Rafael Barba Masterlist

Rafael Barba Masterlist

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Sex in a pool/hot tub 18+

Original Character:

Prosecutorial Misconduct: Rafael Barba never intended to fall for Melanie Dodds, but now that he had... He was slowly beginning to uncover that there may be far more to the rough and tumble Detective than meets the eye ongoing

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SMTL Chapter 18 PART 1

I couldn't wait to post...

PLEASE READ: This is PART 1 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART TWO IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

Daylight bleeds into the bedroom, waking you with a gentle stir. Delight rests heavily in your belly making the world tinge a pink and yellow glow. Joel asking you to the dance. Holding your hand until the two of you made it back to town. But then just as quickly as you glow from the inside regret creeps in, darkening the moment.

Jennifer.

You have to tell Jennifer.

You’re desperate to get this ugliness out of the way. You want the party to be fun. You want the two of you to dance with your men without having to hide it. You want to giggle with her about Joel, to confess to her how you feel about him like girlfriends do. 

So an hour later you head over to her place with a coffee for her, surprised to see her still in her pajamas when she opens the door, her eyes red -rimmed.  She always looks beautiful, but today she appears to have been crying.

"Hey," you chirp happily extending the coffee to her. "Up for a visit and some shooting?" 

"Visit yes, shooting no." 

Your smile drops as she gives a sniffle. She takes the coffee from you before indicating that you should enter. You follow her to her couch, noticing that even up close she looks a bit drawn. You feel a twinge of panic.

"Jenny, what's going on?" 

Jennifer sighs, scrubbing her hand down her face.  

"It's Oliver," she says quietly. "He uh, he and his girlfriend got back together last night. He just came by this morning to tell me face to face. Said he felt like he owed it to me." 

Fuck.  

"I'm so sorry," you say, your hand going to her shoulder. 

"It's not your fault," she says taking a sip of coffee. 

Isn't it? 

You pushed her into Oliver's arms without knowing anything about him. You encouraged the romance for your own selfish gain. And now look at what happened, Jennifer, the sweetest woman alive feels like shit. 

"The worst part is I thought I really liked him," she says scoffing to herself. "But I don't know if I liked him or I just liked not being alone."

Jennifer was always one of those women that you saw surrounded by men and women. People clamored to be around her, to exist in her orbit. They still do, but something has changed. You see it when she's in a crowd, her smile not as bright. 

"I used to like the flirting and the sex and all that distraction," she explains. "But now, I dunno." 

She's quiet and you don’t like the downcast expression in her face. Guilt consumes you when you see how devastated she looks. And you know it’s because of your own selfishness that she’s like this.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She gives you a weak smile.

"Can we take a break from talking about men?" She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'm sick of ‘em."

You swallow. So much for sharing about Joel. Bringing that up right now would only hurt her further. You force a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, of course."

///

"Let's go for a walk.”

“I dunno…”

You’re at Maria’s house on her front porch, your mind whirring about Jennifer. You thought that a visit to Maria might help. She’s answered the door dressed, but her hair is askew. Stains litter the front of her shirt. Tommy comes up behind her, gazing at the back of her head. He holds a grunting Douglas in his arms, smiling at you.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Trying to convince your wife to go for a walk with me,” you chirp merrily waving a bag in the air. “I even brought a carrot to feet Chestnut if you want.”

Maria still looks tentative; it's if she wants to turn down this idea. But you know how much she loves the animals. You know she’s been hiding herself indoors and you just know some fresh air would do her good.

“Go on, honey,” Tommy encourages gently. “Me and Douglas are just goin’ for breakfast anyway.”

“Make sure he-“

“Has his thick socks,” Tommy finishes for her with a gentle nod. “I know, Maria.”

Maria relents with a small smile in his direction. She presses a small kiss to Douglas’ forehead and Tommy’s cheek. You watch her pull on her boots and her thick winter jacket and the two of you make your way towards the stables. 

Maria has that distant look you associate with folks you've run across in your years since the outbreak. Eyes that have the life sucked out of them, cold and blurry like they're somewhere else. 

She walks next to you in silence, her hands shoved deep in her heavy coat pockets. For once it's you who needs to chatter away, still uneasy about how to speak with her when she's so withdrawn. You don't want to push her further into herself, but you also don't want to trudge beside her in silence. 

You smile at this. Maria looks up ahead to the stable and barn where several sections of the livestock are held. 

"When I first got here I used to come here all the time," you explain as you walk beside her. "I liked watching the chickens. When I first got here there were tons of chicks. So cute and fuzzy." 

Maria hums a response and any further comments you might have made fall into the snow, forgotten. 

Eventually the two of you come to the entrance of the barn. You unlatch it, tugging it open with a creak. Maria enters first, kicking the snow from her boots on the cement floor. You follow after her, closing the door with a thump. 

The barn inside is quiet, peaceful even in the early hour of the morning. The chickens are in this section, clucking madly as you pass. 

"Sorry folks, not breakfast for you yet." 

Maria smiles and you feel relief that her mood already rising. Goats bleet quietly on the other side of the barn, some of the kids kicking up hay. You and Maria take your time here, walking and watching the animals play. Some nuzzle your hand when you reach into the pen. 

You spot a light grey nanny goat at the far corner of the pen, lying in the straw. Two little ones with similar coloring nestle against her plump belly sleeping soundly. 

Maria runs her hand along the wood fencing that keeps them penned in. She sighs heavily. The Nanny goat raises her head sleepily at Maria, watching her with marble eyes before going back to resting. 

You feel rather than see Maria shake her head. 

"You know what's funny? I helped make this barn. I helped fix up the old houses and man the dam and build these very pens." She clicks her tongue, as if amazed. "And until Douglas I never really slowed down enough to really see it, you know?"

You don't say anything; you just stand next to her, shoulders almost touching as you stare at the goat. Maria needs to talk and you need to listen, it's as simple as that. 

"When you move fast it's real easy to overlook stuff. Like, that my baby is gonna grow up in this place, probably gonna run things if he's anything like me or Tommy... Or me." She smiles. "But that's a real uncertain future. What if the dam stops working? What if things get worse?" 

She looks at you now and you turn to face her, your arm resting on the fence. 

"We were so damn selfish bringing a baby into this shit."

Her eyes are filled with tears, fresh ones and you watch her chin tremble. She looks away from you, back at the goat and her kids. One of the kids has woken up, stretching. Maria folds her arms on the fence before lowering her head to bury her face in them. She's so broken that it actually hurts you to watch it. 

Your hand goes between her shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles. She allows this, not tensing under your touch. 

The kid makes its way over to you both across the straw, giving soft little bleets. You cast a smile, watching as it attempts to nibble at the bottom of Maria's pants. 

"It's nature, Maria," you offer softly. "It's natural for some people to have the desire to create new life with someone they love." 

"You wouldn't," Maria says sharply. She's prickly now, exposed and hurt. She waits for your response with the look of someone waiting for a slip up. Or maybe hope that she's wrong. She deserves more than a lie.

"No," you admit truthfully with a slow shake of your head. "I probably wouldn't." 

Maria looks at the goat by her feet. 

"But you're so good with Douglas and you get along so well with Ellie."

You grin. 

"Well Douglas is an angel and Ellie, yeah, she's a cool kid. I probably like them so much because I don't have any of my own. Love surplus."

Maria seems to find this amusing because she looks at you with a small smile. 

"A love surplus. I like that." 

The two of you go back to looking at the animals, watching the Nanny goat who has just now realized that one of her babies is missing. She rises shakily before moving over to the quietly bleeting kid by you. 

"She doesn't know about tomorrow," you tell Maria, pointing at the mother goat. "She just knows she has a kid that she brought into this world and needs to protect it. That's all she can do. That's all she can control." 

Maria is quiet for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. 

"Are you really comparing me to a fucking goat?'

You hear the levity in Maria's voice and it brings a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

She gives you a playful shove with her shoulder. You grin before urging her to follow you to the closed barn door leading to the stables. You open the adjoining door to the stalls and feel your chest tighten when a familiar broad shouldered figure is seen standing by the pens. 

He's murmuring something to Chestnut, patting his nuzzle. But when the door creaks open he glances over quickly in the direction of the sound. When he sees you and Maria his brows rise in surprise. Maria walks towards him with a wave. 

"What are you doing here, Miller?"  

"Needed a break from Ellie. She’s found a new CD and she won’t stop fucking playin’ it. Givin’ me a headache."

He shakes his head good naturedly, as if to say some people’s kids.  But there’s no anger in it, no resentment, just gentle amusement.

“How about you two?”

"This one insisted I get out of the house," she says with a thumb pointed over her shoulder at you. 

Joel's eyes slide over to you, the depths of the dark brown color warm and sweet.

"Good." 

You feel your cheeks heating as he gazes at you before he drags his eyes back to a whinnying Chestnut.  

"I know, I know, your favorite girl's here," he murmurs to the horse. Something about the way he says it makes your heart flutter.  

"I thought we could come give Chestnut a snack," you explain holding up the carrots in front of you.  

"Only if you brought enough for the rest of the class," Joel teases. 

"We have enough." 

You hand Maria a few of the carrots from the bundle. You step towards Chestnut in his paddock walking back and forth eagerly as you approach. 

"I'll feed these guys," Maria says leaning over the opposite paddock to run her hand over Glimmers muzzle. Midnight stands in the corner, looking with uncertainty between you and Maria. 

Joel moves a little closer to you at the fence of the paddock, his eyes scanning the horses before you feel them coming back to land on your face. 

You can't look at him though; you know you'll give everything away if you do. It's getting impossible not to gaze at Joel these days, your eyes heavy with longing. Instead you keep your attention on the horse, your face warm. 

"Hello handsome boy," you croon at Chestnut. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Chestnut comes trotting over to see you, his downy muzzle coming to rub your cheek. You giggle at the sensation before raising the carrot in his direction.

"Okay charmer, relax. You're getting one." 

Maria feeds Glimmer and a few of the other horses as Chestnut chomps away on his treat, the chewing noises loud and pleasant. You place a kiss to the center of his forehead before rubbing his flicking ears. 

You hear Maria's entreating voice. 

"C'mon boy. Just a nibble." 

Maria holds out a carrot to Midnight who still stands off to the side looking petulant as the rest of the horses enjoy their morning treat.  

"He's a toughie," Maria says in amusement, holding the remaining carrot outstretched towards you. "You try." 

"I think Joel'll have better luck," you tell her, unable to look at the man as you say it. "Midnight likes him best." 

You feel Joel shuffle a little closer beside you, his forearms resting on the wood fence. He scratches his beard absently while he looks to the Midnight staring balefully at everyone. 

"You should do it," Joel says to the back of your head. "He's gotta learn to be less stubborn if he wants somethin'." 

You smirk at that before giving a shrug. "Sure, I'll try." 

You take the carrot from Maria, going to stand closer to Midnight's section of the pen. You hear Joel following you close behind. 

"He's picky," Joel informs you. "He only eats from the palm 'a your hand. Small pieces." 

You nod, cracking the carrot into several bite sized pieces before cupping them in your palm. You tilt over the paddock, clicking your tongue. 

Joel waves off the other horses who linger, waiting for a chance to get extra. 

Midnight watches Joel standing behind you before taking a wary step forward. You flinch when Joel's hand goes to your waist, holding you against him. His mouth is at your ear. 

"Stay real still or you'll spook him."

His hand squeezes your waist gently and your body trembles in response at being so close to him in front of someone else. 

You sneak a glance to see Maria's eyes fixed on Chestnut. She kisses the horse between the eyes, gently murmuring to him. You look back to see Midnight keeping his eyes on Joel as he ambles over, his nose twitching, catching the scent of the carrots. 

"Palm flat," Joel says huskily in your ear. You suppress a shiver at the sensation of his warm breath huffing against your earlobe. 

You know how to feed a horse from your hand safely. You're about to tell him as much when you feel his wide hand going to yours. He stands behind you, cupping the back of your hand in his and rising it towards the waiting horse.

You watch his arm under yours, lifting your hand and flattening. Your palm goes flat, the carrot pieces bunched together. Your breathing is unsteady, and you should be looking at Midnight but all you can focus on is how Joel's thumb strokes the side of your wrist. 

"Just let him take it."

You swallow at this, trying not to observe how silky Joel's voice has gotten. How it's dripping, sinfully sweet in your ear like honey. 

One hand stays on your hip, squeezing slightly. The other still holds your own hand under Midnight's mouth. Midnight still waits, looking at you with large, shiny eyes. 

"Go on," you say softly. 

You watch the distrustful animal bend forward, huffs of warm air falling over your palm. Then with gentle precision you feel him take the first piece of carrot into his mouth, crunching quickly. 

Joel's warm mouth is at your ear, his voice dropping an octave. 

"Good girl." 

It's murmured quietly. Your face feels like it has a heartbeat, throbbing in time with your pulse. You don't even mean to, but you let out a shudder exhale.  You hear Joel's breathing hitch before he steps back from you, clearing his throat. 

"Tommy up with the baby?"

Maria nods, staring at Glimmer.

"Yeah, when we left they were heading for breakfast."

"Might join him. I'll see ya later." 

You watch as Joel gives you both a short wave before ducking out the side door of the barn, closing it behind him. 

You cling to the fencing, feeling like you're going to pass out. There's something about Joel that gets you so wound up. You wanted nothing more than go home with him right now, to force him into bed and to ride him until his eyes roll back in his head. 

"We should head back too," Maria announces before shooting you a smile. "This was a good idea. Thanks." 

You grin; delight blooming behind your ribs. Maria already looks much more at ease, her countenance relaxed as the two of you walk back to her house. You can see the fresh tracks left by Joel in the snow, a trail leading you both home. 

"I like the two of you together."

Maria says this suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts. You fight to keep your face and voice neutral. 

"Who?"

"You and Joel."

Your head jerks back to face her, your eyes wide. You physically come to a stop, sliding in the icy patch of wet snow. 

"Excuse me?" 

Maria's eyes bounce between yours, trying to read your expression. 

"We're not …. That's not..." You stammer further when Maria stares at you, a playful smirk crossing her lips. 

"I’m not blind," she states sagely and you can see in her eyes that there's a relief in her knowing this part of you. Like she isn't the only one being vulnerable in this friendship. You feel the walls start to come down.

"It's new. I don't exactly know what it is." 

"But you're happy?"

A flush crawls up your neck as you suppress a small smile.  "Yeah." 

"I always thought there might be something there," Maria says tilting her head after the direction he left in. "You're a good match. Always thought so."

"Yeah, well, like I said it's still new. Nothing's official." 

Maria opens her mouth to say something but then thinks better of it. She settles for walking quietly with you towards her place. 

"I don't want people knowing," you say quietly. "Not until I've figured some stuff out. I'm pretty sure Joel feels the same." 

"Your secret's safe with me," she assures you with a pat on the back of your arm. "I won't say a word to anyone, not even Tommy. Not until you're both ready."

You don't speak anymore on it, but there's a lightness in you at having shared this. A strange relief that bubbles up in your chest at the realization that someone else knows about you and Joel. And that there was no recrimination or judgment involved. 

When you approach her house you see one of Maria's neighbors, Bethany, there with a pie, waving at you both. 

"I was hoping to have a visit," she tells Maria as the two of you approach. Your friend holds in a grimace, forcing a weak looking smile 

"That's so kind, Beth but I'm a little tired."

"Well that's fine by me. I'll just come read by the fire while you nap."

The woman's face is sweet and you can see the anxiety there in her eyes. Maria sighs before nodding, realization hitting you both. Tommy set this up in case he wasn't home yet. A babysitter. 

You and Maria bid each other a goodbye with a quick hug and then your feet are hurriedly making their way towards the dining hall. 

You're hoping to catch up with Joel. 

You feel like you're turning into a bloodhound because you're certain you can smell the leather of his jacket in the air. You round the corner of Magnolia Street and see his broad figure walking slowly down the sidewalk. 

Some folks wave a hello to him as they pass and you fight the urge to call out his name. Instead you walk quicker, watching his long legs carrying him to the dining hall. 

You watch as he comes to a stop in front of one of the shops, peering in and glancing around in the display window. 

You walk casually towards him, your boots crunching snow underfoot. Joel must hear you approaching because his dark eyes dart up to catch yours in the windows' reflection. Something about the sight makes your stomach flip. 

You walk up to him casually, aware that there could be eyes on you. You keep your eyes on his reflection, your heart loud in your ears. 

"You wanna come over for coffee?" 

Joel’s brow furrows.

"Thought you didn't drink coffee."

"Wasn't really talking about coffee."

You can't help the little smirk that crosses your mouth when you say this, surprised at even yourself. You don't miss the grin Joel hides behind his palm. 

"Yeah, okay."

He follows you home and then upstairs to your bedroom and fucks you so hard that your headboard chips some of the plaster off your wall. You laugh about it after when he remarks that he's "too strong for my own good” after coming so hard your body twitches well into the afterglow. You feel drowsy, facing Joel, his hand over yours. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about that night in the Bison?”

“Huh?”

“You were with your friends talkin’ about repairs he said somethin’ about  rememberin’ you and the stables.”

You cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. The day Joel sat next to you in the pub while Tommy brought up your embarrassing lack of carpentry skills and you go to pull the sheet further up your body.

“When I got here I volunteered to help with rebuilding the stables. Only I’m just as shit at repairs as I am with patrols.”

“You’re not shit with patrols.”

“Oh no?” you roll onto your side, grinning at him. “I feel like you may only be saying that considering what we’ve done on them.”

“Nah,” Joel says softly. “You got good eyes and good ears, and I’m a good shot. We make a good team.”

You snuggle closer to him in the bed, head resting on his chest and the two of you fall into a drowsy mid-day nap. You can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat underneath, lulling you into a comfortable half-slumber and before long you wake still in his arms. A moment of concern hits you when you see the sky is starting to darken and you glance up to see Joel is already awake, looking at you.  

“Will Ellie be waiting for you?”

“Nah, she’s visitin’ her friend.”

“So you can stay a little longer?”

You feel Joel’s smile on the top of your head. “Yeah.”

Thoughts of Ellie bubble up in your mind, her sweet smile and the way she talks about Joel like he’s the most wonderful man she knows. There’s a familial feeling despite their lack of blood relation.

“Ellie doesn’t really talk about how you two know each other,” you tell him, gazing up his shoulder. “She’s private like you.”

Joel exhales gently, his dark eyes unfocussed as he stares off into middle distance.

“I was takin’ her to the Fireflies. Tess and I were, actually.”

Tess, his not-quite-girlfriend if you recall correctly. The Fireflies that radical group your dad told you about.

“I didn’t wanna do it, but Tess had that way of persuadin’ me.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck. He speaks slowly, deliberately. “Tess got infected pretty early on, but she made me promise to take Ellie all the way to the Fireflies. It was the least I could do for her.”

Joel takes a deep breath, thinking back.

“S’funny, I couldn’t stand the kid when I first met her. Thought she was annoyin’ and reckless. But, you know Ellie, she has a way of makin’ you come around to her.”

You smile. Yes, she certainly does.

“Anyway, took us a while to get there and when we got there to the hospital, they. . . “ Joel blinks rapidly, his chest rising. “They wanted to operate on her. Cut open her brain and see if they could find the cure that way.”

“What the fuck?” It comes out of you in a rush, your eyes widening in disgust. You push up in the bed, clutching the blanket over your bare chest. “She was okay with it?”

“She didn’t know.”

Anger flashes in your eyes, unmistakable.

“How…Was it guaranteed? This cure?”

Joel shakes his head slowly. Your mind races, trying to understand how Ellie went from being with the Fireflies in the hospital, her life at stake, to living with Joel in blissful youth. It doesn’t add up.

“But, how did she get out?”

Joel sweeps his eyes to you, seeing your hand raised to your mouth and you almost wish he hadn’t. His big, dark eyes are so fucking broken that it literally takes your breath away. It’s like you can see the hurt living in him.

“I couldn’t save Sarah, but I could save Ellie.”

It feels like a gut punch and you go still, your eyes searching his.

“You got her out?”

“Yes.”

He stares you down, almost daring you to force him to justify his actions. It’s like he wants your ire or your disgust. You give him neither, instead you take his hand, nodding. You understand. You picture sweet, childish Ellie in a hospital gown; knocked out and unknowing her short life was at an end.

You can’t say you wouldn’t have done the same if you had the same tactical skill set.

“I’m done having the people I love taken from me,” Joel murmurs.

“Same here.”

There’s a heavy emotion in the air, something sweet that lingers. But it makes you feel strange, almost anxious. Despite this you take his face in yours and press a kiss to his pouty lips. You don’t miss the sheen to his eyes as he kisses you back, lowering you onto the mattress and making love to you slow and deep.

Help me forget, his body whispers, each groan and thrust a silent beg for you to take him away from that darkness. To repay him for all the times he’s made it go quiet for you. And you do, body drawing him closer, soft exhalations of his name again his neck.

You both continue to lay in the bed afterwards, sex warmed and intimate. You hear Joel begin to hum under his breath, a twangy tune you half remember. You let it twist lazily through the air, the deep notes spinning slowly in your mind. You prop your cheek up with one hand so you can grin at him. 

"Have you always been musical?"

"Since I could afford an instrument," Joel says with a far-off in his eyes. "Wanted to be a famous singer when I was a kid." 

"Yeah? Johnny Cash?"

"The man in black himself." Joel chuckles softly at your amused grin. "But I'm not a suit guy."

You watch his chest rise and fall in the following quiet. Your free hand twitches before it goes to rest gently over his sternum. You feel the smooth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat thumping steadily under your touch. He covers your hand there with his own heavy palm, keeping it there, keeping you close. 

"Sarah always got embarrassed when I sang in the car with her," Joel grins, eyes unfocused. "I'd be drivin' her to soccer practice and Elvis or somethin' would come on. I'd start singing and she'd cover her ears moaning that I was embarrassin' her." 

You grin at the remembrance of being a teenager girl with an embarrassing dad. Before everything went to shit you were a teenage girl who loved riding horses, going to the mall, reading, flirting with the guy that worked at the movie theatre. Anything to be considered cool. 

When your own father threatened to take you to school in his pyjamas and walk you to class if you skipped out of math again it had felt like the end of the world. 

How strange that the end of the world would happen not long after. 

"Did you ever want to be anything else?"

"Oh sure," Joel shrugs. "When my dad was teachin' me n' Tommy how to shoot I was convinced I was gonna be a hunter and that I'd live off the land, have my own farm. Then when I played highschool football I figured I'd do that professionally until Sarah came along."

You watch him speak, your mouth slightly agape as you take in every word he says. Every time he takes a breath you're worried that he's finished, that no more stories will be told. 

Suddenly you understand why Ellie sits and stares at you when you talk about the past, why she urges you to tell her more and more. 

This is an insight into a world you don't know, a world where Joel played guitar and dreamt about being a singer. A world where he went to Sarah's soccer matches. You want to learn more, to hear more. 

"What was Sarah like?"

It slips out of you before you can help yourself. It spills over your lips before you can realize how personal a question it is. Joel's dark eyes grow glossy in the moonlight and you mentally kick yourself.

"She was funny," Joel says, surprising you. He inhales slowly, eyes distant. "She was so damn funny without even tryin' to be. And she loved goin' to museums. I think I took her to every single one in Texas by the time she was twelve. She loved watching bad movies with me. I remember our favorites were the Curtis and Viper ones. You know those?"

"Action movie?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I was strictly a rom-com girl back then," you smile as you jiggle your hand against his sternum, prompting him. "What else?"

Joel gives a grin. 

"She was beautiful, had the most beautiful smile and she was so loving. To animals, to other people. That was my girl, all heart."

You close your eyes, imagining this girl with a bright smile and gentle disposition. You wish you could have seen more than the one photo of her you got from Maria.  

"She was smart as hell too, smarter than I ever was." He sniffs softly. "N' so responsible... Too responsible, maybe. I think she felt like she had to take care of me sometimes." 

"Take care of you?" You hope the shock isn't too evident in your features. The thought The Joel Miller would need someone taking care of him of all people surprises you. 

"Yeah, I think because..." Joel looks puzzled, as if explaining is impossible. "I think she saw me single, workin' all the time at a job I didn't really love, takin' care of Tommy, no social life, and she felt like I needed to be taken care of too. Was just in her nature to think of other people." 

You both fall silent as the words settle in your mind. 

"She sounds like an amazing kid," you finally whisper. "You were lucky to have her."

Joel's head slowly tilts until he's facing you, his gaze fixed and gentle. 

"Yeah. I was." 

You nod, lowering your cheek back to your pillow now. Your palm is still flat on Joel's sternum, his big hand over yours. You watch them rise and fall as he breathes, slow and steady. You chance a look up at his expression even though tears are prickling the back of your eyes. He's got a wet look to his gaze, the kind that turns his dark eyes into glassy marbles. 

You shuffle up the bed slightly, sliding your hand to his neck before kissing him slowly. His hand finds itself cupping your jaw as your lips move against one another. Joel sees you about to nod off, wrapping his arms around you and settling against you in the bed. You shift until he's curled around you, his mouth at your shoulder. 

"Sleep." 

Immediately you feel yourself dropping off. You think he says something but you can't be sure and you can't reply. You're asleep, nestled in the safe harbor of Joel Miller's arms. 

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that week and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller. 

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over. 

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home." 

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on the list along with items. Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables. 

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend. 

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still. 

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

Jennifer is laughing but you can sense a bit of insecurity there as well. She's good at so much in the world, but not this. You give her a half smile, shaking your head in amusement. You go back to the list and add Jennifer's name before writing "apple tarts" next to it. 

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts." 

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, breaking apart when you see an anxious-looking Ellie waving you over. Jennifer sees a few of her friends at the far side and mentions she’s going to catch up with them.

You sit across from Ellie, taking in the girl’s frantic features.

“I need your advice.”

You nod, attempting to listen but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell both she and Jennifer about you and Joel. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t seen much of each other to talk. It seems whenever the two of you do find time, most of it is spent with him between your legs and you falling asleep in his arms. Part of you doesn’t want to bring up the potential awkwardness of what’s to come. You don’t want to think of Jennifer hating you or Ellie being disgusted.

“….on Thursday?”

You're completely distracted, your eyes glazed as Ellie sits across from you. She repeats the question twice before snapping and calling your name. You blink, coming to attention. 

"Huh? What?"

The sounds of the dining hall come flooding back, reminding you where you are.

"I said Dina is coming over for dinner Thursday night," Ellie explains patiently. "And I wanna make it special. So could you help me make something good for dessert?"

"Sure, of course." You pause as you think about it. "I could actually use some practice baking apple tarts. How about I come over Wednesday after your school is done?"

"Great," Ellie says, satisfied.  

"So," you offer gently, not wanting to come off as annoying. "Is it like a date?"

"Don't know how much of a date it can be if Joel is sitting there scowling at the other end of the table," Ellie says with a frown. 

"I don't think he'd do that," you offer. "He'd give you privacy." 

"You don't know Joel," Ellie laughs into her porridge.

Her reply eases your mind. She clearly doesn't even suspect about you and Joel. You both need to talk about how you're going to explain it to Ellie. Something tells you it's got to be handled delicately and it should come from Joel. You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

///

"Damn, you're getting really good!"

You flush at the praise from Luke at the side of the target, giggling when Jennifer claps wildly for you. 

"It's just a lucky shot."

"One is lucky," Jennifer assures you, taking the gun from your hand. "Four is a talent."

You feel delight at this. Jennifer is a really good shot so to have her praising your skills makes it feel like you might sincerely be improving. 

You're glad to see her out here pink-cheeked and looking happy. She's even wearing a new jacket she made with embroidered roses along the collar. 

You went to her this morning and after a bit of gentle prodding she decided she was tired of being miserable and that she needed to get out and forget all about Oliver. 

So with Jennifer's gun slung over your shoulder you both knocked on Luke's door and the three of you make your way to the target practice site. 

You've all been taking turns with Jenny's gun, practicing your shots. It's at the range and no one is around. Tin cans and targets are set up far away. 

You watch as Luke sets up the tin cans you knocked over along the log before jogging back, his air huffing in front of him in the chilly air. 

Jennifer focuses her light eyes, lips thinning as she hones in on the targets. Her lean finger wraps around the trigger and then a crack sounds out and you see the first can shoot up into the sky. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... All of them go up into the air, knocked perfectly out of the way of the others. 

She readjusts her stance.

... 6,7,8,9,10. 

And on the tenth when the can flies up she shoots again, spearing it out of midair. Your jaw drops as it slams into the snow with finality. 

Just when you were feeling good about your four shots she goes and pulls off a perfect ten. Luke bounces up and down whistling

"Damn, Jenny!" 

You can't help but cheer loudly because that's some remarkably impressive shooting. You feel a tiny stab of jealousy at how easy she makes it look, watching her hand the gun to Luke. 

You take your turn setting up and jog over to the log, uprighting the cans along it for Luke before making your way back through the snow coming to stand next to Jennifer. 

Luke shakes out his arms before raising the weapon and aiming with intense focus. You and Jennifer watch, cheering when he hits most. 

You take a sip of hot chocolate from your Thermos, watching Luke's stance. You make a mental note to square your shoulders more. 

"Hey, come by the shop next week," Jennifer tells you as you both clap at Luke's next shot. "Gotta do the final touches on your dress."

"Sounds great."

Your pulse and heart flutter as you think about yourself in that dress. The graceful way you'll move into the dance, floating between the couples until Joel greets you by bringing you into his arms. You imagine him dipping you, kissing you with gusto, making you swoon inwardly. 

"Your turn."

Luke breaks you from this daydream by handing you the gun with an encouraging smile. You blink before thanking him and taking his spot. 

You raise the gun to your shoulder, bracing it there as Your eyes lower to the scope. The old empty bean can sits there just asking to be knocked over. 

Focus. Go quiet. 

Sometimes it comes to you, that ability to make things go a little quieter. You try to shut out all the noise surrounding you right now but you can't help but catch Luke's low murmur to Jennifer just as you pull the trigger. 

"Have you noticed Joel Miller lately?"

Your gun falters and the shot goes wild, burying itself into the log the cans perch on. You fight to keep your breath even. 

They don't notice your wild shot, both are chatting back and forth, focused on the topic at hand. 

"What do you mean?'

"He's different." Luke's voice is amused as you raise the gun back to your shoulder. "Not as miserable."

"I hadn't really noticed." 

"Bastard must be getting laid."

He and Jennifer share a laugh and you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to spill across your features as you pull the trigger.

///

"We start with the crust because that needs to be refrigerated for thirty minutes.”

It's Wednesday afternoon and you've arrived with all the components needed for apple tarts.

Joel answered the door the second before you knocked, his dark eyes dancing as you smiled at him. You hadn't seen him since Sunday and even though only three days had elapsed you felt yourself hold in a sigh at the sight of him. 

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Ellie was in the kitchen before sliding a forefinger through the empty belt loop of your jeans. With a gentle tug he pulled you into the house, capturing your lips with his as he closed the door. Then as if everything was normal he gave your ass a pat, nudging you in the direction of the kitchen.

Now you're in the kitchen next to Ellie, vibrating with your desire for him as you pull on your apron, trying very hard to concentrate on the recipe you found in one of the old library books you keep at your house. 

"Will you stay until they're out of the oven?" 

"Sure," you say, trying really hard not to think about Joel in the next room. The two of you begin working on the crust, mixing bowls in hand, butter softening and the sound of faint guitar playing in the background. Joel is playing his guitar and right now you’re dying to listen to him. But you’re here for Ellie and she deserves your undivided attention.

“So, this is all for Dina?”

Ellie flushes to her roots before shrugging; giving a half-smile that is so Joel-coded it makes your chest tighten.

“She uh, she’s good. She gave me a book for me to use when I sketch.”

She awkwardly brushes some of the hair from her face and you’re amused when she leaves behind a swipe of batter along her cheek. You grab a cloth and gently take her chin between your fingers.

“You’re a messy baker,” you tell her with affection, “just like Charlie.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“My sister.”

Ellie goes quiet at that, allowing you to rub the batter from her face. You work quietly, allowing the dough to rise before starting on the next step, peeling apples. As you do this Ellie brings a chair to sit at next to you at the sink.

“Tell me about Dina and the book.”

"We went for a walk to see the horses and uh, yeah, well she knows I like to draw and stuff so she got me this drawing book. So I can get the proportions right and stuff." 

"Ah, hence the dinner,” you say with a sly wink. “A little payback.”

"Yeah, I wanted to do something nice back and I found some of these old magazines at the library," Ellie tells you. "There was a lot of stupid shit in there and ugly clothes but there was this thing where people write questions to someone?"

"An advice column?"

"Sure. Anyway, it was this girl asking what counted as a date because she wasn't sure if this guy she liked was dating her or just being her friend."

"Oh yeah?" You try to hide the amusement from your face, especially when Ellie looks so serious about the topic. She raises her fingers, counting off what facts she's learned.

"Yeah so the other person says that a romantic date has just the two people on it, and the people dress up nice and they eat together and do an activity. So I'm getting dinner and then we're gonna have dessert and then I dunno, I'll think of an activity." 

Your mouth twitches as you fight back a grin at the innocence of Ellie. Despite everything she must have seen, there is a sweetness and naivety that charms you. 

 "You're really going all out, huh?"

"I want it to be special," Ellie explains, brows furrowed as she looks over the recipe you've written. 

"Trust me Ellie, this is special." 

Ellie doesn't look at you, but you see the blush under her dusting of freckles. The two of you begin adding the dry ingredients to the wet, swirling the mixture until it's ready to be formed. 

"Do you remember your first real date?" 

You take a moment from kneading, trying to recall and then you breathe out a small chuckle, nodding. 

"I do. I was twelve, it was Michael Ramos. He had tons of freckles and his hair was really curly. He asked me to the movies and when he showed up to my house he had these beautiful flowers for me." You smile fondly at the memory. "The movie was terrible and Michael was obnoxious, but I'd never gotten flowers before. I kept them until well after they died in the vase." 

Ellie laughs, imagining such a time. It’s hard for her; she’ll never know what it is to go to the movie theatres, waiting anxiously outside for your date in a new outfit as cars drive by. She’ll never experience the plush seats and dimming lights and the scent of popcorn in the air. She’ll  never see trailers for new movies or sing along to the dancing hot dog telling her to go to the lobby for snacks.

All Ellie will know is a crowded old building with a makeshift screen. She’ll know crowded bench seats and popcorn with no butter. She’ll be happy and content with this, but your heart aches for the traditions she’ll never experience like you did.

"Hey, I got paper," Ellie tells you after a beat. "We could make some of those paper flowers! Then I could give them to Dina!"

“Great idea.”

She scampers off, returning almost immediately with the supplies. The two of you take a seat around the kitchen table and she watches you intently as you fold. The two of you chat about the upcoming dance and target practice. Things are going swimmingly until a creak of wood sounds behind you and you force yourself not to tense.

Ellie glances up from her folded abomination, scowling at Joel as he enters the space.

"Just getting a water," Joel says holding up his hands in mock surrender before retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "Don't lemme ruin girl’s day."

He pours the water into the glass as Ellie wrinkles her nose. 

"Ew, don't call it that," Ellie says as she struggles to fold one of the stems. You smirk, murmuring to Ellie how to double fold the leaf. 

“It’s tricky but the folds need to be really precise,” you explain. “The sharp creases make it possible to fold back.”

You glance up to see Joel watching the two of you, his eyes stuck on the rose you're folding to show Ellie. He must feel your gaze because his eyes drift up to meet yours. He winks at you and you look away, flushing.

“Can you show me that part again?” Ellie asks, frustration lacing her tone. She’s intent on watching your fingers. You fight to keep them from trembling when Joel moves to stand behind your chair. 

You feel the warmth of him there behind you and you're shocked at how turned on you are just having him in the same room. You know you can't look at him too long, can't touch him as he passes. The inability somehow makes it arousing. 

"Those look nice," Joel murmurs in that deep, sexy voice of his. 

"They're fuckin’ hard to fold," Ellie grunts. She's completely consumed with the task at hand, her nose inches from the paper. 

You hold in a giggle when you feel Joel's fingers go to the bottom of your hair, winding a piece around his finger and tugging it gently, playfully. 

"I give up," Ellie sighs and you feel Joel's hand drop from you. He leaves the room and you feel your heartbeat slow a fraction. 

"Don't give up," you say, bringing her a new sheet of paper. "We'll go slow. Step by step." 

When Joel is gone from the room Ellie leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for you.

"See what I mean? He's gonna hang around me and Dina and make it weird."

You hold in a laugh. 

"Why don't you just send him over to Tommy's? Tell him you want him out of your hair for the evening. I bet Tommy'll keep him busy doing dishes or changing Douglas's diaper or something."

Ellie laughs at that. "That's a good idea." 

///

You begin the following day by wandering into town to get some groceries, just small staples like fruit and jerky for the days you sleep too late for breakfast or just feel like keeping to yourself.

You clean your house from top to bottom and strangely invested in having your space more colorful, you begin to hang more things on the walls. Paintings given to you during your move here, knick knacks you’ve gathered are put onto the coffee table. Books that rested in boxes are brought out and shoved onto bookshelves.

You stare at your belongings, lingering on the mantle before your feet carry you to Maria’s, your mind fixated on something. Tommy answers the door and encourages you to come in, citing that he’ll take Douglas for a walk while you two visit. The fire roars pleasantly and Maria looks more upbeat than when you saw her last. This encourages you. 

“You look different,” she says as she walks back into the room with two steaming cups of tea. She hands you one before settling on the opposite side of the couch, surveying you.

“Oh?”

“Lighter,” she says, scanning your eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

You give a soft giggle and not want to say much about that you change the subject.

"The party sure looks fun," you say through a sip of your tea.  "I'm making brownies and apple tarts for it."

"Oh yeah?" Maria gives a little half smile at this. "I haven't had apple tarts in years."

"Hopefully mine are decent."

"All your baking is good," she assures you with another sip from her teacup. "Ellie still brags about the pop tarts."  

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Maria smiles. “As for me, I think the turkey is gonna be a nightmare this year.”

"You want help?"

"Nah, apple tarts are more than enough as long as everyone remembers to bring their share. Last year Monica over on Trestle Ave said she was bringing cookies and she showed up empty handed, saying she forgot." Maria rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Except the year before she forgot mashed potatoes too.”

You both giggle over this, talking companionably about decorations (Yes, you and Jennifer have been planning on what to do) and the tree (Joel and you found a great one) and setting up (All three of you are planning to cut it down next week, closer to the event).

And not once does she mention the romance of you and Joel. Not once does she wink and nudge you with an elbow and pry for details and for that you are so grateful. You’re not at a place where you feel really comfortable talking about that yet. You think it’s because you still haven’t told Jennifer.

“Oh, I almost forgot, come with me,” Maria says out of nowhere, gripping your wrist and dragging you to her bedroom.

She pulls you beside the dresser and begins digging around in the top drawer. As she does this you notice the real photograph next to the bed, one you’d never noticed before. It’s of a young Tommy from his army days dressed in fatigues, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.

“He and Joel look so alike and yet so different,” you mumble, looking at the photo.

“I wish I had more photos,” she frowns glancing at it. “I have a few of my family, but I’m greedy, I want more.”

You smile.

"Hey can I borrow that photo of Sarah for a day?" You ask. "I'll bring it back tomorrow."

"Of course," Maria shrugs. "It's not going anywhere."

She moves to one side of the room, plucking the photo of Sarah from where it sits and hands it to you. You thank her before shoving it into your pocket. Maria digs in the desk under the window before giving a crow of delight.

“There it is!”

She turns back with a delicate gold chain holding a sweet dark blue sapphire. Or it could be a fancy blue rock; you’d never know the difference.

“That’s beautiful Maria,” you said admiring it. “Are you wearing it to the party?”

“No, you are.”

You look at her confused. She’s smiling broadly.

“I wanted to give you this,” Maria says, slipping the necklace into your palm. “I’ve had it for years and I think you’ll look beautiful in it.”

“Maria I can’t-“

“You can and you will. I want to give it to you. You said the dress Jennifer made you is blue. This’ll go perfect with it.”

You take it, your heart bursting. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever owned. You take it and gingerly place it in your pocket. You can’t wait to put it away in the drawer back home. You might just hang somewhere in the house so you can look at it all day.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Maria smiles, pulling you into a crushing hug before releasing you. The front door creaks open and you hear Tommy call out.

“Hey honey, Dougie and I are back. Brought you a coffee!”

Maria smiles indulgently before rolling her eyes.

“You know since the… you know,” she drops her voice and winces, “Tommy hasn’t left me alone for more than three minutes. Either its him or one of his babysitters.”

“He’s just worried, I guess.”

“I know,” she says with a small sigh. “I just feel like such a burden at times.”

You grow serious, hand on her shoulder. “Maria, no. Please don’t say that. I don’t know how I would have survived in this place without you.”

Maria isn’t close to crying, instead she has a strangely eerie calm about her. A resilience you don’t remember seeing before. She hugs you again, thanking you and citing that she’ll come to your place for coffee next time.

You bound home with a spring in your step, breathing deeply as the crisp air of the day invigorates you. You make a small detour to see Arthur and Penny before heading home with your groceries from earlier, thoughts on what to make for dinner. Perhaps you’ll have Jennifer over for dinner and talk to her then.

///

You’re in your kitchen later that evening thinking of how you’ll admit everything to Jennifer. Perhaps over dinner tonight you could soften her up? Remind her of how wonderful and understanding she is. Then the two of you could take a walk tomorrow and chat about it further, you could tell her then? Then it might be more palatable.

You’re still mulling this over when a knock sounds. You’re confused, walking over and pulling open the door.

Joel stands there, looking as handsome as ever. He smells different, like he’s wearing cologne or something. It’s heady and masculine and it makes you blink rapidly as you open the door wider.

"Joel. Hi. C’mon in."

You step back, allowing him to enter despite your confusion at his presence.  

"Told Ellie I was goin' out to give her privacy for her date," Joel says, stepping into your house. "You mind if I stay here for a bit?"

You close the door behind him. 

"Of course, c'mon in. I was just about to start dinner," you tell him, pleased.

"No need."

From behind his back he produces the bag in his left hand, the scent of chicken and potatoes emitting from it. He gives you a shy smile. 

"Stopped by the dining hall on my way here." 

"Amazing," you say grinning widely. "Follow me and I'll grab you a drink and we can dig into this."  

"Sure, thanks," he says clearing his throat. 

Before you can move he's brought his hand out from behind his back, thrusting a bouquet of wilted red paper roses towards you. Many have been folded over and re-creased. 

"I made some after you left the other day," he explains. "Ellie was right. They're hard to do." 

You feel a smile breaking out over your features. You take the bouquet from him, holding them as dearly as if they were real. 

"At least these ones won't die on ya." 

He quickly turns pink as you smile dreamily at him. 

"But only if you wanna keep em, I mean." Joel looks flustered. "You don't have to. I know they're kinda ugly but I remember you said red was your favorite color so-"

You wrap your arms around his middle before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He melts into it and you feel him relax in your arms. You can’t believe that big tough Joel Miller spent time hunched over his table, folding and re-folding paper just so he’d have flowers to give to you.

"I love them, Joel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he replies, ducking to kiss you again. 

You quickly place them into the vase along with your yellow flowers from weeks ago. You blink back the tears that are sitting there, just waiting to fall. To distract yourself you bring out a few apple tarts from your ice box, placing them in the oven. You set it to warm, wanting them to brown slowly. You don't want to rush this dinner. You want to take your time having Joel in your home.

"Can I help?" 

"Nah, just relax." 

Joel nods, fingers drumming anxiously on the table. 

"I like baking but I don't really enjoy cooking," you admit as you slice up the chicken and plate it, quickly followed by the potatoes and green beans. 

"I don't mind it," Joel says, taking a sip of his sweet tea. "Can't say it's my favorite thing to do."

You nod, passing him his plate and sitting next to him. The two of you begin to eat and you catch Joel glancing at the flowers in the center of the table. 

It's strange sitting across from Joel in your own home, digging into a dinner that smells delicious. It feels strangely domestic to have this man sitting across from you, eyes raising to yours between bites. 

"This is nice," you say without thinking. Embarrassment creeps up your neck the second the comment hits the air. But Joel surprises you by smiling and nodding. 

"Yeah," Joel says warmly. "It is." 

You go back to your dinner, taking slow bites and trying not to stare at Joel. 

Is this a date?

You can't ask that out loud, that would be humiliating. But it sure feels like a date. Flowers, dinner, being together one on one. All that's missing is an activity, according to the article Ellie read. 

If he suggests an activity this is definitely a date, you tell yourself. You can't help but observe that you really want this to be a date. 

"So Ellie and Dina," Joel says between bites. "Who saw that one coming?"

"Me."

 Joel raises his brows at you, amused. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was always complaining about Dina," you offer with a smile around your fork. "But I saw the looks she shot her."

"Really?"

You nod. Joel looks stumped. "I thought she hated her."

"That's how I knew she liked her," you say. "How does the saying go? It's a thin line between love and hate? Passion is passion."

Joel blinks, letting your words register. 

"It reminded me of Charlotte and this guy in her algebra class. He teased her all the time, for months. She hated him and I mean hated him," you push your peas around your plate as you reminisce. "Then Valentine's Day rolls around and who do you think got her chocolates and a card confessing he had a huge crush on her?"

Joel's fork is beside his empty plate, his focus rapt on this story.  "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

You giggle. 

"She smashed the chocolates and told him that next time he liked a girl he should try being nice to her."

Joel laughs loudly, the rich sound ringing through the air as you grin. You like that sound, it fills your small home and makes it feel cozy. 

"Damn, she and Ellie would have gotten along."

"You know, they actually would have," you acknowledge with a laugh. "Charlie didn't take shit."

"You called her Charlie?"

"Ever since we were kids."

And then out of nowhere it's there on the tip of your tongue. Desire to tell Joel everything. About Rock River, about the scar you wear. But the moment is so peaceful, this evening so beautiful and you want it to stay that way. You have so few truly happy memories, you want to cherish it. You want to file it away, a movie you can return to and watch over and over if things get grim. 

Joel must notice something in your face that betrays your mixed emotions because he glances over your shoulder, breaking the tension. 

"Damn, those tarts smell good."

Then he stands, taking his empty plate and yours over to the sink. You watch him, belatedly springing into action. 

"You don't have to-"

"S'okay," Joel insists gently, kissing the top of your head as he walks by. “You did enough.”

You feel your heart swelling as you watch Joel carry the plates and cutlery to the sink, pouring in soap. Joel's rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, humming gently to himself as the sink fills up, bubbles dotting the water. 

You launch yourself off the chair and go to your cupboard. You crouch down to pull out the red coffee tin from your low cupboard before straightening. You set the kettle on the stove, already half full from this morning's tea. 

Joel glances over, intrigued at what you're doing. 

"Thought you might want coffee with dessert,” you explain. “Interested?”

"Yeah, I'd love some."

You smile, pleased with yourself before scooping the coffee out of the tin. The smell is divine, rich and calming. You pour it into the paper filter, shoved in a homemade drip system you made out of an old sugar lid. 

Joel is drying the dishes by the time the kettle squeals. He turns, wiping his hands on the towel as he finishes, watching you pour the water over the coffee system. 

"Clever."

"Necessity is the mother of invention," you quote as you pour the remaining water over your teabag in the mug placed next to his. Joel puts the plates and cutlery away as you set the kettle back onto the stove and seal the plastic lid over the coffee canister. 

"You can take it with you if you want," you offer to Joel, holding the tin in his direction. 

Joel shakes his head, coming to take the coffee mug instead. 

"Nah, keep it. That way I'll have it to drink when I'm here." 

Something about the casual way he says it makes your heart flutter. Like he's planning on being here at your place often enough to need it.  The thought pleases you immensely as you watch him come back to the table. 

You bring out the apple tarts, inhaling the rich aroma of cinnamon. It takes you right back to fall nights with your family. Joel is wandering around your living room with his coffee mug, sipping slowly as he takes in the portrait over the hearth. 

"You got it framed," he observes. His voice sounds strangely unimpressed. 

"Yeah, the woodshop guys whipped it up for me," you say over your shoulder as you plate the warm tarts. 

Joel hums, but you think you can hear judgment in it. You have no idea why. You hear his footfalls as he moves around your space. You watch him peer at the bookshelf and table before he turns to you.

"You got playing cards?" 

"Uh, yeah I think so," you say absently motioning towards the cupboard by the door. "Top drawer." 

You watch Joel dig around inside the drawer before finding them next to a few old pencils and a collection of dust. He brings them back, his eyes on you as you place the plate of tarts in the center of the table before you sit back down with your tea. 

"You wanna play Texas hold ‘em?" Joel asks as he takes his seat. 

"How cliché, Texas," you muse, taking one of the tarts off the plate. "How about crazy eights instead?"

"Damn haven't played that one in a while," Joel says shuffling the cards. You watch how smoothly he does it, fingers snapping the cards together, loosely shuffling. He deals you both eight cards and as you lift them to read you realize something. 

Playing cards together is an activity.

This is a date. You're on a real date with Joel Miller. Your cheeks heat as you glance at your cards, smiling widely. 

"So what are we playing for?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Whenever I played cards with friends or my sister the winner got something as a prize." 

Joel's brow raises, a smirk crossing his plush lips. He tilts back in his chair slightly, pressing his lips together in thought. 

"What were you hopin' for?"

"I dunno," you shrug, distracted as you parse through the cards in your hands. "Winner picks I guess. Anyway, I think I go first."

Forty minutes later, six tarts, two drained mugs and the two of you are both on three. You watch as Joel lays down the remainder of his cards. 

"Two."

"You're cheating," you huff, knowing he's not. Joel breaks out into a soft chuckle, amused at your poor sportsmanship. 

"Don't need to cheat when I'm this good." 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and the game continues. You crow when you pick up a six of spades on your following turn, matching the remaining six of hearts in your hand. You slap it onto the discard pile in the center of the table. 

"I'm on two!"

Joel just smiles patiently at you, holding his growing collection. You can tell he thought he'd be out by now. You pick up the two cards at the top of the deck, your heart leaping. It's the two of clubs and the two of hearts. 

Joel scowls, looking at his hand before picking up another card from the deck. You slap down your pair, eyes bright with delight. 

"One!" 

You reach for the top of the deck, sliding the top card face down towards you. Joel watches this, his dark eyes tracking your card. Joel and you look across the table from one another, cards in your hands. You're playing for something, you just don't know what. 

He places down a jack of hearts, quickly followed by the five of hearts and the five of clubs. He still has two cards in his wide fingers. Tension is now palpable in the room. It wasn't there for the majority of the game, but you feel it pounding between you now, so strong you can almost taste it. 

Joel's eyes dip to your chest and then your mouth and then finally back up to your eyes. It's clear what Joel is going to demand if he wins this game and it makes you swallow nervously. It wasn't where your head was at previously but now that's all you can think about. Demanding a prize from Joel Miller, anything you want. Now your eyes drop to roam his body, your thighs pressing together. 

"Go on," Joel encourages softly. "Let's see what you've got." 

You glance down at your card, licking your lips nervously. You feel a broad grin stretch across your face as you slap the card down on the pair of fives.

An ace of hearts. 

"I win!" You pump your hands in the air dramatically. "And the crowd goes wild!"

You raise your hands to cup around your mouth as you make fake group cheering noises. Joel watches all of this with a soft little smile on his face. You lower your hands, unsure of what to make of his expression. 

"What?" 

"Nothin'," Joel says with eyes butter soft and a voice to match. "Just like seein’ you happy is all." 

He must realize how sincere and sweet that sounds because he clears his throat and tosses his remaining cards onto the table. 

"Guess I should let you win all the time."

"Yeah right," you laugh, taking the cards and shuffling them together before placing them into the card sleeve. "You just can't accept that I'm finally better than you at something."

Joel looks like he wants to say something but decides better. He just watches you, dark eyes scanning your features as you place the cards to the side. The undercurrent of tension is still there, a gentle thrumming that tightens your nipples under your sweater. 

You rise from your chair slowly, noting that its only Joel's eyes follow sharply as you approach him, the rest of him remains still. You come to stand next to him seated in the chair, your pulse ticking. 

"I won," you murmur.

Joel remains sitting, but he swivels around to face you. You watch him reach around your legs and you feel his wide hands come to land on the back of your thighs. Your stomach jumps when you feel his palms slowly sliding up. 

"Yeah, you did."

His big hands are warm through your jeans, fingers tightening as they curve around your ass.

"So I think it's time for my prize," you whisper, almost embarrassed to say it out loud. 

His cock lengthens in his jeans, straining against the zipper and Joel tugs you to come stand between his parted legs. Your pelvis tilts towards him when he begins to knead your ass, lust clear in his expression, but his eyes never leave your face. 

"Whatever you want it's yours," Joel murmurs eyes like bright coals as he waits for you to decide. 

"Anything?"

Joel tilts his head, amused. "Within reason."

You smile back, eyes disappearing into crescent moons before you nod. His smile fades slowly when you begin to kneel between his legs, your jeans hitting the floor gently as you grip his thighs on the descent. 

His breathing is elevated as he watches you smile up at him from your position. He tenses, flinching away when your fingers go to his belt. 

"Hey," be rasps, hands coming to cover yours. "What're you-"

"I'm collecting my prize," you remind him firmly, pushing away his hands. "Anything I wanted, yeah?"

Joel hesitates, dark eyes bouncing between your mouth and your gaze. He's throbbing under his jeans; you can feel it through the denim. Finally he relents, leaning back in his seat with a creak of the old wood at his back. 

"Yeah." 

You nod satisfied before tugging down the zipper through the teeth of his fly. He watches you smiling, nibbling your lower lip in anticipation as you pull him from his boxers. 

He's hard of course, the weeping tip a rosy blush that has you aching between your own legs. You are momentarily snapped from your trance when you feel Joel's palm curving around your cheek. 

"You don't have to do this," he murmurs down at you, concern marking his features. 

"I know," you answer back honestly. "If I thought I had to I'd never do it."

Joel chuckles at your honesty. Then he watches as you lower your mouth to his waiting cock. You keep your eyes on him as your tongue gives a gentle drag around the tip. Joel swallows, grunting at the sight.

You swallow him shortly after, finding yourself desperate to have him in your mouth again. When all you can taste and breathe and feel is him in your mouth you sigh happily, eyes glazed as you stare up at him.

"You sure you like doin' this?' Joel murmurs, the indecision clear in his eyes. "Still?"

"Mhm," you offer, your mouth stuffed full of him. You don't just like it, you love it. 

And unlike all the times before, Joel is so gentle. He barely moves his hips and his eyes are on you the entire time. When in your eagerness you take too much of him and gag, he presses his bottom into the chair, trying to inch out of your mouth. 

"Hey, hey, you really don't have to do this." 

His hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing as he pulls you off of him. It's tender and sweet. 

"I want to," you whisper. "Please, Joel."

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes flitting between yours and then finally, he nods.

Your mouth circles the head, tongue flicking the underside of the mushroom shape until you feel his legs start to twitch. Then you take all of him, tonguing him as you go. 

"Fuck, you look so good like that," he rumbles, his mouth parted. You preen under the compliment, smiling around his cock.   

You and Joel never look away from one another and you revel in the rumbled helpless sounds he makes as he watches. You continue like this, taking your time, enjoying the intimacy of the act in a completely new way. 

"You take what's yours," Joel murmurs, echoing his words of days earlier. 

He comes hard, but instead of it being done with cruelty it feels intimate, like he's letting you see a private part of him as he gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he floods your mouth. You swallow him down, savoring the taste of him. Joel's cheeks are blotchy pink and he's breathing heavily. You smile up at him, blinking slowly like a satisfied cat. 

You squeal when he launches forward, gripping you around the middle and bringing you into his lap. He grips your jaw, kissing you fiercely as you squirm along his softening length. You feel heady and powerful making a man like Joel come apart like that. His taste still lingers in your mouth as your tongue dabs his. 

Your arms circle his neck, holding onto him as he grips your thighs tightly. You roll your hips against his, unable to stop the whimpering that escapes you at the pleasure it brings. 

"Those sounds," Joel groans against your mouth. "Those fuckin' sounds you make." 

His hands are curving around your ass, holding tightly, urging your core against his pelvis. You rut against him, sitting on his lap, kissing him lazily. You can't get over how natural it feels to hold him to you, to have him in your home like he belongs there. 

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joel murmurs between kisses, nudging your nose with his, urging you to tilt your head. You move your head back, his mouth nibbling down your jaw as you moan at the sensation. No one has ever called you sexy, you don’t even think the word fits you. But Joel is rutting against you and you believe he believes it.

"Joel," you breathe when his teeth scrape your pulse point gently. Joel groans into your neck at the sound of his name on your lips. 

You feel him twitch to life between your thighs and you can barely hold in your pout when he urges you off his lap. But it's replaced by a grin when he herds you in the direction of your bedroom, swatting your bottom playfully, citing:

"Now it's time for the runner up prize." 

You can only laugh at that until his mouth meets your core and then all you can do is moan. He works quickly and it's only a matter of time before your hips are rolling against his mouth as his wide palms pin you in place. 

Your hands are fisted in the sheets as he pulls pleasured noises from you. He holds your thighs in position over his shoulder as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking with his tongue. You let out a sharp cry.

"Joel, I'm so close!" 

You watch his eyes slowly crack open, pussy drunk as he looks up the length of your undulating body. The sight causes you to arch your spine, and when you release you can only hear the sound of Joel's delirious pleasure as he feasts between your legs. Then just as you feel you’re going to pass out from the bliss he tugs on a condom and lines himself up with your core.

"Gonna take me now," he tells you, hips gently rutting against yours. "Gonna take it all, yeah?" 

You nod, already feeling so loose limbed and relaxed. He smiles down at you, his cock circling your entrance before with aching slowness, he sinks into you. The sensation causes both of you to groan in unison, eyes locked. 

"Look at that," Joel whispers, groaning as your cunt starts to milk him, eyes trained on where you join. He feeds his cock into you until your clit rasps against the curls at the base of his cock. "Look at you takin' me so well." 

He moves slowly against you, his body curling over yours; protector, leader. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, body jerking under his as the pleasure floods you. 

“That's my good fuckin' girl," he grunts before his mouth comes crashing against yours again.

Then it's frantic, his hips rutting against yours, his arms holding you to him and you feel him release deep within you through the condom before you're tumbling quickly into a second pleasured release. Sweaty and smiling in the afterglow you snuggle together.

“I liked your prize.”

“Me too.”

///

A short while later you exit the shower in your sleep clothes to find Joel still lying in the bed, under the sheets. He looks like he's contemplating something. You turn off the bedside light. 

"Can you stay the night?" you whisper, climbing under the covers and snuggling up to him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You feel Joel smile at the crown of your head. "I can stay."

The room is dark, the moon low in the sky this evening. Everything feels quiet and calm. Joel’s arms are around your, holding you to his side. Your fingertips trail along his sternum, feeling the warm flesh there. Joel’s finger begins tracing the scar under your ribs. The one you know he’s curious about.

“It was an old woman that did it,” you whisper in the darkness. “She attacked me when we broke into her house. She wasn't evil or anything. Just a scared woman who thought I was there to hurt her."

You don’t miss the way Joel’s arms tighten around you. You lapse into silence, the soft tick of your alarm clock the only sound aside from your breathing.

“You never said what happened to your sister.”

His voice is soft, softer than the way he holds you, softer than the way his breath feels huffing against your neck. You don’t answer him. He feels your hesitation and so he changes tracks.

"What's your favorite memory with her?”

The question floods your eyes and brings a shaky smile to your face. Your favorite memory? How can you pick just one? In all the years of sisterhood there were so many to choose from. And yet as you lay here in the quiet of night one comes to mind immediately.

"Easter, I was in the fourth grade, she was in the third. We always had to wear these stupid matching dresses and frilly socks and bows in our hair for the family pictures and then this big family dinner my mom would host. We looked fucking ridiculous. I wish I had the photos to show you.”

You hear Joel’s soft chuckle.  

“Anyway, the dress that year was really itchy. I mean I don't know what the fabric was, but it was awful. The tag drove me nuts and all I wanted was to be rid of it. I was almost in tears with how much I hated it and I told Charlotte as much.” You shift in the bed, your memory carrying you away. “ So we're starting the hunt for eggs, mom's got the camcorder following us around while dad is giving hints where to look. And all of a sudden I feel these hands come up from behind me and shove hard. I go flying, the eggs go flying out of my basket, I slide into the biggest mud puddle, I'm drenched, the skirt part of the dress is torn, and it’s done for.”

“Oh shit,” Joel chuckles again.

“Yeah, and I turn around and there's Charlotte with a strange little smile on her face. And you have to understand that Charlotte was the good daughter. Never did anything wrong. And I'm crying because it hurt and my knees sting and my eggs are gone. But Charlotte is just smiling down at me until my mom marches over all furious, she saw everything. Charlotte is immediately sent inside after a swat on her butt and I have to inside and change into some old dress from Christmas. A lot more comfortable.”

“Less ruffles?”

“Ruffle-free,” you tell him giggling. “Charlotte and I shared a room and I remember going to change and she was on the bed, all teary from being grounded. I remember asking her why she did it because she was never a violent kid. And she looks at me all serious and goes, ‘Now you don’t have to wear the itchy dress.’”

Joel makes a sound halfway between a chuckle and an ‘awww’.

“So I brought her my chocolate basket and thanked her. And The thing is I remember confessing to my mom that Charlotte and I hated the dresses and my mom telling me "Charlotte doesn't mind." And I told her "Sure she does. She hates it just as much as me." My mom had this little smile on her face. "You know why Charlotte never complains that I get you the same matching dresses every year? Because she thinks the two of you look like twins. You're her hero." I've never forgotten that. Her hero."

The smile dies along with the warmth in your eyes as the last sentence is uttered.

And then the fire is extinguished, the flame snuffed out. 

///

Jennifer and you walk quietly through the snow, darkness encroaching. Your feet feel heavy, your body hollow. You look at her, heart sinking when you see she’s not even attempting to make eye contact with you.

"Please say something, Jenny." 

She looks upset, her beautiful face crumpled. She winces away from you as the two of you come to a stop. Snow whirls around you, the world around you both grey. This is not going how you wanted it to. Jennifer looks devastated.

"You knew I liked him."

Tears run down her face. You wish you could hug her but your arms won't move from where they hang at your sides. 

"You lied to me." 

"I didn't mean to, Jennifer." 

Your eyes go to the ground, watching the flakes circle your ankles.

"He's going to break your heart." 

You look up from the snow in just enough time to see the knife raised above Jennifer's head in her shaking hand. The blade is brought down brutally, stabbed into the center of your chest with a wet thunk. Red blooms under the wound and your eyes fly from the injury to Jennifer. 

But it's not Jennifer anymore, it's Charlotte. Red runs from the deep sockets where her eyes once were, her nails black and broken. When she bares her teeth they're rotted, many missing. She leans forward and her stringy hair clings to her sagging flesh. She bares her teeth again. 

"Where were you?"

"I'm sorry!" You cry out, the injury forgotten. You reach for Charlotte, trying to grip her but she's floating back from you, her hands outstretched. 

"Don't leave me!" 

You scream out, running after your little sister but your feet won't move fast enough. She's being pulled by an unseen force, disappearing into the ether. You scream again, ragged and desperate. 

"Wake up!" 

Someone is shaking your shoulders and you jerk awake mid-sob, your entire body trembling. Your legs are tangled in the sheets and your hair is soaked with anxious sweat. You blink in the darkness, taking a moment to register where you are. All you know is that you're crying and you're terrified. 

You feel strong arms envelop you, pulling up into a strong, firm body that begins rocking you gently.

"Hey, you're safe, you're safe." 

Joel’s voice is thick with sleep and it rumbles against your ear. 

"Shhh, shhh, you're okay," Joel soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're okay."

You cling to his sleep-warmed body as tears wet the front of his t-shirt. Your fingers are claws, digging into him like you'll never let go. His mouth is at the curve of your ear. 

"What happened?" 

His softness, his strength, his gentle way of sitting there and holding you gives you the ability to find words. 

"N-nightmare," you hiccup. 

You blink away the damp to see Joel peering at you in the darkness. He brushes the hair from your eyes. 

"Wanna tell me about it?"

You shake your head, feeling your face fall again as you think of the pain and the hurt in dream Jennifer's eyes. Of Charlotte’s screams. You sniffle, bowing your head into the crook of his neck and continuing to cry softly. 

Joel holds you, waiting for you to catch your breath. The tears and whimpering cries soon ebb, leaving you sagging against him. Your face is hot, the tears brushed away by the back of your arm. 

"You wanna glass of water or somethin'?"

His fingers skate up and down your spine, his voice a rumble against your ear. If you hold your breath you can hear his heartbeat slow and steady. 

"No. I'm okay."

You gently extricate yourself from him, lowering yourself back onto your pillow. Joel does the same, rolled onto his side, gazing at you. 

Joel is a man that's often hard to read and you think it's the wall he presents to the world, a way of guarding the softness in him. But half asleep and with you there's nothing flinty in the way he looks at you. 

Your palm rests between your bodies on the mattress. His hand covers it, thumb brushing your knuckles. You welcome his touch, eyes locked on his. His even breathing and his touch are comforting to you as the dream fades in its terror.  

"It was my sister," you say quietly. "Charlotte."

Joel nods, his beard rasping against the covers. He doesn't push you for any further information; he just lays there with quiet calm radiating from him.  There's something about the way he holds your silence and your pain that makes you feel safe. You know that you could pretend to go back to sleep, that you could just ignore what happened. But something compels you to tell him. Something no one else in the entire world knows.

"Joel, I want to tell you about Rock River."

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death. Human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), dirty talk, trauma, clickers. I think that's it.

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

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@gossipgirl-03

Hi everyone, this is my first time posting and my first time writing a fanfic. But here I am, inspired to write something after reading so many amazing Peaky Blinders fics on here. This is a bit of an out there story, think Peaky Blinders meets time travel, supernatural themes, the modern world, gypsy magic and very unusual circumstances to the start of a relationship. A quick thank you again to @cillmequick for proof reading my story and giving me the courage to post it.

A Ghost Of A Man (PART ONE)

Summary: Reader discovers a curious looking folder full of information on a Small Heath gang from the 1900's. After digging for more information she encounters someone or something in an abandoned building.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

Growing up close to Birmingham you had always felt drawn to the famous west midlands city. So drawn to it that you decided to enrol in the history course Birmingham University had to offer. You had a passion in particular for local history and books, you knew so much about the city, and one day you hoped to work in its biggest library. But it was not only history you had a passion for but also antiques. You would often visit small antique shops around the city, certain objects catching your eye, taking them home, then spending countless hours researching the object trying to find out the history behind it. You had quite the collection of items now, taking up the majority of space in your flat that you shared with your friend. Your friend Louise was also a student in history, you met Fresher's week at Uni, and after getting along so well you both decided to ditch student accommodation and rent out a flat together in and old house just outside Birmingham city center. You called it a flat because you didn't know what else to call it. It was more of a converted attic in an old house, the ceilings were low and the floorboards creaked no matter where you stepped but it was worth it, worth it for the vast view of old rooftops with their decaying chimneys, and the remnants of buildings from Birmingham's industrial past that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. You would often find yourself sitting in the large armchair that occupied the spot next to the small round window in your bedroom, gazing out at the bricked buildings you wondered what life was truly like a hundred years ago in this city. You would get so lost in your thoughts looking out the window that you would often get this overwhelming feeling like you were not supposed to be here, you were living a life that was yours but in the wrong era, it was overpowering at times. You always put it down to your passion for the past and your longing to experience life in a different time. But was it?

It was Sunday, a day you enjoyed the most. Why? Because it was the day you would drag your friend to the antique markets. She loved history but was baffled why a 20 something year old girl would love old dusty smelly objects that in her opinion were better of in the bin.

"Come on Louise, please?"

"Jesus Y/N, don't you have enough old crap?"

" Erh no never...plus I have been waiting for this particular antique fair all year, everyone's hyped for it"

"Hyped for it? Do 70 plus year olds get hyped for things?" Your friend asked with a laugh.

" I'll have you know there are plenty of younger people that go to these markets, it's quite boujee nowadays to decorate your place with little antique nick nacks here and there"

" Boujee" She laughed "fine but you owe me a coffee and the biggest slice of cake available. Why is this one so special compared to the hundreds of others we go to every year?" She said trying to hide her laugh.

" Well...this antique fair will probably never happen again, its only antiques collected from one particular area of Birmingham, Small Heath"

You saw the flyer for the event on your way to Uni one day. After checking online for more information you knew you couldn't miss it, it was a one off event. Apparently the building everything had been stored in for over a hundred years had been brought by property developers and they wanted to get rid of it all, and quickly. The collection was supposed to be sold off to a museum but when the museum decided they no longer wanted to buy the lot of items it was left to collect dust, now everything had to go. Online it stated that there would be all sorts of items from local businesses to household items, clothes, jewelry, books, old newspapers, documents and furniture. You had to go.

Living in Sparkhill not far from Small Heath you decided to take public transport. After a short bus ride you made it to the antique fair. It was already pretty busy and much to your friends amusement you was indeed the only ones attending that weren't over the age of 60.

" Don't say anything" you mumbled to her.

" Are you sure your not from a different century? " She laughed.

Rolling your eyes grumbling to yourself you started to browse the tables. You was amazed at how well preserved everything was. There was everything you could think of for sale, a lot of it out of your price range but you couldn't help but lose yourself looking through it all.

" Y/N, come look at this old pub stuff" your friend called over.

" The Garrison? Do you think that was the name of the pub" you said looking at a large wooden plaque with the name written across it.

" Must be... Ooh! look at these old whiskey glasses, how much are these? She asked the man behind the table.

" For a set of four, 10 quid love"

" You don't even drink whiskey" you leaned into her and whispered.

"I'll take them. She nodded to to the seller. " Well I can put some Bailey's in them, that's close enough right?"

Shaking your head laughing you wandered off to the next stall. Bending down looking into a box you saw some old documents in a paper folder tied together with a red string "The Peaky Blinders ".

" Can I open this ?" you asked the woman.

" Go ahead darling" she nodded.

Opening it up you came across newspaper articles, business documents, police reports and one name In particular that kept popping up, Thomas Shelby. Quickly skimming over an article It talked about a razor gang called the Peaky Blinders based in Small Heath and the leader of that gang was one Mr Thomas Shelby. You were intrigued.

" How much for everything?" You asked.

" For you my lovely 20 pound"

A little pricey you thought, considering you could probably find all this information for free at the Sparkhill library you worked part time at but these were the original documents and newspaper clippings so you decided to go ahead and buy them.

"What did you find?" your friend asked while looking through some old books.

" This old folder about a razor gang that used to operate around here in the early 20th century"

" Riveting" She laughed.

" Ha.ha, I thought it would be a good idea for our latest Uni assignment"

" When our lecturer told us to pick a prominent figure that helped in the building of Birmingham's industrial and economical past I don't think he ment a razor gang Y/N" she laughed.

" It's still interesting though, could be a different take on the assignment? From what I have read so far this Thomas Shelby sounds like a dangerous man"

" I guess it is, if you like bad boys right?" She giggled linking arms with you as you both continued to look through the stalls.

"Wow Louise look at this necklace" you said as you beckoned your friend over with your hand.

"That's beautiful Y/N, you should get it"

The necklace itself was a small gold locket, turning it over there was the engraved initials M.S.

"I wonder who M.S was?" You asked your friend.

"Don't know" she said brushing her thumb over the engraving" but I'm sure with your research skills you will find out"

You continued to look at the locket, you tried opening it but it appeared to be jammed. Just as you was examining the locket for any damage an older lady appeared next to you. Her hands were adorned with rings and she had a curious looking necklace hanging around her neck, noticing you looking at it she spoke to you.

"It's the black Madonna" she said pressing the palm of her hand on it smiling to you. "It keeps me safe".

"It's beautifull, I've never seen anything like it" you said looking at her. She looked familiar, but you couldn't figure out where you had seen her before.

"You should get that" she said putting a friendly hand on your arm.

"Sorry?" You replied confused.

"The gold locket" she said opening your clasped hand around it. "It belongs with you" she said as she closed your hand around it again.

"I'm sorry, have I met you before? You look so familiar" you said as her piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours.

Shaking her head she smiled sweetly. "Maybe we knew eachother in another life"

Smiling back you opened your hand and looked at the locket nestled in your palm. She was right it did feel like it belonged to you, you couldn't explain it, you was drawn to it.

"I think I will get it" you said to the seller.

Turning to face the old lady, she was still looking at you, when you noticed a small tear in the corner of her eye.

"Thank you for convincing me, I'll treasure it" you said, slightly worried that you had upset this dear old lady somehow.

Patting your arm she turned and walked away giving you one last endearing smile.

"Who was that?" Asked your friend

" I don't know, but I feel like I know her from somewhere" you said your eyes following her as she disappeared through the market.

You continued looking through the antique fair for another hour, nothing else catching your eye you both decided to go have some lunch.

A few hours later you arrived back home. Going straight to your bedroom, you looked at your new locket and decided to try it on. It sat perfectly in the middle of your chest, you smiled at yourself in the mirror slightly adjusting it to make it straight. Sitting on your bed you opened up the folder you brought and started to read through everything.

How had you never heard of this gang? You thought to yourself. You knew almost everything about Birmingham's past. These documents looked official though, like someone was collecting information on them. Maybe they were never ment to be seen by anyone. Which begged the question how did they end up in a box at an antique fair? Feeling tired and overwhelmed with information you closed the folder deciding to research through the archives at work tomorrow.

The next day at work on your break you logged onto your computer. Clicking on archives you started typing key words into the search bar. Peaky Blinders, Birmingham razor gang, Shelby family, Small heath gang, Watery lane betting shop, Shelby company limited, Thomas Shelby. But nothing, nothing came up. One last go you thought to yourself, and you typed T.Shelby. There was one link, a death certificate. Clicking on it, you realised it was a death certificate for Thomas Michael Shelby born January 1890 death February 1922 Small Heath, Birmingham. It didn't state how he died, but mentally calculating his birth date and death date you realised he died pretty young. You was so intrigued by this gang, if you was going to use them for your assignment you needed to know more. Slightly frustrated with the lack of anymore information, you decided to dig deeper.

"Janette?" You said calling over to your boss." Will you do me a huge favour?" You said with pleading eyes.

"What do you need now?" she said as she crossed her arms with a slight chuckle.

"Can I have access to the Birmingham Journal newspaper archives"

"What year?"

"1922"

"We should have them upstairs in the storage room, but first things first are you going to tell me what your looking for?" your boss asked curiously.

"I'm doing research on this gang for Uni, the leader Thomas Shelby died in 1922 but on his death certificate it doesn't say how, don't you find that weird?"

"It's not that unusual, if he was part of a gang the authorities would have probably tried to cover it up, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if the police were on his payroll" she laughed raising her eyebrows. "Go on then, just be careful those books are very old, we really need to photocopy them onto the online database, I've told Richard plenty of tim..." She trailed off as she walked away still talking to herself.

Up in the storage room you was losing hope, you had already gone through two very large books filled with news articles from 1922. Pulling out the the third book from the shelf you let out a big sigh. Turning to the first page the article talked about an Italian gang and a man called Darby Sabini "wrong gang" you huffed. Ten pages later at the bottom corner of a newspaper was a short article. " Birmingham gang leader from small heath killed by rival gang". This has to be it you thought. It didn't specify it was the Peaky Blinders gang, but how many other gangs could there have been in Small Heath? It stated that... "The leader of the notorious Small Heath gang had been beaten within an inch of his life in an alleyway by a rumoured rival Italian gang, and was later found dead slumped in his office chair". You sat back in your chair sighing "Jesus Christ, what a way to go" you said aloud. He must have made his way back to his office, and died right there at his desk you thought. Curious you decided to find out where his office was located. After a few minutes of searching you found it on the online property census under the name "T.S Offices". It was close to the city center not far from Small Health. Checking the bus route online you realised the bus to his office passed right by Watery Lane.

Looking up at the clock, only 10 minutes left untill the library closes you said to yourself. Tapping your pen on the desk, fiddling with your new gold locket you was getting agitated, was you really going to do this? It was a pretty morbid thing to do, visiting the place where someone had died, but you had invested so much time into knowing about this man's life. You knew who his family was, that he served in the first world war, that he had an illegal betting shop heck you even knew where he brought his suits from, although you questioned if he actually brought them. You had read everything in that folder you found at the antique fair, tried to find anything on the online databases, you needed a conclusion to his story.

Finally it was five o'clock, packing up your things and turning off the front desk computer you hurried out the library waving goodbye to your colleagues. Walking to take the bus it finally occured to you that the office building was probably no longer there or had been converted into a block of flats. Stopping you started to turn around away from the bus stop, this was stupid, what was you doing you thought to yourself. Then you stoped again walking back to the bus stop then turning around again you walked away, you must have looked like a mad woman to anybody passing by. With a huge huff you psyched yourself up and headed back to the bus stop just in time for the bus. After a ten minute ride you arrived at your stop.

" Excuse me, excuse me!" You waved over to an elderly man on the opposite side of the road.

" I'm trying to find the old T.S offices? "

" Just around the corner love" he pointed to his right

" Thanks" you shouted back heading in that direction.

Turning the corner, you was now on a long road, each side of you were tall red bricked buildings. The direction to Thomas Shelby's office was down that very same street and then as you turn the corner on the left hand side it should be there. Walking down the street a strange feeling came over you, you thought about turning back until you came to the end of the road and saw it. It was still there, the building was still there, you couldn't believe it. It looked completely abandoned, a few windows smashed in and tall metal gates surrounding it with a sign saying "Keep out. Private property". Without even thinking you opened the bottom of the two metal gates being held together with a large metal chain and padlock and slid between them. It was pretty obvious others had been here before, a few beer bottles lying on the grass and some graffiti on the large wooden front door. You pushed with as much force as you could and opened the door. Stumbling in you first came across a large wooden staircase, on your left was an empty room so you decided to head up stairs. As you got to the top the first thing you noticed was that there was still some old furniture, desks facing opposite eachother, one even having an old type writer still on it. Paper was scattered all over the old floorboards and the paint on the walls was chipped and falling off. Picking up one of the papers it read at the top "Shelby Company Limited", you was definitely in the right place.

At the end of the room was a large door, that had to be his office you thought. Making your way over to the door that uneasy feeling started to creep up again, swallowing it down you opened the door. Inside was a large wooden desk and chair, walking over to the desk you brushed your fingers along the back of the leather chair. "Jesus Christ, it's cold In here" you whispered closing your cardigan around you. The windows were not broken in here though, why was it so cold? It was mid January, but wasn't a particularly cold day. Standing facing the window you exhaled out a breath of condensation. Rubbing your arms trying to warm yourself up, you looked down and noticed another piece of paper, it looked like a letter and was signed in hand "Thomas Shelby". Picking it up you sighed " So this is where you took your final breath Thomas Shelby".

Folding up the paper and putting it in your pocket you started to smell something strange a mix of tobacco and what you thought was whiskey. What the fuck you thought to yourself. Then you realised...shit, your not alone. You hadn't turned around from the window since picking up the letter, and you knew that when you would, you'd come face to face with the other person in this room. Slowly turning around your eyes on the floor, with your hands raised up shaking you spoke "I'm sorry...i'm sorry, I kno...know I shouldn't be in here". Your eyes still on the floor you was now facing the doorway, slowly lifting your gaze you noticed two black boots stood in-between the door frame, a long black coat resting against each side of the figures legs. As your eyes moved up you noticed the dark figures hands in their trouser pockets and a gold pocket watch chain attached to their waistcoat. Shaking you finally looked straight ahead of you, and there was a man with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a peaked cap shadowing his face. As he looked up his pale almost sickly white face came into your vision, a look of pure anger and malice spread across his face. His piercing pale blue eyes stared deep into yours, until in a dark deep husky voice he spoke...

"Who the fuck are you?"

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