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dinsdjrn · 11 months

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the devils we keep | j. miller x f!reader

summary: After a messy end to things, you feel the only option left is to leave Jackson. For good. [wc: 1.6k]

a/n: this is part one of a series of standalones; they all follow Joel x same f!reader but at totally different points in their relationship.. they don't have to be read together or in any order.

content warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST with a side of ANGST, no use of y/n, established (and end of relationship), break up, post-outbreak!Joel, afab!reader, talks about loss and death, lack of communication, morning sex (blink and you'll miss it), graphic depictions of darkness, poorly edited, lmk if I missed anything <3

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They always used to say that if you loved something, set it free, if it loved you back, it will return. Sometimes when you set someone free, they’ll still love you, and they’ll run as far away as they can.

The night offers some release, the darkness that surrounds you also understands you. It wraps its arms around you in a cold and unforgiving embrace, numbing your heart and soul. Momentarily releasing you from the ache that sits in where your chest meets your stomach. You thought that a “sinking heart” was just an expression, you have quickly learned, it’s a symptom.

You were not ignorant to heartbreak and pain, but previously it had come in exchange of survival. You didn’t have time to feel your heartbreak in the moment, you needed to keep moving and survive. The pain had always come later and your desire to survive always took president. So the dull ache in your chest was just a part of your daily routine.

“Movimiento es vida” your best friends voice rang in your head, movement is life. So you moved on from your grief, and moved forward to survive.

So you’ll take this pain, and you’ll push on, find somewhere new and start over.

Jackson had become so comfortable this past year you resided there. In all truthfulness, Joel had become so comfortable and he made it easy to forget a world beyond Jackson. He was someone you connected with so easily; he understood your best parts and forgave your worst.

You weren’t someone who was very good at connecting with others. Ever since you had lost your brother and best friend, you had become closed off. Maria, one of your only friends here, would describe you as a wallflower.

“Stoic and unreadable,” she would joke.

You would always roll your eyes at her. Jackson was safe but for the first few weeks you weren't convinced it was where you wanted to call home.

That was until you met Joel. He was arguably more closed off than you, but his scars matched yours. It was almost ironic how your pain matched his. You connected over the foals at the stables. Well, you and Ellie had connected over Shimmer. Joel came as a part of a package deal.

You had taught her all you could remember about horses and the equine world before the outbreak. It was what began to thaw your frozen heart; teaching Ellie how to ride, tack and untack, groom and even the different feeding protocols for the different horses. She wanted it all, and for the first time in so long you cared to share.

Your connection brought you closer to Joel, and proximity was all you needed to know that your heart matched his perfectly. You had originally planned on being two ships that had passed in the night, but life had other plans. Life with a little help from Tommy and Ellie.

None of that mattered anymore, the fondness that once sat in the memory of Joel had been buried beneath a field of darkness. Your whole life you could never seemed to pick up on when you had overstayed your welcome. Joel made it very clear that you had.

It can as a shock and surprise as you had always found yourselves talking about the future you had together. As you reflected, it was you who always brought up the future, he merely nodded along with you. Recently he had been more distant and cold, but in the moment this was a blind side.

“I think it’s time we both move on,” Joel said but wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“We had a good thing goin’, something comfortable…” he paused, “But we want… no, we need, different things.”

His gaze was on the ground.

“If you’re going sit here and tell me you need a change. And that change is to let go of me… then I want you to look me in the eye as you break what you promised to keep safe,” you seethed.

His gaze met yours, his eyes were cold as the day you had met. Secrets, pain, and distance that you couldn’t tap into were all that you were left with.

He bore into your soul as he ripped it from your body.

“We’re done here. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. You deserve more than that, but it’s all I can give.”

“Fuck you, Joel. Fuck this and fuck you,” you spat.

In some other world, you handled things more gently, but you’re certain that world beat and berate you with heartbreak after heartbreak.

So here you are, surrounded by darkness, letting the burning pain in your chest turn to numbness.

You laid in bed for a week, with only the memory of Joel to hold onto.

The way it felt to wake up late with him, when Ellie stayed with a friend and Joel stayed with you.

The way he would kiss the nape of your neck and trace his hands down the curve of your side from the swell of your breast to the top of your thigh. He would pull you in close pushing your ass against himself. Knowing exactly where to put his hands and lips to ignite a fire within you. Then he would move into you slowly, softly fucking you in then morning light. Whispering sweet nothings about how you could live in those moments forever.

All of those stolen touches, kisses, slow mornings and heated midnights. They were all ghosts of loves watermark. They drowned you, plagued your thoughts. You couldn’t escape them in this bed, this house, this city. Joel had infiltrated every corner, nook and cranny of your existence in Jackson, it made it impossible to breathe.

You hadn’t slept much since that night, because at least the darkness veiled the details of Joel the light seemed to amplify. It provided short moments where you could process half of a coherent thought. Those thoughts always brought you to the same place. Washington. You swore you wouldn’t go back after the QZ fell, but it is the only place you know you’ll find safety. Safety and ghosts from your past that wouldn't haunt you leaving you feeling cold and lifeless.

So in the darkness you packed what you would need for a few weeks travel. As the morning sun peeked over the mountains you knew what you had to do.

With your small pack over your shoulder and a backpack of food that would last a week or two if you rationed correctly, you headed up the hill to a house that was all too familiar.

You knocked gently on the door and it had opened a few moments later revealing a man, that you thought would be easy to say goodbye to. You were wrong.

“Tommy,” you whispered.

“Fuck,” he said, “I thought you were Joel.”

“I know you have patrol soon I won’t be long. Just had something I needed from you,”

“What is it?” He asked, dreading what the response might be.

“I need a gun and horse, to get me to Washington,”

“I was worried you might say that,” He raked his hand through his hair.

“I have to go. I can’t stay here any longer. Please Tommy, I can’t take it,” your voice broke as you pleaded.

"C'mon now is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?"

"I can't keep feeling this way Tommy. I've lost so much so quickly and had no choice in whether or not they left. This though? It's almost worse, he chose me and kept choosing me. Until one day he didn't anymore and I still have to face him. To face this town, it's tearing me apart. He chose this, he chose to lose me, and now it is my choice to keep moving, keep living." Tears threatened to break and you could barely speak above a whisper without your voice cracking.

“I understand,” he said putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“Let me get something for you and get you on your way,” he said.

“Thank y-“

“Under one condition,” he said.

“Anything,” you said.

“You find a way to tell me you’ve landed somewhere safe,”

“Promise.”

So you went to the stable to tack your horse, Blues, and secure your cargo. Tommy followed a few minutes later with a shotgun, ammo and hunting blade to get you through to Seattle.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said offering him a smile.

“Hey, be safe out there, alright?” He pulled you in for one final hug.

“Tommy, uh, one more thing?”

“Shoot,” he said.

You pulled a clip from your hair. It was a tulip hair clip that Joel had found for you. The gold of the metal clip began rusting over at parts and the pink wasn’t as bright as you’re sure it had once been. Joel had found it for you when he learned how much you loved tulips and their sign of new life in the spring. How they came and went before all the other flowers and their was beauty in their brevity.

“Can you give this to Ellie? She won’t wear it it’s way too girly, but I just need her to know I’ll be with her aways,” you placed the clip in Tommy’s palm and he put it in his pocket.

“Go on now, before everyone’s up and tryna stop you,” Tommy nodded toward the door.

You mounted Blues and off you went through the gates of Jackson for what you were sure would be the last time. Not even a glance over your shoulder, if you looked back you’re not sure you would’ve made it past the tree line.

next part

comments, likes and rbs are so greatly appreciated

tags: @undrthelights @pedgeitopascal @tightjeansjavi @joelsversion & lmk if you would like to be added or removed in future <3

#joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x y/n #meg writes things #devils we keep: series

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dckweed · 3 months

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NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

okay don't ask how i got this out so fast, im literally so fuckin obsesessed with this series right now.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART THREE: the weekend

thursday.

“What in the hell did you put me up to?” Gator’s voice rings out across the barn a couple of hours later. You wince, hearing the anger swirling under the tense tone as his footsteps thunk closer to you across the wooden floor. You’re still facing Bubbles, trying to get her untacked but it’s not easy when you don’t have a step ladder, you didn’t check if there was one in the trailer when you left and you didn’t feel right going snooping around the Tillman barn, afraid it might get you in trouble.

“It’s just a few days,” You roll your eyes, grateful that he can’t see you because something tells you that the Tillman didn’t take kindly to bratty behavior like eye rolling. Not married yet or not, you were pretty much belonged to Gator now in the eyes of society in Stark County, nobody would bat an eye if he reprimanded you for it. “And i put us up to it, genius.”

“Well gee, Pearl, you could have fuckin’ consulted me first, dontcha think?” He’s right next you in the stall now, his much larger hands moving yours out of the way as he could actually see over the top of your horse to undo all of her stuff. “Why the hell would i want to spend my weekend babysitting my sisters?”

You scoff, turning to face him with your hands on your hips. You roll your eyes again and you know he sees you as his eyes narrow. “Ya know what asshole, you’re fuckin’ right!” You say, not going to put up with any of his damn attitude. “I shoulda slid right off my horse, left your daddy right out there in the field and come find you just to ask if it was okay.” He opens his mouth to retaliate, or maybe to tell you off for cursing at him or getting cross with him. “I may be younger than you but i’m still an adult, Gator, i’m gonna be your wife not your fuckin’ kid, don’t ever expect me to wait and ask your fuckin’ permission to do shit unless it’s necessary. That isn’t how this is goin’ to work.”

He doesn’t say anything but pulls the saddle off of the horse with a huff and you turn on your heel, leading her out of the stall and out to the trailer. Gator stands in the stall for a moment after you’ve gone, listening to the clip clop of the horses hooves as you guys go. He closes his eyes for a second, readjusting the weight of your heavy ass saddle before guiltily following you along. You weren’t wrong, he was being an asshole. He hated being wrong, and he hated apologizing even more but he couldn’t let you go around stomping your feet and being mad at him all damn weekend, something told him that probably wasn’t in his best interest. And besides, he did actually feel bad for snapping at you like that, you didn’t deserve it. He did like seeing you get all riled up like that though, the storm that started brewing in your eyes..it was a nice change from your normally friendly and people pleasing personality. He liked that you obviously knew how to stand up for yourself too.

The door of the trailer was open by the time he had finally meandered his way out of the barn, and he can hear you getting the horse settled into it. He makes quick work of putting the saddle into the back of your Jeep, closing the door and making his way to the trailer. He watches you, one arm braced against the metal door as his eyes follow your movements. You pat your horse on her long nose and then turn around, hands on your hips as you step down onto the ground of the driveway.

You’re staring up at him expectantly, chewing your plump bottom lip with your hands on your hips. It took all the will power he never knew he had not to put his thumb on your fucking mouth, stopping you from what you surely couldn’t have realized was a surprisingly sinful act. He licks his chapped lips, looking off to the side before sighing. “I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole.” He says quietly, brown eyes searching your face for any sort of reaction. “I shouldn’t have snapped at ya like that..”

Your face softens and something close to a smile graces the corners of your mouth as you push his chest lightly, your hands no longer defensively on your hips. “Apology accepted.” You say, meaning it. You had forgiven him the moment you had snapped at him too, you knew he was just as new to this whole situation as you were, you guys were still learning one another, that wasn’t any excuse to be yelling at each other but it was a reason to never let it happen again without at least trying to talk first. “But i’m not sorry for snappin’ back at you. You deserved it.”

He laughs, a genuine, hearty sound coming from his throat and brings a hand up to muss your hair as he helps you close up and lock the trailer. “Alright..suppose we better go get that lunch you were talkin’ about earlier and then go pack up your stuff for the weekend.” The sun was fully up now, and even though it was only nine thirty in the morning, and he had all of an hour and a half of sleep under his belt, he was ready for lunch with you, and he was ready to get his dad and his wife out of the fuckin’ house so he could maybe relax just a little bit, maybe get a few more hours of sleep..

After a small squabble about who’s going to drive the Jeep you’re pulling up to the curb of Gator’s favorite diner in town, and he’s letting out a breath of relieved air as he steps foot on the ground.

“Oh stop bein’ so dramatic!” You laugh walking side by side with him up to the door of the busy diner. He had spent the whole ten minute drive with one hand braced on the back of your seat and the other braced on the dash, telling you to slow down or to not hit your brakes so damn hard or to stop taking corners so fast and sharp with a damn horse trailer attached to you. You rolled your eyes after every comment, but found them more and more endearing as you heard the actual fear in his voice. That wasn’t the first time a boy had been scared to be in your passenger seat before.

“Stop bein’ such a bad fuckin’ driver!” He retaliates, brown eyes wide as he holds open the door of the diner for you, you cackle and duck under his arm, breathing in his cologne and the smell of that damn fruity ass vape that he keeps puffing on. “You’re a menace to the road, Pearl, i swear!”

He hears you mocking him and pushes the back of your head gently as the two of you find an empty space in the busy restaurant, a booth in the back corner next to windows where the light shines in. He insists on taking the side of the booth that faces the rest of the diner, wanting to have a good view of any potential danger (though he doesn't tell you that).

A friendly waitress sidles up to the table as the two of you settle, you giggling after he mutters something more about your driving. “Mornin’ Gator, miss.” She says, nodding at the two of you. She’s plump and motherly, her hair brown and curly. You can tell from the smile on her face that she clearly knows the boy across the table from you. “Coffee for you, hon?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Gator nods, one of the friendliest looks you’d seen in your whole short time of knowing him on his face as he looked up at her, his brown eyes filled with warmth you hadn’t seen towards anyone before. “And..i’m feeling lunchy today, how about a patty melt and fries, please?” You realized he must come here pretty often if the waitress knew his coffee order, and he didn’t need a menu to order.

“You got it Gator,” She says warmly, turning to you next. “And for your..friend?”

“Fiance, actually.” He says before you have the chance to speak, you’re stunned for a moment and so is the woman. This is the first time anyone outside of your families and the people directly involved with the wedding planning had been told that you guys were technically engaged, your face flushes as the realization and the weight of the title actually being out in the open for the first time.

You can tell that she wants to ask more questions by the furrow in her brow and the hesitation before she clears her throat, but she thankfully doesn’t pry any farther. “And for your fiance?”

You give a sheepish smile, that quickly turns to a deep rooted frown when the friendly woman tells you that they don’t stock flavored coffee creamers, or serve iced coffee. “Dr. Pepper then,” You say, the smile returning back to your face as Gator makes a mental note to stop by the local coffee shop for you on the way back to the Augastine ranch. “And I’ll do chicken tenders, with fries please!”

She gives a smile and says she’ll be back soon, as soon as she gone Gator cracks up laughing at you. “What?” You pout, and he only shakes his head at you, causing your pout to deepen. “It’s not nice to laugh at people, is there dirt on my face? Gator!” The way you whined his name struck a different kind of chord in him and he quickly stopped laughing, shaking his head as he situated himself in his seat.

He knew most men would have found the whining annoying but it was clear you didn’t do it on purpose, and it sent a tingle down his spine when you said his name like that. “Flavored coffee creamer?” You roll your eyes and kick him under the table, which only makes him laugh more.

You had to admit, you liked how young and happy it made his face look when he laughed, and you wished he would do more of it.

A couple of hours tick by as the two of you sit in your cozy little booth in the diner, eating and bickering and laughing at each other as customers come and go around you. He was sweet in his own rugged, rough way, your own personal diamond in the rough. You didn’t mind, it just meant you could have fun chipping away at him and softening him up around the edges. The more you got to know him over the past week, the more you started to think that maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so horrible. You could both learn to love each other over the years, and who knows, maybe you would fall in love in the way that all those people in the movies did. You had always wanted a silver screen romance..

Gator pays for the both of you before you can even dig your credit card out of your stupid little purse, which causes you to pout. “Hey, I was the one that asked you to come eat!” You argued and boy just sighs, giving you a pointed look that clearly said to shut the fuck up. You pout but don’t push on the matter, letting him steal the Jeep keys off of the table top as you slide off of your fluffy, overstuffed bench.

“Alright, lets go pick up your stuff for the weekend and drop your trailer off,” He had work tonight again and he was hoping to get a couple extra hours of sleep in before his father left. The nights were always longer when he was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Gator loved his job.

You follow him through the crowded diner, staying right underfoot. You hadn’t realized before but people were staring at the two of you, it made your cheeks flush when eyes bored into you as you walked and nervously, you grab onto the back of his shirt. He stiffens beneath your touch, and cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed under the brim of his hat. “People are staring.” You whisper, he purses his lips and looks around before shrugging as you get closer to the door. “Why are they staring?” You weren’t used to attention like that, and you were afraid that somehow it would get back to Boyd that you were here with Gator and you would somehow get in trouble for it, fiance or not.

“Because i’m the Sheriff’s son, and this is the first time i’ve been out in public with my fiance.” He says, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Sherry probably went and spread the word while we were eating, it’s no big deal Pearlie, the whole town was gonna find out one way or another.” He pushes the door of the diner open with one hand, and with the other he grabs your hand off the back of his shirt, using his grip to push you in front of him out the door.

“I figured they would have done an announcement in the paper or somethin’ by now.” You mutter, hands in your pockets as you walk side by side to the jeep with him. You don’t argue when he opens the passenger side door for you, but you do give him a shit eating grin as you step up onto the running boards to climb in.

“Yeah, well, they’re probably leaving that up to us too.” He mutters as he closes your door and quickly walks around the front end. You thought it was rather sweet of him, opening the doors for you, but you wouldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to freak him out. He wastes no time in pulling away from the diner, casually driving your car with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift on the center console.

You studied his hand, how much bigger than the gear shift knob it was, you could barely fit your own around it but his smothered it, leaving no trace of it under his palm. His thick fingers tensing and untensing around it, as if he were squeezing it like a stress ball. You bite your lip, looking up as the car comes to a stop and he throws it in park. “What are we doing?” You ask, noticing him lifting his ass out of the seat out of the corner of his eye, shoving his hand in his pocket.

“You ask a lot of questions, you know?” He quips, grabbing a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet holding it out towards you. You simply stare at it, and then lift your big ass, curious eyes to stare at him. He sighs, sagging against the seat. “Go in and get your damned flavored coffee, felt bad they didn’t have it at the diner..”

You feel your cheeks start to flush, and though you were tempted to argue and tell him he didn’t need to stop, you felt yourself unbuckling your seatbelt because that was just too damn sweet. You start to get out of the car, grabbing your purse when he clicks his tongue at you, shoving his hand at you again. You decide it’s best not to argue, you don’t want to annoy him anymore than you clearly already do without meaning to, you take it, using the grip on his hand to pull him across the console. You kiss his cheek sweetly, pulling away with a smile. “Thank you..” You say, turning and jumping from the Jeep as quickly as you could without hurting yourself.

Gator is stunned by the show of affection, his neck flushed red from the interaction. He shakes his head, fighting back the smile on his face by putting his vape to his mouth as he watches you happily skip into the fucking coffee shop. “She’s gonna be the death of me..” He grumbles to himself, running a hand down his face after breathing out the fruity flavored vape that he filled his lungs with.

You’re grateful that he’s with you when you go home because you can sense Boyd’s mood before you can see him, the house is still and quiet, the girls off at school for the day, the nanny is not needed until this afternoon. You walk through the front door with Gator laughing about the way he had narrowly avoided a hoof to his head when he was walking with Bubbles, you giggle at him as he exaggerates the scene that you had had your back turned to, shaking your head as you start for the stairs.

“Where have you been?” His voice is cold and sends a shiver down your spine. You stop in your tracks, one hand on the bannister and turn to face him. You don’t dare look at him, but you put a complacent smile on your face nonetheless. You can feel Gator behind you, his hands sliding into his pockets much like they were on the first time he had been to your so-called home.

“I was on that ride with Roy,” You say, calling Gator’s father by his name, he tenses behind you at the mention of the man, and you’re tempted to glance up at him and offer him a comforting smile. “And we got to talking about the wedding and what not and how i would like his girls to be in it, and he thought it would be a great idea,” You’re starting to babble, and you begin to worry that your words aren’t making any sense because of the way that his face changes. “So now Gator and I are here to pack up a bag for me because we’re going to be watching his sisters while their parents are gone for the weekend..”

“We stopped and got an early lunch first,” Gator steps in, you feel his hand on your lower back and it brings a sense of calmness to you for some strange reason. “She was hungry..sorry, i shoulda had her call you or somethin’ didn’t mean to make you worry, Sir..”

Boyd is quiet for a long beat, his jaw ticking like it does when he’s angry and trying not to show it. You swallow back your fear knowing that you’re safe with Gator here.

“When will you be back?” He narrows his cold eyes at you, they hold no emotion other than the contempt that you know he feels for you, and that makes you nervous for what you’ll endure when you come home Monday afternoon, but grateful for the time you’ll have away.

“I’ll be back Monday afternoon, after his parents come home.” You say, tired of the conversation and no longer wanting to be involved. You turn and start heading up the stairs, knocking Gator’s hand from your back as you leave without being dismissed, something you’re sure you’ll hear about next week. “See you then.”

Gator is quick to follow behind, giving your step father a friendly smile as he clambers up the stairs behind you. “What was that all about?” He asks in a hushed voice as he follows onto the second floor landing.

You shake your head and walk past your sisters’ room and farther on to yours, locking the door behind you. You don’t notice the way Gator’s eyebrows pinch when he notices you’ve barricaded yourselves in the room by locking it.

“He’s an asshole.” Is all you say, shrugging off the encounter before heading to your closet to find your suitcase.

When you come out you see Gator with his hands in his pockets again, looking around your bedroom, the one area of the house that was completely and utterly you. Pink and red accents, white frilly lace..teddy bears and fluffy pillows and blankets..the room was so..you. He had gotten his attention caught to a smattering of photo frames on your big white dresser, all of them held you in them, smiling that big beautiful smile of yours (sometimes it would be reaching your eyes, lighting them up happily, but most times it wasn’t), all of them held different people, your sisters mostly, and whom he assumed was a friend from school, a tall brunette with killer legs in a bikini with her arms around you. There was another guy in the photo too that he tried not to be jealous of, but he had his arm around your waist and was grinning down at the two of you as you guys stood on a dock in front of a boat. He loved how happy you looked there in that moment, like your mind wasn’t laden with such heavy burdens like planning a wedding you were legally bound to, or dealing with a clearly tense situation with your step father. His favorite picture though, was one of you and an older woman, your mama, he assumed. You were laughing in the photo a mess of birthday cake frosting smeared across your cheek and some pink tinsel in your hair. The silver balloons behind you said ‘15’.

“That’s my mama..” You said, sliding up behind him. He jumps, slightly scared. “That’s the only picture i have left of her..Boyd has all the rest, wont let me see ‘em. I think they’re up in the attic somewhere.” You sniff a little, trying not to cry as you turn away, hands on your hips. “Right, lets get this stuff together.”

After about an hour or so you’ve stuffed the whole suitcase with more clothes than you really need for an entire weekend, Gator had lightened the mood by teasing you when you tried to hide your panties and bras as you packed them, telling you it’s not like he hadn’t seen any before, and he would be seeing yours for the foreseeable future, and then making you laugh at his genuine confusion at your array of shampoos and body washes in the your shower.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those 3 in 1 off the shelf at the grocery store kinda guys..” You laugh, looking at him looking at the four different bottles of soaps in his hands. “Please tell me you use something that costs more than ten dollars on your hair! It’s too pretty not to use cheap crap!” You hadn’t really meant to call his hair pretty out loud, but it really was pretty, you couldn’t deny it.

He doesn’t mention it though and instead looks up at you bewildered. “Are you tellin’ me you spent more than twenty dollars on all this crap combined?” He asks, completely in awe. “Oh my god Pearlie, please tell me you’re not gonna be breakin’ my bank on fuckin’ shampoo- it’s shampoo!”

The two of you burst out in laughter after a moment and you deemed it best not to tell him how much you spent on hair care quite yet, afraid that he would have an aneurysm if you did. He’s gentlemanly enough to help you carry the suitcase back out to the Jeep.

He even carries it into his daddy’s house for you, and up the stairs where he shows you his bedroom. He tosses the case unceremoniously onto his bed, where it bounces. You look around for a moment, eyebrows raised as you take in the scenery. It was messier than you had imagined, but it smelled so much like him and his damn vape that you couldn’t help but to take a deep breath of air. The room wasn’t too big, and his queen sized bed took up most of the space, the rest of it littered with his clothes on the floor and posters on the wall..you noticed some trophies on a shelf that you would have to ask about later.

“It’s not much, and it’s usually not so messy..” He says, you think he might be a little embarrassed by the red flush of his cheeks. “I’m sorry you have to sleep in here with me, but it’s better than the couch or crashing on the floor in the girls’ room..”

“I don’t mind, Gator..” You say, giving him a little smile as you turn to face him. “It’s a fuckin’ pig stye though.” You laugh and he follows suit, nodding along with you. You had a pretty good idea of what you would be doing to keep yourself busy while Jessica and Maude were at school tomorrow, or until they would come home this afternoon.

The rest of the early afternoon was spent with Karen giving you a run down of the girls’ schedules and how to feed them and dress them. Something about the woman irritated you to your core, maybe it was the way she clearly held nothing but disdain for her step son, or maybe it as the way that she spoke to you like you were stupid and couldn’t possibly be capable of taking care of her children, either way, it made your eye start to twitch the more you thought about it.

You were grateful when Roy seemed to have finally had enough of hanging around after he had dutifully packed their bags into his old chevy and got a little snappy with his wife, who quickly scurried out of the door. He gave you a friendly squeezed of your shoulder, his giant hand engulfing your shoulder, before mentioning something to Gator in hushed tones that seemed to only upset the boy as his voice turned tense and cold and his back stiffened like it did earlier in the day.

The house was quiet once the door shut, creepily quiet once the old Chevy had meandered it’s way out of the gates of the house and down the road of the ranch. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with yourself as you kept your eyes on your fiance. He’s watching out the windows next to the door, his back muscles still tense. You wondered if he would be upset with you if you asked what his father had said, if you asked if he was okay. You decide against it though. “Gator?” You ask, your voice soft, small and quiet. He hums in response, hands on his hips as he glances back at you. “Shouldn’t we go pick up the girls?” You noticed it was nearing time for school for your own sisters to be out, and while Gator’s went to a private christian school you figured they probably had the same start and out times as your sisters’ school. “It’s almost three..”

“Yeah..” He runs a hand down his face, clearing his throat. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

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#kara writes #gator tillman #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tilman x y/n #joe keery #fargo season 5 #fargo s5

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

VII ║Fleabitten

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 6: Mustang | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: You and Jack spend your last night together in the mountains - for now.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, flirting, insecurities, very light soft!dom overtones, sexual innuendoes, handjob, risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: I know I made you guys wait for this one, I'm sorry it took so long! It's no secret that I'm dragging my feet because I don't want this packtrip to be over, but we all have to brave and face the inevitable 🥺 I hope you enjoy spending the last night in the mountains with Jack and his Darlin' ❤️

Fleabitten: A colour consisting of a white hair coat with small pigmented speckles or freckles.

You’ve never considered yourself a creature of habit.

You have your routines, of course. But habit is more. It’s a dependency, emotional and physical. It’s something that’s hard to give up. It’s a prickle under the skin that is only soothed when said habit is fulfilled.

Surely, habit is hewn over time. A quiet, imperceptible chipping away at your bones until it becomes part of you. It must take more than a week to make a habit out of something.

Except, it feels a lot like habit when you wake up to pink skies and take your first breath of sweet mountain air to start the day. That first mug of coffee warmed over rekindled embers from the night before. How Scotch always prances into a little canter to warm up when you hop on, but not until he knows you’re fully sat with the tips of your toes through the stirrups irons.

It’s the way you angle the brim of your hat and flip up the collar of your shirt even before the sun hits just so. It’s the all-consuming awe that pins you to the spot, wherever you are, whatever you’re in the middle of, when the sunset paints every inch of earth in rose gold.

And for the past three nights, it’s the assuring weight of strong arms around your waist that has lulled you to sleep, the kiss of warm breath on your temple - a familiarity that runs too deep in too short a time for you to comprehend.

Habit.

It’s the sixth day of the pack trip - first thing tomorrow, just after breakfast, Jack will be leading you across the mountain, back the way you came, to get back to the ranch by mid-afternoon.

Words are scarce when the two of you approach the last Statesman campsite on the trail, the neat stone pit now a familiar sight.

Even the horses are subdued. Scotch stands obediently, flicking his tail while you untack him, when he would usually be nudging at your hands with his velvety nose, snickering for a cheeky apple slice before supper.

It’s second nature to you now, hanging the sweaty saddle pad on a low-hanging branch to dry before setting the saddle and bridle on the wooden post for cleaning. Jack follows, standing on the other side, handing you a wet rag. You get to work, scrubbing out the grime and sweat from the well-worn leather.

His eyes are on you, a phantom weight on your shoulders - they’re not exactly sore, having grown used to long hours in the saddle over the week, but you are tired, albeit the good kind. One that a good, long soak in a hot bubble bath would fix, with a certain cowboy in the same tub -

‘Whatcha smilin’ ‘bout, Darlin’?’

Glancing up, you match his arched eyebrow with one of yours, planting your elbows on the spine of the saddle and standing onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his. Well, a portable shower ain’t the same, but -

‘Shall we clean up, cowboy?’

Jack groans deep into your neck, the taste of soap thick on his tongue.

‘Is this how you jerked off thinking about me that first day?’ you tease, your grip sliding slickly along his cock.

‘Oh fuck,’ he pants, brow scrunched up in pleasure-pain, scraping his teeth on your collar bone. ‘Didn’t feel half as good, darlin’.’

A moan slips from you when one large palm finds your backside and squeezes, his fingers digging into the plump flesh as he whimpers by your ear. Bowing his head, he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking on your sensitive skin until you arch into his mouth.

It doesn’t take long for him to come all over your hand - sticky, milky strands slipping thickly down the gaps of your fingers, stringing between them like spider webs. You’re reluctant to let go, humming soothingly into his ear as the last of his orgasm shudders through his body.

He holds you tight, his heart a sharp staccato against your chest, as the slow trickle of lukewarm water washes away all traces of him.

Once the portable shower is empty, you take your time getting dressed. Jack wipes you down with your towel while you rub his hair dry with his. Walking back to camp hand in hand, you grin when the horses come into sight, chasing and egging each other on like puppies at the dog park.

Thousand-pound puppies, more like.

Dropping the dirty laundry by a tree to be packed later, he whistles with his fingers. ‘C’mon boys, supper time!’

The trio line up smartly by the wooden post as Jack preps the feed, measuring out the grain and hay pellets by sight, filling their buckets. Their nostrils flare and ears prick up at the sight of their dinner, but other than a stray nicker or two, they remain impressively patient.

Their buckets are dropped in front of their hooves when he’s done, and you may be imagining the sharp intake of air as the horses await the okay from their cowboy.

At his nod, all three practically lunge at their supper, munching happily. You laugh, and Jack watches on proudly.

A quiet desperation slinks in when you’re not looking, winding tighter and tighter around your ribs like a vice that leaves you short of breath as the minutes and hours slip by. You’re restless, your legs bouncing in agitation, your eyes darting about, frantically trying to commit everything to memory, yet never lingering anywhere long enough to do so.

But it’s not really about the things you can see. It’s the bitter bite of smoke in the clean mountain air. It’s the orange heat of the campfire that you wear like a favourite cardigan. It’s the simplicity of getting from point A to point B, with nothing but grassland and forest in between.

But real life isn’t simple. Things that you vowed to push to the back of your mind at the beginning of the trip bubble to the surface for an unwelcome moment. You have bills to pay. You have a deadweight of a house to sell. You have an ex not pulling his weight -

‘Darlin’?’

The white noise that you weren’t even aware had filled your ears subsides, and your gaze snaps up to Jack, blinking. The weight of the knife in your hand comes back to you, and you glance down at the bell pepper you were in the middle of dicing up.

You give him a shaky smile and carry on with your errand. ‘Sorry.’

He brushes a thumb on your cheek. ‘You were thinkin’ mighty loud.’

Not wanting to dampen your last night together, you shake your head and lean over to kiss him. You huff, ‘Just hungry. Get cooking, cowboy.’

Jack knows you’re fibbing, but he says no more. He can admit to himself that you’re not the only one struggling with loud thoughts tonight.

You’re right, he should turn his focus to making dinner instead - chili and cornbread, classic southern comfort food. Lord knows the both of you can do with some comfort tonight.

‘Want to help me with the cornbread?’ he asks, knowing you’d want to keep your hands busy.

‘Damn, I sure miss the days when you insisted that I shouldn’t help with anything at all,’ you tease, which makes him chuckle.

‘C’mere, darlin’.’

He’d measured out the dry ingredients for the cornbread back at the Halfway House and tipped it all into a mason jar - flour, cornmeal and raising agents. You whisk the batter with a fork as he cracks in three eggs and pours in the milk (he usually uses buttermilk, but it has to be shelf stable milk on the trail) until it’s smooth and thin. You carefully pour the mixture into a well-oiled cast iron skillet, which he then nestles in the heart of the fire. The batter bubbles like slow-burning lava as it cooks, the savoury sweetness filling the evening air.

‘That’ll cook in a half hour, so we should start on the chili,’ he says. ‘I normally simmer it for at least an hour, but I think we’re both hungry, right?’

‘I’m fine with express chili, cowboy.’

Jack sets a deep-set saucepan on the pit, drizzling in olive oil to preheat it. He knows the recipe by heart, but with no fresh beef mince on hand, he has his usual substitutions when cooking it on the trail. Into the pan goes finely diced cured sausage, onion, red bell peppers, peeled carrot ribbons and celery.

‘Is that Poppy’s recipe?’ you ask, tummy rumbling at the vivid scents as the pan sizzles.

‘It’s my mama’s, actually,’ he smiles, stirring with a wooden spoon. ‘It’s the one recipe Poppy allows on the trail that is not hers.’

‘If that isn’t a stamp of approval, I don’t know what is,’ you chuckle. ‘And where’s your mama?’

‘Still lives with my old man back home in Kentucky,’ he answers, scraping in minced garlic, a good squeeze of tomato paste and one big can of plum tomatoes, which he crushes one by one with the back of the spoon.

‘What do they do?’ you ask, genuinely curious. His family hasn’t come up in conversation in the past few days.

Jack is happy to indulge you. ‘Pop used to run a little corner shop in town, but he’s retired now. My ma’s an equine veterinarian, used to have a practice, but she shut that down a few years ago and is mostly a lady of leisure nowadays.’

You nudge his shoulder with yours. ‘Horses run in the family, I see.’

‘Never stood a chance,’ he jokes. ‘She still helps out on my uncle’s farm if they need an extra pair of hands. My cousins mostly run the place nowadays.’

The saucepan sputters at the generous pouring of barbeque sauce (homemade of course, Poppy’s secret recipe) that goes in next, followed by a can of beer, a beef stock cube (crumbled), Worcestershire sauce, balsamic vinegar and honey.

‘Are your parents from the same town?’

‘No, ma’s from the city, moved to the backwaters to marry my country bumpkin daddy,’ he replies, flashing you a meaningful smile.

Your cheeks heat up unbidden, and you bite your bottom lip, the shyness that rears its head feeling very alien after being so comfortable around this cowboy for these few days. You meet his eyes though, cocking your head to one side. ‘Is that so?’

He grins, stirring the chili as he continues. ‘My papaw Henry nearly disowned her, didn’t even go to the weddin’, but he came round when I was born. Turned out he got on with my other grandpa Noah like a house on fire. They used to come and spend a week in the mountains with Champ and I every year before Henry passed.’

You reach out and squeeze his free hand. ‘And where is Noah now?’

‘He lives in a little cabin off the main house with my uncle. Can barely walk, but he still rides every morning,’ he shakes his head fondly, tipping in the drained kidney and black beans.

He’s quiet for a moment as he studies the chili, simmering away, then gives you a sidelong glance. Despite a deliberate attempt to keep his tone light, the weight of his words cannot be erased by simple inflection. ‘I’m sure they’d love to meet you, darlin’.’

But as soon as he hears himself - the absurd wishful thinking in it - he shifts in his seat awkwardly, clearing his throat. You fuckin’ clown. How is this appropriate conversation when he’s known you for six days? Hell, you’d only just started sleeping together what, three nights ago? Fuck, has it only been three - ?

Two gentle fingers hook under his chin, turning his face towards you, cutting off the jumble of voices in his head. You shuffle closer so that you’re pressed right up against his side, warm and soft, and when you kiss him slowly and sweetly, it tastes like reassurance.

‘I’d love that too, cowboy.’

The chili is the best you’ve ever had - smoky, spicy and balanced out with a touch of sweetness from the barbeque sauce. The cornbread fresh from the skillet is so moreish, there’s nothing but crumbs left in the skillet when the two of you are done.

You’re close to bursting, sprawled lazily on your sleeping bag, your back propped up against a log. The fire has died down to a low-burning flame, and you’re right on the brink of nodding off.

But as it turns out, Jack still has a trick or two up his sleeves.

He reaches over you to grab one of the saddlebags, rifling around and you laugh as he unveils, one after the other - a bag of jumbo marshmallows, Graham crackers, and a bar of dark chocolate.

‘Can’t say I pegged you for a s’mores kinda cowboy,’ you tease as he lays out the ingredients on the ground.

‘It’s a Statesman tradition, we always close out a pack trip with s’mores. C’mon, I’ll show you how to make a proper one.’

You huff a laugh. ‘Oh, are we really going there?’

He feigns ignorance. ‘Whatever do you mean, ma’am?’

‘The shortest way to an argument is anything to do with s’mores.’

‘Don’t worry darlin’, I’m sure we’ll kiss and make up.’

Jack gets up and steps briefly out of the orange halo of the campfire to rustle up a couple of sticks for the marshmallows. Knees creaking as he sits down next to you, he pulls out the knife from the holster he wears on the back of his jeans, sharpening the wooden ends with a telling familiarity.

The chocolate bar is wrapped in fancy, gilded packaging, the words organic and bean to bar glowing gold in the firelight as you turn it over in your hands. ‘Huh. No Hershey’s?’

The cowboy waggles one perfectly pointed end of a stick at you in warning. ‘Rule number one - do not mention the H word in front of Poppy. You will be evicted and barred from the state of Wyoming till kingdom come.’

‘Oh, I believe you,’ you chuckle, tearing into the packaging and breaking up the chocolate into tidy squares along the grooves.

Sheathing his knife, Jack reaches for the saddle bag once again. ‘Can’t forget the secret ingredient.’

You blink in incredulity at what he brandishes, the familiar whiff registering. ‘Is that - applewood?’

He winks, testing the weight of the logs in his hands. ‘The applewood infuses the marshmallows with a sweet smokiness - I’m tellin’ you, the Statesman s’mores is somethin’ else.’

With a shake of your head, you grin. ‘Alright cowboy, show me how to make some proper s’mores.’

Twenty minutes later, you wish you could take it back.

‘Scientific’ doesn’t even begin to describe Jack’s process. You’re huddled in a blanket, hugging your knees, watching as he turns over the marshmallows with methodological precision and infinite patience - neither of which you possess. He’d confiscated yours when you tried to stick them straight into the flames, declaring that you’re unfit to make your own s’mores.

The night air is singed with the delicate note of apple blossoms, while four chocolate squares slowly warm on graham crackers where they sit on stones around the campfire.

You sit poutily, glaring at the fluffy white blobs that look just as pale as they were straight out of the bag.

‘I could’ve made about three s’mores by now,’ you gripe.

Jack doesn’t look up from the fire, but the corner of his mouth curls in amusement. ‘You’re on holiday, remember? Relax. Patience is a virtue, darlin’.’

You tilt your head in a challenge. ‘Do you really think I give a damn about virtue, cowboy?’

His grin turns brash, eyes crinkling mischievously at the corners. ‘No, ma’am, and I thank my lucky stars that you don’t.’

‘C’mon Jack,’ you whine. ‘Let's just eat the stupid s’mores and go to bed.’

‘Good things take time,’ he says simply. And then, with the minutest flex of his tone, he changes tact. ‘Will you be a good girl for me and be patient?’

You watch his smile widen as he obviously hears your breath hitch.

Biting your lip, you goad him, ‘Oh, is that how you’re going to play it, sir?

The gentleman in him recedes, and the rake glimpses through in the way he eyes you with a deliberately smarmy want. ‘I don’t hear you complainin’ when I take my time with you, darlin’.’

Your mouth hangs open in affront. ‘Are you seriously comparing me to roasted marshmallows?’

He leans over and purrs into your ear. ‘Well, your pussy is just as sweet, and soft, and warm -’

You groan and push him hard on the shoulder. ‘Thanks ruining marshmallows for me, cowboy!’

With a laugh, Jack nods towards the fire. ‘Grab the graham crackers please, darlin’. They're done.’

Sure enough, while you were distracted, the fluffy white blobs are finished with a perfect, golden crust, but have enough structural integrity to hold shape on the ends of the sticks.

‘You ready?’ he prompts.

A graham cracker in each hand, one with chocolate and the other without, you admit, ‘I hate this part, I always make such a mess.’

He smirks, ‘Didn’t think you minded makin’ a mess, darlin’.’

You roll your eyes at him, with no real annoyance. ‘You’re insufferable, cowboy.’

Cushioining one marshmallow on the chocolate side of the cracker, he instructs, ‘Now put the other one on top and grip the whole stack firmly. Got it?’

At your nod, Jack carefully extracts the stick, wriggling as he goes, one thumb against the end to keep the marshmallow from sliding out.

With a dramatic flourish, he ta-das. ‘There you go, a Statesman s’mores for my cowgirl.’

Something in your brain short-circuits at him calling you his cowgirl.

Not just his.

But the cowgirl to his cowboy.

Unable to conjure up any words, you fixate on the melted marshmallow on his thumb. Grabbing his hand and bringing it to your face, you wrap your lips around it, sucking the sweet smear of residue right off his smoke-tipped finger.

His gaze is dark even as the red and yellow flickers in his eyes when he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, his voice a soft rasp.

‘Good girl.’

‘So - what happens tomorrow?’

Your question is quiet, half murmured into the hollow of his neck in the twilight zone, on the cusp of sleep. Your head is tucked under his chin, his arms around your waist under the blanket.

‘We’ll get back to the ranch around three. The team will get the horses settled in, unpack everything, and you can have a nice hot shower. Then we’ll have sunset drinks and dinner.’

You hum noncommittally. The silence cackles for a beat, before you venture, ‘And then?’

For once, Jack doesn’t have an answer.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

He holds you close, running a calloused palm against your back when you shift restlessly in your sleep, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his own.

The sun rises pink and gentle. This camping spot was a deliberate choice - it hangs over a small slope, facing east with an open view of the plains below, where the horses are dozing, the Bighorn rising from the horizon straight ahead.

He must have drifted off without him noticing, because he wakes up to your lips on his.

He blinks, lids heavy with slumber. ‘Mornin’.’

You smile through hooded eyes, cording your fingers through his hair. ‘Morning, cowboy. It’s a pretty sunrise for our last day in the mountains.’

‘Who says it’s our last, darlin’?’

His challenge lingers between you, the tension sinking its hooks into his skin and pulling - until you close the gap and kiss him.

It’s sloppy, clumsy, teeth clunking against teeth - it’s too damn early - and he pushes you back to nip and suck his way down your neck, undoing the top three buttons on his flannel that you’ve taken to wearing to bed before pushing it over your head.

‘Jack,’ you whine as his hands push your tits together, smearing open-mouthed kisses all over them.

‘Fuck,’ he grunts, the harsh sound catching in his throat. Grinding his cock between your thighs, his big hands push your panties down in a hazy frenzy, followed by his sweats, which he kicks off blindly.

‘Please,’ you choke out, voice breaking as your soft, naked body arches into him.

He hushes you, breath hot and heavy in your ear, teasing his length slickly between the wet lips of your pussy. ‘Yeah? Desperate for this cock, are you, darlin’?’

Through a broken moan, you whimper, ‘Yes, please please please, Jack -’

‘So pretty beggin’ for me,’ he grins, but he knows it probably looks more like a pained grimace as he trembles above you. You're soaking the curls at the bottom of his cock even though he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

‘Please, want you inside me, cowboy -’

He holds out, letting the arousal swell and mount between you with a recklessness that is unlike him, demanding, ‘How, darlin’?’

‘Hard, want you to fuck me hard -’

Rolling you onto your side so that he brackets you from behind, he opens you up with one hand under your right knee, pushing it against your front so that he can see your dripping cunt. Running his thumb over it, you jerk in his hold, moaning for him. ‘Jack, please -’

‘What did I say about patience bein’ a virtue, hmm?’ he teases through gritted teeth, dipping one finger shallowly into you, which is enough to make you keen.

You’re babbling incoherently as he lines himself up against your entrance. ‘Fuck me, please, need you inside me -’

You break off into a strangled sob when he pushes the blunt tip of his cock into you, a hoarse groan in his windpipe as he feels you stretch around him. It feels different, more intense, but his sleep-clouded brain can’t grasp why. He pumps into you slowly and deliberately, eyes screwed shut as your cunt squeezes him, his fingers sure to leave marks where they hold onto the swell of your hips.

‘So - so good, Jack,’ you pant.

‘Yes, darlin’,’ he rasps into the back of your neck, fucking you in firm strokes now, palming your tits from behind. ‘This gorgeous pussy grippin’ me so tight, gettin’ so wet on my big cock.’

‘Only for you,’ you declare, rolling your hips so he hits a particularly deep spot inside you.

‘For me,’ he echoes with a groan, planting one foot on the ground to fuck into you harder.

Snaking one hand between your legs - hot and sticky - two thick fingers find your clit, drawing back the hood to rub circles where you can really feel him.

‘Fuck!’ you exclaim, almost bending backwards.

‘Good girl, takin’ me so well,’ he cooes into your ear. ‘She’s goin’ to cum on my cock, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, Jack,’ you whine, getting impossibly wet now. You leak messily down your thighs as he feels you begin to clench around him, your voice running ragged. ‘Please, sir -’

He fucks you through it, jaw clenched so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t crack under the pressure, his hands holding you down as you buck and writhe.

‘That’s it, darlin’,’ he growls into your cheek, his pace slackening to a languid rhythm. ‘Do you hear yourself? Hear that drippin’ pussy when I fuck it nice and slow?’

Turning over your shoulder, you kiss him, pupils completely blown as you slur drunkenly against his lips, ‘Yes, cowboy. S’ fucking good.’

Jack smiles and he sucks on your bottom lip, you’re so wet that he barely has to roll his hips to sink deep into you.

But even as he lets the moment consume him, something niggles at the back of his mind. It feels too good, as if there's some detail he’s missing -

And then it strikes him, like lightning on a clear day. Every joint and muscle in his body locks up when it does, and he feels you stiffen instantly in response. His words tumble out in a panicked jumble. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck! I forgot the condom, shit, I’m so sorry darlin’ -’

When he tries to pull out of you, you hook one foot around his shin and stop him with a hand on his hips. ‘Wait, Jack - just wait.’

He shakes his head in confusion. ‘Wait - why?’

Twisting around so that you’re looking him in the eye, you tell him quietly, ‘I got tested after my ex and I broke up, and - I haven’t been with anyone since.’

While he takes a moment to process, his cock throbs almost painfully inside you. He answers, ‘I haven’t had unprotected sex since my last girlfriend, and I got tested afterwards as well.’

You smile, one hand finding his and slipping your fingers into the gaps between his. ‘I’m just - I’m not on the pill, so we can keep going as long as you don’t cum inside me.’

‘Fuck, darlin’, it's dangerous, talkin' about me cummin’ inside you like that,’ he chides, brow creased in mock reprimand.

You wink. ‘We’ll save that for next time, cowboy.’

‘Next time,’ he promises, with a determination that soothes the anxiety in him.

And so your breaths mist and intertwine, catching the morning light as he thrusts into you, again and again. He doesn’t know where this will go, except for the vow of a next time, but he knows he has this -

The orange wash of dawn over you, his spend on the soft skin of your stomach and your beautiful tits when he cums, his heart beating - hard and sure - with what has deserted him for long years.

Notes: I didn't have as much time to edit this chapter, and I'm still trying to get more comfortable with spending less time overall on both writing and edits, and being more ok with mistakes/typos. The flip side is that what goes on the metaphorical paper is more spontaneous.

There will only be two more chapters before Palomino wraps up. Thank you for sticking around and for being so supportive despite the slow updates recently. It's strange that we're approaching the end for real now, excited isn't quite the right word, but I am looking forward to giving this story the ending Jack, Darlin' and you guys deserve ❤️

Thank you for the love. Comments, reblogs and asks are always appreciated, as always 🥰

Update: I can’t believe I forgot to mention a huge thank you to everyone who gave me all the cool tips for the s’mores and ideas for their last dinner on the trail! This one is for you guys 😘

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #agent whiskey fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x female!reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman golden circle #jack whiskey daniels

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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

Text

Slow Hands | Chapter 10

“the lone moose”

A/N: disclaimer before we get into this chapter, this is a very emotionally/mentally heavy chapter that might not be suitable for everyone. The main topic of this chapter and the next is focused around Joel’s attempted suicide and Tommy’s C-PTSD. This content maybe triggering for some, and if that is the case, please do not read if you feel triggered. Warnings will be marked appropriately. Take care of yourselves first. And as always, a huge thanks to my beta @angelofsmalldeath-codeine 🤍

~word count: 6.9k~

Summary: the wolves of Jackson are lurking

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: !DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! thoughts of suicide, semi-graphic depictions of attempted suicide, brief moment of stigmatizing suicide (Tommy’s reaction) canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of an injury, semi-graphic depictions of childloss (and the trauma that comes with it) angst, grief, guilt, anxiety, heavy topics, anger, overwhelming emotions, C-PTSD responses, fear responses, no age gap, readers nicknames is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors DNI! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!

Slow Hands Masterlist

Two days had passed since Joel and Ellie took the steps together to make up. Joel already had a visible pep in his step, and a lightness in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in his brother for over 20 years. Joel’s back still ached, but the pain was subdued.

Patrol was long and uneventful. The two brothers only had a handful of evidence gathered to present to Maria, but neither would give up hope. After untacking Tex and Timber, Joel and Tommy turned both horses out in one of pastures just outside the stables. Tess was grazing alongside the fence when Timber and Tex went to greet her.

A wave of melancholy washed over his features as he watched Tex and Tess nuzzle one another affectionately. He thought of you, of course.

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy asked alongside him with his arms resting along the wooden fence. “Y’wanna have a drink with me real quick at the Tipsy Bison before y’head home?” He rasped softly.

“I’d love to, but I promised Ellie we’d have a movie night tonight. Can’t go and let her down, y’know? How about tomorrow?” Joel suggested with a grin.

“Ah, movie night with the kiddo. Hey, I think that’s great that y’all are movin’ forward. Tomorrow sounds good.” Tommy responded with a genuine smile. It was a relief that he and Joel were growing close again. He missed his brother terribly.

“Yeah, and Beanie as well. I let Ellie pick out the movie. Think she said we were gonna watch Curtis and Viper 2.” Joel stifled a chuckle as he glanced down at the toe of his boots.

“Aw shit, that’s a good one! Well, you enjoy yourself, okay? Adios, big brother. See ya in the mornin.’” Tommy reached over and gave Joel a side hug before he pushed himself off the fence.

“See ya in the mornin, Tommy.” Joel mumbled to himself with a smile slowly creeping over his lips. Truthfully, he was rather excited for this movie night with you and Ellie. He couldn’t picture a better way to spend his evening than with his two favorite girls.

“Hey, Tex? Y’keep a good eye on your gal tonight. Y’hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’, pal.” He spoke softly as his horse lifted his head from where he was grazing. He let out a snort in response as his tail swished away at the pesky flies.

The weight of Tommy’s letter in Joel’s pocket felt ten times heavier than when Joel first had written it. He thought about making a quick pit stop at the Tipsy Bison to give it to him, but tomorrow was a new day. He’d give the letter to Tommy first thing in the morning.

Ellie’s carved wooden fawn was tucked away in the inside pocket of his flannel. He brought it on patrol to show Tommy, and because he liked having a piece of his baby girl with him. Tonight he’d give her the gift, and to you, his precious star, something that twinkled like the night sky; matching charm bracelets. Two golden hearts dangling from the chains. Appearing brand new, untouched. The names Peggy carved into one, and Steve into the other. Lovers from the past, and now lovers in the present.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on your pretty face when he would present the bracelet to you. He said one last goodbye to the horses. He’d pass by your home en route to his own as he usually did every evening after patrol. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a figure looming in the distance. He squinted his eyes through the harsh rays of the setting sun. He approached the figure with cautious steps.

As far as he was concerned, no one ever hung around your home like this. It raised suspicions immediately. His boots crunched under loose dirt as the figure stopped their pacing and seemed to pause in thought.

“Cody?” Joel’s tone ran cold, edged with a sharp suspicion as his footsteps stopped a foot away. A balmy breeze sifted through his salt and pepper streaked tendrils.

The younger man looked around for a moment as the gears in Joel’s brain began to work on overdrive. He knew Cody, or so he thought. He believed Cody was a good man. They shared many meals, conversations—

“Have y’seen Beanie around by chance?” Cody asked casually as he ignored the obvious suspicion that Joel was facing.

Joel’s hackles raised on instinct as he watched Cody lean up against your fence with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Haven’t seen her since this mornin.’” Joel responded flatly. He knew right then and there that he had to play this cool for the time being. He didn’t need Cody knowing that he was onto him.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway, old man.” Cody muttered the last bit as he turned on his heel to walk away.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ around her place anyway? Y’know I could have you—”

“Reported? Yeah, sure you can. What would you even report me for, Miller? Cody scoffed. “All you had to do was not get yourself involved. Coulda just kept your nose out of things, but that’s not how you play your game, right?” He turned to face the older man once more just as a distinctive crash was heard from inside of your home.

Joel moved quickly, but Cody was quicker. Stronger, and trigger happy.

Cody was pouncing on the older man like a predator does to their prey. They tousled in the dusty dirt before Cody had him pinned down. His fists rained down on Joel’s face and the pained groans only seemed to spur Cody on further.

“Just had to go and get yourself involved with that fuckin’ cunt, huh?!”

Joel tried to fold his arms over his head to block out the swift punches to his face. Cody was ruthless, and Joel wasn’t as strong as he once was. Years ago he would have snapped Cody like a toothpick, but his age was beginning to catch up with him and this was the result.

Through gritted teeth Joel attempted to use his weight to throw Cody off of him, but it was no use. “I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of you. I’ll rip you limb from fuckin’ limb and scatter your remains to the wolves—”He growled.

“Yeah? And how do you propose you’re gonna do that, Joel? Y’ain’t the one with the upper hand here, old man! You’re not takin’ this from me! Imagine how proud he’ll be when I not only bring in the moose, but your precious Beanie too.” He sneered conceitedly.

That’s all Joel needed to get a second wind of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He growled between his teeth as he used what little remaining strength he had left to force Cody off of him. He was reaching for his concealed pistol tucked in his belt loop under his shirt, when Cody kicked it from his grasp just as the two men inside of your home came rushing out.

“Jesus! fuck, Cody! What the hell are you doin?’ This wasn’t part of the plan!” The one man, a burly fellow with scarred tissue from third degree burns that covered nearly half of the left side of his face yelled urgently. Through the rushing of blood, and pain stabbing every inch of Joel’s face, he recognized this man too. He recognized the man next to him as well, smaller in stature, but stocky. Alex and Oliver.

“Fuck the plan! I’m not gonna waste this opportunity!” He sent the heel of his boot right into Joel’s gut causing him to double over into the crimson speckled dirt with a pain ridden grunt. “Well?!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Was she in there or not?!”

Alex and Oliver slowly looked over at one another before their shoulders simultaneously slumped inward. “No, but—”

“FUCK!” Cody snarled out of sheer frustration. He couldn’t let him down. He was told he couldn’t show up empty handed. It wasn’t an option.

Just as Joel’s fingers weakly grasped the handle of his pistol, that lay only a short arms distance away, Cody sent his boot right into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound of bone matter and cartilage being crushed as Joel’s body stilled. He was knocked out cold from the impact as blood leaked down his face and soaked into the dusty earth beneath him.

Neither men moved as Cody began to pace in contemplation. He paid no mind to the consequences he would face for his actions.

“Cody, we need to get the fuck outta town right fuckin’ now! If anyone sees—”

“And show up empty handed?! Fuck no.”

“Cody, she wasn’t there. We have no fuckin’ clue where she could be. C’mon, let’s just go back and regroup before someone shows up and finds Joel layin’ in a pool of his own blood.”

Cody ignored his counterparts as he continued to pace in a tight circle. He suddenly stopped when the lightbulb went off in his sick mind. He turned towards the two men, with a smirk that could only be described as sinister, “Angie.”

Ellie was curled up against your body with her cheek pressed gently into your shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards the windows in the family room. She watched the last bit of sunlight dip behind the horizon as a warm summer breeze blew through the beige curtains.

Joel should have been home by now.

She waited with alert ears for the sound of the front door to squeak open any minute now. It never came.

She shifted against you before your gazes met. “Beanie, he should have been home by now.”

You understood full heartedly that this movie night was important to Ellie. This was the first time that she and Joel were going to be spending some quality time together after everything they had gone through. This was a big deal.

“Kiddo, I’m sure he’s on his way now. Maybe he and Tommy just got caught up in something?” You wanted to reassure her and yourself that Joel was in fact on his way, and maybe he was just running late.

“Beanie..he—promised. What if he’s ditchin’ me? God, this was so stupid.” She went to bury her hands in her face, but you stopped her.

“Ellie, he’s not ditching you. He would never do that to you. He loves you. I’m sure he’s just running late is all.” Your own fears began to crawl up into your subconscious. What if something was wrong? What if something had happened?

Ellie wanted to believe you, she really did, but her own fears were making an appearance as well. It didn’t help the fact that her last conversation with Joel had been about his suspicions of Lucas..

“I’m gonna go check the stables, okay? You stay here. Lock the doors.” Ellie was up from her spot on the couch before you could even attempt to stop her.

“Ellie,” you started, voice wavering from the building nerves, “be careful, okay?”

The teen looked over at you with a small, yet confident grin, “Always am.” Her face twisted back to a serious one as she tucked her gun in her hoodie pocket. Joel surely would have scolded her if he had seen it.

You listened to the soft click of the door opening and closing. Your eyes drifted over to the unoccupied spot on the couch where one of the pillows was smashed down. Joel’s spot. .

Please. Please just be running late.

Please be okay, Joel.

Tommy found himself reminiscing on the good ole days as he nursed his glass of beer. Condensation dripped down the outside of the glass like tear drops on cheeks. The noisy chatter that encircled him was drowned out by his thoughts. Joel had always been the protector, the planner, the guardian. And as a young boy, Tommy viewed Joel as his hero. His own beacon of light through the darkness. And when Sarah died? It all changed. He was angry. At the world. At himself. And now, here in this peaceful community, he was getting to see those small glimpses of the old Joel that had laid dormant for so many years.

The Joel that he knew and loved so deeply.

He left his glass half empty as he said his goodbyes to some of the patrol guys, and the barkeep before he walking towards the door.

He was heading in the direction of the home he shared with Maria when he noticed a mass laying just outside your home. He thought that his brain was playing a cruel trick on him, and the approaching dusk might have also played a role in what he was seeing.

Gravel and dirt particles crunched beneath his heavy boots as he started his approach. As he drew nearer, he was able to make out the outline of a body. And, oh—god

Tommy remembers the moment he heard the shot ring through Joel’s house as if it had happened just yesterday. While he gathered supplies in the garage, his big brother was upstairs with the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple.

How could Tommy not have known? How could he have missed the signs? The indications that Joel was thinking of taking a drastic measure to end his life. How could he have missed it?

“Joel!” A younger Tommy Miller yelled in fear. He threw down the tool box in a haste. Tools of all shapes and sizes clattered to the concrete in a harsh crescendo.

“Joel! Please, no. Please.” He chanted weakly under his breath as his feet carried him up the staircase. He stumbled on the top step as a wave of nausea made its presence known.

“Joel!” He yelled again, more desperately than the last. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother so soon. He couldn’t. Not when just days ago they laid Sarah to rest. He couldn’t do this without Joel.

Sweat pooled at the back of his neck the closer he drew to the ajar opening of Sarah’s bedroom. He held onto the wall for support as his knees began to inevitably buckle from the dread crawling up his throat.

“Joel.” He croaked, “please. Please be alive in there.”

With a shaky breath, and through a mess of tears, Tommy pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door.

“I missed.” Joel murmured in disbelief. Disappointed that he couldn’t just do one thing fucking right. He couldn’t just follow through with his promise. His final wish to be with his daughter. His baby girl.

His palms trembled as his dull brown eyes flitted down to the revolver still in his grasp. He paid no mind to the blood slowly trickling from the right side of his head. Just a graze. Missed completely.

“Joel, what the fuck did you do that for?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, yell, all of the above? “You’re bleedin’, brother.”

“Oh.” Joel responded flatly. He brought his fingers up towards the right side of his head. He hardly flinched when his fingertips dragged through the flowing blood. He brought his hand back down to his eye level, fingers soaked in crimson. Then, the ringing started. Tommy’s voice started to sound fuzzy from the right side. “I flinched, Tommy. Thought I could do it. I was so sure—”

“Joel. Stop it, please.” Tommy nearly begged his brother as he cautiously moved in closer.

“I wanted to die, Tommy. I ain’t have anythin’ left to live for.” He refused to make eye contact with his brother purely out of shame.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—” His words were bitter, jaded, sharpened with intent to harm. “I fuckin’ need you, Joel. I need my big brother to keep us alive. Is he still in there?” He pointed to Joel’s chest, symbolizing his heart.

When Joel finally brought his chin upwards to face his brother, the look on his sunken features shattered Tommy right down to the core. A broken man, father, brother. The same man that helped Tommy with his homework. The same man that taught him how to ride a bike. The same man that Tommy viewed as his hero. Where was he now?

“He died along with her.”

“Joel!” Tommy felt his voice get lodged in his throat at the sight of his older brother laying motionless in the crimson stained dirt. Panic began to swell and fester like an untreated wound the second his eyes landed on Joel’s handgun just an arms length away.

“No. No. Please— what happened, Joel!” He sank to his knees alongside him. “We were just—talkin’ about how much you were lookin’ forward to the movie night with Ellie and Beanie, remember? You said that you would see me in the mornin’, dammit!” He yelled, slamming one of his fists in the dirt before he took a shaky inhale. “Remember?”

He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? The thought flashed through his mind briefly. He remembered finding Joel in a pool of his own blood after Sarah died. Tommy brushed away strands of Joel’s hair that were congealed together with blood. His brows furrowed intently when he found there was no bullet hole in Joel’s skull before he pressed his middle and pointer finger right against Joel’s pulse point.

Please. Please. Please still be in there, Joel.

When the faintest pulse was detected, Tommy let out a visible sound of relief. His big brother was alive, but Tommy knew he had to act fast.

“S’alright, big brother. You’re alright. Gonna get you fixed up.” He murmured to himself just as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Tommy?..” It was Ellie. Her voice wavered at the sight of her uncle and father on the ground. “J—Joel?!” Her eyes were wide with oncoming tears brimming when she locked in on Joel’s unmoving body.

“Tommy, wh—what the fuck happened?!” She blinked away her tears just as Tommy stood up from the ground. “Is he fuckin’ dead, Tommy?!”

“Ellie, I don’t know what happened. I was on my way home and—found him like this. He’s alive, kiddo. He’s alive, but we gotta get him to doc right away.” Tommy never felt like he was all that great at taking on the protective role, but his niece needed his comfort and reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Ellie wasn’t listening to a word Tommy was saying. All she could focus on was Joel’s bloodied face and still body. Her emotions were consuming her entirely before she felt Tommy’s warm embrace wrapping her up. She let her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him for dear life.

“Ellie, I know you’re scared, kiddo. But I need ya to be strong for me, and for Joel. We gotta get him to doc right now. I need you to help me carry him okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s gonna be just fine. Your old man has always been a fighter.”

She squeezed her uncle tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She wiped what remained of her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ll—I’ll take his legs?” She questioned rather than suggested. Seeing Joel like this, bloodied, weak, on the verge of—

“Ellie, he’ll be okay.” Tommy firmly reassured her again. He bent down over his brother and gently hoisted him up under his armpits while Ellie lifted him up by his legs.

Joel felt like dead weight, but his brother and daughter’s determination helped them power through the dull ache and strain in their muscles.

Tommy hated hospitals just as much, if not more than his brother did. The pungent stench of bleach, the droning hum from the overhead fluorescent lights. It was unappealing, cold, and overall a dreadful experience. But out of all of the late night visits to the ER after another bar fight, this by far was the worst of all to see his brother unconscious, dried blood crusted on his skin. Yet appearing peaceful while Doc checked his vitals and any signs of internal injuries

Ellie was seated next to her uncle nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her leg was bouncing up and down frantically, until Tommy gently placed his palm over her knee in an attempt to soothe her.

“Well, he might have a bit of bruisin’ to his ribs, and his nose is definitely broken, but it’ll heal. There’s a chance he might be concussed, but I won’t know that for certain until he wakes up.” Doc said while tucking his clipboard under his armpit.

“I’ll stay here till he wakes up. Don’t want him wakin’ up alone.” Tommy said with a slight nod in Doc’s direction.

“I’m staying, too.” Ellie was defiant, of course. It was in her nature, and she couldn’t fathom not being by her dads side—

“Ellie, I’m gonna go and find someone to walk you home, okay? One of the guys on patrol..maybe a couple, given the circumstances.” He needed to make sure his niece got home in one piece, first and foremost.

Ellie clenched her fists, lips pressed tightly together as her eyes met Tommy’s in an intense stare. He could see residue of dried tears on her cheeks, and fresh ones beginning to brew like an oncoming storm. “Tommy,” she started, voice low, yet stern. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving him. I’m not. You can’t—”

“Ellie, I know you want to stay here with him too, but somethin’ about this ain’t right. You and I both know that there’s been some suspicious activity happenin’ as of late. Joel is goin’ to be okay, kiddo. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Her lower lip wobbled under the bright fluorescent light. She wanted to be angry at her uncle for telling her what she needed to do, but he was right, and there really wasn’t another second to waste. “Don’t you dare even think of leavin’ his side, Tommy. Don’t you dare.” She wiped her eyes along the back of her hand before making the final decision to get up from where she was sitting.

“I won’t, kiddo. I promise.” Tommy reassured her.

She walked over to the right side of the bed where Joel was lying and gently ran her fingers through a few stray curls that were stuck to his forehead. Dried sweat, dirt, and blood littered his hair and face. She leaned down, whispering something while she pressed her lips to his temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

Please don’t die.

Tommy left the room to give Ellie a bit of privacy. He flagged down a nurse in the hallway and quickly explained that he needed someone to ensure Ellie safely got home. It was decided that two patrol members would escort her home.

When Tommy returned, he was with Jesse and Liam waiting outside the open doorway.

“Ellie?”

Her head snapped in the direction of Tommy’s voice as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“Jesse and Liam are gonna make sure you get home safe. Okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” She muttered. Agreeing with her uncle didn’t mean that she had to act happy about it. Despite her feelings, she made a point to hug her uncle before she left the room.

Don’t leave him. She reminded him.

Sunlight warms his skin, birds chirping in the high treetops, a soft breeze rustles through his hair, kissing his temple. He knows this place, where he stands. It’s—

“baby girl?” He chokes out, stumbling forward in an uncoordinated motion.

She’s there. She’s alive. She’s got daisies in her curls.

“Dad?”

He nearly drops to his knees right at the spot where he and Tommy dug her grave all those years ago. He stops in his tracks as she turns around to face him. She’s wearing the same clothes that she died in, except there’s no blood. No bullet wounds. She’s untouched. Bright, glowing under the rays of sunlight.

“Are you really here? C-can I hold you? Are those daisies in your hair? Baby girl, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble past his lips like an avalanche of word vomit. His heart lurches in his chest, leaping from the confines of his ribcage.

Sarah’s feet carry her swiftly to her father before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m really here, dad.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Joel’s arms wrap around her immediately, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he can, he’s trembling, tears blurring his vision, dripping down his cheeks and landing softly on her head of curls. He pulls away only to gently cradle her face in his strong, calloused, gentle hands.

She’s here. She’s alive. His baby girl.

“Dad..you—you remembered our favorite spot?” Her smile is beautiful, radiant, full of life.

“Of course I did. Our hikes, the fresh air. We—we loved it out here. I—I never forgot. Baby girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I—I think about you everyday. I’m so sorry. I miss you..I miss you so much.”

Her hands come to rest against the patches of his now graying beard. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize. I’m okay, I’m happy. I miss you too, dad. I miss you so much, but Ellie, she needs you. I’ll always wait for you, I promise. I’m always going to be right here.” She drops one of her hands from his face to then point to his heart. “I’m always with you.”

His face falls as his thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones. He’s not ready to leave, not yet. Not so soon. Too soon. He needs more time. Time. Time. Time.

Ellie.

“You—you would have loved her, baby girl. She reminds me so much of you. Her smile, her laugh. I see you in her. She’s—she’s my blessing. My second chance..my light in the darkness.” He sniffles, leaning down so he can press his lips to her forehead.

“And she needs you more than ever now, dad. She needs you. You have to forgive yourself, okay? Please promise me that one day, you will forgive yourself, dad. Promise me.”

“I promise you, baby girl. I promise. Daddy loves you, okay? He loves you so much.” There’s so much more he wants to say, so much more he wants to tell her, but there’s not enough time. He knows it.

“Dad, I love you so much. Tell Tommy I miss him too, okay? I’ll see you again one day, when the time is right.” She hugs him one last time as he buries his face into her mess of curls, holding in his sobs as more tears begin to fall.

“When the time is right, baby girl.” He murmurs.

—

“Well, brother. Guess it’s jus’ you and me now, huh?” Tommy wants to laugh, but he can’t. His emotions are all fucked. Everything is so fucked.

“That kid of yours really loves the hell outta ya. You’re like two feral cats.” He continues, forcing himself to stand and walk over to his brother's bedside. “And I know how much you love her.” He murmurs as he glances down at the nightstand where the contents of Joel’s pockets are laid out.

The two charm bracelets, the wood carving of a fawn for Ellie, and a folded piece of paper now tarnished with blood and debris.

“One of these for Beanie?” He asks while gently picking up one of the charm bracelets. “I’m so happy you listened to my advice and went to her coffee shop. I jus’ had this feelin’ that you two would hit it off.”

“You love her, huh? Like..really love her? I’m glad, Joel. I’m glad that you’re finally allowin’ yourself to love, and be loved. If anyone in this fucked up world deserves that, it’s you.”

He sets down the charm bracelet alongside the other before he picks up the wood carved fawn. One of the delicate ears had broken off during the fight, but it was fixable. “Ellie is going to love this when she sees it. You’ve always been..a giver, Joel.. Always thinkin’ of others before yourself. Puttin’ your heart out on the line. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so grateful that you met Ellie when you did. You saved her, but she saved you just as much. Turned that cold heart of yours into somethin’ good again.”

He placed the fawn down gently before he eyed the folded piece of paper. “Y’still writin’ those letters? Have they been helpin?’ Y’know, I thought about writin’ a couple myself.”

Something in his gut tells him that this letter..is meant for him.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat as he reached for the piece of paper and picked it up with trembling fingers. He sees his name written on the outside, and his vision goes blurry with tears. “You..were gonna give this to me tomorrow when we said we were gonna meet at the Tipsy Bison?”

He slowly sinks down along the side of the bed, unfolds the letter and begins to read it silently.

Tommy, this is the third letter I have written thus far, so hopefully this comes across the way I have intended it to. Ever since we were just two little boys scraping our knees up on the playground, telling each other secrets, and holding each other tight when mom and dad would argue into the odd hours of the night, I always found myself being protective over you. I ain’t even sure if it had anything to do with age, and more to do with the fact that it’s been instilled in me since birth that I'm a natural protector. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

I’ve never told anyone this, but the day you told me that you wanted to join the army, and make a difference in the world, I wept. I soaked my pillow with my tears that very same evening cus’ I realized I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were eighteen, and ready to take on the world. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to go, and I know that war changed you. I know what it did to you, and you were no longer the little boy hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightning. You were molded into a man right before my eyes, but you’ve always been my little brother, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.

I know you blame yourself for the night that we lost Sarah. I still remember the grief in your eyes. You tried so hard. So fuckin’ hard, and I’m so sorry for what I became after she died.

A stray teardrop fell along the thin paper as the word ‘died’ began to blur from the sudden moisture.

You literally had to pry her cold body from my arms because I refused to let go. Even when we dug her a shallow grave near the woods she loved to hike in, you had to stop me from crawling into that goddamn hole with her.

24 hours. 1 day since the outbreak. 1 day without his baby girl

“She’ll be happy here, Joel. She gets to rest in her favorite place.” Tommy murmured as he set the shovels down next to the grass covered earth that would soon be dug up to create a shallow grave for Sarah to finally be laid to rest. The younger Miller brother hid his grieving behind a stoic face. He didn’t want Joel to see how much pain he was in. He wanted to be the strong one for once in his life, especially since he blamed himself for Sarah's death. If only he had been there sooner. If only he had acted quicker, maybe she would still be alive.

Joel was unmoving as he held his deceased daughter, who had long since grown cold and stiff in his arms. She was wrapped in a sheet, as Joel couldn’t bear to see her unmoving eyes any longer. He had shed his last tears, as he watched his brother begin to dig a shallow grave. As the minutes ticked by, Joel was realizing that after Sarah was to be buried, he no longer would be a father, and the thought made him feel queasy. What did he have to live for if he was no longer a parent? What was the point?

“Tommy..” Joel croaked, “I–can’t let her go.” He choked up as the weight of the world was beginning to press down on his shoulders. He held Sarah close to his heart where his chin came to rest upon her covered head. “Tommy, we–”

“Joel, we have to let her go. Brother, please. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back. I’m sorry.” He was. If he could go back in time and take Sarah’s place, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Joel’s eyes began to glaze over with fresh tears as he began to frantically whisper to Sarah as if she could hear him from the other side. “S’okay baby girl. You’re okay. Daddy has you, and he’ll see you soon. I promise. I’m coming for you, baby girl.” He pressed a firm, promising kiss to her covered head before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees along the edge of the hole in the dirt. He could feel stomach acid rise up his throat at the thought of the earth, and mother nature consuming his baby girl. He wanted to go with her.

Tommy watched with a heavy heart as he watched his older brother gently place his baby girl into the shallow grave. His own tears began to silently fall as images of a newborn Sarah flashed in his mind. He remembered the pure joy and love that radiated from Joel the moment he got to hold his daughter for the first time. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

As Tommy willed himself to begin shoveling the dirt he dug up into the grave, he watched in horror as his grief-stricken brother nearly had crawled into the hole. He dropped the shovel in a haste as he grabbed ahold of the underside of Joel’s shoulders and yanked him back.

The soul-shaking, torturous, anguished sound that cascaded from Joel’s mouth, was one that chilled Tommy’s blood. It could only be described as a grieving parent refusing to let their only child go.

Tommy still has nightmares of it.

I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t just fuckin’ pull myself together for both of us. I know how scared you were, Tommy. I was scared too. I was terrified. I was supposed to be the big brother then. The one who had all the answers. Who could come up with a plan at the drop of a hat to keep his little brother alive. Instead, you had to fill that position. You stepped into that role because I gave you no other choice. If you didn’t force me to leave that spot where she died, I would have rotted there with her. I never thought for a moment about the pain that you were feeling. I lost a daughter that night, but you lost a niece, and a brother all in one night.

48 hours. 2 days since the outbreak. 2 days without his baby girl.

It was Tommy’s idea for him and Joel to return home to gather up as much food and supplies they could get their hands on. Joel was apprehensive, but Tommy reassured him that they wouldn’t have to stay long. So, Joel reluctantly agreed. Their neighborhood was dead silent with no signs of life to be found. The bombs that the government had dropped only impacted the major cities, and left the small neighborhoods untouched from their destruction. It would have just been another day if it weren’t for the familiar bodies scattered in the street. Both Tommy and Joel avoided looking at the deceased body of Nana Adler as they crossed their front yard.

“I’m gonna grab what I can from the garage, and then I'll meet you inside? Grab a couple of backpacks and stuff it with clothes, and anything else you think we might need. Okay, Joel?”

The older Miller brother could only meekly nod as a non-verbal response. He was too focused on remembering that he had stashed a revolver in his office drawer for safe keeping. At least it would be quick.

Tommy was unaware, clueless to Joel’s plan to end his life. He knew his brother was mourning, but he never had thought about the drastic measures he would take to be reunited with Sarah.

As Joel ascended up the stairs, memories of his life before the outbreak leaked into his mind. A five year old Sarah running down the stairs to avoid bath time after playing outside all day. Sticky with sugary sweet syrup from a popsicle, and dirt and twigs stuck in her head of curls. Joel patiently demanded that she needed a bath. Well, Sarah had other plans of course and Joel would have to catch her first.

He could hear her gleeful giggles now; almost sweet music.

Soon, baby girl. I promise.

His footsteps were soft, and undetected as he padded down the hall to his office area. His hand grasped the handle as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open with ease. Everything was right as he left it. Blueprints for a new project he and Tommy were working on. A school paper from Sarah that she had left for him to proof read. A stale cup of coffee. Tommy’s note tacked to the corkboard that Joel kept from when they were kids. A life preserved in time. He reached for the note as he gingerly plucked it from where it was pinned. He folded it carefully before slipping it into his pocket. He wanted to have a piece of his brother with him, always.

Joel didn’t feel nervous as he opened the file cabinet drawer that contained his concealed revolver. He greeted it like an old friend as he grasped it firmly in his palm. The coolness of the metal diffused his clammy skin. He could do it here, he thought silently. No, he wanted to be closer to Sarah. To be comforted by her familiarity. So, he left his office and went straight to her room.

As he brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, he felt calm. He felt ready. More ready than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt sorry for leaving Tommy to fend for himself, but he knew that his brother would survive, and he’d be better off without him anyway.

As his finger hovered over the trigger, he observed Sarah's untouched room. From the crumpled sheets along her bed where he had tucked her in for the very last time, her discarded backpack, her posters, trophies from soccer, and all of her photographs. Photos of her and Joel. Her and Tommy. She was the happiest kid ever, and that’s how Joel wanted to remember her.

As his finger gradually applied pressure to the trigger, he flinched. The bullet missed, and grazed the right side of his temple. His right ear was profusely ringing as he dropped to the carpet like a bag of bricks. He could faintly hear Tommy’s shouts and footsteps racing up the stairs as blood slowly trickled down his face.

Tommy, I was selfish. I was selfish for wanting to take my life and leave you to fend for yourself. My baby brother. The same brother I swore to protect till my last dying breath. I was a coward, Tommy. A weak, selfish, pathetic coward. I wanted to take the easy way out. The cheap way. I just hope you still don’t hate me for it. I hope you don’t hate me for putting you through the trauma and pain of almost losing me too. Sometimes I wonder if my attempted suicide triggered your thirst for blood. As if I am the direct cause for the carnage you partook in when we joined Tess and her raider group. Sometimes I wonder if all those times that we murdered people, that you pictured me on the other end of the gun. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brave big brother that you always believed me to be. I’m sorry that even over twenty years later, I’m not me. I’m not the Joel that you looked up to. I’m not sure if I'll ever be that version of myself again, but I am ever-so grateful that I am still your brother. Your flesh and blood.

I hope that one day you’ll be proud to be my brother again. Till then, I'll always have your back.

-Your big brother, Joel. The one that held you when things went bump in the night.

Tommy isn’t even aware of how much time has passed while he reads Joel’s words over till they're practically burned into his brain. He doesn’t feel the shifting of the coarse sheets, or see Joel’s fingers twitch at his side.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

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horsefriends · 1 month

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Kazbegi, Georgia by Giga Khurtsilava

#horse #grey #black #untacked #queue #georgia

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ms0milk · 1 year

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𝟐 | 𝐈𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Magic can manifest a million ways, but from forever til today the only way you ever pictured proper magic was flowing from sweaty palms and jagged fingers."

no cw the Terrible Roadtrip™ pt 1/2, bkg is a huge asshole, i can't promise you won't fall in love with kirishima, you have to put your faith in me for this fic, pls trust me. 3.1k

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Kirishima Eijiro has always been kind to you. A wave, a nod, a sharp smile, he never ignored you in the castle when you happened upon each other, but thinking about it, you’ve never actually spoken. There was never a need and the prince always maintains the perfect amount of hurry to keep his companions from acknowledging staff.

Kirishima likes to dance with the girls who work in the kitchen so they’re too giddy to lecture him about stealing snacks. He likes to sleep in, and for some reason he likes training with his violent prince. Kirishima gets bruises but not cuts and you think it’s probably because of his magic. He sometimes cries while feeding the birds. Now Kirishima crouches so close to you that your shoulders touch and his warmth feels so familiar.

“Like this,” you correct. You stop him from placing another log on the fire before he knocks over the entire structure. Across from you, Sero huddles closer in the chill of evening while Denki investigates the kettle hung on irons to check if hot water is ready. Mina rummages for mugs. Camp tonight is tucked in the clearing of a felled maple tree much to the prince’s dismay, as it’s too dark to read by the sunset under foliage. So he busies himself untacking horses and with anger taken out on leaves, twigs, and the general inanimate.

Early in the morning, just an hour into the journey, a pink finger poked out of the carriage window ahead of you and beckoned you closer. The pink finger was of course attached to the pink girl, who rested her head on her arm while you rode beside her. “I don’t think you know who I am,” she cooed and you were quick to apologize to the nobles; they must be noble if they were guests of the prince; and if you had been on solid ground you would have taken a knee.

“My Lady, please forgive my behavior this morning.”

His Highness scoffed and you didn’t dare look his way.

Mina, Denki, and Sero. Kirishima introduced the travelers to you from his spot beside the prince, who took up at least a quarter of the small space with his spreading and growling and kicking of friends.

From what you could see on horseback, the inside of the carriage was just as delicately beautiful as the outside. Silver stars held the royal blue quilting in place and a little chandelier twinkled in the very center of the ceiling. White silk draped above them. Bench cushions trimmed with silver tassels and decorative knots, and when you dared to lean closer you could see the wallpaper wasn’t all quilt– there were rows and rows of flat ribbon with embroidered shells, and figures depicting some sort of scene across the trim.

“Get your bigass head outta here!”

It was your turn to be snapped at by the prince and it startled you backwards a bit in your saddle. His showy red eyes trained on yours for a second before he shut them tight and leaned back in a cross-armed huff, “Already got four fucking twats suffocating me, I don’t need more hot breath'n my ears.”

“Apologies, Highness,” you spoke this line clearly in lieu of, once again, formal introductions. But you couldn’t be fazed. It counted as the second time he looked at you, twice in a day, and that was more than the last fifteen years combined.

A sneeze from Denki ignited the prince’s fury in full and soon the carriage was a ring match. Sparing a glance to Shinsou, who chuckled at Denki’s misfortune on horseback through the window opposite yours, you slowed to let the travelers sort out their frustration alone. As you fell back, the silver of the window framed Mina’s pretty pink smile.

Mina is very nice. Across from yours and Kirishima’s little fire now, she hoists a red tin cup above her head and mouths, “Tea?”

“Please. Thank you, M’lady.”

She beams every time you call her that. This time she shouts through the clearing to the prince and all of the horses, “Hear that Kats? I’m a Lady.”

“You’re a fuckin' menace is what you are.”

These were strange nobles– friends, even. To be speaking with the prince so casually. What was Sero doing in soldier’s gear earlier?

Before departing, you and your travelers were instructed to change into the riding clothes provided to you. “No gambeson,” droned Aizawa when you tried to avoid removing your red Aldera uniform. “Your measurements were sent to our royal tailor, I promise these travel clothes are much more comfortable for riding.”

So now your dragontooth brooch, pinned rebelliously to your collar, is all you’re allowed to remind you of home. It clicks softly against the silver details of your lifeless white blouse. You feel sick riding another queen’s horse, and wearing another queen’s colors is almost all you can handle. On solid ground beside warm Kirishima, you’re sore and thankful to be finished traveling for the day.

By the time the sun began to set, the prince had a sparkling fist swung out the window and his companions let out yelps of pain from the receiving end of his anger, “I’m sick’a breathing your stinkass air!”

Mina and Sero, both carried under one of Kirishima’s strong arms, melted from the carriage doors with much moaning and many grumbles. Denki tripped on the single step again, directly into Shinsou’s back and the two of them hit the ground. Only the prince seemed to have any amount of energy left and took to immediately examining the grounds Aizawa chose for camp.

“No bitchin,” Master Aizawa grumbled before bundling himself up in the driver’s seat of the carriage in a thick woolen blanket. The blunt interaction was all you would get from him tonight.

These woods gnarl with the same vines and fruit that wrap up your Aldera castle so safely, which meant Jeanist’s halberd made quick work of the familiar trees when it came time for you to chop firewood. Kirishima loved watching this part most, as you instructed and explained the basic nature of maple and the best angles to hit it. “The axehead here,” you tossed your halberd higher into your grip to point at the blade, “isn’t at all made for this. But the carriage ax is too heavy for me.” You were quick to nurse your finger between your lips after forgetting just how sharp your mentor keeps his tools and Kirishima jumped at the opportunity to take over.

Jeanist takes you camping sometimes. He calls it playing favorites when other soldiers ask, but rarely do you do anything with Jeanist besides train, camping included. Splitting wood was day one. You can recognize nuts and leaves, hunt creature and beast by bow, dagger, and lance. A fire was the simplest thing you could think to do tonight and it has Kirishima drawn in with sparkling eyes, begging you to teach him how to lean the sticks to one another or shave kindling from bark.

“Y/n, won't it go out?”

Your name brings you back. You place a hand over the Champion’s before you’re completely aware of your surroundings, to keep him from fiddling with anything else, “I promise it won’t. Look.” And point to the white hot hollow just below the tent of flames. Embers are what’ll keep your campsite warm all night, not a raging fire on big logs. It’s a simmering sense of pride you feel that if you were good for nothing else, you could at least start a fire in a rainstorm.

Aizawa is long-asleep on the driver’s bench. The carriage twinkles at the very edge of the clearing, you imagine to keep it safe from flames or potential explosive fury in conversation around the campfire. You smile behind the hot mug that Mina hands you at the thought of arriving in Takoba on a single singed platform– all that would be left of the fairy carriage after the prince’s companions antagonized him a few words too far.

“For you,” Shinsou murmurs while he winds his way around the campfire with bedrolls for each traveler. He drops yours beside your seat and overcome with– something– laziness? His master’s contagious exhaustion?– tosses one over the fire to the prince who is approaching camp, having given up on his mission for readable light.

You’re one step closer to that singed carriage, you think, when the prince catches the bedding in a fist and drops it where he stops at the farthest point from all of you in the circle. His broad chest vibrates inside furs.

“Keep it down.”

This is a very obvious assertion to everyone but you, that it’s time for the prince to go to bed. The sun just set, you bewilder and then he does in fact kick open his roll beside the fire and settle down with his back turned. Other than yourself and Shinsou, the company lets up a knowing chorus of, 'G’night Bakugou's that catch you by surprise. You look to Kirishima for confirmation and when he’s too busy poking at your fire to notice, you lower your face into the steam coming off your mug.

“Is that your magic?”

When you cast your eyes up to see which company member has taken to immediately disrupting the prince’s peace, Mina is the one watching you. You’re supposed to be checking the carriage for wear and reinforcing the perimeter before tucking in for the night, and you suppose it was only a matter of time before someone noticed you slacking in your duties. You breathe the steam in from your tea slowly, so it doesn't burn you, but enough that it warms your motivation to move away from the fire. Kirishima is looking at you now too, when you pull your dark Takoban cloak around your shoulders and dust off your knees.

“Y/n?”

“Stay,” you smile at him, “Eat, be warm. I have to check in with Master Aizawa.”

Shinsou peers up at you from his seat between Denki and Sero. Mina clears her throat, “But you didn’t answer the question.”

Did you miss something? You glance between the faces of your sitting company to try and sort out the pieces of their conversation, but she’s looking only at you.

“Are you a flame mage?”

“What?”

Then Sero laughs. He laughs like he doesn’t mean to and covers his mouth, which ignites the purple blush across Mina’s face. “I–I didn’t–! Was that weird? You guys are thinking it too, c’mon–”

“I don’t say everything I think, Mina.”

“Spare me, yes you do!”

The prince, laying deadly still and very much not asleep, grunts. The Champion leans back to look up at you as you stand above the group, still a few steps behind in their conversation. He offers you up your mug again as an invitation to sit, “They’re just curious is all.”

“I don’t do magic,” you murmur, only to him. You take your cup from his hand but before he lets go, he tugs downwards to pull you back to his side. The fire is hot but not so big that you can’t sit exceptionally close to it.

“So no to fire magic?” Mina pipes up again, “What do you do?”

“I don’t, M'lady.”

“Don’t…do anything?”

“I do plenty,” you chuckle, “but I can’t do magic.”

A growl sounds off from the prince who’s dragged himself up to sitting in the single blink of an eye. He seems less irritated with the lack of sleep he’s getting and more by your apparent lack of magical aptitude. Like it’s a personal slight.

“What’s the point of you then?”

You don’t dare eye contact when he speaks, but you’ve heard this kind of intimidation from his mother. Kirishima is looking, and he points sharp in his prince’s direction to clip short whatever might come next.

You rally, “I swear I’m no less competent than any fighting mage.”

But Prince Bakugou is no longer interested in you, and only barks when Mina throws an acorn cap at the back of his head. Kirishima nudges you a bit when you try to dip into your mug again.

“Have you ever tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Magic.”

What used to be your smile twists into confusion, but the Champion presses on, “You’d be surprised how many people think they can’t do any magic at all, when really their gift is just specific! Like, uh— the man who works proofing ovens in the kitchens at home only has one fireproof hand,” The redhead has himself chuckling along with the rest of his friends but presses a flat, gentle hand into your back to keep you safe from his enthusiasm, “You can imagine the day he found out his other half wasn’t so flame retardant.”

The prince looks like he’s winding up to yell at you all again over his delicate sleep schedule so Denki is quick to butt in with, “Why not try now?”

Today is a lot to take in. Promises, apologies, a lesson in campfires, but you aren’t going to add mage training to the list. You balance the mug under gentle fingertips, “I don’t need magic to do my job.”

“That’s badass.”

“But Y/n, what if you have some crazy world-ending power?!”

You look to Shinsou for a bit of level-headed support but he turns away to let you simmer in the attention alone, smiling.

“Or what if you can, like, bring back the dead? Or heal the sick! How many sick people have you touched recently?”

“Or dead people?”

Mina and Denki try to bounce as many ideas off each other as they can fit into the next few seconds before the prince blasts their heads off and you feel like a real afterthought in all. But the questions subside, the prince doesn’t blow, and now you’re expected to answer. Even the Champion at your side is looking at you with those soft red eyes of his. You dip your lips back into your mug for a warm sip before responding, “I wouldn’t know.”

Kirishima’s the only one who really understands what you mean and tries to change the subject but Mina scrambles across the small clearing and gets a hold of you before he can speak. She’s gentle when she takes one of your hands and stretches it out towards the fire.

“When I use magic, I relax my arms like this,” she wiggles her fingers, “and it just oozes outta me.”

“Literally,” Sero chuckles. Mina shakes you back into focus before you can ask him what he means.

“What if you relax real good– here hold your hand just like this– and then boom! You blow up the whole campsite. Your magic could be really powerful like that.” She has your arm outstretched, the one not holding tea, and she’s miming going limp with her own hand. You give in. She’s a royal guest, and you’re in no position to deny her. Your eyes flutter closed.

You used to try this as a kid, willing your own magical gift to manifest in your bedroom after Jeanist called for curfew. It feels the same now as it always has, not that you’re concentrating as hard as you used to at eight years old. It feels like nothing. Magic can manifest a million ways, but from forever til today the only way you ever pictured proper magic was flowing from sweaty palms and jagged fingers. You curl a little closer to your knees but commit, and flex your fingers the way you’ve seen beautiful magic made before.

“Try to picture something pretty.” You’re not sure who says it, and gods you feel silly, but you comply and focus on the warmth that tingles your fingers from the fire in front of you. For some reason, the first thing you imagine is velvet.

Immediately your hand is so hot you have to open your eyes to keep from snatching it back to your chest.

It’s the light that you see in your dreams in that little cup your fingers made. It’s the stars that fall from the sky in corners of the castle at night. White, purple, orange, and blue. It’s the same as the prince’s beautiful magic, in your own outstretched fingers for a single fleeting, flickering moment. Your heart is in your head. Your eyes wide and trembling. It’s just a second of pure bright light before the spark bounces off your palm hot enough to make your eyes water, and dies as quickly as it is beautiful into the campfire.

Beats of excitement tap your chest as you look to the group, but the prince’s eyes are the first ones you see and he looks altogether too happy with himself for you not to realize. Bakugou shakes the rest of the sparks from his fingers and doesn’t fight the smirk spread across his lips, though, the very second you meet his gaze he bristles. The group around you shifts uncomfortably. What’s he supposed to do with those big eyes of yours, huh?

“Don’t be an ass Bakugou, we’re just having fun.”

“s’not my fault she’s gullible.”

Kirishima’s warmth isn’t enough to keep you at the campfire. The horses started snorting at the fireworks and so you nestle your cup in the dirt around the fire to regain your focus, “Apologies, Highness. I’m acting unprofessionally.”

“Y/n don’t–” Mina tries to salvage your company but you smile,

“I got comfortable before even feeding the horses.”

And you do mean it. You’re standing now and you make sure to nod to every member of the company before you back into the dark of the far camp, “Good night everyone. Thank you very much for the tea.” It’s okay. You’ll set up your bedroll near the carriage in the dark so that the crackling fire doesn’t keep you from hearing footsteps. Yes, you’ll sleep alone like you’re used to, with the familiar smells of horses and finally get some rest.

“Good night Y/n,” Mina whispers. Denki throws a disapproving acorn cap across the fire at Bakugou’s bare shoulder. He ignores it and takes a sip from his mug. Sero throws another.

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tagged angels ✧.* nnubee cherrykamado nonomesupposedto zombiewarprincess kotarousproperty strawberry-mentos69 sveetnn eirlysian lunrai cherripunch26nch26 km74744 arayoflia

(tumblr keeps deleting the end of my fics, including my reader tags! I didn't re-tag the lovelies above because I'm sure they're getting sick of the notifications as I try to fix it. tags will be back to normal next ch! if you've signed up for the tag list, have no fear, I think I've figured it out)

#thank you so much for your support!!#this story is my baby #my slow moving baby #trust is the name of the game folks #theres only excitement from here on out #swearsies #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #mha fantasy au #bnha fantasy au #fantasy bakugo #fantasy bakugou

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discount-shades · 5 months

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Dead or Alive Epilogue

Epilogue: Once Upon a Time in the West

A/N: So I finally got around to writing this down. The ending has been planned for months so it felt good to finally write it. Thank you to all readers who stuck around to see this story end. 🤠

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader

Warning: Western themed violence. PG-13

Word Count: 3800 ish

Summary: Jake finally gets a new hat.

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The papers you collected from Roberts’ pocket were bearer bonds. A little harder to spend than cash but Jake assured you that Maverick would be able to fence them. They had a paper value of $70,000 but Jake figured they wouldn’t be worth much more than $50,000 on the black market.

Even divided up between those who participated in the robbery, you would still be walking away with thousands of dollars. Enough to start a new life without your past hanging over you.

For most of the ride back you were quiet. At first Jake was oblivious to your change in demeanor, but as you rode he began to notice your silence. Confronting Roberts had been liberating. Being able to hear the fear in his voice that he had once sparked in you had made you smile and the feeling of power at besting Roberts lingered until the adrenaline began to fade and regret had crept into your heart.

Regret for taking part in a robbery that had scared so many people. You had no problem taking money from Roberts, but not everyone on that train deserved to lose what little they had. Everytime you blinked the tearful eyes of the little girl flashed behind your lids. It was so different from pickpocketing. Different from the stagecoach robbery.

As you draw closer to The Hard Deck you begin to notice the glances Jake keeps sending your way. The little wrinkle between his brows and the soft expression telling you he was worried by your silence.

It was a repeat of the first night you arrived. Untacking the horses and entering the Saloon through the main doors. The dance hall girls are still in their short skirts trying to drum up business and the same tune is being played on the piano.This time you join Jake with your own nod at the bartender as you follow him into the back room to wait for Penny. For once, you and Jake were the first ones back.

After assuring her that everyone got away clean and just had to make their way home, Jake follows quietly behind you as you trudged up the stairs to your room. You are turning the handle when Jake's fingers brush against your lower back as he goes to his own door. “You good?” You nod in reply, scared of what will come out if you open your mouth and enter your room without looking at him.

You light the lamp in your room feeling every emotion at once. Elation and depression, hope and despair. You slip into your night clothes and crawl into bed. You finally have enough money to leave. A smile flickers over your lips as excitement builds at the prospect of starting anew. You could go where no one knows you and pose as a wealthy widow. A fresh start, alone again.

You won’t miss this room with the piano filtering up through the floor along with the odd fight over a game of cards. You won't miss the other sounds that come along with living in a brothel that has thin wooden walls. You’ll miss the people. Natasha’s conspiratorial winks and Bob’s kindness. You’ll miss the way Penny accepted you and how Maverick believed in you. Bradley’s enthusiasm.

Jake.

There is no way you can pinpoint exactly what you will miss most about the man. His smiles and teasing, the kindness he tries so hard to hide. You’ll miss his warmth at night; the way he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. Not smothering or restraining, but protecting, never pressuring.

Before you realize it, you are knocking on his door unsure of what you will do when he answers. “Sugar?” Jake doesn't have his shoes on and your gaze lingers on his bare chest as you slowly drag your eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

The night air has chilled the halls and you shiver, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m cold.”

“Did you ask Penny if she had another blanket?” It takes everything in your power not to roll your eyes at the man.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight, Jake.” His green eyes widen in understanding and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. At your touch it is like a dam breaks in him and Jake is pulling you into his arms.

And you go. You let yourself get swept away by the press of his lips on yours and his possessive grip on your hips. Your fingertips tingle from where they are pressed against his chest. All thoughts of the future slip away and you focus on the man in front of you.

“Is this what you want, Sugar?” Jake pulls back, ducking so he can look you in the eyes. You meet Jake’s lust blown pupils and shiver as his hold on your hips softens to a caress. Nodding you slip your hand into his and tug him into your room.

When you flick the lock closed Jake pulls you back to him, gently this time. Kisses have never felt like this. Everything about his touch is tender. The way his lips slide from yours and trail down your neck to your chest. His hands leave fire in their wake as he carefully strips you of your remaining clothing and eases you down on the bed.

It isn’t until you become undone that you realize why this feels so different from every other time you have lain with a man. Jake’s soft touch that had so easily overwhelmed you was meant for your enjoyment. His focus was on you and it was all encompassing. You stay in his arms as he brings you to pleasure again and after you drift off to sleep, his chest pressed to your back and his arms around you, holding you close.

Every night in the weeks that follow Jake crosses the hall to your bed. Some nights you just talk, others you spend the evening exploring each other's bodies. You revel in his touch, knowing that it will not last.

– – –

Your share of the cash taken from the passengers and the safes is more money than you ever had before. The first thing you do is drag Natasha to the post office so you can send an order in for a Stetson. It will take a while to arrive but in that time you will be able to get things in order for your departure.

“I want to buy Daisy from you.” Bob looks up from the cup of coffee he had been sipping.

“Technically she is not mine.” he gives you a little smile. “It’s not like I can write you a bill of sale.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a huff of laughter. “You know what I mean.”

“She’s yours,” Bob says, “After the tips you gave us on those last two jobs, you don’t own me anything.” And just like that you owned a horse. Maverick is less generous and charges you $15 for the saddle, bridle and saddle bags you had been using, but you can easily afford it.

Because the take was so big Maverick decided that only 10% would be the gang's share. He also agrees to pay you your share of the bonds out of his own pocket. If he could sell the bonds for over $50,000 you wouldn't get any extra but it means you don’t have to hang around until he sells them. He hands you a stake of cash and just like that you are $5000 dollars richer.

The arrival of the Stetson in the mail marks the day of your departure. You quietly say your goodbyes to the gang. Natasha grips you tight in a hug and tears prick the backs of your eyes. “I’ll write and tell you where I eventually settle,” you pull back to look her in the eye. “You will always be welcome, you and Bob.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She grins at you. “One of these days we are gonna be on the run and come in hot looking for a place to hide.”

“I’ll plan a secret room in my house.”

“What did Jake say when you told him?” Unable to look her in the eye you fidget with the cuff of the dress you were wearing. “You did tell him, right?”

“He knows I don’t want to stay in this world, and he does.” You carefully omit the truth and meet her eyes. “It is what it is.”

“He’s an idiot.” You chuckle softly at her words and nod. The truth was you never told Jake you were leaving and didn’t plan on it. The Daggers were his family. The way he talked about them made you sure you couldn't take him away from them, sure that he didn’t want to leave.

Everything you were going to take with you was carefully packed in the saddlebags and hidden in the loft of the stable so Jake wouldn’t find it. Early the next morning you slip from Jake's warm arms and dress before you tiptoe across the hall to his room. You place the Stetson you bought on his bed as well as a small stack of cash for the revolver and slip out the door.

– – –

Jake wakes slowly and begins reaching out for your warm body only to be met with cool sheets. Raising his head he looks around your room only to find himself alone. Sighing, he pulls on his clothes from the night before and trudges down to the kitchen.

He had been waking up with you in his arms for the past few weeks and his morning feels off by not being able to kiss you good morning. You must be with Daisy in the stables because you are not in the kitchen with the rest of the gang.

Everyone in the kitchen is quietly staring at their coffee cups or plates. Jake frowns suspiciously at everyone but doesn’t comment. There was a bit of a party last night, maybe everyone drank too much.

It isn’t until Maverick walks in about a half hour later that he knows something is wrong.

“What are you doing here?” Jake looks up in confusion at Maverick’s question.

“Eating breakfast?” he raises his plate of bacon and eggs as if Maverick can’t see it from across the room.”

Maverick rolls his eyes. “I can see that, but why aren't you with Sugar? She left hours ago.”

Jake’s stomach drops. “Left? What do you mean she left? Panic sets in as he glances at the others. No one is meeting his eye.

Maverick expression shifts to panic. “I thought you knew.” He hurries to explain. “I thought you were going with her.”

“With her where?” Jake is on his feet now. “Did you send her on a job? Alone?”

“No, she wanted out. I gave her her cut and she went to start a life on the right side of the law.” Jake barely registers Maverick’s soft tone. All he can think is that you are gone. You left without even talking to him.

He knew you were different after the train job. Something about the job had rattled you. He had just assumed it was because Roberts knew you were the one who took the money.

He thinks back to the conversation he had with you right before the robbery. The one where he asked you to stay with him. You had never said yes, but when you had pulled him into your bed that night he thought that meant that you were going to stay.

Jake collapses back into his chair, head hanging. “So umm…” Maverick awkwardly begins, “I thought she was leaving with you so I gave her your cut of the money too.” Jake whips his head up to meet Mavericks sheepish gaze.

“You WHAT?!” Jake can't believe you would just take his money like that. “She just took my money?”

“No, I had it all counted out and when I gave it to her I offered to count it in front of her and she declined saying she trusted me.” Jake feels his anger slip away a little at that. “She doesn’t know how much money I gave her, I just told her that her cut was $5000, I don't think she knows the difference between what $5000 and $10,000 looks like.”

Jake lets out a low whistle at the amount. “I don't even think I know the difference,” he murmurs.

“I swear I thought you two were a packaged deal the way you two were joined at the hip the last few weeks.”

“Yeah,” Jake can't keep the bitterness out of his voice, “That makes two of us.” Jake stands and stalks out of the kitchen brushing past a confused Rooster as he makes his way back to his bedroom.

Kicking the door shut behind him he stops short at the sight of the Stetson hat box on his bed. His footsteps are heavy as he walks over and lifts the lid. Inside is a hat almost identical to the one you knocked off his head that fateful day you jumped on the back of Jet. Jake runs his fingers over the curled brim before sighing and placing it on his head. It fits perfectly.

All his complaining over you knocking his hat off feels hollow. In hindsight, he would rather have you than the hat.

At the bottom of the hatbox is a stack of cash and a note. You had gone to school until your parents passed and you still wrote in a precise and neat manner, something that he had given up on years ago. He smiles sadly, even your writing is beautiful.

Jake,

My time with you was some of the happiest of my life. But I can not stay and you do not want to go. I hope you do not mind that I will cast you in the role of my fictitious husband who died and left me as a widow. It will be my way to keep the memory of what could have been alive with me.

Remember me fondly, as I will remember you.

With love,

Sugar

P.S. The money is for the revolver.

Jake stares at the note, his mind reeling. When did he ever say he wouldn't leave? He scans his memories of ever having that conversation and he realizes the only time he had ever spoken of a future with you was when he had asked you to stay.

Jake drops the note and stares around the room that had been his home for the last few years. His eyes lingered on the map where he kept track of all the states he could not travel in because of the high bounties. Texas was out as well as most of the areas west of the Mississippi and East of the Rockies. But he didn't have a bounty in California, Oregon, or the Washington Territory.

He could start fresh too.

The room suddenly became a flurry of movement as he began to pack up everything he couldn't live without and stuffing it into a saddlebag. There is a knock on the door before Phoenix walks in without waiting for him to answer. “She said she told you.” Jake glances up before resuming his packing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake tells her. “I’m going to go get her.”

“She doesn’t want this life.” Phoenix studies Jake as he slows to look at her. “She’ll beg, borrow, and steal to stay alive but she doesn’t like it.” Her voice takes on a placating manner. “She won’t return, Jake. Even for you.”

Jake finally stops moving and stares at her. “Then I’m not coming back either.” He waits for the realization to sink in. “It’ll be ten thousand dollars between the two of us” Jake doesn’t mention the few thousand he had been squirreling away over the years. “That's enough for a fresh start. For both of us.” Jake pulls the map off the wall and walks over to Phoenix. “Do you know what way she went?”

“West.” She replies without hesitation. “She said she wanted to see the ocean.”

Jake grins in response. “What a coincidence, I’d love to see the ocean as well.” He holds his hand out to shake hers but is surprised when she wraps her arms around him in a hug.

“Take care Hangman.”

“You too Phoenix.” He says, hugging her back before pulling away with a nod and walking out to the stables.

News of his departure spreads and by the time he is finished saddling Jet the whole Gang is gathered to wave him off. Coyote hands him a pack with rations for a few days when he goes to mount up.

“I hear you are heading west.” he says with a grin as Jake attached the food to the saddle. “I probably won’t be too far behind you.” Jake shakes hands with the man who is his oldest friend before pulling him into a hug.

“You're always welcome, wherever I settle.” Jake turns and mounts Jet and rides out of the stable yard.

Once free of town he allows the black horse to open his stride and sets out in a ground eating gallop. Jake grins as he rides. That was the thing about Jet. The horse was as quiet and docile as a sleepy kitten one minute but if Jake ever asked him for speed he always delivered. In the past it had always been to escape, to run away from a fate he didn’t want, usually a stay in a jail cell followed by an introduction to a noose. But for once he was running toward something, running toward a future he wanted.

– – –

The blue sky is filtered through the green leaves of the tree you are laying under. “It’s for the best.” Your shaky voice rings out through the silence and Daisy snorts back from where she is grazing.

You had been telling yourself that all morning and you still didn’t believe it. You definitely should have said an official goodbye to everyone and not snuck out in the predawn light. Maybe you should have told Jake your plan.

But what good could have come from that conversation. Jake wanted to stay with the Gang and you wanted a fresh start. “You can’t ride two horses with one backside, Peanut.” Your fathers words play in your head and bring a sad smile to your lips. It was Jake or a fresh start and you know you can’t stay in the gang.

Sighing, you get to your feet. Lunch is over and it is time to get back on the road. The sound of thundering hoofbeats makes you look to see a black gelding charging your way. The blond man on the horse's back is very familiar.

“Jake.” Your lips barely move as his name passes your lips. The man in question leaps off his horse's back and is striding towards you before Jet has come to a complete stop. “What are you doing here?” You strive to inject confidence into your words when all you want to do is run into his arms.

“You left without saying goodbye, Sugar.” His eyes are beseeching and his confident stride falters and he comes to a stop just out of arm's length. “Also you have my money.”

A frown flickers over your brow. “I left it in the hatbox.”

Jake clears his throat and his confident stance returns as he slips back into the familiality of teasing you. “Yeah but when Mav gave you your cut he gave you mine as well.”

“That’s preposterous,” you let out a huff of laughter. “Why would he do that?”

“He might have miscalculated.” Jake says casually. “Let's count it to make sure.” You roll your eyes but walk over to Daisy and pull a small sack out of the saddlebags and walk back over to where you were sitting under the tree before. Jake follows and sits beside you, altogether too close.

You pull the cash out and hand half to Jake, “Make yourself useful and get counting.” You start making even stacks of $100 before Jake’s voice breaks your concentration.

“I didn’t like waking up alone this morning.” Your hands freeze and you watch Jake’s hands steadily count the cash.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper and blink the tears away, not wanting him to see you cry. “I should have said goodbye.” Jake nods in acknowledgement and you resume your counting. Sure enough you soon realize that you have way more than the $5000 Maverick said he gave you. When you have all the money counted you divide it and hand half to Jake before stuffing your half back in the bag.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Jake sets the money down and slowly pulls your hand towards him. Unable to look him in the eye, you stare at his tanned hands as he gently traces your palm with a calloused fingetip. “If five thousand is enough for one person to start fresh…” His voice trails off as he brings your hand to his lips. His hopeful eyes meet yours as he gently rubs his thumb over your cheek and catches the stray tear that dared to fall. “Do you think ten thousand would be enough for two people to start fresh?”

There is no sound between you as you process his words, unwilling to hope. “Two people like Natasha and Bob or two people like you and me?” Your words come out as part of a sob.

“I was hoping it would be you and me.” He says trying to keep his voice casual. “But I suppose Phoenix and Bob would —.” He is unable to finish his train of thought as you launch yourself into his arms and flatten him to the ground and he wraps his arms around you.

You try to pull back but Jake does not let you go so you are left to mutter your words into his chest. “You're serious?” His hold on you tightens, “You’ll leave it all behind and start a new life with me?”

“In a heartbeat.” Jake rolls so he is on top of you and you gaze into his green eyes, your smile matching his.

“You never said you would want to leave.”

“You never asked.”

“I’m asking now,” you whisper.

Yeah Sugar, I’ll run away with you.” His fingers are gentle as he pushes a loose clump of hair away from your face.

“No robbing or stealing, just you and me?”

“Just you and me,” he repeats softly, “Somewhere out west.” You smile softly and pull his lips to yours.

#jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin/reader #hangman/reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #topgun maverick

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

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Hall Pass - Chapter 3

Paring: Henry Cavill x Reader (RPF)

Series Summary: You run into Henry Cavill at the start of a two-week house-sitting vacation. You had some previous plans. Some were ruined by your now ex-boyfriend. Some were made better. Guess by whom?

Series Warning and A/Ns: Check out the Masterlist

Playlist: I will add to Spotify with each chapter.

Word Count: 4K

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You almost squealed with glee but somehow managed to keep composure while you finished drying off as Henry emerged from the water with one giant step up to the ledge. You did not miss a glance at his sculpted thighs and well-rounded ass. You and your friends called him thicc.

With the towel still wrapped around you, you slipped your suit off before pulling on your comfy sweater. The ride back would suck if you put your clothes on over the damp suit, so while Henry made for the pine tree dressing room again, you stepped into your leggings. You would just suffer with no bra or underwear, not a big deal. And you’d have time for a quick rinse when you arrived back at the house after untacking the horses.

Henry returned and helped you finish packing the saddlebags before giving you a boost up to Butterscotch. His firm, large hand gripped just a tad tighter around your ass than you thought strictly necessary to help you into the saddle but you were not going to argue about it.

Once he was settled in his saddle, you turned the horses home. Henry gave a whistle and Kal came bounding out from the trees.

“Oh my God, I feel terrible! I completely forgot Kal was with us. Is it okay he was gone on his own for so long?” you asked with what you assumed was a look of horror on your face.

“Well, let’s see. Kal?” Henry called down. “Everything alright?” Kal gave a sharp, happy bark and ran around, leaping and bounding with abandon. Henry turned to you and offered a laugh to lighten your concern. “He seems perfectly fine.”

After arriving back at the house, you and Henry untacked the horses and headed inside for quick showers. For a brief moment, it seemed Henry was contemplating asking you to just join him in his shower.

“I think we’d end up missing the appointment after all,” you mused, to which Henry groaned just a little but acquiesced and headed into his guest room without you.

For maybe the first time in your life, you made it out of the room, showered and dressed before anyone else. And by anyone else, you meant Henry at this moment, who was clearly still behind a closed door and you did not want to knock, afraid to intrude so you set about stoking the morning's fire so it would be ready and roaring for the massages.

When the team arrived, you asked David and Alexa to set up in front of the fireplace. You were about to go get Henry when your phone chimed.

ready?

Yup! You?

on my way

Henry strode into the room with such confidence you were almost blown away. He introduced himself and chatted with the massage therapists for a moment, putting them at ease with the obviously unexpected circumstances. He asked if they could understand why he’d like to ask for their complete discretion about the service and that for their trouble he was willing to triple their fee.

When both David and Alexa were done picking their jaws off the floor, he asked for their full name and cell numbers and sent them on in a text, which he explained was to his assistant who would be sending standard NDAs in just a few moments if they could agree to spare a bit more time to organize everything before they got started.

He turned to you with a small apologetic smile and you mouthed a quiet “No worries. Me?” to which he gave a slow shake of his head. With the forms e-signed and the curtains drawn to darken the room as much as possible, you and Henry took turns disrobing and climbing onto the massage tables and under the modesty sheets.

When Alexa smoothed her hands down your back over the sheet, warming you up and preparing you for her actual touch, you couldn’t help but think there were probably three people in the room right now just barely containing themselves over the fact that Henry Cavill was mostly naked on a table next to them.

You took some deep breaths to try to push that thought out of your head and just focus on focusing on nothing except the way the strong hands swept down your back again once the sheet had been folded down. With just a few more deep, long strokes you were fully and completely in your head enjoying the massage and you stayed that way, almost oblivious to the movement beside you, until you heard a low moan.

You were snapped back to the reality that you were barely covered and getting a massage next to Henry Cavill. It took a few more moments to let that sound sink away and out of your consciousness as you returned once again to luxuriating in the relaxing motions. A little over halfway through, Alexa invited you to turn onto your back, holding the sheet in a way to shield you from both her eyes and those of anyone at the table next to you. As you settled back into a relaxed, prone state, you noticed David bent down in a hushed conversation with Henry, but again, you worked hard to remove any concern from your thoughts and just enjoy the moment.

With the short delay at the beginning, your 90-minute massage had reduced to about 80, but you were still just this side of sleep when Alexa pressed her hands gently into your collarbones with a deep exhale and thanked you quietly for the time.

You blinked your eyes open and thanked her as well, taking your own deep inhale and letting go of the last of any stress you had been feeling about the day and the situation. As you sat up, holding the sheet around you, you noticed Henry was still face down and David was just offering him a closing press on his shoulders and gracious thanks as well.

“I’m just gonna go get dressed,” you whispered to Alexa, who nodded and began packing her supplies. When you returned, Henry was gone and Alexa and David were just zipping the bags around their folding tables, giggling and chatting quietly. David noticed you and cleared his throat.

“I just have to ask. I know this wasn’t the name of the person originally booked for this appointment. I would have remembered that. How is Henry Cavill in your home right now?”

You gave a gentle laugh as you handed the now folded sheet to Alexa. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, you are one lucky lady. This may be the best thing that has ever happened to me in my dull, short life,” he beamed.

“But you’re keeping it quiet, right? I would hate for something to get out about this and ruin anything for him,” you asked with a subtle hint of concern.

“Who’s ruining what for whom?” Henry’s voice reverberated through your chest as he reentered the room, now clothed in sweatpants and a comfy looking sweater.

“Mum’s the word,” David replied, motioning as if to lock his mouth and throw away the key.

“Well, may I help you out with your equipment?” Henry asked.

“Oh, lord, no. And have you ruin any progress we made easing those back muscles? Absolutely not.”

“Well, then, here.” Henry held out his hand and small stack of folded bills. “For all your trouble.”

“Thank you very much.” David took a sheepish peek at the amount before he let out a small gasp. “This is really too…”

“Exactly what we agreed to and you two deserve,” Henry interrupted. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Alexa and David loaded their equipment and left with the rather large sum of money Henry just randomly had available on his person. You were amazed.

“Alright then, what say you let me make you a sandwich tonight,” Henry offered. “I’m sure not the anniversary dinner you had planned, but there is no reason for you to slave over a stove for me again tonight, and I think something light sounds perfect. Okay?”

You didn’t argue. You were so relaxed, and besides, you’d already used the sauce meant for tonight on dinner the night before. So there was no longer a planned anniversary meal available anyway.

If Henry’s mind was already back on the connection made in the hot spring, he didn’t show it. He was friendly and cheery as he crafted two tremendous looking sandwiches and grabbed some cut veggies for a side. He popped the cork on a nice bottle of white he found chilling in the fridge and poured two glasses before dishing a bowl of kibble for Kal.

You took your plates and drinks to the great room and Henry stoked the fire again before sitting down to eat. You made more pleasant conversation, completely avoiding the elephant in the room: that Henry Cavill had made serious passes at you earlier in the day and that he was likely going to continue his efforts once dinner was done and dishes were put away.

You were not wrong. As you closed the cabinet where you stashed the newly dried plates, you felt his presence as Henry stepped behind you. You turned to face him and leaned back against the counter with a smile.

“May I kiss you again? Now?” he asked and you just nodded, still at a loss for the words to explain how this was happening to you at the moment.

Henry took a step closer, caging you in his arms as he placed his hands on the counter to either side of your waist and bent to place his lips against yours. This kiss was more insistent than that at the hot spring, as if he had been holding back and now decidedly wasn’t. Neither were you.

You closed your eyes and let him taste you, relishing the feel of his tongue along yours. The soft moan only spurred him on and it wasn’t long before you felt him place his hands on your hips and lift you to sit on the counter. You opened your eyes to watch him step inside your thighs, spreading your legs so he could ease his way closer to your core, where you now felt the length and firmness of his obviously hard cock.

Henry pulled away, leaving your lips longing for him. The way he tilted his head left and bent ever closer to lick and nibble at your neck made up for the loss. When he found the spot he was looking for, you felt him smile against your skin as you let out another moan, louder and filled with want.

“The things I’d like to do to you,” Henry whispered into your ear with a low growl.

“I'm pretty sure I’ll let you,” you responded, then gasped as he moved your legs around his hips and stepped back from the counter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, hanging on while he made his way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom hallway, where he paused for a brief moment.

“Yours,” you suggested, with a chuckle. “I’m not sure the twin in mine will sustain you.”

“You’ve slept in a twin bed because of me?” he asked, with a hint of mortification.

“It’s fine, please do not start apologizing again. Could we just…?” you nodded your head toward his room and pleaded with your eyes for him to keep moving you in the direction of assured bliss.

Henry laughed, then dipped his head to kiss you again, pressing you back into the wall behind you. He finally made his way into his room, stepping to the bed and depositing you at the edge before reaching for the hem of his sweater and lifting it over his head. You reached for him as he dropped it to the floor, almost touching his chest before drawing your hand back. Henry grabbed your wrist and flattened your palm to his torso.

“If I didn’t want your touch, I don’t think we’d be here.”

“It felt a little like I was treating you like an animal at a petting zoo. I thought I ought to ask first,” you admitted.

“Appreciated. You don’t need to ask anymore. I think we’re a little past that now, don’t you?”

“Maybe. I’ll still probably ask a few things,” you smirked, dragging your hand down his impossibly firm chest and over his belly. “Like, can I take these down?” You gripped the waistband of his sweats, fingers tucked against his skin and thumb pressing on the fabric. At his nod, you began to pull, using your other hand to nudge the pants down his thighs while you tried to avoid catching them on his engorged member.

You did this all by feel, your eyes still locked onto his, watching as they darkened with lust. When you could finally tear your gaze away, it fell to his waist where you couldn’t suppress an audible gasp. You had an inkling, seeing him in those tight swim trunks and feeling him against you, but you were not prepared for the specimen before you.

Henry settled a hand under your jaw and tilted your head back toward his.

“We’ll take it slow. Don’t worry.”

Hidden behind those words was the obvious fact that Henry was larger than any man you’d ever been with and he knew it. Also unspoken was the truth that he had likely been with many women who were unaccustomed to a man of his size and therefore he’d developed a skill for easing into it.

He started by making a motion to lift off your sweater. You hesitated to lift your arms, suddenly realizing that as much as you would never forgive yourself if you let this opportunity pass you by, you were maybe not as prepared as you thought you were.

“Still okay?”

You furrowed your brow and sought the words to help him understand you were absolutely not rejecting his advances in any way at the moment.

“It’s just…”

“Intimidating?” he asked, with no judgment in his tone.

“I mean, yes, but not in the way you might be thinking. I’m aware of my initial reaction, but, no…it’s…” How could you say this without falling back into a pit of despair about your recent relationship?

“Would it help if I pulled these up for now?” Henry asked, bending as if to grab his pants.

“No!” You cleared your throat and laughed a little. “I mean, no, please. I realize things are a little lopsided at the moment, but…”

“Why don’t you scoot back up on the bed?” he interrupted you, stepping all the way out of his pants as he watched you shift and crawl backwards at his urging. You could feel your heart beat faster as he kneeled onto the bed and made his way to your side. You did not hide the way your eyes watched all of him.

“You know, I did see you in that swimsuit. And I do have quite the imagination, especially with the right inspiration in front of me. But we have time. If you’d rather wait a bit…”

“That’s just it, Henry. I don’t want to wait. I haven’t wanted to wait from the moment you got into your car and followed me back here yesterday. It’s just, well, you’re you and I’m me and, well it’s been a while, okay? Not like ‘years' a while, but certainly months…” God, this was bordering on humiliating again. You remembered that even when Jeremy had made it home from work trips, he’d ignored that aspect of your relationship. But you didn’t want to say his name again or even mention it in the current situation. What a fucking mood killer.

“How about I first tell you that how hard I am for you right now is exactly how hard I was thinking about you naked on that table next to me? It’s why I convinced David that all I cared about was a shoulder and back massage. I think I disappointed him a little.”

Your eyes went wide at the admission and you smiled affectionately. “You most certainly did not disappoint him.”

“Still nervous?” he asked, and you gave a small nod in return. “Then how about I just kiss you again for a bit?” Henry offered, propped on one elbow and the other hand on your hip. You nodded again as he leaned in and proceeded to kiss you with a skill you’d only experienced once before in your life and that was a few hours ago in a natural hot spring.

The man was adept, there was no denying it. He nibbled softly at each lip, eased his tongue inside to open your mouth wider, slid his hand up your side to caress your neck and hold you in place while he launched into the sweetest assault possible.

His touch lit you on fire and his kiss had you moaning for more. More of his kiss. More of his caress. More of him. Minutes passed with his mouth on yours and you almost forgot for the time that Henry Cavill was naked in your bed while you were decidedly not. When he pulled away, dragging your bottom lip with him for a brief moment, your whimper made him chuckle.

“Feeling better?”

“Not now that you've stopped kissing me again, no” you answered with a small pout.

“Oh, I’m definitely going to keep kissing you, but what do you say we even the field here a bit? Up for it?”

You nodded with a lingering shyness, but vowed to just breathe deep and let him undress you. He sat you up and pulled your sweater over your head, dropping it to the floor behind him. He pressed you gently to your back again, dragging his palm down from your shoulder to your chest. Braless after the massage, you relished the way his fingertips glided over the swell of your breast and onto the nipple, palm molding to the shape and squeezing gently. You expected his mouth to return to yours, longed even for the talent of his tongue. But instead he dipped his head to capture your other breast in his lips, tongue circling the pebble and teeth teasing a bite.

You had enough will to watch his eyes flick to yours when he heard the hiss, but once you were sure he was sure you didn’t mind, you closed your lids slowly and let him kiss you this way instead. So taken with the feeling of heaven you were floating toward, you barely noticed the way his body moved over yours as he settled himself between your legs, kisses moving along your sternum and across your belly from side to side.

No, it wasn’t until you felt his grip on the waistband of your leggings, fingers brushing against your hips, that you realized he wasn’t coming back to kiss you like before. He apparently had another kind of kiss in mind and your eyes flew open to beg him to … what? Stop? No, you didn’t want him to stop. Not one bit.

And he knew it, too. This smirk felt different, cockier, less cautious.

“Alright if I take these off too?”

“Yes. God yes, please.”

There was something about the way he knew what he was doing that made your apprehension disappear completely. He had no trouble removing your leggings and replacing them with his arms as he wrapped your legs around his neck and lowered himself between your wide open legs, stretched to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

When he put his mouth against you, it was an explosion of sensation. Warm, wet, strong, searching, specific. He held you open so he could drag the tip of his tongue slowly all the way across from one side to the other and halfway back again before dipping it low to tease its way just inside you. And you heard him groan, felt him take another taste before pulling himself away to focus as much attention as he could on your clit. But he groaned again and now this was all you could hear.

His sound reverberated through your pussy and you clenched around nothing but the ache you felt for him.

“Henry,” you moaned. “God…”

“You taste amazing,” he managed before returning all his attention to licking and sucking every millimeter of your nether lips. When he finished, he went back to running his tongue along your slit seeking any juice that managed to escape before finally wrapping his lips tightly around your clit, sucking lightly then flicking his tongue against it.

He continued each and every one of these motions for what seemed like a million years, moaning against you every now and then. Every prickle from his beard and mustache against the tender flesh of your thighs only served to heighten the sensations. When you were done screaming his name he gently held your bucking hips in place with a large palm as he shifted and crawled his way up and along your side. The pleasant burn left between your legs didn’t bother you one bit.

You turned breathless to meet his gaze and leaned forward to capture his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and reigniting the moans you had just tamped down.

“That good, eh?” he teased and you tapped his chest in fake protest.

“Please. Like you don't know by now how good you are at that.” You gave him another kiss before pressing your palm against his shoulder, nudging him to lay back so you could climb a leg over his waist and haul yourself up to straddle him, careful to set yourself away from his rock hard cock.

“I suppose that’s true. No use in pretending, clearly,” he winked at you and you laughed at how ridiculous the whole thing really was.

“Do you want to show me what else you’re good at?” you asked in a suddenly low and provocative voice. Henry took note of the change and you saw his eyes darken again just before he grabbed your waist and moved to flip you over to cover you once again.

“Yes. I absolutely do. Will you wait right here?” He began to edge off the bed. “Don’t go anywhere. I mean it now, leave those legs exactly where they are.”

You were mesmerized at his insistence and offered no resistance, leaving your legs spread wide for him. You saw him bend over to reach for something in his bag and set to admiring the naked backside of Henry Cavill, here to fuck you already.

When he turned back to crawl onto the bed again, a handful of condoms spilling over next to you, you noticed the way he also smirked again, pleased to find you exactly where he’d asked you to stay. As if you could say not to this man.

Somehow he also produced a small tube of lube, which he also dropped next to the condoms as he moved to slide up next to you again, his chest pressed up against your side. He kissed you once hard as his fingers inched over your thigh and onto your awaiting pussy. He pulled away from your mouth so he could watch your face as he began to press a finger into your already soaking core.

Since he could see how good that felt for you, he went ahead and slipped a second finger inside so he could tease and twist and stretch you open, making way for him. He knew you were wet enough. There wasn’t any question about how much he’d made you come and how much wetter he was making you as he moved his fingers in some sort of magical dance inside you.

When you felt the third finger enter you cried out in a pleasure you hadn’t ever known before.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s really good. See how well you're taking that?” Henry growled in your ear. “You’ll feel that and a whole lot more in just a few more moments. You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes, please. Yes. I’m ready, Henry.”

“What is it you are ready for? Will you tell me?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” you told him.

“Yeah you are.”

Chapter 4

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artistsfuneral · 9 months

Text

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.8

this turned out longer than expected so most of it, the fanart and the vote are under the read more so people don't have to scroll past this for 5min

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It was good that Cat Witchers were already considered a bunch of madmen, otherwise Aiden would've started to worry for his sanity as he watched Jaskier's blue eyes light up with joy. “Good, because I have already named them!” Of course he had.

Following the bard on wobbly legs to where the four horses grazed, Aiden almost forgot about all that had happened a couple of hours prior. Then he accidentally kicked his foot against a stray helmet and the clattering sound of metal reminded him of the fresh cuts across his chest and the awful ache in both his shoulders and he couldn't help but to stare at the back of the bard's head, wondering what exactly a protector was.

But then Jaskier turned and smiled at Aiden with such incredible warmth that his heart fluttered inside his chest and he found himself mimicking the smile without the all too familiar voice inside his head telling him, warning him not to and he suddenly understood that despite it all, despite the horrors of having seen what Jaskier could do if angered, despite not knowing and therefore not understanding how or what or why Jaskier was who he was- Aiden wasn't afraid of him. Aiden trusted him. Aiden, who – much like any other witcher – from the very first day of his training had been taught, no, had been drilled to never trust anyone on the path that wasn't one of his own brothers. He knew of the world's cruelty, had learned first hand not to seek comfort and friendship where he wouldn't find it, but Jaskier- Jaskier was different. How long had they been traveling together? A month? A month was a time hardly worth mentioning, passing in the blink of an eye for someone who would possibly live up to three, maybe four hundred years or longer. Sure, Aiden was on the younger side of the Cat school, only having followed the Call of the Path for around sixty or seventy years, but even compared to that a month was nothing. And yet-

“Are you alright, sunshine? Are you in pain? Should you have rested more before getting up? We can take it slow, you know, no pressure.”

Aiden chuckled, “I'm fine, Jask, no need to worry. Simply got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” Not so easily persuaded, the bard gave him a look that was eerily similar to Lambert's 'don't bullshit me' face. Thankfully Aiden knew how to deal with that. “You said you already have names for the horses?” Success. Jaskier's face lit up again and he took hold of Aiden's hand to gently pull the witcher along. “I have! Or at least for three of them, I'm not quite sure what to name the fourth one, but I still want to introduce you to them!”

The horses waited at the sidelines of the camp, heads rising curiously as the two men made their way over to them. Untacked except for their bridles they stood closely together, showing that they had been traveled together long enough to form a bond between them. Jaskier had been right, they were friends, given the way they bumped their heads together. Aiden hadn't owned a horse in some time now, so the prospects of riding again had him smiling, even if he still believed four horses to be excessive. Though, all complains he had went right out the window when they reached the small herd and almost immediately a soft nose bumped against his head, warm breath tickling against his skin. Jaskier laughed warmly and gently nudged the big horse head away from Aiden's face, so the witcher could properly look at it. “That's Sprout,” the bard dutifully introduced Aiden to the tricolored pinto. “I'd say he's the youngest, certainly acts like it, but from what I've seen today the others keep him in check quite well.” Aiden hummed, taking in the gelding's lively eyes. He was the smallest of the four, his mane and tail cut short like it was custom for military mounts. He was pretty, almost too pretty to be ridden by a soldier, not that that was the case anymore, but it still seemed a bit odd.

Next to them one of the two bay horses snorted at him, making Aiden turn towards it. Jaskier rolled his eyes fondly and petted her neck. “This feisty lady is Roachie.”

“You're kidding, right?” One truly had to be a fool these days to not know the name of the White Wolf's horse. Jaskier had written several songs about Roach after all. “Certainly not,” Jaskier grinned. “They share the same color, the same temperament and I think it is time I get a Roach of my own. Can't be the Witchers' Bard without a Roach now, can I?” Aiden hid his face in his hand and giggled like a child. It was so stupid, such a petty thing, but at the same time the most brilliant name Jaskier could've come up with. “Alright then,” he grinned at the bard, “Roachie and Sprout. Who's next?”

“Chicory!” Jaskier said and wiggled his finger in front of a sheer mountain of a horse. A kaedweni draft, if Aiden was correct. It had that distinct gray color that ranged somewhere between a dapple gray and a grulla silver. The soldiers must've obtained it somewhere along the border from a farm and used it as a carrier or cart horse afterwards. The name Jaskier had picked fitted the horse perfectly. “She's a mare too, definitely on the calmer side I'd say, but given her size she'll be able to handle the boys just fine.” Introducing himself to Chicory by softly petting her rosy nose Aiden was reminded of the horse he had learned to ride on. “Our caravans are pulled by draft horses, they're good animals, sturdy too. I always liked them better than other breeds,” Aiden admitted. Jaskier bumped their shoulders together in silent reassurance. The witcher hadn't told him yet what exactly was going on with the Cats, but from what he understood so far the school of the Cat was going through some disagreements concerning the leadership, fractioning it into two or three sides and a handful of witchers that preferred not to intervene and therefore split off with the rest of the Cats for now. Aiden was one of them.

Turning towards the fourth and last horse, the second bay that was almost identical to Roachie except for the missing blaze, Jaskier sighed. “And this is the little fella I couldn't seem to find a name for. He's a bit more careful than the others, needed some convincing before I could give him a treat, but nothing I came up with really fit him.” Aiden hummed in agreement, seeing the shyness Jaskier had spoken of, but also the strong legs and firm muscles underneath the gelding's timid character. Unlike the other three it was almost obvious that he was a military mount. The poor thing was, in a way, so horribly normal that he'd be entirely invisible surrounded by other horses and that thought made Aiden gasp. “He's Horse!” Jaskier slowly turned his head towards the other man and blinked in confusion. “Uh- yes? He's a horse, well done, Aiden.”

“No, listen, Jask. He's Horse, like Geralt's horse is Roach and Lambert's horse is Horse.”

“Lambert's horse-horse? Huh?”

Aiden slapped his hand against his forehead. “No, Lambert named his horse Horse,” he explained, over-pronouncing the name. Now it was the bard's turn to gasp for air. “That poor Horse!” The two men blinked at each other once, twice before bursting into a loud fit of giggles.

After taking their time to get to know their new horses, Jaskier and Aiden tacked them up, going for the simple brown reigns and saddles and avoiding anything that looked too much like the redanian horse armor. They hopefully wouldn't encounter anyone else on their way to Kaer Morhen, but better safe than sorry. For now, Jaskier and Aiden would ride on Roachie and Sprout, securing their packs on Horse and Chicory. The plan was to swap the animals' tasks every few days, the rotation hopefully keeping their spirits up and prevent any sores or strains.

Jaskier's little looting session was thankfully providing them with everything they needed to take care of the horses for weeks, if not two months. Not that they planned on taking so long to search for the Wolves' keep, but you never knew. Aside from that Jaskier had scraped together whatever bits and pieces of armor Aiden could use in the future, some additional food and water skins and miscellaneous items like a bigger cooking pot and a nice set of knifes that would do them good. They stored everything in the horses' saddle bags, keeping just a handful of their belongings in their own packs. Jaskier of course, kept his lute close to him, just like Aiden refused to remove the swords from his back.

For a while the two rode through the underbrush of the forest, leading the horses in a circle to hide any possible tracks, then followed a well used deer trail further east until it came to a natural stop next to a small, rocky stream. Allowing the horses to drink, Jaskier turned in his saddle to find Aiden's eye. “How are you holding up, sunshine?”

Aiden, who's shoulder's had been aching for quite some time now, sighed loudly. “I'll live. Think, I will drink another Swallow and fight through it. We lost a couple of hours because of me, so we should keep riding until night falls.”

“I will ignore the fact that you said it like it was your fault Vizimir's toadies caught up with us and remind you that the sun will not set for at least four or five hours.” Jaskier replied, while Aiden fetched the reddish potion out of his sea sack and proceeded to drown it in one go. The bad rolled his eyes, “I mean it's not like our arrival at Kaer Morhen is expected on a agreed upon day, since we – you know – aren't expected at all. If Vesemir is at the keep at all. As stingy as Geralt is with details, I at least know that his father still hears the Call from time to time. So really, we don't need to hurry.”

Aiden gave him a deadpan look. “Have you forgotten why we're trying to find Kaer Morhen in the first place? We aren't looking for a summer house, Jaskier, we are refugees hoping the grandmaster of the Wolves will hide us from the rest of the continent. If not for you being- well, you, I'd still be chained to that tree right now. So can we just ride on and get enough distance between us and everything that's trying to fucking murder us? Please?”

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✨🌿🌼✨

I gave up when it came to drawing the saddles, that shit just didn't want to be drawn, so use your imagination to make their tack more realistic pls 🤫

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