blended into the night. I kept a discreet distance, my eyes fixed on the Impala as it led me to a rundown motel on the outskirts of town. As they pulled into the parking lot, my brow furrowed once more. My curiosity was sparked by the unusual choice of a motel on the outskirts of town, a place that seemed to be perpetually shrouded in a thin layer of neglect and disrepair.. The shorter man emerged from the vehicle, his movements calculated as he unlocked the door to room 217. The other two followed, their gazes scanning the area with an air of caution before disappearing into the dimly lit room. My eyes lingered on the door, my mind whirling with questions. What were they doing here? And why did I feel an unshakeable sense of unease as I watched them disappear into the shadows?

I hesitated, grappling with the conflicting thoughts racing through my mind. I knew I shouldn't be here, and I certainly shouldn't have followed them, but I had. I quietly closed my car door, my footsteps silent as I crossed the parking lot to the opposite side of the motel. The forest loomed behind the motel, a dark and foreboding presence. A light flickered on in one of the windows, illuminating the room I assumed was theirs. I crept closer, crouching low to peer through the glass. Dean sat on the bed's edge, flipping through channels on the TV while his brother hunched over his laptop at the table. My brow furrowed in confusion wondering where their female companion had vanished to. Just as I was pondering this, the bathroom door swung open, and she emerged, her robe clutched tightly around her small frame. I ducked just in time, holding my breath as she turned towards the window. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum, my breaths coming in short gasps as I feared she might have seen me. I remained frozen for a few tense moments before slowly turning back to peer in, my eyes widening and my mouth parted a small gasp. Y/N’s robe was off her body and she stood before Dean naked. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Why is she naked in front of them both?

“What the fuck?” I let the words fall from my lips. Quickly, I glance behind me seeing only the forest still standing silently. I turn slowly to look through the window, my hands pressing to the brick of the shabby motel reminding me this is real, what was happening right before my eyes was indeed, real.

"Dean," she said, her arms crossing over her breasts. A small smirk playing on Deans lips as he tossed the remote onto the other bed, his attention fixed solely on her. Her expression clearly showed she was upset, but I struggled to make sense of the situation. "Do you like her more?" she demanded. Dean's gaze flicked to Sam, who watched with an air of amusement, his hands clasped together in a relaxed pose as he leaned back into his seat. My brow furrowed at Sam's state of relaxation while Y/N stood there.

“Who?” Dean finally replied after a long pause then snapped his fingers, “OOH! The woman on the tv?” He playfully teased going to reach out for her waist, but she pulled away giving him a threatening glare that I could even feel through the glass. “The women at the bar?” He raised a brow, still having that teasing smirk. I watched as Y/N just stared at him for a moment before slowly swaying her way to Sam, who openly removed his clasped hands and letting her take a seat in his lap. His hands finding themselves resting under her breast and the other wrapped around her frame to grip her hip. I bite back a whimper, my chest tightening seeing how large his hands were compared to any other mans. Just one hand engulfed her body, a snippet of jealously filled my chest.

I watched as Sam nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, her lips parting and letting a soft moan escape them. He then pulled away slightly, giving his brother a look before attacking her neck once more while his hand cupped her breast and the other gripped her hip tightly pulling her closer to his chest. Dean only tightened his jaw, his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed saliva. Y/N only continued to whimper and moan softly, keeping steady eye contact with Dean. I couldn’t pull my eyes away while Sam only moved her to sit directly on his erection and spread her legs for dean to watch in silent pain. Sam’s long fingers found their way between her folds, his middle and ring finger gently caressing her clit. I swallowed the salvia building up in the back of my throat. I felt like a creep watching him fondle her, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. At this point, I was to invested and I had to admit aside form the jealousy, I wanted to watch.

“Y/N,” Deans voice pulled my attention to him. Sam stopped, to see what his brother had to say. She eyed him, sitting up, purposely grinding herself against Sam to earn a grunt from the taller one. I could see the dying, begging look from here, Dean wanted her too. “I want you,” He began again, “only you.” His voice raspy and deep with a hint of pleading behind it, as if he might even choke if she said no. She eyed him for a bit before lifting a finger, curling it, allowing him to come over. He stood, hesitating before taking a few steps in front of them. Sam’s hands lifted towards her breasts once more, cupping them while his finger and thumb pinched her nipples, letting them roll between his fingers. Dean lowered himself between her legs, one hand on her knee while his lips pressed to the other, leaving a trail of kisses into her inner thigh. She gasped slightly at the soft touch of his tongue lightly dragging on her out folds, teasing her before his tongue dove deeply into her. Another moan came from her, louder than the last, she went to close her legs on him, but his hands held them apart. Sam grabbed her wrists in one hand and his other held her throat.

“Shh,” Sam cooed in her ear, “you’ll wake the neighbors.” He then tilted her head up so their lips met. Dean moaned into her, his lips pulling away with a popping kiss, his lips and chin glistening from the mixture of her wetness and his saliva.

“I love the way you taste.” The comment hung in the air while he leaned back down, his tongue working faster to please her. Her hips bucking with the friction earning a throaty moan into Sam’s mouth who savored it with his own moan in response. Her leg lifted to push dean away, his head tilted with a pleased smile. “All done?” He propped her foot on his shoulder, holding her ankle.

She shook her head as her lips parted, “I’m not even close.” A small smirk played across her lips. Dean and Sam shared a lustful look to each other, Dean pulling her off his brother’s lap to connect their lips while Sam begins to remove his clothes. Sam pulls her away from Dean catching her lips, deepening the kiss while Dean glared at his brother removing his own clothes. With swift motion dean stood behind Y/N, kissing the side of her neck and shoulder, his hands finding their way to her breast. Sam continued to kiss her, stealing every moan and breath that escaped her. I finally looked away in disbelief, pressing my back to the cold brick wall of the motel. Their voices echoed through the window, each moan sending a shiver down my spine. A loud “yes” and “oh god” from Y/N brought me to look back through the glass. My lids couldn’t get any wider, Sam, leaning against the wall, held Y/N just by her thighs, her legs spread apart while dean stood between her. His hands gripped her thighs just below Sam’s larger ones. My eye stuck on their cocks, slowly moving in an out of her, the way her chest arched and her eyes rolled back. A ghostly feeling ran through the lower parts of my body, as if I could feel it, the pain and pleasure being received by the brothers.

“I guess they startd without me.” A rugged raspy voice, followed by the swooshing of wind startled a yelp out of me, throwing myself away from the window to fall on my butt. My eyes darted to a man in a trench coat who only watched through the window, the erection clearly showing in his pants. I continued to blink looking to him when he finally laid his eyes on me. I sat there, shaking, seen as I had been found by this, man who appeared from no where. He approached me, my heart beating loud by how close he knelt down before me. He raised a hand, two fingers pressed to my forehead, “Goodnight.” Was the last thing I heard, my eyes fluttering close and the cold grass caught me.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x reader x dean #castiel #my writing #i love supernatural #my fanfic writing #dean x you #dean x y/n #sam x you #sam x y/n #castiel x reader #castiel x y/n #castiel x you

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Slow Hands | Chapter 5

“be still, my foolish heart”

A/N: so originally I was going to write more for this chapter, but like @morning-star-joy says, sometimes a story tells you how it should be written so I’ve decided to end the chapter where I feel it felt most natural. The slow burn is still slow-burning but there’s definitely some development happening! 🤎🤎

~word count: 6.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: you meet Joel’s horse, Tex while Joel opens up to you about his past further. Your connection begins to develop as you grow more comfortable with one another

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, stress induced thoughts and feelings, fluff, awkward flirting, internal thoughts/dialogue, slow burn, mental health, remorse, forgiveness, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, in his feelings! Joel, readers nickname is beanie (coffee beans) ends on a bit of a cliff hanger, no age gap, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed any warnings please!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

Joel Miller was fast asleep on your couch. In your home. He felt comfortable enough to doze off at your kitchen table. Well, of course he was exhausted. He was out at the late hours of the night patrolling with Tommy, and then he spent the early morning hours with you on your rooftop.

Nonetheless, he was asleep on your couch.

You couldn’t help but feel giddy like a little school girl that was developing her first crush at recess. Joel was handsome, ruggedly handsome and there was no denying it. He reminded you of a pearl. Something so beautiful, yet hard to obtain as a pearl is always guarded by the outer shell of an oyster. You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of you as you stepped outside of your home. The air was still brisk and there was a fresh layer of frost coating the ground. Spring was on the horizon with the sound of chirping chickadee's that gossiped in the treetops above. New life was beginning to sprout and blossom through the frost. Soon Jackson would flourish in green.

You triple checked your front door lock as a forced habit. When you felt relieved that the door was in fact locked, you quietly walked down the wooden steps that were far sturdier now as Joel insisted on replacing some of the rotted planks.

As you started the short walking distance to the stables, you remembered Joel telling you that he would often count his steps as a grounding system. In turn, you found yourself doing the same. There was some innately comforting being around the horses. The barn smell didn’t bother you, in fact you relished in it. From the sweet smelling grain, the earthy scent of Alfalfa, and the horses natural aroma. All of these scents permeated your senses in an indescribable warmth. There was no sign of Ellie or Dina when you stepped into the stables and you were greeted with soft nickers, and curious expressions before the horses returned to their breakfast.

Tommy’s horse, Timber, was a leopard spotted appaloosa that truly had the goofiest human-like personality. Sometimes you wondered if there was actually a human trapped inside of his four-legged body just from the way he would look at you. You stopped in front of his stall and reached into your coat pocket to pull out a handful of sugar cubes that laid flat in your palm.

“Hey, pal.” You softly cooed as Timber lifted his head from his grain pan. “Did you see anything exciting last night? Any stories for me?”

Timber snorted softly as his velvet soft muzzle rested in your palm. He wasted no time to gently snatch up each of the sugar cubes before he was nuzzling your pocket for more.

“Wow, five racoons? How exciting.” You giggled as you playfully and gently nudged his muzzle away. “Were you scared?”

Another snort and a hoof pawing at the ground. “Oh, alright. Just one more, okay?” You snuck him one last sugar cube followed by a gentle pat on his neck before you strode away from his stall. Your mare, Tess, was a flea bitten gray QH. Shortly after outbreak day, you found her wandering through your abandoned neighborhood and you were drawn together like moth to flame. She was your special girl, your beacon of light through the darkness. Her darker counterpart, Tex, was always at her side. He was always at her side, brooding like a shadow but he had the most gentle brown eyes despite his rugged demeanor. Tex was a jet black mustang, and unbeknownst to you, he was Joel’s horse.

You stopped outside of Tess’s stall first and your mare already had her neck outstretched over the stall door to greet you. She nickered softly as you gently wrapped your arms around her fury neck in a tender hug. “Good morning my special girl.” Your tone was so soft-spoken, sweet like the sugar cubes that laid in your coat pocket. Sometimes you felt a bitter-sweet melancholy thinking about how much time you had spent with this mare and the trials and tribulations you went through together. Maybe one day when your mind and heart were calm, you’d be able to go outside beyond Jackson’s towering walls on her back once more.

You wiped your brewing tears along the sleeve of your hoodie as you fed Tess a few sugar cubes. Your fingers gently twirled the soft tendrils of her forelock between your fingers as your forehead came to gently rest upon her own.

You were torn from your present mourning thoughts by the sound of Tex’s hoof pawing at the ground. His ears were attentively flicked forward in your direction.

“Do you want some sugar cubes too?” You softly asked the jet-black mustang as he pawed at the ground once more.

Your forehead slowly dropped from Tess’s as you reached into your pocket once more and pulled out a helping of sugarcubes. Despite Tex’s brooding nature, he was incredibly gentle as he ate the sweets from your tender palm. His velvety soft muzzle and wispy whiskers tickled your skin. His eyes held so much warmth, so much kindness, and you swore this horse was staring into your very soul.

Joel had awoken shortly after you had departed for the stables. He vaguely remembered the handwritten note nestled in the worn fibers of his flannel pocket. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the couch with a heavy grunt. His hand reached for the mug of coffee that he downed in one gulp as the muscles in his back strained tightly. He let out a grumbled sigh as he carefully folded the quilted you had laid upon him. He grabbed both the empty mug and plate and brought them back into the kitchen. He’d be damned if he wasn’t a respectful house guest. He couldn’t help but feel that warm tingle in his heart creeping through the morning chill as he stepped outside. How sweet you were to leave him a treat and a note.

He headed off in the direction of the stables and the sight he saw warmed his heart even further as he observed Tex gently nibbling on the lapels of your coat as you were braiding individual sections of his charcoal black mane. Joel and his horse counterpart were very similar in the sense that they had a protective brooding nature. Hardened exterior yet soft in the middle. Weathered and mysterious, yet docile and gentle.

“Y’know darlin, if y’keep feedin’ me’n Tex sweets like this, you’re gonna fatten us up.” Joel softly chuckled as he stepped further into the barn. He hoped that he had not frightened you, or ruined the moment you were sharing with his horse entirely.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as Joel leaned up against the side of Tex’s stall with one of his broad arms leaning against the side of the wooden stall door. His expression was playful in nature as your eyes finally met his softened gaze.

“Tex is yours I presume?”

“Mhm. He’s got an apparent sweet tooth jus’ like me as well. Think he’s taken a particular likin’ to ya Beanie.” He murmured silkily.

“I have to admit..you do look alike. Tess has taken a liking to him as well.” You responded with a smile tugging along your lips as you finished braiding the last section of his once unruly mane.

“How so? You’ve got me intrigued now darlin.’” He paused momentarily as his eyes flitted over at your mare. “Tess is yours? I had..no idea.”

“Your eyes. They’re the same as his..that same deep shade of brown..like cinnamon. Tess is mine, yes. I found her after the outbreak day, after the government bombed the major cities. She was wandering through my abandoned neighborhood and were just drawn to each other.”

Tex and Tess.

Joel could feel a newfound sense of emotions wash over him as he cleared his throat against the sleeve of his coat. “Well, she’s..a real sweetheart. I can see why Tex likes spendin’ time with her. What about my eyes now? They’re like cinnamon? Wish I could see the world from your eyes darlin,’ cause to me? My eyes are just brown. Like the dirt. Ain’t nothin’ special to ‘em.” He rolled his shoulders into a half shrug.

“She is a sweetheart. She’s my special girl. Joel, brown eyes are beautiful. Have you ever seen them in the sunlight? They melt into golden rays, like sticky warm caramel. There’s nothing boring about brown eyes. They’re extraordinary.” You murmured as your eyes casted downwards to where Tex was still gently nuzzling his face into the warmth of your coat.

Unbeknownst to either you or Joel, Dina and Ellie were up in the hay rafters laying on their stomachs as they eavesdropped.

“Why don’t you ever talk about my eyes like that El?” Dina softly teased as she lightly poked Ellie’s shoulder.

“Because I'm not a poet, Dee.” Ellie whispered back with a smile tugging on her lips.

“Well, Beanie sure is. I don’t think I've ever seen Joel blush like that before. He’s as red as a tomato.” Dina whispered as her and Ellie quietly peeked over the rafters to get a better look.

“That’s cus’ Joel likes her. Isn’t it obvious? He’s always spendin’ time with her. I can’t blame him honestly because she's like really really pretty.” Ellie murmured as she rubbed her hands together to keep them warm. “Not as pretty as you of course.” She quickly added feeling heat rise to her cheeks. Dina and Ellie were just friends but lately there was something else there that was beginning to simmer between them. The last time Ellie felt for someone in a romantic sense was Riley..and now? Well, only time would tell what laid ahead for the two teenagers.

Joel was unable to find the words that he could respond with to your generous compliment. His brain felt like it was re-wiring as if the circuit had been cut through. He didn’t want to leave you hanging like a stray leaf on a dead branch that was holding on for dear life as a ferocious wind tried to tear it from the stem. He blinked, cleared his throat as his thumb swiped across the tip of his aquiline nose. “So, I take it that you like my eyes then?” He mused with a slight arch of his brow as both of his broad arms came to cross against his chest.

“Yeah, I suppose you could frame it that way.” You responded a bit sheepishly as you peered up at him through soft lashes.

“Well, that was a mighty fine compliment t’give me. I never thought of brown eyes in that mindset. Maybe I outta start tryin’ to see the world through your eyes, huh? Anyway, I didn’t get much’of a chance to give Tex a proper groomin’ after patrol..you wanna help me out?”

“If you’re looking to live life with your head up in the clouds like me, then I recommend you adapt to my mindset. See the small beauties that what’s left of the world has to offer. Like the changing of seasons for example. Winter is so cold, so dark, yet it is beautiful. The way that the snow hugs the branches on the trees and the jaw dropping sunsets that paint the sky.” You trailed off before responding to his question, “Sure, I'd love to help you out.”

Joel was in awe to say the least. For someone who had been through so many unspeakable horrors, you truly did see life in all of its beauty. He could listen to you shamelessly for hours if you’d let him. He pushed himself off of the side of Tex’s stall as he maneuvered around you to bend down and pick up the grooming box. “I never really was all that a fan of winter. Holds a lot of bad memories f’me. I do see what you mean about the beauty in it. I love fall the most. When the colors in the sky begin to change and the leaves transform into all of these brilliant shades of orange, yellows, and reds. It was always Sarah's favorite time of the year as well. She’d drag my ass to the nearest pumpkin patch as soon as the first leaves began to fall.”

“I’m sorry that winter holds bad memories for you..but i’m a firm believer that everything heals with time. I think out of all the seasons fall is probably my favorite as well. Was Sarah a big fan of Halloween? She seems like the kinda kid that would go crazy over getting to dress up.” You wanted to nurture this conversation that Joel was openly having with you. You could only imagine the emotional toll it brought upon him when talking about Sarah.

“Oh, she absolutely loved Halloween. She’d have her costume pretty much planned out months in advance. We watched all of the movies together as well. Beetlejuice was her favorite. What can I say? My kid has some damn good taste.” He chuckled softly as he quietly unlatched Tex’s stall. “I’d take her trick-or-treating and then when we’d get home I'd help her sort through all of her candy and make her pay the ‘dad tax.’” His eyes crinkled in the corners when his mind encapsulated an image of a ten year old Sarah in her Lydia Deetz costume. “Daaad. You can’t eat all of my candy! You have to save some for me!” “Yeah, yeah dontcha worry, kiddo. I ain’t gonna eat it all, but you gotta pay the dad tax, baby girl. That’s the rules.”

Joel had just slipped Tex’s halter over his ears when he felt your hand gently grasp his bicep through the material of his warm jacket. He had zoned out after recalling the memory and you were just trying to bring him back down to earth. “Joel?..” You attentively asked as he looked over his shoulder at you. “Sorry darlin.’ Didn’t mean to zone out like that. Jus’ y’know get a little emotional thinkin’ about her is’all.” He murmured.

“Hey, it's okay. Sounds like you have a lot of wonderful memories of her, Joel. I have to ask..what the hell is the ‘dad tax?’”

Joel felt a warm chuckle creep up his throat as he latched the metal clip around Tex’s halter. “Oh, the dad tax? S’jus’ a silly thing I came up with after she made me carry all of her candy bags for hours. Felt like it was only fair if I got a few pieces of her loot.” He responded with a casual shrug as he let Tex out of his stall so it would be easier to brush him down.

“Oh, I agree. That sounds perfectly fair. Man, I'd absolutely kill to have a Reese's peanut butter cup or a kit-kat. Did you end up being persuaded to dress up with her as well?” You picked up the curry comb from the grooming box before gently rubbing soothing circles into Tex’s furry coat to lift up any dirt or debris.

“Fuck.” He nearly groaned. “Reese’s were my favorite. I used to stick a few of them in the freezer and eat them after they got nice and chilled. It was like my guilty pleasure midnight snack. Oh, yeah I dressed up with her alright. Used to go all out with my costume as well. Whatever was gonna make her happy, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I used to do the same thing too! I’d stick an entire roll of them in the freezer. That was really the only way to eat them.” You softly giggled as Tex let out an appreciative grunt when you had found an itchy spot near his withers. “Was there a favorite character that you dressed up as?”

Joel pondered for a moment as he flipped through the memories in his mind of all the Halloween costumes he had dressed up in with Sarah. “Damn, that’s a good question darlin.’ There was one year we dressed up as Iron Man and the Hulk. Sarah insisted on being the Hulk of course. We did Sherlock Holmes and Watson for one year as well.”

“Wow, I would have definitely given y’all all of my candy if you trick-or-treated on my block. All the neighborhood kids had some lame costumes I swear. The best one I ever saw was a trio of girls dressed up as the Sanderson Sisters. I nearly gave them my whole goddamn bowl of candy.”

“Woah. The Sanderson Sisters? Those chicks are wicked.” He chuckled warmly. “Although, Binx was my favorite character out of the entire movie.”

“Oh, I loved Binx too. Dani was my personal favorite. She was such a cool kid.” You peeked over the top of Tex’s withers as you finished currying the dirt from his coat. You felt the heat rise to the highest point of your cheeks when you found that Joel was already looking at you. He looked away quickly of course and cleared his throat.

A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you got into a groove with brushing down Tex.

Joel broke the silence a few minutes later after he had finished picking out clumps of dirt and rocks from Tex’s hooves. “So, now that the weather is changin’ and Spring is gonna be here soon..I won’t be on patrol during the late night shift. So uh–we can..spend some more time together if you’d like? M’sorry that I've been absent for a while. Maria told me that you were wonderin’ about me.”

You paused your present actions with a soft sigh as you dropped the brush into the grooming box with a soft thud. “Sometimes I struggle with having a rational thought. I–assumed that maybe you were blowing me off or something. Or that maybe you didn’t want to be my friend. It was so fucking silly for me to think that way, but my brain is a warzone a lot of time. It plays tricks on me..Maria told me that she assigned you, Tommy, and a few other men on the late night patrol because..you found something disturbing in the woods?..”

Joel could feel his jaw clench inwards as his fist tightened around the brush that he was holding. Images of those charred women sprung into his mind as he shook his head tightly. “Darlin,’ i’m sorry that it seemed like I was blowin’ you off. I would never do that to ya. I don’t think it is silly for you to think that way. My brain does shit like that too. S’okay that you were feelin’ that way. I jus’ genuinely felt bad, but it was out of my control y’know?” His head drooped slightly as he let out a slightly agitated sigh. It wasn’t directed at you, it was just his present frustrations. He and Tommy had lost track of the raiders and where they were headed. He felt like he had failed you, and the town.

“Joel, Maria wouldn’t tell me what you and Tommy found in the woods that night. Can you please tell me? I know it was out of your control, and when Maria told me the reason why I genuinely felt terrible. I can only imagine how exhausting these past couple of months have been for you.”

The energy seemed to take a drastic dip as Joel met your gaze once more. His jaw unclenched from the tight position it was currently held in. He wanted to tell you what he saw. He really did, but he promised both Tommy and Maria that he would not disclose the details to you. His lips parted as a sigh slipped past. He looked defeated as his shoulders slumped inwards. “Beanie, I'm sorry but I can’t tell you what we found.” He uttered softly.

“Joel, why can’t you tell me? I know I shouldn’t pry, but Maria told me that it was concerning and that–”

He cut you off with a gruff response as he raked his fingers through his salt and pepper dusted hair. “Beanie, I can’t tell you. Please don’t ask me again.” He nearly pleaded as his eyes bore deeply into yours.

“Okay.” You meekly responded. “I–won’t ask again. I’m sorry.” You sounded just as defeated as he did.

Fuck.

This is where Joel struggled the most in conversations. When every fiber in his being could sense the mood shifting and churning, he didn’t know how to bring it back to a calm place. This was usually the moment where he would snap and say the wrong thing. He could feel the word vomit pulsating on his tongue like bile. He didn’t want to keep secrets from you. Not when your friendship was just starting to bud like new sprouts through the permeating frost.

“I’m sorry too. I don’t want to keep secrets from ya darlin.’ I jus’ hope you can understand.”

Please. Please understand.

“Joel, it’s okay. I understand, and I'm not going to hold this against you or anything I promise.” You responded reassuringly.

He let out a visible sigh of relief as he dropped his hand from tugging at the roots of his hair to his side. ��Okay, good.” He softly rasped.

After you finished brushing down Tex, Joel led him back into his stall before latching the door shut. “I take it you never found Ellie or Dina? Maybe they’re at breakfast already.” He set Tex’s halter back on the hook alongside his stall before he shoved his hands deep within the pockets of his worn out faded jeans.

“I didn’t see them when I came in. Maybe they are at breakfast like you said? Regardless, I appreciate you suggesting last night that I go and spend some time with the horses.”

“Of course darlin.’ I jus’ know what it’s like to struggle n’feel like you ain’t have no one there to support ya. Horses are good listeners. Better listeners than I am.”

“I disagree. You are a good listener, Joel. You didn’t make me or my feelings feel small or insignificant last night. You’re a good friend.” You meant every word as a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Well, thank you. Guess I can do somethin’ right huh?” He chuckled softly.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, okay?”

“I won’t darlin.’” He seems the least bit convincing as his eyes are averting from making contact with you. You’d accept his response, for now.

After leaving the stables, Joel accompanied you to your shop. He could have gone home, but after not seeing you for quite some time, he felt like he could sacrifice his sleep a little longer. So while you were whipping up two lattes, he was rearranging your back storage area so that there was no chance that a sack of sugar would potentially fall on your unsuspecting head.

“Hey, Beanie?” His voice sounded slightly strained from the heavy lifting he was doing.

“Yeah, Joel? Everything alright back there?”

“Peachy.” He grunted softly as he set the sack of sugar down. “Got a question for ya.”

“Shoot.”

“Your horse, Tess. Did ya name her yourself or did she have that name previously.” He was curious. It was evident in his tone as he wiped a bit of sweat that had beaded upon his brow.

“I named her myself. Why do you ask?”

“Jus’ wonderin.’ I uh–had a partner named Tess. Tommy and I met her after outbreak day. The three of us became a ruthless team. Anyway, we were together for as long as I can remember. We relied on each other heavily. ‘Specially after Tommy up n’left me for the fireflies. She was my partner n’crime. The brains of our operation and I probably wouldn’t have survived very long if it wasn’t for her. Your horse..just reminded me of her s’all.” He missed Tess. He missed her more than he liked to admit and even though time had passed since her death, he still wished that she lived. He imagined that she would have found ultimate peace in Jackson. She deserved that and more than what Joel thought he could offer her.

His voice was less strained and sounded closer in proximity as you turned and faced him with a mug outstretched towards him. “Did..she die?” You softly asked.

He somberly nodded as he gently grasped the mug in his hand. The steam slowly rose from the top and kissed his skin as he leaned back against the counter. “She went out a goddamn hero though. Saved me and Ellie from a hoard of infected. Sacrificed herself so that we would live. She was g’nna die anyway. Got bit. Still feel like sometimes I failed her. Coulda done more to keep her safe. She deserved fuckin’ better.” He bitterly sighed with a shake of his head.

“Hey, I'm sure Tess wouldn’t want you to be feeling like this Joel. She doesn’t think that you failed her. She doesn’t think that at all. She’d want you to forgive yourself Joel.” You reached over and gently touched his bicep as he choked back a strained laugh.

“Yeah? Maybe. Jus’ never was able to give her what she truly wanted.”

“What couldn’t you give her, Joel?” You softly prompted him.

“My heart.” He uttered just above a whisper as his gaze slowly fell upon your face. You could see the glassy look in his irises as his lower lip ever-so slightly wobbled under the soft glow of the fairy lights dangling above.

You could feel your heart straining against the figurative strings in your chest cavity as you looked upon his sunken features. “Joel, it’s not too late to tell her how you feel.” You murmured.

“What?” He looked puzzled as his brows furrowed. He let out a soft sniffle as he dragged the tip of his thumb across his nose. “How can I do that?”

“Write to her. Write her a letter straight from your heart Joel.”

“How’s that supposed t’work? She ain’t ever gonna see it.”

“You just have to believe that she will see it. If you write down how you feel, and all the things that you wish that you could have told her, you’ll be letting that part of yourself go. That part where you feel like you’re to blame for her death. Pen and paper. Write it all down.” You softly encouraged him.

“Will you read it..after I write it?” His tone was timid, unlike his natural gruff nature as he picked at the skin around his cuticles out of a nervous habit.

“If you’d like me to read it then I will.”

“Pinky promise?” He softly requested.

You were already offering him your pinky as he slowly wrapped his thicker weathered finger around your own and gently squeezed.

“Pinky promise, Joel.”

Spring was in full bloom now as the earth turned green and sprouted new flowers and life in every corner. Joel was only having to patrol in the early mornings with Tommy. The sun was warm on his skin as he was hunched over in the tall grasses with a leather notebook and pen resting in his lap. Both Tex and Timber were peacefully grazing a short distance away as Tommy was cleaning his rifle. He glanced over at his brother with a curious expression on his face as he watched him scribble something on one of the blank pages.

“Whatcha writin’ in there big brother?” He asked with piqued interest.

“A letter.” Joel murmured.

“To who?”

Joel let out a sigh as he closed the notebook on the pen before looking over at his younger brother.

“Tess.”

Tommy had an unreadable expression on his face as he tightly nodded. For a moment Joel thought his brother had nothing else to say until a hand reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Say hi to her for me. Will ya? Miss the hell outta her.” Tommy mumbled softly.

“Me too. I miss her a lot. I just hope she’s with her husband and son. Hope they’re all together.” Joel responded mournfully as he opened the notebook once more.

Tommy felt a tear slowly roll down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

Godspeed Tess.

Joel found himself getting lost in his present thoughts and emotions as he poured his heart out onto the parchment. His words bled like the ink from his pen that was clutched tight in his fist. His knuckles transformed to a stark white shade.

Hey, Tess. It’s Joel. I’ve never fuckin’ written a letter in my goddamn life, so I apologize if this is absolute horse shit. I’ll salvage what I can. It’s the least I can do for you Tess. Anyway, lately i’ve found myself doin’ a lot of reflectin.’ Can ya believe that? Me? Joel hardass Miller expressing his emotions? Ellie and I made it to the fireflies. I’m sure by now you know what happened so i’ll spare the details. Do you remember when you told me to save who I could save? Well, I did. I saved her. I’d do it all over again if I had to. Man, I used to think of that kid as cargo. Now, I think of her as if she was my own daughter. They were gonna kill her, and I couldn’t let that happen so I did what I had to do. Ain’t proud of it, but she’s alive and that's all that matters to me even though she hates me. I couldn’t live without her. The truth is, I wish you were here. You’d love Jackson. This community has it all figured out. We coulda lived a life at peace together, you and me. You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I could never give that to you. You never asked anythin’ of me. Never begged me to feel for you back, but fuck, I loved you. I loved you Tess. I think you knew. It was unspoken between us, but it was there. I should have told you when I had the chance. Well, I'm tellin’ ya now. I know one day I'll get to thank you for savin’ Ellie and I. You went out a fuckin’ hero. You’re the reason why I'm alive. I know I need to forgive myself for your death. I know I can’t go on livin’ and blamin’ myself. It’s hard. It’s so fuckin’ hard, but i’m going to try. I hope that you are at peace. Y’know I ain’t believe in there bein’ a Heaven, but I hope that’s where you’re at. I hope your husband and son are there with you. I hope you get to hug them tight. Sarah too. Bill and Frank. I hope you’re all together now. If you see my baby girl, can you please tell her that daddy loves her? Keep her safe. Hold her close f’me.

I’ll see ya again one day. Till then, I'll do better. I promise.

- Your Texas

Joel let a few tear drops drip along the paper before he wiped them away. He felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders as he was releasing the burden that weighed him down. It lifted from his being, floating like a cloud in the sky as it dissipated to dust. Tess never blamed him for her death. She never held it against him. She only wished that she had more time with him in this cruel unforgiving world.

When Joel returned from patrol in the late afternoon, he found himself in your shop. The door was propped open with a heavy ceramic pot as a warm spring breeze drifted past his covered shoulder blades. Your shop was peacefully quiet sans the record player crackling to the tune of Queen. The song playing was ‘You’re My Best Friend’

How sweetly fitting.

He could hear your soft humming through his good ear as he walked around the counter. “Beanie? Y’back here darlin?’” His voice traveled like the breeze as you looked up from the mug you were currently painting. Normally you’d paint in your shed at home, but today you decided to kill some time and paint at the shop.

“I’m back here Joel.” You softly responded as your paint brush delicately dragged across the ceramic.

The first thing you noticed was Joel’s bare arms in your peripheral and the way his hair had one stray curl that dangled over his forehead in a soft swoop. His cinnamon brown eyes landed in a soft gaze across your face as he leaned his arm up against the wall. You liked to call this stance the ‘Joel lean.’ Although, this information was kept private.

“What’re you paintin’ today?” He asked intriguingly.

“Vines and tiny little flowers.” You held the mug up in his direction so he could observe what you had completed so far.

“Beautiful.” He rasped. “Listen, you got any plans this evenin?’” He was fidgeting with his fingers now as he awaited your response.

You gently set the mug down on the little drying table before wiping your hands on your paint stained apron. “I was going to head home in an hour or so to make dinner and then settle in with a good book probably. Why do you ask?”

“Come with me to the Tipsy Bison.” He blurted out suddenly, catching you off guard.

“I’ve never been.” You murmured sheepishly.

“S’okay. You ain’t even have to drink. Jus’ would love to share your company. There’s music n’dancin.’ There’s no pressure or nothin’ but it would be fun.”

Was..Joel Miller asking you out on a date right now? An unofficial-official date?

Am I askin’ her out on a date right now?

Yes, you are.

No. I ain’t.

You are.

“Won’t I stick out like a sore thumb if I'm not drinking?” Truthfully you were looking for a way out of this. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go spend time with Joel. You were just intimidated by the thought of having to socialize with other community members of Jackson. You could already feel your anxious thoughts creep up and stain your mind with self-doubt.

“Darlin.’ everyone there is g’nna be too drunk to care. If anyone has somethin’ to say, they can say it to me. Again, no pressure. I don’t wanna stress ya out or anythin.’”

Be still, my foolish heart.

You chewed down on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the soft flesh as you could taste copper beading along your tongue. How bad could it really be? Besides, Joel wouldn’t let anyone fuck with you. Maybe he would even share a dance with you?

Be still, my foolish heart.

“Okay.” You finally responded. “I’ll come with you, on one condition.”

“Name your price darlin.’” He was holding back his grin that was threatening to spread across his lips.

“You have to dance with me at least once.” You requested.

“Deal.” He didn’t even falter on his response as he outstretched his hand towards you to grasp. “We’ll dance the night away.” He shot you a subtle wink.

His hand was warm in your grasp as he gently eased you up from the chair you were sitting in. You could feel the rough ridges from years of scarring, but despite this, his hands were beautiful. The ridges reminded you of mountain peaks that would nearly touch the clouds. His scars were littered about like constellations in the night sky. Some were deeper than others and you could only imagine how many times the skin on his knuckles had been split open. How many times they bled, how many times he’d hiss under his breath as the healing scabs would flake off.

How would he react if he saw your own scars? Would he shy away or would he trace them delicately? Kiss the pain away with gentle words. Promise you that no harm would come upon you again. Would he hold you close? Murmur into your hair an oath kept against his heart. Would he protect you? Kill for you?

Of course he would.

You just hadn’t a clue what this night would bring.

One thing was for certain, you were eager to find out.

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Tex, Tess, and Timber:

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