SUMMARY — When Batu put a hit on you, Braxton did the only thing that made sense to him—he made you and your hacking his problem. Suddenly you had a handler and a “work wife” and “work husband” joke started to circulate.
WORD COUNT — 12,487
“Off the Books” (Braxton x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Desperate hitman looking for a petsitter. Enter: you—the woman who will slowly turn into Braxton’s greatest headache.
WORD COUNT — 5,548
“No Honor Among Thieves (Or Assassins)” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 1/9)
SUMMARY — What happens when another killer steals your kill? With Braxton involved, probably just chaos. And insults. Now the two are stuck in the world’s most violent will-they-won’t-they. Spoiler: They will. Probably after someone gets shot. Again. Featuring: medically questionable wound-stitching as a form of foreplay and Brax’s inability to shut up, even when bleeding out.
WORD COUNT — 3,061
“Blood Loss & Brotherly Love: A Survival Guide” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 2/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”. Look, here’s the thing about waking up with no gun, no phone, and a bullet wound stitched like it was too good of a job for someone who hated your guts—at some point or another, you had to do a little bit of self-reflection. But Braxton would rather crawl through broken glass.
WORD COUNT — 3,272
“Blood Sugar” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 3/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”. While tracing an old contract, Christian uncovers that Braxton unknowingly eliminated one of the Brotherhood’s enemies years ago. With Justine’s assistance, they begin unravelling the truth behind Echo’s allegiance to the Brotherhood.
WORD COUNT — 2,080
“Welcome (Back) To Fight Club” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 4/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”. Braxton told himself that newfound obsession wasn’t personal. That it was just about unfinished business. Pride. Closure. Whatever. But the wondering…Jesus Christ, the wondering.
When all the jobs were done and tied up in a bow, and he was alone with his head again, the wondering and thinking about Echo clawed at the back of his head like a demonic possession.
WORD COUNT — 4,006
“No Grave Can Hold Her Down” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 5/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”.
See, Braxton knew everything about getting trained to be a super-soldier from the ripe age of seven. It wasn’t the only thing that left him profoundly fucked up. But what in the world must have happened to her to leave her like this?
WORD COUNT — 2,035
“Honey, I Escaped the Murder Cult” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 6/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”.
Braxton strongly suspected Echo didn’t trust him or his methods just yet, but he had no problem with showing off—and proving her wrong. He talked like a man born to lie and knew how to vanish without a trace. Well, maybe not like Echo. Her methods were still a mystery to him. But he knew enough to get paid the big bucks he did, so. There was that.
WORD COUNT — 2,035
“Nothin’ Personal” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 7/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”.
Braxton handled the car like he’d stolen it from a war zone—which, coincidentally, he had done many times before. But the way he drove was smooth, fast, and with the muscle memory of a guy who regularly drove an armored convoy through a desert under fire. Not much rattled him in general.
Except, maybe, that woman in the passenger seat right there.
WORD COUNT — 2,729
“Apocalypse (With Extra Bang)” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 8/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”.
“Try it,” she said. “See where I dump your body.”
Braxton grinned, sinking even lower in the seat. “Nah, not a ditch, that’s predictable. You’d get creative—feed me to a coyote, maybe.”
She smirked. Again. “You get more annoying? I leave you to scorpions. For lunch.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest, dulled with lack of sleep, but real. “So, ditch it is.”
WORD COUNT — 2,468
“Collateral Affection” (Braxton x Original Female Character) (Part 9/9)
SUMMARY — Continuation of “No Honor Among Thieves”.
Braxton comes to a world-shattering conclusion that maybe, somehow, he deserves to have a life.
WORD COUNT — 2,121
“And Then We Were Two” (Frank Castle x fem!Reader)
Part ½
Part 2/2
SUMMARY — Years ago, Frank Castle pulled a broken girl out of hell. Now, she’s standing in front of him again—blood on her hands and a hit list in her pocket.
WORD COUNT — 7,118
“You Steal It, You Feed It” (Frank Castle x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Frank decided to retire in an inconspicuous apartment somewhere in Brooklyn. Well, as much as a man like him even could. Normally, he minded his business at all times. Except tonight.
Tonight, he actually was busy. Had business. But no, there you were, crouched on the fire escape at asshat o’clock in the goddamn morning, right in his way—with a duffel bag, bolt cutters, and a look on your face like you were about to commit a felony no matter what.
WORD COUNT — 5,310
“Another Life” (Frank Castle x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — A guy walks into a bar and runs into the girl who would take no shit in high school. He’s a walking armory of trauma, she immediately reminds him of the most embarrassing haircut he ever had. They’re probably not going to talk about their feelings, but the banter might be decent.
WORD COUNT — 4,446
“Temporary Trouble” (Shane Walsh x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — It would be the summer of Deputy Walsh learning shit the hard way. First, never piss off people who got access to your lunch order. Second—the prettier the package, the sharper the tongue.
You, the newest temp at the precinct, were stuck dealing with Shane’s attitude, while Shane ultimately couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangle you or drag you somewhere private.
WORD COUNT — 8,534
“Highway To Nowhere” (Shane Walsh x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Shane Walsh was supposed to be the villain. And I said: bet.
The the wrong person lived, the wrong secrets got buried, and then you showed up—with a sharp mouth, and no patience for self-loathing.
Canon-divergent Season 2. Emotional carnage, redemption arcs, and everyone’s tired, including you.
WORD COUNT — 17,315
“No Rest for the Living” (Shane Walsh x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — The dead don’t stay dead, and somehow that’s not the strangest thing Shane Walsh has to deal with these days. Right in the middle of the apocalypse, he runs into a woman that can make corpses obey. Which, truth be told, is just one more headache Shane really didn’t need.
WORD COUNT — 16,002
“To the Bone” (Shane Walsh x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Sometime in the not-so-distant future, Shane Walsh made it to GBI. As he rolled into a sleepy Georgia town to hunt down a serial killer, the last person he wanted to deal with was you, the local coroner—a brilliant, if quirky, woman who much preferred the dead to the living.
WORD COUNT — 11,489
“Loose Cannons—A Series” (Dixon fem!Reader)
Part 1—Robin Hood (Shane Walsh x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — When you—the sharpshooting cousin of the Dixon brothers—join the Atlanta camp, tensions arise and changes creep in.
Daryl begins to step out of Merle’s shadow, and Merle struggles with the possibility of redemption. Shane sees another Dixon as a threat, Rick—as an opportunity. Now, survival isn’t just about the walkers.
WORD COUNT — 3,282
Part 2—Unlikely Survivor
WORD COUNT — 1,380
Part 3—Peace Offering
WORD COUNT — 4,735
Part 4—Ain’t Dead Yet
WORD COUNT — 4,190
Part 5—No Such Thing as Luck
WORD COUNT — 3,104
Part 6—Nothing Left to Bury
WORD COUNT — 5,966
Part 7—Dead Quiet
WORD COUNT — 2,459
Part 8—The Devil Don’t Knock Twice
WORD COUNT — 2,685
Part 9—Dust in the Rearview
WORD COUNT — 4,375
Part 10— Close Enough to Kill
WORD COUNT — 4,720
“Dogs That Bite” (Grady Travis x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Grady might have been foul-mouthed, but now he finally met his match. You, the new medic in camp, turned out to be way worse. More importantly, you didn’t give a damn about his tough-guy act and were determined to save him no matter what.
WORD COUNT — 8,384
“The Sun Will Rise” (Grady Travis x fem!Reader)
SUMMARY — Against all odds and his own expectations Grady Travis survived the war. What came after was, thankfully, not quite the unhappy ending he expected after all.
WORD COUNT — 9,264
Decided to make a taglist. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged.
Description: A slow-burn Shane Walsh x Reader story set in the world of The Walking Dead. What starts as two strangers trying to survive the apocalypse slowly turns into something deeper as trust, loyalty, and complicated feelings grow between them.
🔞 This fic also contains mature/18+ content, including suggestive scenes and smut later in the story.
Plot: You and Eddie find a piece of a vine that should belong in the Upside Down in the tunnels under Hawkins. Eddie grabbed it when he shouldn't have, and you stepped on it when you shouldn't have either. Now, in the spare room of the Radio Station, you two find yourselves in quite a predicament. The air burned.
+18 omegaverse, sex pollen/weird gas from the upside down, canon compliant of season 5 but eddie lives, enemies to lovers, heat and rut symptoms, rough sex, p in v unprotected, knotting, angst, fluff
Full Masterlist of MMM26 here, an event from @stmarchmm
Reblog if you like; engagement is important.
DAY 10 - SEX POLLEN/SURPRISE HEAT OR RUT
"Don't touch it!"
"What? You scared of a little sparkling vine, princess?" Eddie laughed as he grabbed the glowing red vine that was on the floor of the tunnels. You hissed at the recklessness of the Alpha.
"There shouldn't be any of these things in here! Why are you touching it!? Aren't Alphas supposed to be cautious?" You argued, and he glared your way, wiggling the thing on your face.
"Then it's great for us to take it back to the station, so that everyone can have their assumptions! If there is a gate somewhere in these tunnels, we are fucked!" He yelled out, and you huffed at him.
You and Eddie had this cat-and-mouse thing going on for years. Ever since you got involved in last year's battle by mere chance and mistake, the closeness has made this game escalate. You had been a neighbor of Eddie's since you could remember, both raised in Forest Hills. You remember even smelling when he presented, and he probably had smelled yours too.
It was fun to bicker, mess with each other, and you both knew there was… something. Robin even stated that you and he are the 'perfect mates' for one another, but you tried to fight her on it, when deep inside, you were happy people thought that. But since Eddie never made a courting move on you, you just assumed that maybe it wasn't what it really looked like.
Maybe you saw something that wasn't there to begin with.
"It is still dangerous! What if it tracks where we are!? What if it's a trick for Vecna to know our location!?" He thought for a moment, snarling a bit as he looked down at the piece of jiggly vine he had in his hand. It glowed red in some places, and it sort of pulsed.
"If it did, we would have already been attacked! Perfect chance to take out two of the people going against him!" He argued back, and you stepped back at the tone, which made him sigh. "Didn't mean to use the Alpha tone—"
"Drop it."
He looked at you for a moment before he turned and started walking away, your eyes widening as he didn't listen to you. You rushed to his side, snatching the thing off his hand. It was slimy, sort of, and warm.
"What the fuck are you doing—!" Before he could grab it back, you threw it on the ground and stepped over it, smashing it completely. It made a squelching sound, only for spores to come out, like a gas bomb. You coughed as it filled your lungs. It burned, and it smelled putrid. Eddie covered his face as he screeched, growling at what just happened.
"FUCK!" Your eyes were glistening, a whine vibrating in your throat as you felt yourself shiver for some reason. Eddie coughed as he grabbed your shoulders, worry washing over him at the sounds you were making. He couldn't risk being mad now, not when you seemed affected by whatever that was.
"Let's get out of here!" He guided you away as you both coughed, leaving the gas cloud behind you. Finally reaching the stairs, he let you climb up first before following right behind. The sun hit your body, and you crawled on the grass, lying down on it as you tried to catch your breath.
Eddie immediately closed the hatch door, coughing as he let himself fall right beside you, looking up at the sky.
"I'm sorry—" You whined as you felt your eyelids growing heavy, his scent engulfing your lungs, a sweet maple kind of smell falling from the trunk of a tree. He wiped his face, his eyes closed, feeling himself relax, and he knew something was wrong. He moved his hand as best as he could to get the walkie talkie from his belt, sending an SOS signal in morse code to the station.
"It's okay, I asked for help… Don't panic…" His voice was rough, trying his best to reassure you that it was going to be fine. He had to protect you, letting you feel safe, somehow. Your whines fell silent, and he saw you had fainted. He couldn't move his body, his eyes widened, and he did his best to yell for help. "HERE!"
He kept yelling, and the moment he heard his name being called by Joyce, he let his eyes fall, finally knowing they had been spotted and were going to be helped.
He just needed to sleep a little.
—
You awoke on a bed downstairs in the basement of the radio station, normally a place where someone could crash if too tired from a crawl or exploration trip.
Your eyes drifted to your left, to the bed next to yours, seeing Eddie sleeping as well. Your body felt lightweight now, no longer aching or your lungs didn't feel like they were squeezing into each other, ready to pop.
"You're awake!" You heard Vickie cheer, standing on your right side, making you jump a little.
"Yes… I'm… I don't know what happened…" She hummed as you sat up without any problems. Vickie grabbed your wrist and checked your pulse for a few seconds.
"Your pulse is still fast… You don't feel sick? Or like you are having palpitations?" She asked, and you shook your head. The only thing you felt was dryness in your throat, an itch on your skin, and as if you were hot all over.
Before you could say any of that to her, Will rushed into the room, making the two of you look at him.
"I'm sorry! Um, I'm happy you are okay, but— Vickie, is there a chance you could come with me to the Wheelers? I think Mike is presenting or is having a stroke!" Will was in tears, and Vickie frowned, looking down at you.
"There's no one at the station… Robin and some are still exploring, and I'm sure Joyce will come with Will and me… Are you okay? Are you strong enough to check on Eddie?" You blinked a few times, and suddenly you felt like you wanted her gone. You wanted to be left alone with the Alpha in the room.
"Yeah… I feel okay… Just go." You gave her your best smile, and she reciprocated before rushing out with Will. Your head whipped back to the Alpha next to you. Your lips felt dry, and your body moved on its own as you stepped out of bed. You stood next to his sleeping form, and fuck— Something was wrong.
Something was dreadfully wrong because you wanted to jump on him. You wanted to ride this Alpha. You wanted to be knotted by him. You have always wanted to, but this time, it's with purpose. This time, it felt as if you didn't get it; you would die.
You gulped heavily, now feeling your eyes burn, and those palpitations Vickie mentioned somehow made their appearance right this second. Your nostrils flared, and you could just know the moment you were left alone with him.
Your hand reached over, trembling, hovering over his face, then his neck, and you felt like you were about to explode. Slick started pooling in your underwear, and you could feel tears running down your face because of how overwhelmed you were feeling.
This wasn't something you had dreamed about before. You had wanted Eddie like this many times, but you would have never told him. No one was ever going to know, and now it seemed as if you couldn't hold back any longer. Your fingers twitched just inches from his face. You shouldn't touch him, you shouldn't even be hovering over him like this, but your body was yelling for him. Screaming for release.
You were stronger than whatever this thing was. You had to be. You could deal with this on your own, but you knew it was going to hurt for god knows how long. Your breathing was heavy, labored, sweat all over your forehead as you started retreating your hand.
But your wrist was grabbed in a tight grip, and in just a few seconds, you felt yourself being yanked onto the bed, bouncing on top of it as a form covered your own. Your legs were still draped over the edge of the bed, but your eyes couldn't leave the brown ones that were looking down at you intently.
More slick gushed out of you as you saw Eddie panting on top of you. His scent changed instantly to that of arousal. You whined underneath him, your right wrist still being gripped by his left one. He was caging you onto the bed, the palm of his right hand next to your head.
"Something's… wrong…" He could barely talk, and all you could do was nod. He clenched his eyes tightly, and his skin glistened with sweat. "You need to get out… Fuck—"
Your free hand reached up to rub against his cheek, and this was selfish. Masquerading this situation as the only opportunity to be with him the way you had always wanted to, instead of fighting. His eyes met yours, pupils blown, the similarity of a rut very apparent in his features, as well as the inside of his pants.
"We can help… each other out…" You breathed out, and he choked on air, his chest rumbling, and his mouth got closer to yours, and your body shivered in pure need. Your scent was driving him insane, and you knew he didn't want to overstep, that he didn't want to do something you didn't want to. "I— It's gonna hurt… more… if we don't…"
He pondered for a second, and you could feel how hot he was running. He looked away for a second, as if trying to contain himself, but whatever was going on, you both knew you were fucked. He turned your way again, his lips brushing against yours.
"Are you conscious enough to say this?" He asked almost in a choke, and you wanted to cry from how much care he was putting into consent. Even in the frantic state you two were in, there was still care, and a line that was paper-thin, ready to be broken.
"Yes… Are you?" You asked back, and he nodded quickly, a drop of his sweat falling on your cheek.
"Yeah… Fuck— Whatever it is, it fucking hurts…" You gulped and took the leap yourself. You clashed your lips against his, unleashing a battle of tongues, teeth clashing, and finally getting your legs up on the bed, spread for him so he could sit in between.
He dry humped you, making you moan into his mouth, feeling his hard cock over all the layers of clothes. You were probably drenched through your pants as well. In another case, this would have been a little embarrassing, but he seemed to like it as he grunted into your mouth the more he rubbed himself against you.
"Eddie, the clothes— I'm suffocating," You were gasping into his lips, feeling the room growing smaller, the air was thicker, and it was hard to breathe it in. He kneeled up, ripping his shirt over his head, and he hurriedly helped you get undressed. Strings of your slick followed as he peeled off your underwear.
"God, Omega…" You felt something inside you click. Something feral, and you felt your entire body flush, and you clenched around nothing at all. You purred at the attention as he looked down at your naked center. "You like that, huh…?"
You licked your lips, instincts winning over as you felt yourself burning in your belly, tightening, intestines twisting into themselves as slick kept gushing out from you like a fountain. You turned around, getting on all fours, and then proceeded to lie your chest to the mattress, presenting your ass to him.
"Alpha… Please…"
Seconds later, you were being railed into the bed, and the only sounds in the room were your moans, his grunts, the bed creaking, and the squelching in between your bodies. The heat never left, not for a single second, but it just progressively got worse.
When he flipped you to look down at your face, you could see Eddie in a way you never thought you would be able to see in your life. He looked so good when wrecked like this. He kept calling your name as his pace never slowed down. He kissed your calf as he held your leg over his shoulder.
Even in this haze of lust, you still found that action the most enticing of all.
"Fuck— My knot is—" You nodded desperately, meeting his thrusts as his eyes looked down between your bodies. His hair was stuck to his face from the sweat, and you felt yourself melting underneath him.
"Please, Eddie… Alpha…" And that did it. His knot started showing at his base, getting harder to thrust in and out of you, and all you did was cry out his name as you begged for him to lock inside of you. "Oh god, please, please, please…"
You were begging, head thrown back into the pillow, mouth open as he kept giving the final thrusts. His mouth fell to the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you wished that he would bite down.
He moaned loudly, growling as he came inside of you, locking his knot in your core, his seed shooting out to paint your insides white. Your eyes widened, your body trembled, and your hands gripped at his back like a lifeline. You were probably marking him all over, but you felt like you were crumbling over as you came around him. You were milking him till the last drop, and you didn't want it to stop.
But the clouds lifted.
As soon as you two climaxed, the air became pure again. The haze was gone. And everything became clear once more. You could feel him breathing heavily on top of you, and you didn't know what to say or what to do. What— What if he thought it was all a mistake? What if he regretted everything? What if he stops talking to you after this?
"You with me, princess?" You were still trembling underneath him, realization falling of what you two had done. He pulled his head back, and his voice was shaky as he spoke. "I almost bit you there… Fuck… This was like a rut, but out of nowhere and so intense…"
You were trying to center yourself, closing your eyes as you felt him pulsing inside of you. You nodded, feeling shame all over your body because guilt started seeping in.
"Yeah… It felt like a heat to me… I'm… I'm sorry…" His eyes stared at your features, and his hand came to cradle your face, making you open your eyes.
"Hey… I can smell your distress… No need to apologize, we helped each other out—"
"And now you will tell me to forget it, right?"
He froze at that, looking down at you as if you had gone crazy. You weren't meeting his gaze at all, and he sighed heavily, pressing his forehead against yours.
"No… I was not gonna say that." Your eyes finally met his, your heart pounding as if you had just run a marathon. "Whatever just happened, even as fucked as it was… I'm kind of glad it did."
"What?" You asked incredulously, and he let out a nervous chuckle, nodding.
"Yeah, uh… Unless you never felt that… tug-of-war situation going on between us… Which might make me look like a jerk, and an actual knothead right now, and oh god, I have to stop talking—"
You cut him off, hands moving to the back of his head to pull him into a deep kiss. He smiled in between, his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to his. When you pulled away, you were chirping, which made Eddie's chest rumble with pride. A happy Omega. That's all that mattered now.
"I think nature got tired of us doing that little game of ours, too… right?" He smiled, dimples showing and all, and then it just fell, his head turning towards the door, and quickly pulling the blanket all over your bodies.
Vickie knocked on the door, almost shyly.
"Um… When you guys are ready… could you please come upstairs?"
Oh… people were at the station… for a while now.
—
Eddie stood next to you, holding your hand tightly as an angry Dustin Henderson stood before you, a table in the middle, and a very familiar vine that you had stepped on a few hours ago.
"So, uhm, what's wrong?" You asked nervously, seeing Steve leaning against the wall, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Robin proudly chipped in, smiling widely.
"I mean, I am thrilled that it happened, because, FINALLY! Got you two together! So, I am super excited because I always told Steve that you and Eddie were meant to be mates—"
"Robin, for fucks sake…" Steve grunted, and while you were embarrassed, Eddie stood proud.
"Oh, yeah, if it weren't for my amazing sense of smell… The poor pups would have… heard something they shouldn't be hearing at this age." Dustin rolled his eyes and finally pointed at the vine on the table.
"Robin, we heard worse. Now, care to tell me what you did to this thing?"
"I… stepped on it?" You smiled innocently, and Dustin gave an exasperated sigh, and then Eddie intervened.
"Wait… Did this… Thing, whatever the fuck this is, have anything to do with what happened down there?" He asked, and Dustin gave him a nod and a fake smile.
"It did! Good job, Eddie!" The Alpha growled at the pup, who took a step back, but another growl filled the room, and Eddie looked at Robin, who was glaring at him, with a smile on her face. You stopped the quarrel between the two Alphas and stepped forward, examining the vine.
"So this thing might have triggered like a placebo of a rut and heat?" Dustin sighed heavily and then shook his head.
"No. It's a new thing Vecna does, which kind of triggers you to do your deepest desires, or some shit like that. It was in a book I found in the Upside Down— Nevermind, point is, you should have just LEFT IT!"
You and Eddie stood there, and you finally turned around and pointed your finger at him.
"I TOLD HIM TO DROP IT! IT'S HIS FAULT!" Eddie's eyes widened, only to harden afterwards.
"WHAT!? You stepped on it, princess! If you hadn't, we wouldn't be getting scolded right now!"
Robin stood next to Steve, crossing her arms over her chest.
"And I thought them finally fucking would stop their bickering."
summary: Having lost your father and not wanting to have to keep you, your step-mother has you arranged to marry Joel Miller.
word count: 8.6k, multi-chapter
rating: 18+, MNDI
warnings/tags: reader is AFAB but no overt descriptions otherwise, implied age gap (late 20s/mid 50s), regency/bridgerton au, mentions of abuse (reader's father is both verbally and physically abusive but there are no overt descriptions), mentions of death and grief, period-typical sexism, eventual smut, arranged marriage au
a/n: this got a bit darker than i initially intended but it was kind of just how the story played out as i wrote it. please do mind the tags. there are mentions of both verbal and physical abuse although no overt descriptions between reader and her father. still, this definitely shapes how reader views men and her anxieties and fears so please tread carefully if this is something that is sensitive to you.
i really struggled with making this sound period-accurate but have tried my best with dialogue and description so it doesn't sound too modern. but wow, it was tough.
this is a two part fic and while i have not yet written part 2, i do know how i want it to go. title comes from Hozier's 'Sunlight'.
as always, please do let me know what you think! i love your comments.
credit to @/firefly-graphics for the dividers!
Your father dies abruptly. One minute he’s announcing that he needs to visit the bankers in town and the next, he’s slumped against his horse, face pale and lips blue. The stable boy had yelled for help and men from the neighbourhood had come rushing, shouting orders and packing him up like a shipment to be sent away. You supposed in a way, he was. Your step-mother had shrieked and cried out although there had been no tears down her lovely face. She had been held up by Mr. Robertson, your neighbour and perhaps, your fathers only friend who had always looked at you with pity but done nothing else. You see, your father wasn’t a kind man. Often drunk and sometimes violent, he made a ruckus wherever he went. Your step-mother knew what to say to appease him but you had no such luck, often at the receiving end of his sharp words and sometimes sharper hands. But still, he was the only family you had left. Now, even that is gone and you find yourself in his study with your step-mother and a man you have never seen before. Your ears are buzzing, blood rushing to your head in a rush. You’re not sure you’ve understood what she’s said to you but she’s looking at you with glossy eyes and a hopeful smile.
“You understand, don’t you love?” she says. You don’t think she has ever called you any sort of endearment before and it settles uncomfortably in your gut. You don’t like the false sweetness in her tone, condescending and determined all at once. When you don’t answer, she says your name, tone sharper than you’re sure she intends it. Her mask is slipping but she puts it back on perfectly. A habit she must have learned having been married to your father.
“I don’t…” you begin, still confused. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
The man next to her, Mr. Melway, shifts in his seat with a clenched jaw. Your step-mother sighs, shifting closer to you. You do your best not to move away.
“Edmund and I would like to marry,” she says, a recitation of what she had said earlier. She speaks slower now, as if your idiocy might be the issue. “And as your father left the house in my name, so kindly of him even in his death, I would like to sell it. So that Edmund and I may start our lives anew and I may be free from the shackles of grief that have held me captive for so long.”
You bite your tongue to resist the urge to remind her that there hasn’t even been three full moons since your father’s death. Instead, you ask a more pressing question.
“And what of me?” you say and you watch her mouth twitch. Mr. Melway – Edmund as your step-mother fondly calls him – has said nothing so far except for when he greeted you hello as he sat down on the armchair your father used to read in.
“Of course we would never leave you stranded,” your step-mother says, in a tone as if she is trying to calm a spooked animal. “We have found a suitor for you.”
The words settle like rocks in your stomach. For a second, you had foolishly thought that perhaps she would take you to whatever house they would purchase in the city with the money your father had left her. That perhaps, she would behave in a way that a mother might, even if you are not related to her by blood. You had never known a mother, not even your own, who had died when you were just an infant, and your father had married soon after, once more. Before you can speak, your step-mother continues.
“In fact, it is my dear Edmund who has found you a suitor. A man that Edmund knows through business, a decent man with a house and staff of his own. Tell her about him, Edmund,” she urges and you hear Edmund clear his throat. The blood is still rushing in your ears and you feel your hands clench into fists at your sides. You want to scream. Instead, you look to Edmund who looks, at least, as uncomfortable as you feel.
“It’s Joel Miller,” Mr. Melway says. “He lives on the other side of the town, runs a construction business with his brother, Tommy.”
You know of Joel Miller. He had sometimes come to this very house to do business with your father, his younger brother in tow. You had only seen him a few times but even from those rare instances, you were certain that he was at least twice your age. He had never frequented the balls that were hosted by the richer families in the town and you had never seen him during your promenades in the parks. Then again, it was rare for men his age with no family to come out to these events at all, especially given his history. He had been married at some point but his wife had run away after childbirth. You had heard whispers of the scandal it had been all those years ago but you had been too young to be aware of it. And then he had lost his young daughter to consumption some years back too, at least half a decade prior if you remember correctly. After that he had become even more reclusive, at least according to your father.
“Mr. Miller is a decent man,” your step-mother continues, breaking your train of thought when she realizes that that is all Edmund is going to say. “There are no stories of him being vulgar or frequenting less seemly institutions. You should be so lucky, my dear.”
Perhaps it is the way she says it, as if you really should be grateful that you’re being given off like some cattle to the first man they could find. Or maybe it’s the term of endearment, the second one she has used on you in the twenty-three years she has known you, that settles sourly. Either way, you snap.
“And this Mr. Miller, who is at least twice my age if not older, you shall just cart me off to him then? After selling my father’s home?” Your voice is raised and sharp, unwavering in your anger that now courses through your veins. You want to throw something at the pair of them, your smug step-mother and her cowardly fiance. You watch her face twist into something you’re more used to, a rather ugly scowl.
“If it was your father’s home, then perhaps he should have bequeathed it to you in his will. Clearly he did not think of you at all since the only thing you have to your name are the dresses in your wardrobe and your silly books,” she says, words venomous. However, it’s the truth in them that stings. You know she is right. Your father had left you with nothing. No security at all for the future. Perhaps he had thought that you would find that in marriage but knowing him, it was likely that he had not thought of you at all. Your hands shake and you can feel your face flush in embarrassment. Your step-mother continues, unperturbed.
“You are seven and twenty,” she says, voice less sharp now. “You are a spinster in the eyes of most of society. I could never understand why your father had never thought to marry you off earlier but there is no use mulling over it now. This is the only sensible option and not many men want a lady as old as yourself. Mr. Miller is being decent, agreeing to this when he could get someone much more…fruitful. What else would you have us do?”
Take me with you, you think, suddenly desperate. You’re not particularly fond of your step-mother but living with her would surely be better than being married to a man like Joel Miller. One with a difficult past. You had seen enough of men, your father included, to know how cruel they could be. Instead, you take a deep breath, unclenching your fists. This is not a battle you can win. It is not a battle you can even fight.
“Of course,” you finally say. “I understand.”
Your voice is hollow and you swallow back the feeling of grief that shrouds you entirely. You will not cry in front of them. You will not show your weakness.
Your step-mother looks delighted, clapping her hands. Mr. Melway nods, murmuring something about telling Mr. Miller. You excuse yourself, and they pay you no mind as they chat amongst themselves, excitement threaded in both their voices. Your legs shake as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom.
The wedding is a small affair. The only people from your side are your step-mother and Mr. Melway, who walks you down the aisle. Your hand shakes as you settle it on his forearm and when you look up at him, there is something like pity in his gaze. The very idea of it makes you stand up straighter, and you will yourself to be strong. You need no sympathy from him. You take in the sparsely crowded church. On one side of the pews sits your step-mother, a delighted smile on her face. It must be the relief of no longer having to even pretend to care for you. On the other side of the pews, sits Tommy Miller and his wife, Maria. You had met her once, at the book shop in town. It had been a brief conversation, but you remember her being kind. There was a certainty to her, as if she knew exactly what to do. You had found it both admirable and unsettling, having never felt like that before. She nods at you once, a gentle smile on her face. But her eyes are different, some sort of sadness in them. Tommy as well, watches you as one might watch a sick deer. They must find you pathetic. Marrying for love was not common but your family was well off enough that you had always thought that when you had married, it would be someone closer in age and perhaps someone that you would have some say in. Your father had never been kind, but he had never brought up marriage even when he had gone on about what a burden you had become. It had likely stemmed from him not caring enough to bother, but still, you were grateful for the freedom it had granted you. You had never once considered having nothing and perhaps that was foolish of you. It was too late now, to ponder such things.
Mr. Melway leaves you at the altar, giving Mr. Miller a curt nod. You chance a glance at the man that is to be your husband. His hair is dark and curls near the nape of his neck, peppered with grey. His beard is the same, neatly shaved against his strong jaw. There is a scar on his nose and his face is aged with fine lines, near the corner of his eyes and on his forehead. For however old he is, you can admit that he is handsome. He cuts a tall figure in his suit, the dark material of it complementing his golden skin and his broad shoulders. Still, your stomach roils. You don’t know this man at all. And although you are used to the rage of your father, the prospect of facing the rage of a stranger is terrifying. You have heard whispers of what wives have had to endure. The priest speaks and you recite where necessary. When Mr. Miller speaks, his voice is deep and smooth although he sounds about as reluctant as you when he says his vows. You had not even thought about the wedding rings until they appear in front of you. The priest instructs Mr. Miller to put the ring on your finger and your hand shakes as he takes it in his. If he feels the tremor, he says nothing. The ring slides onto your finger easily, a contrast to how you feel. You are careful when you put the ring on his much larger hand, needing to push it with a bit more force so it settles past his knuckle.
The ceremony feels as if it is lasting an age when the priest finally says the words you have been dreading.
“I pronounce that they be Man and Wife, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” the priest says and the few guests murmur his sentiment. You are not expecting the relief that courses through you but at least it is over. You no longer have to anticipate the wedding, for it is done now and set in stone. You chance a glance at your husband, and find his dark gaze already on you. His mouth is set in a straight line, and his brows are furrowed so that there is a wrinkle between them. He does not look happy but at least he does not seem angry. He offers you a hand as you step down from the altar and your step-mother comes rushing to you.
“Congratulations, my dear,” she says, voice sickly sweet. You want to kick her in the shin but instead, you nod once. “And to you too, Mr. Miller.”
You watch as he looks at her, something like distaste flashing across his face before he goes expressionless. He nods once at her, not saying anything. You watch your step-mother’s smile falter before she catches herself. She squeezes your arm before moving away, likely to find her soon-to-be husband. It is as if you blink and then Tommy and Maria Miller are in front of you.
“Congratulations,” Maria says, voice warm.
Tommy Miller is smiling too, a gentle grin on his face.
“Congratulations, brother,” he says, clapping his brother’s shoulder. Mr. Miller stays unmoving, almost like a wall. “And welcome to the family,” Tommy adds, looking at you. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that is different to his brother’s steady gaze.
“Thank you,” you say, voice softer than it usually is. Your smile is strained, and you hold yourself rigid. You can feel knots forming in your shoulders and the tightness of your corset against your back does not help. You realize your hand is still being held in your husband’s. His hands are large and calloused from what you can tell, sturdy as if they’ve never rested a day in his life. As if he senses your thoughts, he lets your hand go so that it falls limply against your side. Tommy and Maria watch the exchange silently before Maria clears her throat.
“Your step-mother mentioned that your things have been sent to Miller House already,” she says. Of course your step-mother has already sent away your things, eager to be rid of you.
“Yes, my step-mother is a very prompt woman,” you say, voice biting although you keep your tone sweet. You are speaking loud enough that you see your step-mother stiffen through the corner of your eye, still loitering in the church with Mr. Melway. Perhaps it is not correct of you to speak of your family like this in front of the family you have just joined. However, you have no delusions about what this match is. Mr. Miller likely wants a wife so that he may have heirs and so he agreed to marry you. Edmund and your step-mother likely painted a desperate picture. Still, you should try to play the role of a demure bride. You expect some rebuke, perhaps Mr. Miller to snap at you the way your father had whenever he felt you were being insolent. However, when you look at him, you see his mouth twitch and the indent of a dimple appear on the right side of his rugged face. He seems amused. As do Tommy and Maria who share a knowing look.
“Yes, it seems so,” Maria agrees, voice soft enough that you don’t think your step-mother hears her and with something like pity in her eyes. You choose to ignore it, settling for smiling back. You have never done well with people feeling sorry for you, mostly because it has rarely ever happened in your life. You had not grown up around gentleness.
Tommy and Maria make some more small talk and invite you to dine at their house at the end of the week before they say their farewells. Maria squeezes your arm and Tommy nods at you before they leave the church, having to return to their young son. The few seconds you are left alone with your husband feel heavy and awkward, and for the first time in a long time, you are unsure of what to say. You don’t have much time to fret before your step-mother steps before you, Edmund in tow behind her.
“My dear,” she says, voice saccharine. “We shall take our leave now too. The ceremony was beautiful. You make a lovely bride.”
You swallow down the rage that beats against your chest.
“Thank you,” you say. “That is kind of you to say. And thank you too, Mr. Melway. For attending and giving me away when my father could not.”
It is the kindest you can be given the circumstances but your step-mother looks pleased. Mr. Melway nods, unable to meet your eye. Good, you think. Have some shame.
“And Mr. Miller,” your step-mother begins, looking at your husband. “My step-daughter is a sweet girl. Stubborn as a mule sometimes, but she can be amenable with the correct hand. Her father was always good at that as I am sure you will be, too. A strong man such as yourself.”
The words are like sharp stones, pelted against your skin even though the tone she speaks them with kindness in her voice. She knows exactly what she is saying. She has seen the strong words your father has used on you. The strong hand too, when he felt you were being particularly insolent. Your corset feels even tighter now and you feel a lump forming in your throat. For as strong as you make yourself seem, the mention of your father’s cruelty so callously by a woman who had only ever watched it happen, who had never offered a word of comfort, makes you feel like you are a young girl again. Alone against the rest of the world. You look down at your feet, blinking quickly so that the tears you can feel forming do not spill.
“I like my wife quite spirited,” your husband says. The words are like a shock to your system and you look up to find his jaw clenched. His eyes are dark, dangerous even. “Now if you’ll excuse us,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away before you can say anything else. When you glance back at your step-mother, you see a scowl on her face. Mr. Melway murmurs something in her ear and she shakes her head, looking perturbed. You turn back, still being guided by Mr. Miller’s broad frame. He helps you into the carriage and then shuts the door behind him, knocking on the wood to let the coachman know that he may move. The carriage starts with a jerk and your hand clutches the cushion below you. The silence settles heavily over you both. He is steady, unwavering even as the carriage shakes as it picks up speed. You remain holding onto the seat below. When the silence becomes too much, you speak.
“Thank you,” you say, voice wavering. You clear your throat as his gaze falls on you. He looks as if he is waiting for you to explain your gratitude. So you do. “For saying what you did to my step-mother. She can be a bit brash.” That is putting it lightly but you leave it there.
He nods.
“She shouldn’t speak about anyone like that,” he says. “Let alone her ward.”
You give him a wry smile, unable to stop yourself. “She has never much considered me her own,” you say, rather honestly to a man you have just met. You suppose he is your husband now, so candor is acceptable. To a certain degree.
You watch his mouth pull into a frown. His brows furrow, a small wrinkle forming between them. The rest of the carriage ride proceeds in silence and your stomach begins churning as you feel it slow down. You must be close to arriving at Miller house. Which means you must begin to act as man and wife. You know what it consists of, how a man and woman must consummate their union. Girls in the town had whispered about it at gatherings and you had listened, knowing that no one else would explain it to you. Still, knowing the act and actually doing it were two very different things.
The carriage lurches to a stop and you’re so lost in thought that your grip on your seat has loosened and you move forward, almost falling off. A strong hand steadies you, holding you in place and gently pushing you back into your seat. You feel yourself flush as your husband moves his hand away, clenching it into a fist. He leaves the carriage first and then offers a hand to help you out. You take it, your skirts too large to maneuver yourself out on your own. You have never held anyone’s hand this much. Have never held anyone’s hand at all, before today, except for when you were a young girl playing in the garden with your age mates. Your husband does not linger with his touches though and you are grateful that he lets you go once you are steady on your feet. Your palms are already sweaty from the anticipation of what must happen. You are greeted by a lady’s maid who curtsies and gives you a kind smile. A footman is already carrying your two trunks into the house. Now that you are outside, you get a better look at it. Your father was wealthier than most but not the wealthiest in town. Your husband is well off but not considered wealthy. You had never much cared for the frivolity of money so it matters to you little the size of his home or how many house staff he has.
Nonetheless, it is a decent home. The gardens in the front are well tended to and although moss creeps along the brick walls, there is a pleasantness to it. As you make your way inside, following Mr. Miller, you are pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the house. For a man that has been unmarried for almost two decades, the house is not sparse or unkept. Of course it is likely his staff that oversee it but there is something unique about the wooden furniture that decorates the hallways and the sitting room. You have never seen such furniture before. It looks almost rustic. Your thoughts are cut short by your husband clearing his throat, seemingly trying to catch your attention as your gaze wanders over his house. It is at that moment that you realize that you are being terribly rude. Staring openly and saying nothing. You know you must say something about how lovely his home is, how grateful you are that it is now your home too, and although you do quite like what you have seen so far, it will never feel like your home. Not in the way your old house was, where you had run through the hallways and snuck into the library to read books late at night when you should have been asleep already. Where you had escaped to the gardens when your father had been in a poor mood or your step-mother was hosting a luncheon that you did not wish to sit through.
Before you can speak, your husband beats you to it.
“I can show you to your room,” he says, voice low. He tilts his head, in a follow me sort of gesture and you do. He leads you up the stairs, and down the hallway. When he opens the door, you are confused. This cannot be the master bedroom. It is too small. Not that it is actually small, but from what you have seen of the house, surely the master bedroom must be larger. As if he senses your confusion, he begins to explain.
“This will be your room. You can keep it how you wish, and if anythin’s lackin’ you can let Martha know and she’ll get it from the market,” he explains. He hesitates before he speaks again. “You can also let me know,” he adds, voice a bit softer. “I’m not home much but we can have supper together should you wish it. I usually return by sundown.”
You’re still confused, wondering whether you might be mistaking what he is saying. You clear your throat before you speak – it suddenly feels dry.
“Do you not wish for us to stay as man and wife, Mr. Miller?” you ask. You’re pleased that your voice doesn’t shake. A look passes over his face, a complicated flurry of emotions. His jaw clenches and then releases and you are certain you have misspoken.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says. He looks away, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. You stay still, unsure.
“I won’t ever make you do anythin’ you don’t want to do,” he says. The meaning is clear to you and you feel a wave of relief crash through you. “I know this isn’t ideal. You’re free to be as you were back home.”
For all the things you had considered about Joel Miller, you had not considered this. That he might be kind. The fact of it, that he is merciful and not controlling, is the first feeling of hope you have had in ages. It settles in your gut like a lightning bug floating through the sky on a cool summer evening, a release of anxiety that has been building inside of you since you were told of your impending nuptials.
“Thank you,” you say. “You are a kind man, Mr. Miller.”
He shakes his head. “You can call me Joel,” he says. “If you’d like. Mr. Miller’s too formal.”
You nod. You’ve never called any man by their name.
“All right,” you say. “Thank you, Joel.”
His eyes trace your face, gaze sharp. You do your best not to look away. Finally, he nods.
“It’s been a long day,” he says. “You should get some rest.”
And then you watch as he turns around and makes his way down the corridor, broad shoulders backlit by the candles on the walls. When you are certain he is gone, you close the door gently and begin to undress, slipping into your nightshift. You had expected the night to go differently, for it to be painful. However now, as you lie in bed, the soft cotton a relief against your skin, you think perhaps this might not be as horrible as you had envisioned. And it is that thought of hope that lulls you into sleep.
Your first month in Miller house is surprisingly pleasant. Joel leaves for work early, attending to business meetings in the town or meeting bankers for prospective projects. You learn that he and his brother Tommy work in construction, overseeing the building of new homes as the town grows in size. The staff you had seen on your first day are the only staff he employs and while at first you had wondered whether that would be sufficient, having been used to having at least three footmen and two ladies maids in the home you had grown up in, you find that indeed it is. Martha is a kind lady, with grey streaked hair. She lets you loiter in the kitchen as she prepares meals and you start helping her with the preparation of it all, chopping vegetables and adding herbs to pots of boiling soup. At first she had been hesitant, and had told you it might not be proper. But you had been persistent, reassuring her that Joel would not mind and that you would ask him of it. When you had brought it up at supper that evening, his brows had drawn together in confusion and you had wondered if you had overstepped until he spoke.
“There’s no need to ask me for permission,” Joel had said, gruffly. “You can do anythin’ you want.”
You had never heard those words before, spoken to you or any other women you knew. You had opened your mouth but were at a loss of what to say. Instead you had nodded, murmuring your thanks and focussing on the soup you had helped prepare earlier that day. Something had felt lighter in your chest, and you had bitten your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a silly girl.
Presently, you are preparing to visit Tommy and Maria for supper. You’re wearing one of your finer dresses, the shade of blue complementing your skin. You even put on a fine pair of earrings, the gold twinkling in the dim, candlelit room. Your hair has always been a bit unruly but with Martha’s help earlier in the day, you’ve managed to make it look presentable. Pretty, even. You’ve been in a good mood all day, the dreary spring weather finally clearing up so that the rays of sun had broken through the heavy clouds that had been littering the sky for the last few days. You had spent the day organizing your books in your bookshelf, arranging them alphabetically. It had taken quite a while but in the end you had been pleased with the result, even if all of them had not fit. You suppose you could give some away.
You glance at yourself one last time in the mirror and fix your earring so that it is turned the right way before nodding at your reflection. As you open the door to your room, you come face to face with Joel who looks as startled as you feel. He looks at you, taking in your hair and your earrings and the newness of your dress. Then, he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I only wanted to see if you were ready to leave.”
You nod, still caught in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
Joel shakes his head. “You didn’t,” he says, almost immediately. “Really. Maria can be a stickler for timin’ though so I just wanted to make sure we’d have enough time to get there.”
You nod but the uncertainty must still be on your face.
“I’m being serious,” Joel says. “You did nothin’ wrong.”
He says it like a fact, like it must be true. The warmth in his eyes is reassuring so you nod once more, this time with more sureness. He seems satisfied because he gives you a nod in return, before taking a step back. You follow him down the corridor then down the stairs and lead the way to the carriage once he opens the door for you. He helps you in and you are familiar now, with the feeling of his large, warm palm against your own. Never lingering but always there. On the ride to Tommy and Maria’s home, you ask him about his day.
He sighs, loudly. He even slumps in his seat a bit. You feel some warmth at his tired expression.
“Long,” he answers. “And tricky. Mr. Holloway wants to construct a family home near the quarry but the soil there’s too loose. Hard to fit structures with stability there and he’s insistin’ on the location, lord knows why. Spent a lot of time trying to talk him out of it but he’s as stubborn as a mule, that man.”
It’s the most Joel has ever said to you in a sentence. Your conversations are usually polite but brief.
“Will you be able to build him his house?” you ask. You watch as Joel sits up again. He looks handsome. He had washed up after coming back to the house after work and his dark hair is neatly pushed away from his forehead, although a curl escapes against his forehead. He’s wearing a suit you have not seen before, the dark charcoal grey a nice contrast to his golden skin.
“We might have to look into fixin’ wooding pilings into the ground to see if that stabilizes it,” he says. “They’re basically big old logs of wood we’ll drive down into the soil to get to more stable soil. It’ll make the structure of the house more stable too. But it’s a lot more work. Need to hire loggers to get the wood, hire more manpower.”
“Oh,” you say. “That does sound quite difficult.”
You’re not familiar with talking about work. Your father never took the time to discuss anything with you, let alone business. The girls you met at tea parties and balls weren’t talking about such matters either. So you’re at a loss of what to say. Feeling out of depth, you look down at your hands, twisted together in the skirts of your dress. Joel must find you to be dull company.
“I’m sorry,” Joel says, interrupting your train of thought. “I’m goin’ on about construction and wood, it must be borin’ you. How was your day?”
You look up to find his dark eyes earnest. He watches you intently, and you feel his entire focus on you. You feel flustered. Perhaps it is the proximity of you both in the carriage or the idea of a man – your husband – looking at you with his sole attention. Realizing you are taking too long to respond, you speak quickly.
“It was alright,” you say. “I organized my books. Thank you for the shelf, I appreciate it greatly.”
Joel nods, one side of his mouth pulling into a gentle smile. “No need to thank me,” he says.
He seems to say that to you quite a bit. You smile back, feeling something loosen in your chest, the nerves you felt before resting. The rest of the carriage ride is spent in companionable silence. By the time you reach Tommy and Maria’s house, your nerves have started up again. Tommy and Maria seemed kind at your wedding but you wonder what they really think of this union. Of your step-mother casting you aside. Whether they think you might be the problem.
Joel helps you out of the carriage, touch not lingering longer than it should. You smooth your skirts down before following him towards the house. It’s similar to Miller house but looks newer. There are flowers in the garden, blooming prettily against the dark green shrubs. The door opens and Joel ushers you in with a large hand to the small of your back, gone almost as soon as you feel the warmth of him through your corset. He greets the footman and you allow him to lead the way into the sitting room.
“You’re here,” Maria says, eyes lighting up. She stands up, making her way to you. She squeezes your arm in greeting, a touch so familiar as if you have known each other many years. It makes you smile, and you greet her in return. Tommy follows her out, nodding at you with a friendly smile. You return his smile and make your way towards the sofa, taking a seat next to Joel. There’s enough space between the two of you that no one would suspect that you’re a married couple if not for the matching wedding bands on your left hands. If Maria or Tommy find the space odd, they say nothing. As the three of them chat, you steal a glance around the room. It looks similar to Miller house, all the furniture the same intricate wooden styles you haven’t seen in other homes.You wonder if the Miller brothers import it from somewhere, if they’re rather particular about it. Your thoughts are cut short by Joel saying your name. Your face feels hot as you realize the three Millers have been waiting on you to respond.
“Tommy and Maria wanted to interrogate you about your first month bein’ married,” Joel says, his voice warm. You don’t think he’s upset by your distracted nature but you can’t be certain.
“Oh,” you say, feeling the words stuck in your throat. “My apologies. I was being rude. I missed your question.”
Tommy’s brows draw together, as if confused by your apology. Maria shakes her head, smiling.
“That’s alright,” she says kindly. “You’re in a new place so it’s natural to be curious.”
You feel relief settle in your chest, and you smile, nodding.
“So how has it been bein’ married to my grump of a brother?” Tommy asks, grinning. He’s different to Joel, more jovial in a way Joel rarely is. You chance a glance at your husband only to find him good naturedly rolling his eyes at his brother’s teasing. It’s the most emotion you’ve seen out of him and it leaves you momentarily stunned. You’ve never thought of your husband as a man who would jest. Not that Joel is scary. He’s just so serious most of the time. Then again, you have only known him for a month whereas Tommy and him grew up side by side, cut from the same cloth.
“It’s been very pleasant,” you say, no dishonesty in your words. It has been pleasant. Joel lets you do as you please, which is more than you have ever had before. “Joel is a good husband,” you add. You sneak a look at him to find the apples of his cheeks slightly red. He wrings his hands in his lap, clearing his throat.
Tommy and Maria look amused, eyes dancing between the two of you.
“Glad to hear it,” Tommy says. “And how’d you like your new home?”
“It’s wonderful,” you say. “I was just thinking about how the furniture here and at Miller house are so similar. But I’ve never seen anything like it before. Do you bring them in from elsewhere?”
Tommy shakes his head. “Joel hasn’t told ya?”
Your brows draw together, confused. You shake your head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“My brother,” Tommy says. “Always the shy one. He made all this,” he gestures largely to all the furniture in the room. Your eyes widen, taking in the pieces again. The woodwork is intricate and expertly done, shiny and beautifully smooth. You look around at the large oak bookshelf, the sturdy reading table, and the wooden armchairs that decorate the room.
“Truly?” you ask, unable to hide the astonishment from your voice. You look at Joel when you pose the question. He’s already looking at you with his dark eyes. He nods, his cheeks still flushed.
“I like woodworking,” he says, voice low. Almost as if the information is just for you. You swallow before you speak.
“That’s very impressive,” you say. He stays watching your face as if he’s cataloguing it and you feel yourself begin to warm at his attention. You turn back to Tommy and Maria, feeling flustered. You start making small talk with Maria, asking her about how she spent her day. She tells you about a meeting she had for a women’s club she is the chair of that helps increase women’s literacy rates by ensuring they have access to learning materials and encouraging them to attend schools. You’ve heard of such movements, have listened to your own father grumble about how unnecessary it is. You yourself had been educated by a private tutor, but even that only consisted of reading, writing and learning more homely things such as needling, etiquette and dance.
“That’s lovely,” you say and she smiles at your enthusiasm.
“If you’d ever like to join one of the meetings, you’d be most welcome,” Maria says.
“Yes,” you say too quickly. Maria’s smile widens and she nods.
“I’ll write down the details for you before you leave tonight,” she says and you nod.
Eventually, the party moves to the dining room and dinner begins. The food is rich and warm, and you spend most of dinner listening to Joel, Tommy and Maria talk about the business. Maria seems to be involved in helping them manage projects too, something you find interesting. The women you have known typically never get involved in their husband’s business matters. It makes you feel relieved to watch Maria give her input, both brothers listening to her carefully, even nodding along to agree. You cannot think of the last time you’ve seen a man listen to a woman outside of your time being married to Joel.
When dinner winds down, Joel and Tommy excuse themselves to discuss tomorrow’s plan for work outside. Maria rolls her eyes, fondly.
“They’re going to share a cigar,” she explains. “They always do this.”
You smile, cataloguing that piece of information about Joel. You realize there is so much you don’t know about your husband. Not from your brief conversations during supper. You follow Maria back into the sitting room. When you’re both seated, she turns to you, face pensive.
“I would like for us to be friends,” she starts and you feel nervous now. The energy seems to have shifted into something more serious.
“I would like that too,” you agree. She smiles at you gently.
“And so as friends, I would like for you to be honest with me,” she says. “Are you truly happy in your marriage? You can tell me. None of this will get back to our husbands. I merely want to make sure that you are alright.”
You don’t even have to think before you answer.
“Yes,” you say, quickly. “I did not lie earlier.”
Maria shakes her head. “No, I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I just know you did not wish to marry, that it was a circumstance brought to you by your step-mother. And you did not have a chance to be courted by Joel so it must have felt very much like marrying a stranger.”
You feel a lump form in your throat. You’ve done well to push thoughts of your old home and the circumstances of your marriage out of your mind.
“Yes,” you agree. “I suppose I did not wish for this marriage, for any marriage really. But Joel is a good husband. He never forces me to do anything.”
Maria nods, smiling gently.
“Joel is a good man,” she agrees. “He has not had the easiest life. I’m glad he’s found companionship with you.”
You are aware of Joel’s history, of his first wife absconding and his daughter passing away when she was just a young girl. But there is a thread of curiosity that is twisting into something in your mind.
“Do you mean with what happened to his first wife? And his daughter?” you ask, voice low. You’re not sure if you are overstepping but your curiosity has gotten the better of you.
Maria nods.
“I don’t know much of his first wife,” she says. “I wasn’t married to Tommy then but I do know once she gave birth, she was no longer happy. She wanted to leave and Joel did not wish for her to stay if she did not want to so she went back to her parent’s home and that was the last he heard from her. She never wrote to ask about Sarah.”
Sarah. That was her name, you think. The name of Joel’s daughter, who had cruelly been taken from him.
“I did know Sarah,” Maria continues. Her eyes become glassy and you want to reach forward, touch her arm to offer some comfort but it feels too familiar and you’re unsure if it is your place. “She was a sweet girl. Smart and curious about the world. And the apple of Joel’s eye. When he lost her, he lost a part of himself. It took Tommy a long time to coax his brother back into being somewhat the man he was before.”
You can feel her grief as she speaks of Sarah. Of Joel, too. Before you can say anything, you hear a throat clear. Your head snaps in the direction of the entry way to find Joel standing there, mouth set in a straight line. Tommy is behind him, a concerned look on his face. Maria stands up immediately, and you follow, feeling caught.
“Joel,” Maria begins but he shakes his head, just once, raising a hand as if to stop her.
“We should be on our way,” he says, voice low. He holds himself rigid, broad shoulders stiff. His left hand is clenched and he does not look at you when he speaks. He turns around, moving past Tommy and towards the entry way. You feel frozen. You have never seen Joel like this before. Upset. Angry. It makes your stomach churn.
“Tommy,” Maria says. “I didn’t mean to.”
She doesn’t need to elaborate. You understand what she’s trying to say. Tommy nods at her, his eyes gentle. He reaches for her hand and squeezes it.
“You should probably get goin’,” Tommy says to you, voice gentle but firm. “Best to not keep him waitin’ when he’s already in a mood.”
His words leave you shaky. You think of all the times your step-mother had said something similar to you about your own father. Still, you nod and follow Joel down the corridor. The carriage is waiting and Joel’s by the door, looking down at the ground.
“Thank you both for dinner,” you say quickly to Tommy and Maria, trying and failing to hide the fear in your voice.
“You’re always welcome here,” Maria says. She squeezes your arm in reassurance as Tommy nods in agreement. When you get to the carriage, Joel still helps you into it although his hands are faster than usual, letting go of your hand more quickly than earlier today. He follows you in, and closes the door behind him, saying nothing to his brother or sister-in-law. He thumps once on the carriage wall, signalling the driver that you’re ready to leave and you try to not flinch at the loud noise.
The silence is deafening. You itch to say something, anything, to smooth things over. To get your husband back, the silent but steady Joel. The one with the warm eyes. Not this version of him, whose dark eyes are empty. The rest of the carriage ride is spent in silence. You look down at your hands the entire time, too afraid to look up at the angry face of your husband. When you arrive back at Miller house, you don’t expect it when Joel exits the carriage first and then offers you his hand to help you out. You thought he was only doing that at Tommy and Maria’s house out of politeness. Still, you take his hand as he gently helps you out of the carriage, and then follow him into the house. It is quiet and dark now, save for a few candles to light the path up to your bedrooms. Earlier in the day you had Martha that she need not wait up for the two of you. You think of how joyful you had been then, and how it seems to have dissipated now.
“Joel,” you begin to say when you can take the quietness no longer. You both are in the corridor now, his broad back facing you. He stops walking and the tilt of his head is the only suggestion that he is listening. “I should have never asked Maria about anything. About your first marriage. Or about Sarah.”
When you say your name, you hear him take a sharp breath. He turns around to face you, jaw and fists clenched. You do your best not to flinch at the grief and anger in his eyes.
“Don’t,” he says, voice sharp. “Don’t say her name.”
You nod, feeling your hands begin to shake. You need to fix this, need to make sure he doesn’t stay angry at you for too long.
“I’ve mistepped,” you say. “I apologize, Joel. I should have never asked about anything. It is not my knowledge to keep. I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks as you finish your sentence and you can feel your eyes burn with unshed tears.
Joel nods, but says nothing. You know what you have said is not enough. You need to make this better.
“I understand –” you start before you feel a lump form in your throat. You swallow, quickly, trying your best to dampen your nerves. “I understand if you wish to punish me. I’ve been disobedient, an insubordinate wife. You should punish me.”
Joel goes from looking bereaved to looking horrified. His dark eyes widen and his jaw clenches so hard you think he might break a tooth. He looks as if he’s heard the most ghastly thing. He takes a step back from you and then another.
“I –,” he starts to say and then stops. He shakes his head. “You should go to bed,” he finally says. He still looks distraught but there is less grief in his eyes now. Instead, he seems angry as he looks down at his clenched fist.
“But –,” you start to say but Joel shakes his head again.
“Go to sleep,” he says with a tone of finality. And then he’s gone, disappearing down the corridor and into his room. You stand there, hands shaking, unsure of what has just passed. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom. You were certain that what you had offered was the appropriate course of action for your misbehaviour, the only remedy to fix your insolence. Yet it seems to have done the opposite. You know Joel is a decent man but he’s a man nonetheless and you have heard many tales of wives being disciplined by their husbands. It is not a rare occurrence. Still, it seems you have misstepped once more. You feel tears track down your flushed face as you lie in bed and eventually, you are lulled into an unpleasant sleep.
When Martha comes in at suppertime the next evening, you know what she is going to say before she has even said it. There is sadness in her eyes as she speaks.
“Mr. Miller is unable to join you this evening,” she says and you nod, trying not to show how it fractures you. You thank her and she curtsies before she leaves.
When it happens for the fifth evening in a row, you stop holding out hope that he might return to you.
Summary: At sixteen, angry and rebellious, you join a religious group in Utah seduced by the words of charismatic preacher, Pastor David.
Ten years on, your compound in Texas is raided by the police amidst allegations of abuse, and you and your daughters - Ellie and Abby - are forced back into the world you left behind. Your only lifeline is Joel Miller, your mom's friend from college, and his daughter, Sarah. Moving onto his ranch, what starts as friendly support becomes something more. In Joel, a man who carries his own demons, you find the one thing you didn't know you were craving - love without conditions.
But the father of your children is never far away, and he wants his girls back.
A/N: 18+only. References to rape, abuse of minors, assault.
Summary: It was hatred that lingered between Eddie and you – or at least that’s what he let himself believe because dealing with those feelings was easier than the ones that lingered deep inside his heart. The feelings of hatred were mutual anyways, weren’t they? … But how could hatred ever save the life of someone? How could hatred keep one alive? How could hatred ever be strong enough to break a spell that has been after you from the moment you were dragged into a world of darkness?
Warnings:angst, mentions of death, trauma, mentions of physical and mental abuse, unrequited love, upside down stuff, hurt/comfort, happy ending
Pairings: Eddie Munson x female reader | Steve Harrington x female reader
part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six // part seven // part eight // part nine // part ten // part eleven // part twelve // part thirteen // part fourteen // part fifteen // part sixteen // part seventeen // part eighteen // part nineteen // part twenty // part twenty one // part twenty two
drabbles/imagines/flashback scenes (all in the right order)
Eddie sees reader for the first time
The bonfire
The disappearance
I’m right here
Lost & found
Cruel dreams
Eddie and reader almost kiss
The halloween party
The snow ball
The mall
Reader sees Eddie with another girl and gets jealous
Individual warnings are always listed in the beginning of each fic! I advise miners to not interact with the ones labeled (*18+).
Comments are always appreciated ♡.
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Paring: Daryl Dixon, fem!reader
Story summary - When two people that have lost everything cross paths they can’t stop the bond between them from forming.
Status: complete, rewrritten
Pt.1
Pt.2
🎀 *18+
Paring: Daryl Dixon 41y, Julia 20y
Story summary - Their quest to save humanity soon turns into a brutal, heartbreaking journey, as they both must travel the U.S. and depend on each other for survival.
Note: this series is heavily based on The Walking Dead and The Last Of Us.
When you signed up for an experiment, the only question you asked was how much it paid. As you begin to take part you learn that you and a group of people are the first to ever be able to see into many different universes. You were told there was 0 chance of you running into others of the experiment...so why in every universe were seeing and falling for these 2 specific men?
Each chapter will be a different universe! I got this idea from the show Maniac on Netflix and I wanted to try different universes so❤ Chapters coming soon! Yall gave me some ideas. I'm down for more.
When you signed up for an experiment, the only question you asked was how much it paid. As you begin to take part you learn that you and a group of people are the first to ever be able to see into many different universes. You were told there was 0 chance of you running into others of the experiment...so why in every universe were seeing and falling for these 2 specific men?
Each chapter will be a different universe! I got this idea from the show Maniac on Netflix and I wanted to try different universes so❤ Chapters coming soon! Yall gave me some ideas. I'm down for more.
You and Steve Harrington have a complicated history especially after meeting him during one of your shifts at the strip club you work at. You two had an arrangement, sex for cash every Friday and no matter what you always call him by his title. After a bad night, you quit and disappear choosing to start over with a new life living your dreams and even starting a new relationship with a man who's kind and everything the other man wasn't. You think you've fully gotten away from your past until it shows up, however, in your boyfriend's parents house and is introduced to you as his sister's fiancee.
Warnings in each story!
"Ayo, fuck this
Are we dating? Are we fucking?
Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?
I wish we never fucked, and I mean that...
But not really, you say the nastiest shit in bed and it's fuckin' awesome."
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