#Trading mistakes to avoid

[twinkletri]

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[lacewise]

According to Harris Tweed themselves, it’s all handwoven in private houses (and according to other sources this is required by law). If that’s true it can’t be machine woven (machinery would be too bulky for a private residence). Any chance you’re thinking of the foot operated treadle looms as machinery or is there other reason to say the manufacturing method has changed?

(In case anyone is wondering the sources confirm they do use a variety of Scottish wool for the tweed.)

Also trademark protections for crafts in the European Union—including fabrics—will have an application process opening up in December next year.

I’m not surprised he didn’t know because, while the legislation was proposed in 2020, there was not a lot of media or professional coverage until November 2023, weeks after it passed. Hopefully, it finally puts to bed a contentious European discussion about “how and when to protect crafts”.

(I only know about the GICI rollout because I have been trying to research this topic since 2021 because a bunch of hinky things are going on around European craft conventions and consumerism.)

The answer to "What the h*ck goes on on those islands to the North and West of mainland Scotland?" by Derek Guy @/dieworkwear on twitter [x]

[capitalrevo]

Avoid common Forex trading mistakes! Learn key strategies for success, including risk management, emotional control, and choosing the right broker.

[river-taxbird]

The most common mistake people make when thinking about prehistory and how to avoid it.

In "The Dawn of Everything, A New History for Humanity" David Graeber gives what I think might be the best piece of advice I've ever heard for understanding deep human history, and that is to get your mind out of the Garden of Eden.

People speculating about prehistory before modern archeology were quick to frame early humanity as existing in a "state of nature", either with pure innocent tribal communism, or being brutish barbarous cavemen, then something happened to bring us from the state of nature into "society". Did we make a Faustian bargain by domesticating plants and animals? Why is evidence of intergroup violence in prehistory so rare? How did we fall from the innocent state of nature? This, of course, smacks of the biblical creation story, so even if people don't believe it literally, they seem to have a hard time letting go of it spiritually even in a secular context.

This is pretty much nonsense, of course. Humans have existed for over 2 million years. Anatomically modern humans have existed for at least 300 thousand years. Behaviourally modern humans (with symbolism, art, long distance trade, political awareness) have existed for at least 50 thousand years, from our best evidence, but possibly a lot longer. The time between the Sumerians inventing writing and urban living 5,000 years ago and now is only a narrow slice of human history.

If we want to understand human history properly, we shouldn't understand people of the past as fundamentally different from us. They were intelligent, politically aware people doing their best in the world they found themselves in, just like we are today. We didn't fall from innocence with the development of behavioral modernity, religion, farming, war, money, capitalism, computers, or anything else. The world has changed a lot, but people have been experimenting with different ways to live for as long as there have been people, like this example I've posted before about disabled people's role in late pleistocene Eurasian society.

People have been the same as we are now for at least the last 50 thousand years. We have lived in countless different ways and will continue to experiment. There was no fall, and we don't live at the end of history.

[lovableapocalypse]

scar tissue

dr. jack abbot x female!resident!reader

wc: 2k

summary: an unexpected patient arrives in the er and turmoil arises

warnings: medical inaccuracies, mentions of injuries and medical procedures, mentions of alcohol abuse aka reader has a shitty alcoholic dad who yells, mentions of brief sexual content but nothing explicit (mdni!), power dynamic in relationship/reader is a 3rd year resident jack is an attending, unspecified age gap, wrote this at 4am

a/n: this is soooo inspired by greys specifically the scenes where meredith's mom is a patient at sgh and then the mark and lexie (deleted?) scene of them after the shooting. i struggled a lot with the ending of this one so sorry if it sucks lol. hope you like and enjoy and thank you guys for all the love

Tonight’s shift hadn’t been too wild, but you would never risk speaking the words aloud. Jinxing the remaining 3 hours would only ruin the night you’d had so far. 

A few random cases had come through and one drunk driver who was already stable and moved up to the ICU. One of the more chill night shifts you’d had in a while. 

Glancing up from your seat at the nurse’s station, you watch him move from South 15 to the curtain over- checking on patients. 

Your cheeks heat unprofessionally and unintentionally at the sight of him. A habit you needed to kick soon for you worked with the man 4 nights a week. That, and your flustered appearance was becoming more obvious than you’d realized. 

Dr. Abbot has been your attending for over 2 years now. Starting as an intern on an emergency med rotation and thrown to the night shift due to scheduling conflicts- you found yourself working closely under the army vet. 

His dynamic teaching and advantageous reassurance drew you to the emergency department. Deadset on surgery, you completely pivoted after working with the doctor. Declaring your specialty, you were now well into your third year of residency in the pit. 

You felt confident when you worked under Abbot. He gave you the room to make decisions and he trusted your opinions- only stepping in to assist during especially challenging moments. 

He glanced at you as his eyes passed over the board above your head. You shifted your gaze away, crumbling under the slightest look from him. 

This was new. This nervousness. You had always thought Abbot was attractive, harboring a small crush, but he was your superior and that was a boundary you would never feel comfortable crossing. 

Or so you thought. 

It happened 11 days ago. Not that you were counting. 

Your shifts had aligned that week to where you had three days off in a row, a rare occurrence. 

Since residency had put your social life on the back burner you took the opportunity to call up a couple of friends and go out.

By some means of the universe, you had ended up at the same bar as Jack that night. How you ended up in the back of his car was a blur. Skirt bunched around your waist, hips thrusting roughly into yours, hands pulling and grasping at anything they could touch, his mouth whispering dirty words and kissing soft desperate kisses against your skin. 

It was the heat of the moment. That’s what you kept telling yourself. It was a one-time thing. A mistake that wouldn’t happen again. Despite how much you secretly wanted it to. 

So you glanced away. You kept it professional. You avoided him like the plague and spent as little time as you could in his presence.  

You even traded a day shift with McKay to get a night away from him. You didn’t feel guilty or ashamed, you just didn’t want Jack to treat you differently. To see you differently. 

The calm of the ED was short-lived as the charge nurse shouted out, “Incoming ped versus vehicle. 3 minutes.”

You stood from the desk and Jack stepped out of the room he was in. You reached for gloves and moved much slower than you should’ve. 

The ambulance doors opened in a rush and the paramedics pushed in the patient on a stretcher. You were focused on snapping on your gloves. One tore as you pulled it on and you cursed under your breath, reaching for another. You listened to the paramedics as you grabbed a new one. 

“Male. 64. Was hit by a driver. Multiple femoral fractures and a blood alcohol level higher than I’ve ever seen.” The paramedic huffed and the patient slurred aggressively in response. 

You glanced up, approaching the stretcher, and your heart fell out of your chest. Your throat closed up on instinct. The patient was spewing nonsense but his demeanor was obvious. He was angry and drunk. And he was your father. 

Abbot calls out your last name, voice sharper than normal as he motions for your frozen self to come help. To do your job.

You don’t move. Your heart races uncomfortably. You hadn’t seen your dad in a few weeks. He was a drunk who had treated you like the biggest regret of his life from as far back as you could remember. 

You avoided him and only checked in on him every once and a while. Mostly to see if he was still alive. 

Even in his drunken state, your father recognized the last name Jack had spoken. The one you shared with him. 

Your father stopped squirming enough to glance up, directly at you. 

“Look who it is.” His sneer was exaggerated and he threw his head back on the gurney. 

Abbot’s brows furrowed and he looked between the man and you. 

“You know this guy?” He spoke as they moved the gurney to the trauma bay. 

The nurses tried to ask for his name and information but your father was shouting nonsense- mostly about giving him drugs to stop the pain. 

You swallow harshly and follow into Trauma 2. 

You feel like you’re in a dream. Watching your worst childhood memories clash with reality. 

“I need your help here.” Jack snaps at you, his eyes searching yours.

They’re already working. Moving your dad to the bed, cutting his clothes. And you’re useless. Watching and trying not to break down.

Your dad shouts and you flinch involuntarily. He yells at the nurse for morphine. Jack is frustrated at your lack of help, but more so concerned about your behavior. 

Your dad’s head snaps up and he glares right at you. “I’m talking to you! Give me something for the fucking pain-” His words are a jumble, but you understand him loud and clear. 

“Sir-” The nurse starts and your dad shouts over her. 

He keeps his head up, his gaze and words directed at you. 

“Do you know him?” Abbot repeats his question from earlier, harsher this time as he works over the chaos. 

Your dad answers for you unintentionally, shouting your name, “Give me something here. I’m your father for fuck’s sake!”

The room falls quiet for a beat and your stomach twists. 

“This is your dad?” Abbot’s eyebrows meet his forehead. 

“Is he an addict?” The nurse asks you. 

“Only alcohol. That I know of.” Your voice is a whisper. 

Abbot sighs harshly and the nurse moves to give your dad a stronger painkiller. 

“Right, get her out of here and send in Ellis, please.” Jack nods to another nurse. 

She grips your arm softly and you watch as your father finally stops shouting and lays his head back in a morphine-induced haze.

The nurse squeezes your arm and sits you in a chair before rushing off to get the other resident. 

You watch numbly as Ellis goes into the bay. You don’t know how long you stare at the wall for, your mind seeming to shut off. 

You hear Shen’s voice behind you and it sounds like he’s asking you a question but you’re not registering anything. 

Your stomach lurches violently and you stand, walking to the ambulance bay doors. 

They slide open and Shen calls out to you. 

You stagger to the bushes and the contents of your stomach come up. 

You cough and wipe your mouth, catching your breath. 

You grip the wall, needing something to stabilize your influx of emotions. 

His voice comes from behind you after a moment. 

“You okay?”

You turn to him and nod. 

He stands across the bay, hands on his hips. He’s unconvinced. 

He approaches you carefully, like a wounded animal, and you hate it. 

“I’m fine. I just need a minute.” You call back. 

You turn away from him and run a hand over your hair, gasping for a breath. 

His hand finds your elbow in a gentle grip and you glance his way. He doesn’t say anything. He just grabs your arm and slowly moves you to the curb outside the building. 

He sits you down and moves beside you, his knee brushing yours. 

Your eyes well up despite your best efforts. Your breath wracks and your head sags. 

You wipe at your tears as they begin to fall and try to hide your face in your shoulder. You feel his arm come around you, wrapping you in warmth. 

“You’re okay.” His voice is so steady and reassuring that you almost believe him. 

You nod, but the tears keep falling. 

“I’m sorry.”

You feel his head shake beside you. “Don’t apologize.”

Tears stream down your face and his arm squeezes you closer. You let your head fall to his shoulder and let his comfort consume you. 

Processing what just happened, you let Abbot ease your emotional toll. You feel his lips brush your hairline and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Sniffling, you sit upright again. Abbot’s hand stays on you, sliding down to rest on your back. 

“I didn’t know what to do. Or why I reacted like that. I didn’t- I wasn’t expecting to see him. Not here.” You wipe a stray tear away as you try to explain yourself. 

“From what I witnessed, your reaction tells me there’s a whole other story to your relationship with that man. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re a good doctor, but everyone has their limits. Things that hit close to home- or things that come from home.”

He sends you a sympathetic look and you nod at his words.

“I can’t have my best resident freezing up again. Or avoiding me. Which I know you’re doing by the way.” He raises a knowing brow.

The sigh that escapes you is full of embarrassment and nerves. 

“I don’t want to talk about it-”

“About the fact that we slept together or that your dad is an abusive drunk?”

“Jack.” 

“Either topic is up for debate.” His lips rise slightly and you can’t help but shake your head at his persistence. 

“I want to forget it ever happened. All of it.”

It’s silent for a moment and at his lack of response you turn your head to look at him. 

His words are quiet, “If that’s really what you want, I’ll never bring it up again. But if it’s not, I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care deeply for you. In a way that I definitely shouldn’t.”

His words are a punch to the gut. A reality check.

“You do?”

He nods, “Have for a while now.” 

He reaches up to brush a rouge hair off your forehead and you lean into the touch. 

“I do too. I care about you.”

His smile is small, “I figured.”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringe. 

He shakes his head, “You’re just easy to read sometimes.”

“It’s inappropriate. Us.” You state the obvious, though you know the words are a useless feat. 

“Very.” Jack huffs a laugh.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. 

After a moment you speak up again, “Is my dad okay?”

“He will be. He needs surgery, but he’ll live.”

You nod. 

Jack runs his hand up your back, his lips meeting your head. He stands slowly, reaching down to grasp your hand. He pulls you to your feet gently. 

“You don’t have to see him, but if you want to I can go with you.”

“Thank you.”

He nods and starts back towards the automatic doors. 

“Jack.” You call. 

He turns, eyebrows raised in question. 

You step closer to him and repeat the sentiment. 

“I’ll look after you.” He squeezes your hand and moves back inside. 

He drives you home that night. And many more nights after that. Your dynamic changes. While still supportive and professional, it’s deeper and fervent- your relationship building a whole new layer of trust. You loved him and it was easy. No more glancing away or avoidant behaviors. You let Jack into every aspect of your life and he cherished it- nurtured it. 

He was everything you needed and more. You accepted each other in whole, scar tissue and all. 

[stockexperttrading]

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Common mistakes to avoid in trading are discussed, including overtrading, ignoring fundamental analysis, and emotional trading. The blog also provides information on essential tools and resources, including recommended charting software, books, courses, and online trading communities to support traders in their journey.

In conclusion, the blog encourages traders to apply the knowledge gained, practice consistently, and continue their education to become proficient and successful traders. Trading is described as both an art and a science, emphasizing the importance of discipline and adaptability in the ever-evolving world of finance.

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[willbyersabyss]

So what are Will's flaws?

Is Will totally perfect in every way? Is he a jealous saboteur? Or a secret third option... neither. Let's discuss Will's flaws and nuances!

1. Emotional suppression

Will avoids his problems. He hates talking about both his emotional and physical danger because he doesn't want to be treated differently. From a young age, he was taught by Lonnie that he shouldn't express his emotions because that makes him "sensitive" and "weak." So now he likes to hide.

This emotional suppression causes his feelings to worsen over time. Once he finally lets it out, he explodes. Instead of healthy conversations, he says and does things that he'll probably regret later. He blows up at Mike, he yells at Jonathan, he destroys Castle Byers, he shows his hand (what about us?)

Will's avoidance doesn't only have consequences on him, but others. If he had told someone he was feeling the Mind Flayer earlier, they might've been able to save some of the Flayed. But he couldn't tell someone because that puts him in a place of emotional vulnerability. That's exactly why he waited until after he fought with the boys to mention the supernatural. He traded one vulnerable situation for another, allowing him to avoid opening up about his true feelings. It was a distraction.

This also doesn't let others to heal from their altercations. Both Lucas and Mike try to apologize to Will, but he brushes them off. Will thinks he doesn't deserve consideration. The walls he puts up forces others to hold onto their own guilt, leaving a sore spot in their relationship. We can see this soreness in Will and Mike's relationship in s4. They never healed from the rain fight. Well... not that Mike tried to apologize after the Mind Flayer debacle. Again, distraction on Will's part.

Will’s inability to handle change is also due to him bottling up his feelings. His trauma and suppression makes him stuck in the past. He doesn’t let himself move through each day where these emotions would be felt.

It's interesting how Will is deemed the emotional one when his sensitivity is actually a result of him keeping his emotions in. Once that dam is opened, it's hard for him to stop. He breaks, just as he fears.

2. Self-hatred

And all that emotional suppression leads to Will internalizing other people's view of him. Will's self-hatred stems from bullying and his father's abuse. He thinks he's to blame, that he's a mistake. As more people distance themselves from Will, he believes there's something wrong with him.

When he thinks he deserves mistreatment, his relationships crumble more. They're unable to reconcile. True forgiveness can't be achieved if he doesn't think he should be apologized to in the first place.

Will's hatred is the reason why he tried to sacrifice himself in s2 to save his friends. He doesn't think he deserves to be saved. This makes him an easy target for Vecna. It's very likely that Will's self-hatred will factor into his upcoming supernatural plot.

The more Will hates himself, the more he hides, the more he suppresses his emotions.

3. People pleaser

If Will is anything, he's a people pleaser. He's selfless. So much so that this is the first thing we find out about him. While admirable, it actually leads to more bad than good. His people pleasing tendency goes hand in hand with his emotional suppression. Will doesn't like to take up space and inconvenience other people.

Will's never ending effort to please others leads to him making assumptions. Wrong assumptions. Whether it be letting Max join them on Halloween or pushing Mike to give a love confession, Will tries his best to use his mediator role to give people what they want.

But he doesn't know what they want, does he? Will wanted to make Dustin and Lucas happy, but this created a rift with Mike. He thought Mike was itching to profess his love for El, but that wasn’t what either of them needed. In an attempt to help, he's making it worse.

He must be successful sometimes, though, because there's an expectation from his friends that he'll fulfill their needs at the flick of a wand. This vacancy from Will makes him a pushover. They think they can make fun of him and he'll just take it because that's what he does. When Will finally stands up for himself, they're shocked. That's out of character for him. It's like they want to say: “Why isn't he letting us be mean to him? :(”

Mike even expected Will to tell him that his own girlfriend was being bullied. Will's people pleasing explodes in his face. So now when he's unable to read their needs and fix it for them, he's to blame. Will takes on the weight of their problems too much. While it's good that they rely on him, there shouldn't be pressure for him to judge their every whim. But it's not exactly their fault because Will set the stage for this behavior.

Weirdly, Will's need to please others is the reason why he didn't call Mike. He thought Mike wanted nothing to do with him, so he didn't reach out. There he goes assuming things again! But Will was there, waiting for the rare occasion where Mike did want him. He went so far right that he ended up left.

Will's behavior towards El is also an instance of wrong assumptions. Will didn't like being treated differently in s2, so he assumed El would feel the same way. He used his own experiences to inform how he should treat others. Babying El would make her feel more ostracized. Instead, he offered emotional comfort, similar to the comfort he received, after the bullying. This doesn't really help her because she doesn't have the same emotional mechanics as Will.

So Will assumes things, pushes his own wants down, and lets people walk all over him all in the name of being pleasant.

4. Freeze, fly, fight. In that order!

When Will is scared, he freezes. This flaw is so significant that they talked about it textually multiple times. I'm not sure I would consider it a flaw since it has saved him more than it's harmed him, though.

The few times Will has decided to fight instead of freeze, he was kidnapped and possessed. Confrontation isn't an option for him. His body believes he'll be put directly in danger if he does anything but freeze/fly. Fight is only used as a last resort.

It only really enters flaw territory when it's an inconvenience. He froze during the sauna test, when El was being bullied, and when he should've shot the creature in the shed. Will is unable to help himself and others when he's scared.

When he snaps out of it, he cries and feels guilty for being so hesitant. He wishes he could do more but he can't. This wraps back around to his self-hatred.

5. Jealousy

When his best friend of 10 years that he's in love with starts to ditch him for some random girl, it's not shocking that there would be some jealousy! Will is the silent jealous type. His jealousy doesn't really manifest into resentment or outward action against the other person. Unlike a certain someone...

Will only shows it through rolling eyes, a snarky comment here or there, or an outburst at his most emotionally vulnerable. I mean, if Will really wanted to see El crash and burn, he could've kept his mouth shut the entire Rink-O-Mania day. Or he could've ignored her in the courtyard as she picks up the pieces of her project. But he didn't.

The worst we've seen Will's jealousy was during the rain fight. He called El stupid. There's no beating around the bush, he was in the wrong for that. But this came out of Will because his emotions were at an all time high. Why? Emotional suppression!

A lot of Will's snarky comments towards El are out of genuine confusion. He doesn't understand how El can have exactly what he wants, but she's willing to ruin it by lying. Unfortunately, he later learns that exact lesson. He's envious that she can do what Mike hates without major repercussions, while he's somehow blamed for her lies. And why does he get blamed? People pleaser expectations!

Will waited until a quiet moment to inform El of her mistakes. Will's goal isn't to humiliate El. He doesn't let his jealousy lead to resentment. Instead, he tried to (snarkily) lead her to make better decisions because it's not fair! It's not fair that she can have it all without working for it!

And now we're back at self-hatred. Some of his jealous moments make it bubble back up. He bends his painting, something he put his blood, sweat, and tears into, because he isn't enough for them. Their ideal day is without him. Will's art is an extension of himself. He's aiming his anger back at himself by hurting his art.

All of his flaws connect back to his low self-esteem in some way. This is why it's important for Will to receive and accept love in his life. A big part of his arc is self acceptance.

So there it is in all its glory! All of Will's main flaws in one post. What did we learn? Will suppresses his emotions, hates himself, pleases others to a fault, freezes, and is green with envy. And he wouldn't be Will without 'em!

[rollingeevee]

The time has come! I present you all the sequel to my Truthless Recluse oneshot. Teehee! Enjoy!

Territorial Beast

CW for below the cut: possessive Truthless Recluse, slightly suggestive(?)

Forgive any grammar mistakes- I’ll try to fix ‘em as I notice ‘em-

Truthless Recluse gently ran his fingers through your hair. You currently lay in his bed, snuggled under the covers. Feeling the effects of his bite for the first time seemed to take quite a bit out of you, and your mind fell to slumber not long after. He slowly dragged his hand down your cheek and neck with a ticklish feathery touch, pulling the covers down just enough to eye the mark he’d left on you. It was fresh, very visible, and festered with dark swirls of magic only noticeable to the trained eye.

The eyes of a Beast.

With lidded eyes, he placed a kiss to the bite mark, taking note of how you subconsciously shivered in reaction to his touch. The magic from his bite responded to the newborn Beast, and he felt his heart beat in tandem with the pulses that resulted from his presence near his chosen darling.

“Awww, lookit you~” spoke an eccentric, teasing voice. “A Beast and his Prey, how endearing~”

Truthless Recluse felt a growl instinctively rise in his throat, rumbling from deep within his self. He adjusted his position on the bed to cage you in his arms in a futile effort to hide you from the view of the many eyed Beast of Deceit.

“My, how far you’ve fallen~” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled. “The old Pure Vanilla Cookie didn’t have it in him to be so openly hostile to others~ But I suppose that comes with the territory of your new awakening to the lies of this world~ Hehe!”

The newly corrupted cookie dared not move an inch from his spot, teeth slowly baring in a snarl.

Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Ah, such a fierce, territorial display~! Bravo~! What a performance~!” He applauded. His eyes then narrowed, slitted pupils further thinning. “You’ve marked them, haven’t you? I can tell.” He watched as the other cookie lowered himself closer to you, nudging your sleeping body towards his in a show of possessive protectiveness. “A fellow Beast can always tell…”

Though his eyes remained narrowed and trained on blue cookie, a spark of curiosity flashed in Truthless Recluse’s eyes. A result of possessing half the Soul Jam of Knowledge. “What do you mean?” He gave voice to his question in a cautious, guarded tone.

The former Fount of Knowledge cackled at the question. “You felt it, didn’t you? That desire to mark? To claim? To bite?” He giggled at the look of realization on the once Cookie of Truth’s face. “Cookies like us trade in our sweet kisses for a much more effective bite upon waking to the truth of the world~”

“Much more effective, hm?” Truthless Recluse repeated, his voice reflecting his lack of trust around the other corrupted cookie, especially in the presence of his newly reclaimed prize.

Shadow Milk Cookie snorted at the distrust permeating the room, simply shrugging his shoulders. He then floated a little closer, angling his head and hair in attempts to get a better look at his new favorite toy’s chosen darling, and possibly the bite mark he’d left. He quickly backed off though when he narrowly avoided an attack from the fallen cookie. He was standing now, shoulders squared and muscles tensed as he stood guard in front of your body. The new Pure Vanilla was much more… aggressive than he’d anticipated, though he supposed given the current situation, aggression was to be expected. He was a Beast defending his greatest prize, and Shadow Milk knew very well how Beasts got around their darlings when they felt their beloved cookie was in danger, especially around others who could threaten their claims. These feelings were all new to Pure Vanilla Cookie, so such a harsh reaction wasn’t at all unexpected in hindsight.

“Alright, alright!” He lifted his hands in the universal sign of backing off. “I was just curious of the cookie who could bring out your Beastly nature the most! Not like I don’t already have a darling of my own!” He was pouting, and tried one last time to get a clear look at the unconscious cookie, before disappearing with a snap of his fingers and a “Tch, no fun” when Truthless Recluse let out another warning growl.

The newly corrupted cookie glanced around for a few seconds, inspecting every inch of the room with sharp eyes to make sure the mischievous, deceitful cookie had actually left. Once positive the perceived threat had passed, he sat back down on the bed. He glanced down at you, once again unable to resist threading his fingers through your hair. You groaned in response, eyes fluttering open. Seems you had come to.

As your eyes opened and your blurry vision came into focus, the first thing you felt was the dull ache in your shoulder. Ah… that’s right… Pure Vanilla had bitten you… But why…? You could still feel his sweet kiss on your forehead from when you first became lovers, but its warmth felt as though it had began to fade ever since his fall. It was even more dull than before, but you desperately clung to it still, seeing it as a reminder that he still existed somewhere within the lies and falsehoods he had embraced.

You winced as the pain from the fresh wound sharpened for the briefest of seconds, compelling you to look to the side. Your eyes met with those of Truthless Recluse, and you quickly sat up and tried to back away, only to hiss in pain as your shoulders moved, irritating the bite. He seemed unfazed by your reaction, slowly reaching out to you. You remained still as his fingers made contact with the bite mark, gently gliding over it. The pain slowly began to vanish the longer he was in contact with it, causing you to lean into his touch. When the pain had fully disappeared, his hand moved to your cheek. Seeking that warmth you were used to and the relief his touch provided, you once again subconsciously embraced the feel of his dough against yours, nuzzling your cheek against his palm.

“I told you you weren’t going anywhere.”

[signode-blog]

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[enwoso]

back to friends | alessia russo

masterlist

alessia stood at the window, watching the rain blur the city lights. the apartment was silent, except for the hum of the radiator and the faint shuffle of you behind her. she hadn't turned around yet. she wasn't sure she could.

she heard the rustle of a jacket being draped over a chair, the soft sigh of exhaustion then, finally—

"you could at least look at me."

alessia closed her eyes, "i don't know if i want to."

you let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, "right because if you do, you'll remember, and we're not supposed to do that, are we?"

alessia's fingers curled against the windowsill. she wanted to be angry. she wanted to turn around and say, 'what did you think would happen? that we could cross every line and pretend we hadn't?'

instead, she held onto those words, held onto the truth. "it's not easy, is it?" she whispered, her voice just barely being able to be heard.

you didn't answer right away, then softly you spoke, "no it never is."

alessia swallowed hard, she felt the weight of every time they had been here before, standing at the edge of something that was too dangerous to name.

the two of you had been best friends. then, you'd been something else's. and now, well now the two of you were—

what?

alessia turned, finally and the sight of you nearly knocked the air from her lungs. you looked wrecked. your curls were still damp from the rain and your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself as if you were holding something in. maybe everything in.

alessia hated you for looking like that. for making this harder.

"we said it wouldn't happen again." she said. it wasn't an accusation. just a fact.

you have a small but broken smile, "and when have we ever been good at keeping promises?"

alessia's throat burned. never. not once.

the two of you had always done this — gravitated back to each other like the tide, no matter how many time the two of you swore you wouldn't.

growing up, you and the blonde had been inseparable, two kids covered in dirt and bruises from the endless hours spent playing football in the local park.

you were the first to quit, trading the late night training sessions for lectures and classroom whirl alessia kept playing chasing something neither of them could quite name.

you'd had tried to stay as just friends. but that had never been the whole truth, had it? truth be told the two of you had always been, more than friends.

alessia glanced over, taking in the your lips pressed together, how you avoided eye contact. alessia knew that look. she'd seen it before, after the first time you'd kissed — hesitation wrapped in longing, guilt laced with something they couldn't undo.

she crosses the room before she could stop herself. you flinching, barely, but she caught it. and it hurt way more than it should have.

"y/n.." alessia's voice cracked as she stood in front of you, her heart breaking with each fleeting moment.

you inhaled sharply, "we keep trying, don't we? we keep saying we'll go back to friends like it's something we can just step into again."

alessia knew what you were going to say next, she could feel it coming, curling in the air between them — ready to land like a blade.

"but we can't," you whispered.

alessia pulled back, just enough to see your face. take in your beauty maybe for the last time, "then what are we supposed to do?"

your eyes were glassy, on the verge of tears streaming down your face, your bottom lip trembling. "i- i don't know."

that was the problem, wasn't it?

alessia wanted to say it, so badly. she wanted to shout that this wasn't fair. that she was tired of pretending this thing between them wasn't just something they could erase in a second. that it wasn't just one night, or two or even a mistake by any meals that they could fold up and put away like it was never there.

it was them. it had always been them. and still, still— "i took the job in manchester."

alessia let out a small breath, like the air had just been punched from her lungs. like she couldn't breath. of course. of course you had.

of course this was how it ended.

"good, that's good." alessia said, even though it wasn't. she was lying straight through her teeth. it felt as though something was ripping inside of her, tearing at the edges.

you made a quiet, wounded noise. you knew alessia too well to know when she was being sincere and when she wasn't. "don't do that."

alessia blinked at you. "do what?"

"act like it doesn't matter."

alessia felt something snap. "and what do you want me to do, want me to say, y/n?" she demanded. "beg you to stay? tell you that we can't keep doing, whatever this is, forever?"

your face crumpled as you shook your head. "no."

"then what?" alessia's voice broke. "because i can't keep pretending like i don't care. i can't sit across from you and go back to talking about football and weekend plans and—and act like i don't know what you sound like when your under me."

you closed your eyes, like you could just block it all out if you just tried hard enough.

alessia shook her head, tears burning at the edges of her vision. "tell me how i'm supposed to go back to just friends, because i don't fucking know anymore."

silence. a long, aching silence.

then, barely above a whisper—

"you already are." alessia inhaled sharply at the sudden harsh of your words, but you were already reaching for your coat, already moving toward the door.

this was it. no big fight. no dramatic ending. just a quiet undoing of something that was never meant to fit neatly into words.

your fingers hesitated on the door handle. "i don't want to lose you."

alessia wiped at her cheek which was now wet from the tears that were strolling silently down her cheeks. "you already have."

you didn't turn around. didn't say anything. you just left.

as alessia stood there, staring at the empty space where you had been, the ghost of your touch still lingering in the room.

maybe one day, they'd figure out what came next. but tonight, the two of you weren't back to friends.

you were nothing at all.

[soulofapatrick]

I'm Not Watching You - Ridoc Gamlyn x Female Reader

Summary: Ridoc catches you staring at him

Warnings: fluff; flirting; implied smut to happen

Words: 2.7K

Notes: I can do a smutty part two hehehe

Y/N’s POV 

The dining hall at Basgiath buzzes with the chaotic symphony of clinking goblets, hearty laughter, and the metallic scrape of knives against plates. The air smells of roasted meat and spiced ale, mingling with the smoky scent of the torches lining the walls. Our squad claims one end of a long wooden table near the center of the room. Despite the cacophony, our corner feels lighter than usual, celebratory even. We’ve made it through another week of training—still breathing, still together—and that alone feels like something worth toasting.

Ridoc Gamlyn sits across from me, lounging in his chair like the rules of gravity don’t apply to him. His brown skin glows in the warm light of the torches, and his floppy brown hair—forever unruly—falls into his face no matter how often he shoves it back. There’s a spark in his dark eyes, a mischief that matches the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s spinning a fork between his fingers, the casual rhythm oddly mesmerising, and I find myself staring.

Big mistake.

“You’ve been staring at me all night, love,” Ridoc drawls, his voice cutting through the din with effortless precision. He sets the fork down with a deliberate clink and leans forward, the gleam in his eyes making my stomach twist. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

I stiffen, heat rising to my cheeks as I scramble for a response. “I’m not staring at you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression dripping with faux innocence. “Oh? Then who were you looking at? Barlowe? Imogen?” He grins, leaning even closer, his head tilting just enough for that ridiculous mop of hair to flop sideways. “Or maybe you’ve finally realised how devastatingly handsome I look in candlelight.”

I snort, rolling my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “Candlelight? What century do you think this is?”

“It’s called ambiance, darling,” Ridoc says, completely unfazed. He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the flickering torches. “Something you clearly haven’t learned to appreciate.”

“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, shoving a piece of bread into my mouth to keep from smiling.

Ridoc notices anyway—because of course he does—and his smirk transforms into a triumphant grin. “Ah, there it is. You’re smiling. That counts as a win for me.”

“It doesn’t,” I shoot back, though the words lack conviction.

“Sure it does,” he says, sitting back again with the kind of casual confidence that sets my teeth on edge. His chair creaks dangerously under his weight, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I always win.”

Imogen, seated a few spots down, snickers and raises her goblet in our direction. “Ridoc, leave her alone before she stabs you with her dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s grin widens. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried,” he says, winking at me.

I groan and pick up my cup of water, draining it in one long sip to avoid saying something I’ll regret. He’s relentless, a constant thorn in my side—and yet, for reasons I can’t fully understand, I don’t hate it.

As the night wears on, the squad’s conversations shift to trading stories from the week. Close calls in training, spectacular failures during drills, and ridiculous mistakes that somehow didn’t get anyone killed. Ridoc’s quick wit earns plenty of laughs, but I can’t help noticing how his gaze keeps flickering back to me, as if checking to see if I’m still paying attention.

It’s maddening.

I hate how aware I am of him—the way his laughter sends a strange ache through my chest, the way his teasing feels oddly personal, like it’s meant for me and no one else.

Eventually, the others start drifting away, one by one, until it’s just Ridoc and me left at the table. The noise of the dining hall fades to a distant hum, leaving an almost intimate stillness between us.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Ridoc says, his voice softer now, the usual teasing edge absent. He rests his elbows on the table, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the wood.

I shrug, unsure how to respond. “Just thinking about the squad. How lucky we’ve been.”

Ridoc nods, his expression unusually thoughtful. “Yeah. Not everyone’s got what we have. Iron Squad’s something special.”

He pauses, his fingers stilling as he meets my gaze. “And so are you, you know.”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his tone lighter now, though his eyes stay serious. “You’re sharp. Fierce. And you keep me on my toes, which I appreciate more than I probably should.”

My stomach twists again, and this time I know it’s not from the wine. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I manage, my voice quieter than I’d like.

Ridoc grins, but it’s softer now, lacking the usual bravado. “It’s a compliment. Trust me.”

For once, I think he might actually mean it.

He stands abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape that echoes through the nearly empty hall. “Get some rest, love,” he says, tipping an imaginary hat before turning to leave.

I should let him go—I really should—but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Wait.”

Ridoc pauses, glancing back over his shoulder with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s this? You actually want me to stay?”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the rapid thudding of my heart. “Don’t make it weird, Gamlyn.”

His smirk returns, slow and deliberate, as he steps closer. “Too late. But I’ll bite—what is it?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come. The tension between us feels electric, crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Ridoc stops just in front of me, close enough that I can see the faint freckles dusting his nose and the way his dark eyes gleam in the low light. His gaze drops briefly to my lips before flicking back up to meet mine.

“Say the word, and I’ll leave,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if you don’t…”

I don’t let him finish.

Before I can second-guess myself, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down. Our lips collide, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. He’s warm and solid, his hands finding my waist as he kisses me back with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

When we finally break apart, I’m left gasping, my pulse pounding in my ears. Ridoc’s smirk is gone, replaced by something softer, something real.

“Well,” he says, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “That was unexpected.”

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper, but there’s no bite to the words.

His grin returns, bright and genuine. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I warn, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Ridoc chuckles, his thumb brushing softly against my side. “Too late.”

And just like that, everything shifts. It’s still us—but better. Something new, something I’m not sure I want to let go of.

The dining hall feels distant now, the noise fading into a comforting hum as Ridoc’s hand lingers on my waist. His touch is warm, grounding in a way that makes me want to lean in, even as my brain screams at me to step back. I shouldn’t feel this way—not about him—but there’s something disarming about the way his eyes meet mine, steady and unguarded.

“You’re staring now,” I manage, my voice softer than intended, like I’m trying to break the tension without shattering it completely.

Ridoc chuckles, low and quiet, his thumb tracing idle circles against my side. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” I reply, though the word falters, betraying the conviction I wish I had.

His smirk softens, and for once, it’s free of his usual bravado. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, and the way he says it feels less like teasing and more like truth.

“Ridoc…” I warn, though it comes out weak, almost breathless.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back slightly, giving me space but not entirely letting go. His hands hover, like he’s not quite ready to lose the connection. “I’ll behave. For now.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. “That’s a first.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he fires back, the grin creeping back onto his face. “I make no promises.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile I’m fighting slips through anyway. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, tilting his head with mock innocence, “you kissed me. Funny how that works.”

Heat floods my face, and I shove lightly at his chest. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Ridoc laughs, his gaze bright and alive with something I can’t name. “Not a chance, love.”

The easy banter fades into a quiet moment, the kind that feels heavier than it should. Ridoc shifts, his confidence softening at the edges as he glances down at our hands, his fingers brushing against mine. “Dinner tomorrow?” he asks, the question casual but his tone anything but.

I blink, caught off guard. “You’re asking me on a date?”

His grin is still there, but it’s gentler now, almost shy. “I mean, we’ve already kissed. Might as well see where this goes.”

Something in his sincerity makes my chest tighten. Ridoc, insufferable flirt and relentless tease, is suddenly serious in a way that feels terrifying and exciting all at once. I hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing against me, before finally nodding.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “But if you bring up candlelight even once, I’m stabbing you with a dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s laugh is warm and unapologetic as he takes my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. “Noted.”

Ridoc falls into step beside me, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as we make our way down the dimly lit hallway. The flickering torches on the walls cast long shadows, but his presence is anything but subtle. He walks so close that our arms brush every few steps, and the air between us seems to hum with a tension neither of us is quite ready to name.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he drawls, his tone lazy, like he’s savouring the moment. “Planning your next move? Or just imagining all the ways you’re going to stab me with a dinner knife?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to smile. “Maybe both.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “You’ve got quite the imagination. Should I be flattered that I’ve taken up so much space in that pretty little head of yours?”

I roll my eyes, though the corners of my mouth betray me by twitching upward. “It’s less ‘taking up space’ and more ‘annoying squatter I can’t evict.’”

Ridoc places a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “Ouch. And here I thought we were making progress. Guess I’ll have to work harder.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” I retort, though the playful edge in my voice robs the words of any real sting.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Oh, I won’t. You’re worth the effort.”

That makes me falter, my breath hitching just enough for him to notice. His grin widens, and I hate that he catches every little crack in my defences. It’s like he’s made a game out of unraveling me, and worse, he’s annoyingly good at it.

By the time we reach my door, the weight of the moment feels heavier, charged with something that wasn’t there before—or maybe it was, and I’d just been ignoring it. I stop in front of the wooden frame, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I try to decide if I’m ready to let this—whatever this is—go any further.

Ridoc leans casually against the doorframe, his body angled toward me, his hand braced above my head. He’s so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and I have to fight the urge to step back—or closer. His gaze searches mine, the teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something softer, more sincere.

“You’re staring again,” I say quietly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He doesn’t flinch. “Maybe I am. Can you blame me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in my throat when his free hand comes up to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at my jaw, his touch warm and grounding, and suddenly the door at my back feels like the only thing keeping me upright.

“You should stop,” I manage to say, though my voice wavers.

His lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. “Do you really want me to?”

Damn him. Damn the way he looks at me, like he’s seeing something no one else does. Like he’s daring me to stop hiding and meet him halfway. My silence is answer enough, and his gaze flickers down to my lips for just a moment before returning to my eyes.

“I should probably say goodnight,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t move an inch. “But I don’t really want to.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

That’s all the permission he needs. Ridoc closes the gap between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s as infuriatingly confident as he is. His hand slides to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the intensity of it steals the breath from my lungs. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses me; it’s all heat and certainty, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have.

I fist my hands in the front of his shirt, anchoring myself as the world tilts beneath my feet. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, his lips moving against mine with a maddening mixture of tenderness and hunger. When his tongue brushes against mine, I gasp softly, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his grip on my waist tightening.

By the time we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together. Ridoc’s eyes are darker now, his smirk gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of my heart. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but there’s an earnestness in his expression that takes me off guard. He raises his hand, his thumb brushing softly along my jawline. “So… do I get to come inside, or are you going to make me sleep in the hallway after that?”

I arch a brow, reaching for the door handle behind me. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s pushing their luck.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says with a wink, though the way his eyes flicker down to my lips betrays just how much he’s hedging his bets.

Instead of answering, I twist the doorknob and push the door open, the wood creaking softly. His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by genuine surprise, but I don’t give him a chance to recover. I grab the front of his shirt and tug him inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

His hands are on me in an instant, his lips finding mine again with renewed fervour. This time, there’s no hesitation, no testing the waters. It’s all fire and heat, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for second-guessing. His hands slide down my back, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the way he kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters.

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper against his lips, and for once, he actually listens.

Part Two Here ⇒ You Can Watch Me

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[absurdthirst]

Words Unspoken {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.4k

Warnings: Barter/trading, flirting, sexual tension, fingering, unprotected sex, cumming too quickly, oral sex (female and male receiving), soft moments, friends with benefits, cock riding, pregnancy scare, panic attacks, Joel is a little stubborn, suggestions of homophobia but Joel is just being stupid, estrangement, worry, comfort, canon events, heartbreak

Comments: The newcomer in town comes to your shop, hearing that you have coffee. Leading to trade and a years long relationship where so many words are left unspoken.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You look up from your needle and thread, the bell ringing above your tiny shop on Main Street. That’s when you see him walk in. You’ve heard about the newcomer. The man who is Tommy’s long lost brother who turned up with a teenage girl in tow. “Hey, can I help you?” You ask, setting the needle and thread down on the table. He’s handsome, you’ve heard he’s a little standoffish but you’ve found that most people who have been traveling on the road for years struggle to settle into the world that most thought was dead and buried.

The shop is neat, clean. Sometimes the contrast between the squalor of Boston and Jackson is stark. Everyone here craves normalcy, the life before, so badly it makes you feel like you’re in a dream. Except his dream never involved communism, like he loved to tease Tommy about. It really grates on his nerves when he ribs him about that. He shifts slightly, looking towards you. Reminding himself that he needs to be nice, not try to glower his way into getting what he wants. “Hi, uh, you’re the seamstress, right?” He asks, even though he’s in right store. “Sorry, stupid question.” He huffs in amusement to himself. “I heard you had coffee.”

You tilt your head in amusement. He seems nervous and you have no idea why. “Yeah. You have no idea how many clothes I’ve had to sew to get it. There was an empty grocery store one state over and this group would come and trade with us. Turns out needlework isn’t that great in the end of times so my hands have come in pretty handy. My mom taught me everything and - sorry, I’m rambling. Coffee. What, uh, what have you got to trade?” You ask, knowing how this works. Nothing is free, even in these times.

Joel winces, unsure if you would accept his trade, but he wants to try. “Uh, myself.” He admits, realizing his mistake when your eyes widen. “My work, I mean.” He clarifies, glancing around the shop. “I’m a - was - a contractor, before.” He bobbles his head. No one is really anything now, beyond a survivalist. Although you are still a seamstress, it appears. “Tommy said you needed some shelves, racks for your thread and sewing stuff.” He shrugs. “Figured I could build it for you, for some coffee beans.”

You snort, “you must be really desperate for coffee, huh?” You tease and he chuckles awkwardly, “used to have a cup every morning before the world went to shit.” You nod in understanding, stepping closer to him. You hold your hand out, “you have a deal, Mr. Miller. When would you like to start?” You ask and he squeezes your hand, his fingers are calloused and you can feel how strong he is. “Now, if you want.” He offers and you smile, “better get to it. Half now. Half when you’re done.” You promise, stepping away from him and you turn to make your way into the little kitchen at the back of your shop. You come back a few moments later with a small bag of coffee beans. “First payment.”

He takes the bag and he can’t resist lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply, groaning at the heavy, rich aroma of coffee beans. They are whole, so the richness will only get better once they are ground. “Best smell in the world.” He huffs when he notices you watching him with an amused smile.

“You’re a man of simple pleasure, Mr. Miller.” You chuckle and he shakes his head, “call me Joel.” You repeat his first name and insist he calls you by yours. “If you need anything fixed, just let me know.” You gesture to his clothes.

He nods, finding you pretty and charming, which makes him both relaxed and nervous at the same time. He sets the bag of coffee beans down and pulls out a little notebook and stubby pencil out of his jacket pocket, along with a measuring tape. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?” He asks, nodding towards the wall where fabric is haphazardly stacked.

You hum, walking over to the fabric. “Mostly display purposes. I can find all my shit when I need to but I want people to be able to come in and pick fabric and thread and buttons, you know.” You smile, “anything you can make would be better than what I have now.”

He nods seriously. “You need a thread display.” His brow furrows slightly as he bites his lip. “Boxes for the buttons.” He steps over and starts to measure as he talks. “Do you want cubbies for the fabric?” He asks. “Or shelves to stand them up?”

You bite your lip, watching him make some notes, “shelves. Nothing too fancy. Fabric is usually used or repurposed anyway.” You confess, “not like I have access to Michael’s or Joann’s.” You snort, “but I usually will find some fabrics when I do patrols.”

“You make quilts?” Joel asks, his back turned towards you. “Ellie, my- my Ellie, her birthday is coming up.” He tells you. “She’s got a bunch of old band t-shirts. A lot of them are falling apart, but she loves them.” He turns towards you. “Maybe you could turn them into a quilt?”

Your eyes widen and your heart melts at the request. He wants to get her a birthday present and you nod, unable to say no. “Absolutely. Sneak them out to me and I can get it done. When’s her birthday?” You ask and he tells you, “I’ll get it done by then.” You promise, knowing you want to see that soft look on his face again.

He smiles, happy to have secured a present that will thrill her. “She’s turning 14 this year.” He tells you. “So far, only teenage rebellion is that mouth of hers.” He snorts. “Cusses like a damn sailor.”

You snort, “oh yeah. I’ve heard. You’ve got your hands full there.” You pat his shoulder, “but everyone says you’re a good father.” You offer, making him soften a little more. “It’ll get worse. Teenage years are only just beginning. She’ll be screaming that she hates you but you shouldn’t take it to heart. You haven’t done anything, it’s just a rite of passage.”

He chuckles, knowing that it’s coming but he’s still looking forward to spending more time with Ellie. All he wants is for her to be happy. He’s done things, horrible things, so she can have this time, this life. The last thing he wants is for her to hate him. “I’ll get them to you.” He promises.

You smile, looking forward to seeing more of Joel as he builds your shelves and displays. He measures the wall and spends his time being exact. “I’ll, uh, let you know when I can come back and get everything up.” He promises and you nod, “of course. Coffee will be waiting.” You promise, “thanks for this, Joel. I’ll see you round.” He nods and puts his book away, “thanks for the coffee.” He murmurs, picking up the small bag and leaving your shop while you watch him go, already wondering when he will come back.

****

It takes Joel three days to build the display for the thread that he had envisioned. Traded for the supplies and spent hours in the garage to make sure that the spindles were right. The shelves are going to be built on site, but he wanted these already done so you could organize them, along with the button boxes he had built. Borrowing a wagon to cart everything over to your shop when he’s ready to install them.

You bite your lip as you watch Joel install the shelves. His muscles flexing under his t-shirt and you try to not act as hot and bothered as you are. He’s a handsome man, capable, and clearly a survivor. All traits that have had you daydreaming about him since he first came into your shop. “How’s that?” Joel asks, brushing his hands together as he steps back to admire the shelving. “It’s perfect.” You gasp, excited to put the fabric on display. “Thank you so much.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He stumbles back only a step, hands automatically finding your waist to steady both of you. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs softly, letting you hug him and leaning into it slightly. He’s better about being more approachable, and he’s not going to turn down a hug from a woman as pretty as you are. “Definitely worth the coffee, huh?” He jokes.

You pull back for a moment, looking at him and you grin, “I don’t know, Miller. I think there’s one more thing you gotta do for the coffee.” You murmur, sliding your hands down his chest and he frowns, “are the shelves not good enough or-?” He asks and you shake your head. “The shelves are perfect. If you want more coffee…you can fuck me.” You say, biting your lip and praying he doesn’t reject you.

“You don’t have to-“ he starts to refuse you, to tell you that you don’t have to barter your body, until he sees the hopeful look in your eyes. Vulnerability and attraction warring in their depths and he realizes that you want him. The coffee is just a handy excuse to open up the possibility. “Anyone would be fuckin’ privileged to be in your bed.” He huffs quietly. “Are you sure you want me? It’s been a few years for me, and I’m not sure how good I’ll be.” His knees and back kill him on most days but he’ll go down swinging.

You chuckle, sliding your hand up to caress his neck. “Me too. I haven’t - no one has caught my eye here until you came along. You’re handsome, Joel. Shit, you’re really, uh, really hot, and I really want you to fuck me. Coffee or no coffee.” You promise, gaze flicking down to his lips. He swallows like he can’t believe what he’s hearing and you decide to make the next move, leaning in slowly to brush your lips against his.

The kiss is soft, intimate. He doesn’t deepen it right away. Absorbing the moment and letting you press closer. Learning how you fit against him as his arms slowly slide around your back. His cock twitches in his jeans when your tongue touches his lips, immediately opening and letting his own explore as the natural progression of the kiss happens.

He’s hesitant, which isn’t unexpected, but you know there’s a dominant lover beneath the surface. He likes to be in control. You cup his cheek, sliding your tongue against his, and you can’t stop the moan that you breathe into his mouth, pressing your chest into him while his hands tentatively slide down to your ass, dragging you even closer.

Your little moan is sexy, and he grunts as your breasts push against his chest. Tasting you, you had coffee earlier, as his tongue slowly slides against yours before he breaks away to kiss along your jaw. “Where’s your bedroom, honey?” He growls softly. “Woman like you deserves to be spread out.”

You reluctantly pull back, taking his hand in yours to guide him to the stairs. Up to your bedroom. The little apartment upstairs is small enough for you and he barely has a second to look at your couch before you pull him into your bedroom. You waste no time spinning around to press your lips to his again, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt to drag it over his head. He lets it drop to the floor and you work on his belt. In your rush, you accidentally rip one of the loops. “I’ll fix that for you.” You promise between kisses to his lips as you pull the belt free and toss it to the floor.

He chuckles against your lips. “Good thing I know a seamstress.” His own fingers start to work. Pulling your own shirt over your head and fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Still kissing you breathlessly as his own eagerness leads to a little haste.

He’s clumsy and fumbles but you don’t care. You’re out of practice too. You let your bra drop to the floor and he groans when your tits are exposed. His calloused hands immediately cupping them, and you tilt your head back, “God, Joel. Your hands. Watching you work - I’m so wet from just watching you.”

He smirks in pride, fingers twisting the hard tips of your nipples and pulls a sexy little whine out of you. Obviously enjoying a touch of roughness in your sex life. “Imagined my hands on you, honey?” He coos, pinching and tugging as he steers you back towards the bed. “How do they feel?”

“So goddamn good.” You moan and shift to lay down on your bed. You watch him as he reluctantly releases you, bending down to untie his boots and he stumbles as he pulls them off. You giggle, sliding your hand up to squeeze your own breast, and you look at him, “I want your hands on every inch of my body.”

That won’t be a problem for him. Joel loves to touch a lover. It’s been a long time, Tess was the last woman he had been with. His heart aches for a moment but he pushes that away, concentrating on you as he kicks away the jeans and underwear he was wearing and kneels on the bed to slide his hands up your spread legs. “Pretty body.” He hums, cock twitching. “What do you want first?” He asks, hand trailing over your thighs to brush through the curls covering your pussy.

Your eyes trail down to his cock, hardening and you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around him. You slowly jerk him and he grunts, his fingers sliding through your folds. You whimper at the sensation. It’s been too long since you were touched. “I want your fingers inside me. Imagined it so many times when you were building the shelves. Wanna cum on them.”

He lays down beside you, letting you touch him while he learns how to make you gasp in pleasure as his fingers slide through your folds and press against your clit. He’s not a stranger to his needs, he doesn’t ignore them, but it’s been a long time since a hand other than his own has been wrapped around his cock. “Then I better make it good, right?” He teases as he slowly starts to press a finger inside you while he leans down to kiss along your shoulder up to your lips.

You moan when his finger pushes into you, another joining it on the next pump to stretch you out. "Fuck, Joel." You sigh when he kisses along your neck. Your lips meet his as you squeeze his cock, loving the way he hardens in your grip. "Knew those fingers would feel good." You murmur, flicking your tongue against his lips, licking his lower lip until his tongue meets yours in a combined groan.

He doesn’t rush this, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy. Loving how wet you are, getting wetter every time his finger curls up inside you. Another finger is added a few minutes later, pulling another moan out of you and you squeeze his cock roughly.

You spread your legs a little wider, chest heaving as you moan into his mouth when he curls his fingers. His wrist twisting so he can press his thumb to your clit. “Shit. Feel so good. Can’t imagine what this is gonna feel like inside me.” You murmur, pumping his cock and his lips kiss down your neck until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth.

Joel groans, not pulling away to answer you. You’ll find out soon enough, and he’ll be feeling your tight, hot walls around him. Hopefully he won’t embarrass himself by giving you a poor performance. His tongue flicks over your nipple and his teeth scrap over the sensitive bud, making you gasp again. He smirks and looks up at your face as he sucks.

Your eyes meet his, a lust filled, playful stare that has you clenching around his digits. “Fuck. You’re so - yes. Just like that.” You pant when he puts more pressure on your clit. “Yes, baby. Shit. Gonna make me cum like this.” You choke when he presses his fingers against the spongy spot inside you. “Shit. Yessss.” You hiss, walls squeezing his fingers as you cum for him.

Joel groans, pulling off your tit to watch you cum. “That’s it, that’s it honey, ride it out.” He coos, his voice gruff but soothing as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your pulsing pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cummin’.” Your grip on his cock is loose, but he twitches against your palm, loving how your entire body shakes in pleasure for him.

You love his voice, love how he twitches in your palm, so you reach out to push his hand away. He grunts in protest but you push on his chest, "lay down. I wanna-" You cut yourself off when he lays on his back and you shift to kneel between his legs. Gripping his cock, you lean in to run your tongue along the underside of it. "You're thicker than I imagined, Miller...and I imagined this a lot." You confess, flicking your tongue over the slit where a bead of pre-cum threatens to slide down his reddened skin.

“Fuck.” He hisses, lifting his head to look down at where you are kneeling between his thighs. Your eyes fixed on him. “Fuck.” His head falls back, hitting your pillow as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. Blow jobs have always been rare, but this is overwhelming and your mouth has barely touched him. “You don’t- fuck, honey.” He groans, reaching down and cupping your cheek as you hum, his eyes closed in pleasure. “Goddamn.”

You smile as you pull off of him, wrapping your fingers around him, and you let your spit dribble down onto the head, aiding you as you start to pump him. "You really need to stop." He warns you in a growl, and you huff. "Fine. Next time I want you to cum in my mouth." You order, letting go of his cock to straddle him. You moan as his cock presses between your folds, the head leaking onto his belly. "Fuck. You're so hot." You murmur, starting to rock your hips to grind onto his cock.

Joel chokes out a laugh, a quiet, disbelieving thing as he grabs your hips. “Don’t know ‘bout that, but I know you want to ride my cock.” He pulls you forward, making you tip over towards him and his lips press against yours. “So ride me, and then I’ll fuck you.” He needs to be on top so he can pull out, but there’s no harm in letting you start out how you want.

You moan into his mouth, reaching back to grip his cock so you can position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, lips smothering his groan as he stretches you out. "Fuck me." You mutter in disbelief of how good he feels. "I think that's what you're gonna do to me first." He chuckles and you nod, bracing your palms on his chest as you start to grind your hips.

Joel groans your name, slightly breathless as you roll your lips and your liquid hot walls squeeze him tight. “Fuck, honey.” His fingers dig into your hips, but he doesn’t try to guide you or change your slow grind. He loves it, needs you to keep it just this slow because his control is already slipping.

You whimper, loving how he feels like he’s in your guts right now. His calloused fingers squeezing your flesh, and you shift onto your knees, starting to bounce on his cock. “Oh fuck.” You throw your head back, “you feel so good.”

You look so beautiful, head tossed back and so unapologetically taking what you want. One hand slides up to cup your breast as you bounce on his cock. “Goddamn.” He hisses when your walls clench down around him. “Take what you want.” He encourages you, squeezing your tit.

You love it, love how those dark eyes watch you before flicking down to watch his cock disappear inside of you. "Fuck baby." You pant, switching back to grinding so you can rub your clit on the coarse hair at the base of his cock. "It's so good." You pant, "want you to take over. Fuck me like you want."

Joel hisses in pleasure and nods once. Lunging up as he wraps his arm around your body to flip you over onto your back. He doesn’t manage to stay inside you, but before you can even whine about it, he’s pushing back inside you and grinding deep with a moan.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles as he starts to push into you. "Feel so fucking good, baby. That's it." You pant, reaching up to squeeze his shoulders.

He braces his hands and sets his knees as he starts to rock into you. The sharp snaps of his hips are a little harder than he might have once wanted, but the way your legs press him urges him on. “Fuck.”

You caress his back, trying to touch every inch of skin you can. You moan when his lips find your neck, hot puffs of air on your skin between kisses and bites. "Fuck. I- shit." He curses and you can feel him twitch inside you. You lower your legs from his waist, "it's okay. It's okay." You promise, "cum for me. Wanna see it."

He had been trying to hold off, to last longer than the pitiful few minutes he had been inside you. “Fuck.” He groans, the buildup coming and not even thinking about something boring will stop it. His hips rock forward halfway before he’s scrambling back, pulling out of you and wrapping his hand around his cock to pump it. Holding onto your knee as he spurts ropes of his seed across your belly as he groans in frustration and pleasure.

You watch him with lust swirling in your eyes. "Fuck that's hot." You murmur, batting his hand away so you can slowly pump him through his orgasm. "So-sorry." He gasps out a moment later and you click your tongue. "Don't worry about it, Miller. You'll make it up to me." You know he will, he's not an asshole who's gonna be selfish every time.

He chuckles, aware that is true and he looks down at your cum covered body. “True.” He tilts his head to the side and glances down at your pussy, the curls damp and glistening with arousal and his seed. “Gonna make it up right now.”

You gasp when his tongue slides through your folds after he shifts to lay down on his belly. "Fuck!" You cry, tangling your fingers in his hair, "oh God that feels good." You lift your leg onto his shoulder as he sucks on your clit. "Won't take me long." You promise, already worked up from him fucking you.

He hums, not caring if you take a long time to cum. He has never minded eating a woman out, he loves it. Groaning as he tastes you, flicking his tongue against your clit before he takes it back into his mouth. Trying to devour you whole as he holds onto your thighs as they frame his head.

His jaw seems to engulf you and you pant, tilting your head back as he devours you. “Oh shit.” You pant, tugging on his hair as if he can get any closer. “Goddamn baby. You’d have every woman in Jackson lining up if they knew how good you ate pussy.” You confess breathlessly.

He chuckles into your folds, dark eyes watching your face as he sucks on your clit again, fingers digging the flesh of your thighs. He might leave bruises under your skin but he’s not even aware of how tight he’s holding onto you. Obsessed with hearing your breathless cry as he makes you cum again. You deserve it for even letting him in your bed. “Cum for me, honey.” He orders roughly before he dives back in with a frenzied desire to see you cum. 

His command is too good to deny. Your back arching as your thighs squeeze his head. His name is a garbled scream that escapes your lips as you soak his face. "Oh ohhh." You choke, stomach clenching as your orgasm rocks through you.

Joel laps up every drop, groaning into your pussy as he takes you through it. His tongue flicking against your clit just to have you shake and whimper more as you start to slowly drift back to reality after seeing the stars. He’s smug, proud that he could make you cum, even if he didn’t last as long as he wanted. If there’s a next time, he’ll make sure you cum all over his cock. One last kiss to your clit, he pulls back and rests his cheek on your thigh as he looks at you. “Make up for it?”

You giggle, nodding your head as you try to catch your breath. You run your fingers through his hair and smile softly, "more than made up for it." You promise and you lower your thighs from his shoulders. He shifts to lay down next to you, his cum now dry on your skin, and you turn your head to look at him. "my shower won't stay hot for more than a few minutes...any chance you can come over tomorrow and check it out?"

He smirks, his hand sliding up and down your side as he leans over you. “Think I can do that.” He agrees, tilting his head playfully. “Gotta earn that next batch of coffee.” He knows that this can’t be more than a passing fancy for you, he’s damaged and often sullen. Even his own brother calls him a grump on the best of days. Still, he will enjoy this while it lasts.

You hum, shifting off the bed after pecking his lips. "Flick one bean to get another." You joke and as you grab your panties and pull them up, walking into your bathroom to wash his cum from your skin. "You wanna get me those shirts and I'll start on Ellie's quilt?" You ask and he grunts as he sits on the edge of your bed. "Sure thing." You step back into your bedroom, robe wrapped around you, "and give me those jeans so I can fix your belt loop before you go." You smirk and he nods, "yes ma'am." You chuckle, "I have a feeling this is going to be the start of something very satisfying." You wink, picking his pants up and you don't redress as you take them to your sewing table. Joel watches you go, wondering when you'll be tired of him, but for now, he's going to enjoy every second.

****

Two Years Later:

Stepping into the shop, Joel flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ before twisting the lock. You aren’t in the front, making him frown as he looks around. The sewing shop has changed a lot in the past year, he had even managed to bring back a few mannequins from a deserted clothing store he had found on patrol. They are displaying some of the clothing you had repaired and were offering for trade. Calling your name, he shifts slightly and wonders if you are busy. “Where you at?”

You poke your head out from the kitchen, a grin appearing on your face as you walk towards your lover. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him towards your face so you can kiss him. "Mmm, perfect timing. I just finished Ellie's present." You hum against his chin.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Joel hadn’t asked if you would make Ellie something, you had volunteered. “Uh, what are you making?” You had kept it a secret and he sniffs the air. “Cake?”

You nod, "yeah. Since Seth fucked up last year, I figured I'd take it into my own hands." You smile, "made sure I spelled her name right." You giggle, "was that - was that okay?" You ask, wanting to make sure you didn't overstep.

“That’s….great.” He smiles at you, hands squeezing your waist. “Not only do you have perfect hands for sewing, you bake.” He groans at the thought of a slice. “And it smells like it’s gonna be amazing.” He chuckles. “Maybe I’ll get a piece this year if Ellie doesn’t dive in headfirst.”

You chuckle, remembering the story of her digging straight in. "I also have perfect hands for something else." You murmur, smirking as you kiss his jaw, your fingers playing with the longer curls at the base of his head.

You haven’t gotten tired of him, much to his everlasting surprise. This thing between you is uncomplicated. Both of you use the other, for comfort, companionship, sex. You are friends, and had the end of the world not happened, it would have been labeled a friends with benefits thing, but Joel just calls it spending time together. “Yeah?” He hums as his already hardening cock grinds against your belly. “Needing a little distraction, huh?”

You nod, "to stop myself from licking the frosting bowl clean." You confess, bringing your fingers to his lips. "Still tastes so sweet." You hum when he immediately takes your digits into his mouth, swirling his tongue to sample the sweet taste. "Sweet but I know of something else that tastes sweeter." You smirk and cup his cheek with your damp fingers, "better come upstairs and eat it then."

He chuckles and slaps your ass when you turn around. “Good thing I already locked the door.” He tells you as you guide him towards the stairs again. The path is familiar, well known. He can't count the number of times he’s climbed these stairs to your bedroom. Now, he’s already pulling his flannel shirt out of his jeans, flicking open his belt. Watching your ass as you shake it in front of him playfully. “Goddamn, you look good in those jeans.”

You smirk, “thanks. Tailored them from a pair I found on patrol, left in a drawer.” You reveal, already pulling your shirt over your head. You’re hungry for Joel, and he does such a good job of making sure he never leaves your bed without satisfying you. Sure, others have asked you out - those who don’t see the way Joel looks at you - but you never say yes. You’re happy with what you have with Joel…even if it will never become anything more.

He grunts. “Next patrol, you should go with me.” He makes it sound casual, but he has talked to Tommy about limiting your runs and putting you with better people than you’ve been riding with. Worry starting to creep into his thoughts every time you go out. “Spend some time together outside the walls.” He adds, sweetening the offer.

You’re surprised by the offer, nodding your agreement. “Sure. I’d like that.” You murmur, turning to face him when you enter your bedroom. You pull him closer, working on unbuttoning his shirt. You huff in frustration when his lips press against your neck, ripping it open and buttons go flying. “I’ll put those back on before you go.” You promise.l, caressing his chest.

He laughs, body relaxing slightly at the way you are so eager. “You always do.” He teases, pushing your hands away and nodding to the bed. “Undress yourself and lay down.” He orders. “Need to have to wear something home today and can’t have you rippin’ all my clothes.”

You giggle, watching him as he pulls his belt free. “I just like giving you an excuse to come back here.” You confess, pulling your shirt over your head while he strips down. You toss your bra to the floor and unbutton your jeans just as he pushes his briefs down. “Never get tired of that.” You confess, eying his hardening cock.

He rolls his eyes, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it a few times, his grip loose. “Show me that pussy, honey.” He demands, eyes darkening as they roam over your body. “Want to see heaven.”

You shiver at his words, sweetened with that ghost of an accent, and you do as he says. Spreading your legs while your eyes watch him. Your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, already wet with need for him. “Please Joel.” You whimper, sliding your hand down to rub your finger through your folds.

“Shiiiiit.” He twitches in his hand and lets go to kneel on the bed. “You want to ride?” He always asks, but you shake your head. “Good.” He winks at you as he grabs an ankle and drags you towards him. “I wanna be on top today.” He teases, using the same voice you use when you bounce on his cock.

“Fuck.” You pant, loving how he takes control, and you watch him as he positions his cock on your mound, the tip of him on your belly button. “Shit. Looks so big like that.” You confess, reaching down to rub your fingertip over the slit, gathering up the drop of pre-cum. He groans and slips back, slapping the head against your clit. “Joel. Don’t tease.” You whine, rocking your hips to try and push him inside you.

“Hush.” He chides, giving you a look that makes you pout at him. “You know I’m gonna take care of you.” He always does, even if he cums before you do. In his defense, it’s only happened a couple of times. “Somethin’s got you riled up and needy today.” He lifts your leg to his shoulder and lines up, sinking in slowly as he presses your leg back. “You good?”

Your mouth falls open, a silent nod as you take every inch he feeds into your pussy. “So fucking good.” You promise, sliding your hands up to cup your breasts. “Can feel you in my guts.” You tell him, eyes closing at the stretch.

He grunts as he bottoms out inside you, feeling your walls flutter around him. “Good thing you like that.” He pants, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours as he moves down to his elbows. “You’re still as tight as the first time I slid inside you.”

You moan as he pushes against a spot inside you only he can ever seem to find when he presses your knee into your chest. “Do kegels for you.” You tease and he snorts, “the fuck are those?” You smirk, “this.” You clench down around him, “and this.” You clench down in successive squeezes.

“Fuck…” Joel closes his eyes, biting his lip as he tries to control himself. “Yeah- those- keep fuckin’ doin’ those.” He pants out, nodding his head as you giggle. “Goddamn.”

You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to press your lips to his. He shifts, bracing his weight on his hand next to your head as your tongues meet. You never get tired of sex with him. It always feels good no matter how many times you do it.

Joel kisses you passionately, conveying things that he never says. Needs he never voices. He’s never really been a big word kind of man, he’s always believed actions are the measure of a man, so he shows you. Groaning into your mouth as he starts a steady and proven pace. One that makes you come apart for him, but lets him draw out his own end.

“Oh God.” You pant against his chin, “I love it. You always - shit - look after me.” You ramble a little as he works you up. His cock pushes deep as his weight presses your leg into your chest. He grunts, reaching for your other leg, mirroring the position, and you cry out at the new angle. “Oh shit. Yeah. Just like that baby. Shit. That’s - uh, that’s gonna make me cum. Don’t stop.”

Joel pants as he pushes deep. “Not gonna.” He huffs. “Cum for me and then I’m gonna cum on your ass.” He still pulls out, not trusting the chance of staying inside you. “Fuck, honey, cum for me.” Your pussy is pulsing around him and he can feel the way your legs are tensing. “Soak me, wanna feel it.”

You can’t deny him anything when he asks you like that. You pant, nodding frantically as you grip the pillow behind your head. “Oh fuckkkk.” You squeal, thighs shaking as you clamp down on his cock. Your eyes squeeze shut and you soak him while your toes curl behind his head.

He growls out your name, loving how wet you get. The gushing and squelching sound amplifying as he fucks you through it. Thrusting half a dozen more times until he’s pulling out of you and dropping your legs down to flip you over onto your stomach. You moan, pushing your ass up and he slides back into you with a rough thrust that has both of you groaning.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm as his hips hit your ass. Joel groans, looking down at the shaking flesh and his hand grabs your cheek. He slaps it and you moan, burying your face in the sheets. “Yes, baby. Do that again.” You plead and he chuckles, slapping your ass again. Your walls squeeze his cock when he does it and he smirks, “oh you like that.” You huff, “you know I do, asshole.”

He smirks as he slaps the other cheek again. You love when he’s a little rougher and he sometimes gives you that, although he prefers to be gentle with you. This is about giving each of you want you need from each other and right now, his hand connects with your ass again and again as he fucks you harder. “Cum again.”

You moan when he pushes deep, and you know his back must be hurting, but he is fucking you like it’s the last thing he will ever do. “Shit, baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna - fuck fuck fuck.” You rush out until you choke, clamping down on his cock again.

Joel groans, feeling his own orgasm rush over him and he’s pulling back quickly, hating that he couldn’t get another thrust in. Quickly jerking his cock as he grabs your ass and squeezes it. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He growls, painting your ass and lower back with his spend. “Fuck.” He huffs when the waves slow down and he languidly pumps out the last spurts before he’s done. “Goddamn, it’s always so good.”

You hum, looking over your shoulder at him, “it’s why I keep you around.” You tease breathlessly. You flop your head onto the sheets, unable to move because of how hard he fucked you. He shuffles off your bed, reaching for the rag you keep for cleaning up and he wets it in the bathroom before gently wiping you clean. “Thanks babe.” You murmur, “I better get to work fixing your shirt.” You smirk, shifting to lay on your back and he lays down next to you so you swing your leg over his hips, caressing his chest.

“Gotta patrol tomorrow.” Joel tucks an arm behind his head and his other hand caresses your leg idly. “Wanna see if I can find a tool store within a hundred miles.” Construction has been booming in Jackson, fortification being made to the walls. All of it requires tools. “Want me to see if I can find any fabric stores?”

You hum, caressing his chest, "only if you see something. Don't go out of your way." You murmur, "oh and I made Ellie a new strap for her guitar." You smile, "and the cake of course."

“That’s perfect.” He promises, amazed that you had gone so far as to make something else for the girl he thought of like a daughter. “I hope she likes it. Spent a lot of time workin’ on it.”

"I still haven't heard you play. I know you're teaching her." You remember him telling you how he's teaching her the chords. He snorts, "you don't wanna hear me. I'm rusty." You roll your eyes, "humble as he is hot." You shift to sit up and look down at him. "One day?" You ask, hoping he will play for you. He stares at you for a moment, "one day." You nod, satisfied with that answer. You won't ever push Joel for more, that would push him away forever.

**** 

“You okay?” Joel glances behind him, watching as you settle in on your horse. The temperature is perfect so the jackets are already stowed and the sun is shining down on the two of you. It’s the first trip outside the walls together and he is a little worried that something will happen.

You look up at the sky, closing your eyes as the sun warms your face. “I’m good.” You open your eyes and look at him with a soft smile on your face. “You look good on a horse.” You tell him and he chuckles, “you think I look good in anything.” You hum, “because it’s true and I’m always right.” You tease and he opens his mouth to protest. “Nah ah ah, baby. Happy life, happy…end of the world lover slash friend not wife or even girlfriend.” You giggle, shifting on top of the horse.

He nearly chokes on his words, grunting as he turns back towards the road to look around. He doesn’t know if you want something like a label on this thing between you. It’s never seemed to be a priority. Something he had appreciated for awhile, now it just left him confused. “Whatever you say.” He settles on that for his answer and he can hear you roll your eyes behind him. “How far out have you gone on patrol?” He asks.

You nudge your horse to catch up with him, “relax, Miller. I’m just joking. We are - we are us.” You decide and he nods, “whatever you say.” He repeats and you snort, glancing at him before you focus on the road. “I’ve been pretty far. I, uh, I actually found something that you might want to show Ellie. I wanted to wait until we were out here and her birthday is next week.” You murmur, hoping he likes your idea.

He tilts his head, interested in what it could be. “Yeah?” He asks, smiling when you nod eagerly. “Show me.” He motions for you to take the lead. It’s pretty incredible how thoughtful you are to think of Ellie. You’re generous and kind, things that he tries to be. Especially now. He is slowly starting to heal. “Maria wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner.” She had basically demanded that Joel bring you or she would drag you there herself. “Next Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to look at him but he’s staring ahead. “She’s thinkin’ about getting a new wardrobe.” He jokes and you snort, “yeah. We can go on a girl’s day to Sears.” You chuckle and he shakes his head, taking a moment until he asks, “well? You wanna come?” You nod, looking at him, “yeah. I do.” You respond, heart fluttering in your chest. “Come on. Keep up.” You nudge your horse and start to ride faster, showing him the place you’d found for Ellie. “Wait up.” He huffs, following you until you come to a stop. “What do you think?” You ask, grinning excitedly at him.

“Holy shit.” Joel is stunned, eyes wide as he stares up at the statue. “It’s-“ he looks over at you and then back at the sight in front of him. The giant t-Rex is honestly amazing to see still standing as the foliage hasn’t completely reclaimed the area. “It’s amazing. She’s gonna lose her shit.” He predicts with a grin.

“Oh there’s more.” You grin, “we made sure it was cleared out.” You nudge your horse and make your way through the brush until you’re outside the museum. “Come on. I’ll show you what’s really gonna blow her mind.” You grin, swinging off your horse to tie her up.

“Holy shit.” Even though Boston had plenty of museums, all of them were outside the quarantine zone. Any of them inside had long been stripped of any historical value, most often for personal gain. This looks untouched. His eyes are wide and he knows that she will lose her mind if she gets to spend a day here. “It’s clear?” He asks, wanting to be certain before you go in.

You nod, “we checked it last week.” You confirm, “so should still be clear unless any found their way in.” You doubt it but you always need to double check. You take his hand, guiding him to the door which is pulled open and you watch his expression as he takes in the sight of the museum. A glimpse into a place long deserted but preserved.

“I used to take Sarah to museums.” He tells you as he walks through the abandoned halls. Dusty, dirty glass still showcasing odes to history almost forgotten. Only talked about by those who still remember it or are learning about it. “There were some good ones. She loved the natural science sections.” He chuckles as he looks back at you. “Wished she lived in the time of the dinosaurs when she was younger.”

You smile, seeing his eyes glaze over like they always do when he talks about his daughter. “I wish I could’ve met her.” You murmur, reaching out to squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, brought back to you from memories of Sarah. “Ellie is obsessed with space which is perfect because-” You guide him into a hall where a planetarium is displayed above. “It works but it needs some WD40.” You smile and he nods, letting you guide him, “and this. I think she’s gonna lose her mind.” You gesture to the Apollo capsule.

“She’s gonna lose her mind?” He snorts as he steps closer, in awe of the capsule and the ingenuity it took to put man in outer space. “Yeah, this blows away the recording of the mission that I managed to find her.” He looks over at the displays of the suits and chuckles. “She’s gonna want to pretend she’s being launched into space.” He predicts, pulling you close and kissing your lips. “Thank you for this.” He hums. “She’s gonna love it. I love it.”

You grin, loving his praise and the thought of Ellie loving her present. "she can listen to the mission and be inside the capsule. I checked it out. Oh and there's a helmet in the display but I didn't want to break the glass. I wanted you both to see it as it would've been." You confess, "you wanna see inside? It's awesome." You open the capsule and crawl inside, "come on, baby." You gesture for him to come inside.

Joel drops his backpack and follows you inside, closing the door of the capsule and dropping down into one of the seats. “Surprisingly big.” He hums, although it would be considered cramped with more than two people inside. The sunlight streams in from the small window as he looks over at you. “She’s gonna need half a day to press all the buttons.” He grins at you. “Just like I know you did.” He knows you had to play around when you were in here and he flicks one of the switches just to say that he had.

You giggle, leaning back into the seat as you look up at the buttons. "It's insane to think people went to space in this. They must've been shitting themselves." You ponder and he snorts, "of course." You look at him, admiring the soft smile on his face and that look in his eyes that tells you how he feels even if he can't say it. "You reckon the astronauts that went to space fucked in these?" You ask, tilting your head.

“Women weren’t on missions until later.” He reminds you with a smirk. “Although I guess anything’s possible.” He looks up as if he was looking into the sky. “There was probably definitely fucking on the International Space Station.” He jokes. “Called it foreign relations.”

You snort, “well…we could have Jackson relations.” You tease, shifting out of the seat and you move fast to straddle him. “A different kind of blast off.” You smirk, caressing his chest as you lean in to kiss his jaw.

His furrowed brow quickly changes to one of surprise and then amusement as his lips curve and his hands find your ass. “Is that right?” He asks, grunting when your teeth nip his skin. His cock is already responding to you pressing against him, the subtle grind of your hips always getting him going. “It’s gonna have to be you doing the work.” He reminds you softly.

You nod in understanding, “I know, baby.” You murmur, kissing along to his ear and you bite down on his ear lobe, making him moan. You love how he groans and his fingers dig into your ass. “That’s it, baby.” You murmur, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, reaching in to pull his hardening cock from his pants.

You always know what to do, how to touch him. He loves that you are always so eager. There’s not been one time that he’s needed you that you have turned him away and he’s done the same. Neither of you starting now. “Take your pants off and sit on my cock, honey.” He coos gruffly.

You let go of his cock, shuffling back to unbutton your jeans and you curse as you hit your head on the top of the capsule as you try to shimmy your jeans down your thighs. When they are below your knees, you straddle him again and reach down to grip his cock. He grunts and slips his hand down to pull your panties aside. You position him at your entrance and slowly sink down onto him.

“Fuck.” Joel hisses quietly, twitching as you lower yourself down until your ass is pressed to his thighs. “So tight, so hot.” He praises softly, as if he was afraid someone would hear him. Not that it was possible with being so isolated. He grips your hips as rocks up into you slightly.

You whimper, rocking your hips down onto his cock. You love how he stretches you out, your head dropping to press your forehead to his. “Always feel so good. Never get tired of this.” You murmur, closing your eyes in bliss. “Wish you could stay inside me forever.”

Joel groans in agreement. “Shoulda gotten that snip done before the end of the world.” He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he lives in a world now where condoms are a rare luxury.

You hum in agreement, “how could you know condoms weren’t gonna be around because a - a fucking fungus took over the world?” You ask breathlessly, rocking down onto his cock. “But I do think about you. You cumming inside me.”

Joel groans, twitching inside of you violently, “me too.” He pants out. “I think about it when I’m jerking off. I can’t- I can’t think about it when I’m inside you.” He confesses. “I’ll cum too quickly.”

You nod in understanding, “I know baby. Fuck.” You murmur, still imagining how it would feel but you start to rock on his cock, “feel so good, baby. So damn good. No one has ever felt like this.”

You are the longest relationship he’s had, besides Tess. His heart aches for a moment and it makes his kiss a little more demanding, desperate. Reminding himself that he can’t change the past, he can’t bring anyone back, but he can show you how he appreciates you. His tongue slides into your mouth when you open up with a groan.

You slide your tongue against his, cupping his cheeks as you devour him while you ride his cock. Your pants and moans fill the tiny space and you slide your hands down to grip his shoulders. “Shit. Gonna make me cum already.” You pant, knowing he can hit just right inside of you to push you over the edge.

Joel groans, planting his feet at the bottom of the space capsule and rocks up into you. Taking over for a moment and swallowing your whine of pleasure when he hits that spot inside you that drives you crazy.

You whimper, “fuck, baby. I- shit. I’m gonna - oh fuck.” You pant, walls fluttering until you clamp down on him. “Shittt.” You hiss out as you shake above him. “Fuck.” You pant, collapsing against him.

You’ve stopped moving, but Joel just holds you. Panting with you as you shake on top of him. “You amaze me.” He murmurs softly, stroking your back.

His words make your heart clench with love but you daren’t utter those three words. You caress his cheeks, softly kissing him. “Lemme take care of you.” You murmur, shifting off his cock, and you awkwardly maneuver until you’re kneeling so you can take his cock into your mouth. You taste yourself on his skin and moan, your eyes meeting his.

He closes his eyes and groans out your name, hand reaching down and caressing your cheek. You know you don’t have to do this, but the fact that you want to always makes him light up. He loves that you want him so badly that you love to have him fall apart in your mouth. “Fuck.” He hisses, stomach clenching. “I can’t - I don’t deserve you.”

You pull off his cock, smirking as you pump him, "you definitely do." You argue and take him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you pump the base, pressing your tongue to the underside. You want him to cum down your throat. You want to see him fall apart.

You’re fucking good at sucking his cock. Sitting in the most surreal place he could ever be, with your lips wrapped around his dick like you are gonna suck him dry. “Fuck.” He hisses again, wondering again why him. Why had you chosen him? He’s so fucking lucky you haven’t realized you deserve better, so much more than he could ever give you. “Goddamn, gonna cum.” He growls out, fingers tightening on your jaw.

You hum around him, used to swallowing down all he has to offer, and your eyes water but you blink rapidly to watch him as he spills down your throat. His moan echoes off the metal walls of the capsule and you work him through it until his chest heaves. You pull off of him, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, and you offer him a smug smile, "Houston, we have liftoff." You tease, watching him try to catch his breath.

He chuckles breathlessly as he pulls you up and kisses you. Letting you settle onto his lap again for another moment. Both of you are quiet, breathing starting to return to normal as he closes his eyes. “You’re so good to me.” He murmurs after a moment. “You’ve made Ellie’s birthday perfect.” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you want to come with us?”

You nudge your nose against his, arms around his neck as you lean into him. You pull back for a moment, surprised at the request, and you caress the hair at the base of his neck. “I don’t want to invade on your time with her.” You murmur, “enjoy her birthday. She’ll be a moody teenager screaming at you before you know it.” You lean in to kiss his nose.

He appreciates that you would give him this time with her alone. Smiling softly as he wrinkles his nose. “Oh goody.” He huffs dryly. “Just what every dad wants.”

“Rite of passage, baby. Teenage girls have gotta have a ‘I hate my daddy’ phase. Next will be smoking and/or drinking along with the, uh, the sex.” You can feel him flinch beneath you. “She’s gotta grow up.” You remind him, “the best thing to can do is be there for her when she fucks up because she will.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to hope she just jumps into bed with the first boy to smile at her.” Joel grumbles, knowing that you’re right. You would know more about what teenage girls go through than he would. “Jesse keeps eyeing her. I think there might be something there.”

You chuckle, caressing his chest, “I think it’s more, uh, that she’s eying the ladies.” You reveal and he frowns, “she’s still figuring it all out.” He counters and you pat his chest, “I know you are from Texas and it wasn’t - but it’s okay. Just support her. No matter what.” You tell him and he nods, “shit. I’m so out of my depth.” He confesses and you cup his cheek, “I’m here for you. Both of you. However you want me.” You promise, “it’ll be okay.”

He hums softly, unable to vocalize how much that means to him. Instead, he holds you closer, leaning in and giving you several soft kisses. “I can’t tell her we had sex here.” He tells you dryly, making you laugh as he starts to chuckle. “She would be completely grossed out. She makes gagging noises whenever I come home smellin’ like you.”

You giggle, "is that when you've spent all day with your tongue inside my-?" He cuts you off with a groan of "don't" and you caress his cheek, "we can air it out." You promise, "cool place to check off the list of places we have had sex." You tease, "and she's gonna love this place for her birthday. You're a good father." You murmur, nudging your nose against his. "

He snorts, doubtful, but the pain of losing Sarah has been helped so much by having Ellie. The guilt he has carried isn’t gone, but he feels like he has been given a second chance. “Hopefully she likes it, I’m gonna walk here.” It’s not too far from the town, relatively speaking. “Give us time to talk and connect.”

You nod, caressing his chest until you pat it. "We better get moving." You groan as you shift to stand, awkwardly shimmying your jeans and panties back up your legs while he tucks his cock away. You inhale deeply once you're outside the space capsule and Joel rolls his neck. He glances around for a moment and takes your hand, guiding you back to your horses. Your heart flutters and you feel the words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you don't want to ruin a perfect day. You swallow the words back down and squeeze his hand, letting him guide you back home.

**** 

“Answer the door, answer the fuckin’ door.” Joel growls, banging on your door again. He would just walk in, but your shop is closed today, the front door locked to give you some privacy. Needing to talk to you, he grabs the door knobs and twists it again as if it would magically open for him.

You swing the door open, eyes wide as you see Joel standing there, his chest heaving. "What the fuck is going on? I was just taking a shower." Your skin is still wet, towel wrapped around you, and you can see he's upset. "Come in." You order, ushering him inside and off the street.

It’s pouring outside and he’s probably just as soaking wet as you are, maybe more. He had walked out of the house without a jacket, without anything. Furious and hurt, confused and needing to talk to you. “Ellie.” He spits out as he storms inside. “She’s lost her damn mind.” He growls as he starts to pace around the shop before you take his hand and drag him towards the stairs.

You guide him to your living room, letting go of his hand to grab him a towel to dry off. "Here baby. Sit. Talk to me. What happened? It's her birthday." You frown, reaching out to push his wet hair back from his face.

“I was bringing her her cake.” He huffs, rubbing his face and then his hair, but he’s more preoccupied by the argument he just had with Ellie. “She was- there was this girl. Says she’s 19, oldest fucking 19 year old I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head. “She got a tattoo.” He stresses and says your name as he looks at you with horrified eyes. “Smoking pot too. All of it, all of it today.”

You snort, shaking your head, "she really went from zero to a hundred with teenage angst, huh?" You sigh, seeing the sadness and anger in his eyes. "She's growing up and I know that's hard to handle because she's not gonna need you as much, but it proves that you have been a good father to her. She is gonna act out and you freaking out will make her go even harder. I'm not saying you gotta understand it, baby, but you can't freak out. You gotta let her make her own mistakes." You caress his ear lobe, brushing his hair back, and you watch him clench his jaw.

“A tattoo?” He huffs and you nod when he looks at you, “goddamn.” He flings himself back on the sofa and covers his eyes. “Girls? I just- I thought-“ he doesn’t know what he was thinking, it had just caught him off guard. Even after you had hinted about it before. You had seen what he hadn’t or been unwilling to see. He sighs heavily, knowing he fucked up. “I was hoping she was gonna meet some guy, fall in love, get married….have babies.” His voice is soft, almost yearning. All the things that he never got to see Sarah do.

You reach for his hands, tangling your fingers with his, "she can still get married and you can walk her down the-" you wrinkle your nose, "nah. I can't see Ellie walking down the aisle." Joel chuckles in agreement and you continue, "she could adopt a kid like you have or hell, you never know what will happen, but she knows who she is and I certainly didn't know that at her age. She's - she's a strong girl, a fighter, and she likes girls. That's who she is and you love her no matter what because you are her father." You remind him, "and she loves you because you've been there for her since you met."

“Fuck.” Joel closes his eyes. “I fucked it up.” He admits. “I need to apologize to her. But I can’t now, she will just make a smart ass comment and completely ignore me.” She blows hot, so different from his own quiet, deep rage. Joel doesn’t shout until he has to, and Ellie’s first line of defense is shouting. “I hope she doesn’t fucking hate me.”

“It’ll be okay.” You promise, “let her cool down and I have her present ready. I found a pair of Converse. Cleaned them up and restitched them. You can take them for her, tell her it’s from you.” You offer, sliding your hand down to caress his neck.

“No, I can’t do that.” You always give Ellie such thoughtful gifts, he could never take that away from you. Even if she didn’t have any interest in learning to sew. She still slept under that quilt every night. “I just-“ he needed to talk, to have your reassurance or your slap upside the head, whatever was appropriate. “I needed you.” He admits softly.

You smile, “you have me. Always.” You promise, “whenever you need me, baby.” You reassure him, shifting to straddle him and you let the towel you have wrapped around you pool to the floor. “You can take what you need.”

That wasn’t what he meant, but he wants to be close to you. He grabs the back of your neck and drags you down for a desperate kiss. Groaning into your mouth as you immediately reach for his belt buckle.

You slide your tongue against his and reach in to pull his hard cock out. He’s always eager, even for a man of his age, and you squeeze him. “I’m yours. However you want me.” You promise as you start to pump him, wanting him to throb in your hand before you ride him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, hardening even more under your expert touch. “Bed.” He growls, wanting to touch all of you. His hand slaps your ass while the other cups your breast.

You huff but concede, letting go of his cock to shift off his lap. You make your way over to the bed, laying down to watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Always so sexy.” You murmur, watching him as he stalks towards the bed.

He snorts softly and shakes his head. He’s old, getting older every year. Every morning he’s stiff and aching, wishing for some of those hydros he used to take to forget the sounds of his daughter dying. It’s strange….since saving Ellie, he hasn’t had them. Like he had completed the task he had failed at nearly twenty-five years ago. “You’re the one I should be saying that to.” He smirks as you wink at him. “Brazen.”

You snort and spread your legs for him to kneel between them. “Come here, baby.” You murmur, pulling him down towards you and he shifts his weight to his elbow before he reaches down to squeeze his cock in his hand. He slides it through your folds and you whimper when he starts to push into you.

He needs you, right now as a distraction, a comfort. You are always so goddamn good at giving him an outlet for his emotions. Even when he rarely shares them. He settles down on you, giving you his full weight as he pushes his arms under your back to gather you close. “Fuck.”

You caress his shoulders, sliding your hands down to his ass, "fuck me. Joel. I want you to forget all the bullshit and fuck me." You order, pushing him deeper with your palms on his skin.

He’s good at following your orders, smirking slowly as he rocks deeper into you. Right now, his mind is blank to everything but the way your pussy feels clenching around him. “Hard?” He asks, feeling like you want it rougher, but he wants to just make sure.

You nod, “harder.” You order, “want to feel you tomorrow.” You demand and he groans, grabbing your thigh to push it back towards your stomach. “That’s it. Shit.” You moan in pleasure, “always get so deep like this. Yes baby. Keep - keep fucking going.” You plead, moaning his name again when he grunts.

Joel’s dark eyes watch you, even as he starts to give you exactly what you are begging for. You once told him that he looked like a predator, like he was about to destroy you, but he’s watching to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Even when he’s rough, he never wants you to have true pain. Not by him, not from this. Joel hisses when you clench down around him after a sharp snap of his hips. “That’s it.” He growls.

You moan, loving how he pushes deep, his balls hitting your ass as he fucks you hard like you wanted. He always gives you what you want, “lemme - tell me if your back hurts.” You inform him, “I can - I can take over.” You offer, wanting him to enjoy himself.

He huffs, almost offended by the comment if it weren’t so true most of the time. “Back always hurts.” He grunts out, speeding up the pace as if he is proving a point to both of you.

You gasp as he pushes even deeper, wanting to show you that he can still fuck you hard and fast. “Oh shit, Miller. You’re - shit - you’re gonna make me - already. How?” You moan in surprise at how he’s worked you up and you know it’s just him. Your feelings for him that you keep to yourself.

He chuckles breathlessly, watching your eyes glaze over in pleasure as you take every thrust. Squealing out his name again and your nails dig into his arms. “Fuck.” He hisses, enjoying the flash of pain and focusing on making you cum. “Do it. Do it for me.”

You nod, mouth open as your walls clamp down on his cock. You cum within moments, his name mouthed instead of moaned, and you shake beneath him. “Oh fuckkkk” finally escapes your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Joel groans your name, gritting his teeth and rocking his hips a little deeper as he works you through it. You’re soaking him, making his eyes slip closed in pleasure. “Fuck honey, you’re doing so good. So good to me.”

You grip his shoulders, nails leaving a trail of scratches, and you whimper, “wanna - wanna feel it. Just once. I tracked - it’s safe. Please. Wanna feel you cum inside me just one time.” You beg, wanting to feel the heat of his cum painting your walls. “Just this once. Please Joel. Fill me up.”

He shouldn’t, he fucking shouldn’t. Joel groans and rocks his hips even faster. The thrusts are harsh and sharp. Giving into your begging without even thinking about how wrong it is. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” His growl is low, almost feral as he feels himself start to cum. Pushing deep, he buries his cock and and floods your walls with his cum. “Fuck, honey.” Your name falls from his lips in a low groan, unable to even try to pull out because it feels so good.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, painting your walls, and the way he groans your name has another smaller orgasm rippling through you. You try to catch your breath, lost in the sensations, and your chest heaves while he presses kisses to your neck. “That was - yeah.” You finish lamely, biting back the words that are always on the tip of your tongue but you don’t want to scare him away from you.

Joel collapses on top of you, forehead pressed against yours as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t even explain how he feels right now, what is racing through his mind and heart. “Yeah.” He huffs finally, rolling off of you and pulling you against him.

All the unspoken words seem to hang heavy in the air but you don’t drag them down. You simply curl around Joel, breathing him in as you relax, and you feel him finally relax. You don’t need words, you can just be. 

**** 

You groan, resting your head on your toilet as you try to quell the nausea that seems to creep up your throat. You’ve been throwing up for a couple of days, exhausted, and you wonder if you have some kind of flu. It’s Ellie’s birthday today and you’re certain Joel will be doing something with her. It’s her 18th after all. They have been at odds and you hope today is the day they talk it out and put it aside. “Fuck.” You wipe your mouth, stumbling as you stand up from the toilet and when you flush it, you see the box of tampons. “Shit.” You murmur, trying to think back to when your period was. Usually you’re like clockwork but Joel has been finishing inside you more often than not since Ellie’s last birthday. “Shit.” You repeat, sitting down on the toilet seat. “I’m pregnant.” You groan, rubbing your eyes.

Joel sighs softly as he walks towards town, his hands shoved in his pockets. Ellie didn’t want to spend the day with him. Just awkwardly stared at him until he left her garage domain. He’s upset and he doesn’t know what to do. He sees your shop in the distance and there’s a little bit of brightness to his day. It takes him a few minutes and he opens the door. “Honey? You here?” He asks as he closes it behind him. He brought you some buttons and thread he had found, hoping that you would like them.

You wipe your eyes and set your toothbrush down before you go downstairs to see Joel standing in your shop. “Hey baby“ You offer shakily, “you doing okay?” You ask, noticing the way he looks tense and frustrated.

“No.” Joel sets the bag that he had hooked on his arm down on the counter. “But what’s new?” He had been in a mood, withdrawn, as it got closer to Ellie’s birthday and now today, it is just a bad day. Almost as bad as his own birthday.

You stare at him, unable to keep it to yourself when it’s such a shock and he’s already in a bad mood. “I’m pregnant.” You choke out, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I think - I haven’t had my period. I’m late and I’ve been throwing up.”

Joel freezes, eyes wide as he stares at you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, you can’t be pregnant.” He tells you, as if that will make it true. He thinks back to when Sarah’s mother told him that she was pregnant, the fear, the uncertainty that had festered with the undeniable hope that he could do better. “No!” He shouts, shoving the bag and contents off the counter as he sweeps his hands across the surface. He can’t be a father again. Not at his age. He's at the end of his life. Hell, Ellie isn’t even talking to him and Sarah….. His chest tightens and his vision starts to swim as he stumbles towards the door, needing to get air and not able to breathe.

Your heart pounds as you watch him panic. “It’s not like I did this on purpose.” You choke, “and last time I checked, you were just as eager to cum inside me, Miller.” You hiss, “and I know you are having issues with Ellie but don’t you - fuck.” You sob, curling your arms around yourself.

He hears you, but it sounds like you are underwater. Your voice is garbled and he can’t understand what you are saying but he hears the hurt in your tone. “I can’t-“ he struggles out, heart racing in his chest. He presses a hand to his heart as he tries to reach the door. “I can’t-“

Your eyes widen when you see the way his chest heaves. You step forward, reaching out to cup his cheeks, “it’s okay. You’re okay, baby. Just breathe.” You order, “you’re okay, baby.” You murmur, “breathe with me. Breathe. It’s okay.”

He sinks to his knees with you, gasping for air. “It- I’m almost fucking 60.” He chokes out, closing his eyes and hating how weak he is. “I- you- a baby?” He makes a sound of sorrow. “I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes and there is nothing but anguish in their depths as he looks at you, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “I’m sorry.”

You shush him, “it’s okay, baby. It’s okay baby.” You murmur, “just breathe. It’s okay baby.” You promise, “we will figure it out. I don’t know for sure. We don’t know.” You murmur, caressing his cheeks.

It takes him a few minutes before he can breathe normally. He takes a deep breath and sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I won’t live to see them grow up.” Hw whispers. “I won’t be able to protect you, and our baby.” He’s never shirked his responsibility. He didn’t when he was a young, single father to a baby girl and he won’t do it now that he’s old enough to know better. His eyes meet yours and he swallows harshly. “I’m sorry, honey.” He murmurs.

“I can protect us. I am capable. I just - I didn’t think- we’ve gone so many years without it happening and - shit. This is my fault. I told you to cum inside me.” You choke, kissing his cheeks, “I’m sorry. This is - shit.”

“No.” He frowns, shaking his head and pulls back to look at you seriously. “I’m a grown man, I knew the risks.” He admits, sighing softly as he pulls your hands into his. “I’m not mad at you.” He promises. “I’m mad at myself. All I ever do is the wrong thing.”

You shake your head, “no you don’t. You’re a good man. You’re a good father and I- I know this isn’t what we planned but we can do it. I can do it.” You promise, “I have to do it.” You choke, “it’s my responsibility.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Joel pulls you close and presses his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry honey.” He murmurs again, thinking about the trouble Maria had when she had Benji. “I’m gonna find a doctor. The best doctor I can.” He promises. “One that was a doctor before all this shit.” He will drag the doctor here by force if necessary.

You sigh, “it’s okay, baby. We will figure it out.” You promise, “we have a long way to go before the baby is here.” You murmur, “I - it’s okay. We will figure it out.” You promise, pecking his cheek.

You should be pissed off at him, kicking him out of your house and life, not comforting him. Not reassuring him. He moves to pull you into his arms. “I don’t deserve you.” He knows he owes you the truth about how he feels, but he can’t right now. It’s not the right time. Not after he had essentially blamed you for getting pregnant in your mind. It would ruin it. So he doesn’t say those little words that seem to come so goddamn hard for him. “Not at all.”

You sigh, caressing his cheek, “you do. You just don’t know it. Come on, lay down with me.” You take his hand, helping him stand and you guide him to your bedroom. “Rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

Joel sighs, his feet heavy, but he follows you dutifully. “You should come stay at the house sometimes.” He mentions. “There’s more room, you could have some space from the shop.”

You are surprised at his offer, nodding as you shift to lay down and he pulls you into his chest. You sniff, trying to calm your racing heart, and you wonder how you’re going to handle having a baby with a man who can’t even say he loves you. 

**** 

You don’t know how long you lay there for but you shift to kiss him, waking him up from your nap. “I gotta use the bathroom.” You shift off him, making your way into the bathroom to pee. Your eyes widen when you pull your pants down and see red. No cramping or sudden issues so you must’ve gotten your period. You come out to see Joel sitting on the edge of the bed and you bite your lip, “crisis averted. I got my period.”

Joel frowns as he looks at you, unsure if he’s relieved or disappointed to hear that. He nods, knowing that it’s for the best. He might have ten, fifteen years left in him. If he’s lucky. He doesn’t need to be having a baby, even if he wondered what a kid with you would look like. “That’s….” He pauses. “Good. Right?”

You nod, a little sad but it’s for the best. “Yeah. Looks like Ellie won’t be a big sister. Probably for the best.” You snort, sitting down next to him. You reach for his hand, squeezing it, “it’s for the best.” You reassure him, “so back to pulling out?” You tease.

He snorts, shaking his head in amusement that you can bounce back so quickly. “That’s if you let me back in your bed.” He tells you. “You might kick my ass out.”

“Never.” You promise, “no one has ever made me feel like you do.” You smirk, “I’d be an idiot to kick you out because of one pregnancy scare. We have been pretty lucky considering.” You sigh, turning your body to look at him. “I don’t want to step backwards because this scare happened. Let’s go back to how we were before today.”

He looks down at your hands, fingers threaded together and he squeezes softly. The trust you give him is overwhelming. “Back to how things were.” He agrees as he looks up at you again. Thinking about how the child you could have had together would have had your eyes.

**** 

Another year passes with you and Joel spending time together, the pregnancy scare buried away. “She’s still not talking to you?” You ask Joel, “why don’t you take her on patrol today?” You ask, knowing you’re supposed to go with him but you’ll give up your place if it makes Ellie happy.

“You think?” He takes a sip of his coffee, looking over at you, and contemplating. “She is 19.” He admits. “Most start patrolling at 18 but….” He had pulled strings and put his foot down with the council, a lot of them afraid he would slow down construction because he was pulling more patrols to protect her. “Yeah.” He nods. “I guess that could be good.”

You watch him sip his coffee, “she will be excited. You know all she wants is to be capable.” You tell him and he nods, “yeah. Maybe - maybe we can talk. It should be quiet out there today.” You smile, “exactly. Go with her. Oh and when you’re back, I repaired her band shirts.” You look over at the box that contains shirts she has ripped and worn to pieces but you’ve managed to rescue them.

“She will like that.” Joel smiles at you as he reaches out to caress your back. “Let me go talk to her about it. What are you going to do if she wants to go? Have a day to yourself where I’m not bothering you?” He knows there is a group of newcomers that just arrived and those first few days are hectic for you with trading and repairing clothes.

You chuckle, “I’ll probably have a nap. Touch myself thinking about this old guy who fucks me.” You tease, leaning in to softly kiss his jaw, “and have some snacks. You know, girl time.”

Joel snorts softly and shakes his head. Turning his head as he presses his lips to your briefly. “Girl time, huh?” He smirks slightly. “Sounds fun.”

You chuckle, “oh yeah. Gonna be real fun.” You joke and caress his cheek, “she’s gonna come around.” You murmur, “don’t sorry baby.” You want him to relax a little even if Ellie is giving him a hard time.

He sighs softly, leaning against you as he hopes that you are right. “Too good to me.” He murmurs again, believing that to be true. “I should go.” He huffs after a moment.

“Go. I’ll see you later.” You murmur, kissing him again and you watch him as he steps back, grabbing his jacket, and you sigh when he’s gone. You hope he and Ellie can find some middle ground during the patrol.

**** 

He knows you’ve heard. Everyone in Jackson has heard. The only thing that spreads faster than good news is bad news. And the death of a town member is bad news. His footsteps are heavy, not even able to go to your house, he’s dragged himself back to his own house. Slow steps up the porch, running a hand through his hair as he swallows harshly.

You make your way up the steps to his front door, knowing he must be beating himself up. You open the door that was left unlocked after he rushed inside. You close it behind you, making your way upstairs to find Joel sitting on the end of his bed, head hanging low. You walk towards him, standing in between his spread legs and you waste no time pulling him into your stomach so you can comfort him.

The sorrow he hides from everyone. The feelings that he bottles up, buries deep, it comes out. His hands slide around your body, pulling you closer as he gives into the pain. He hadn’t wanted to kill Eugene, he didn’t. But the risk was too great. Bringing someone infected too close to Jackson endangered every single person in that town. Ellie didn’t see that, wouldn’t see that. “I had to.” He chokes out.

You stroke your fingers through his hair, “I know, baby. I know.” You coo, needing to comfort him as he sobs into your shirt. “You did what you thought was best.” You murmur, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “She will understand with time. She has to.” You promise, “and you did the right thing.”

He tightens his grip on you, letting himself have this moment before he stuffs it down again. Shows an unconcerned face to the rest of the town. He knows you won’t even ask him for the details but you believe in him. You believe that he wouldn’t do anything just to be cruel. There was a reason, a good reason for why he hadn’t granted that last request.

You let him bury his face in your shirt, “it’s okay. Baby, it’s okay.” You murmur, waiting until he lifts his head to look at you and you lean down, cupping his cheeks to softly kiss him. “It’ll be okay.” You promise, “it’s gonna be okay.” You know why he did it and you know why Ellie is mad but you understand him.

“I don’t think it will be.” Joel admits softly, pulling back and looking up at you. “If you- could you stay tonight?” It’s been rare that you’ve spent the night together, even after all these years, but he doesn’t want to be alone.

You can’t deny him, stroking his cheek, “of course.” You murmur, rubbing his lower lip with your thumb. You have rarely spent a night in his arms and right now, it’s what you both need. “Lemme get you a cup of coffee.” You reach for his hand to squeeze it. “Maybe a splash of whiskey in it.”

“A lot of whiskey.” He murmurs after a second. He smiles softly to reassure you, knowing that you are trying to help. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He sighs. “Need one.”

You nod, “whiskey with a splash of coffee.” You chuckle, “got it. Now, go shower and I’ll make you something to eat. Knowing you, you didn’t eat before patrol today.” You huff, caressing his cheek. You step away from him and glance back for a moment. Making your way downstairs, your heart aches for the man who is just trying his best and Ellie can’t seem to see that. You prepare his coffee, whiskey, and a sandwich, setting them down on the kitchen table where his glasses lay next to a book on rescuing foundations. You snort and look up when he enters the kitchen, hair wet and wearing sweats. He looks soft and vulnerable. Things you would never normally associate with him.

He pauses in the doorway, a little unsure and hesitant. Not because you are here, but because of how well you just fit here. You have taken over and taken care of him. He rubs his hands on his sweats and steps forward, his feet bare on the kitchen floor. “Thanks.” He murmurs softly. “Did you fix yourself something to eat?”

You nod, your own sandwich in front of you. “I didn’t get to eat anything either.” You don’t practice what you preach. You watch him sit down and he looks at the food. “Thank you, honey.” You smile, pushing a napkin towards him. “Eat, Miller.” You order, “and there’s extra whiskey in the coffee.”

“Thanks.” He reaches for it, grateful that you understand that he’s not talkative right now. You pick up your sandwich and start to eat, letting him savor the burn of the liquor as it slides down his throat. You deserve so much praise, so much more than silence right now. But Joel doesn’t have the heart, or the words to talk. He can put on a front when he’s in town, but right now, he’s just weary.

You let him eat, seeing the tiredness in his eyes, and when he’s done, you take his plate and yours to wash them up. It’s early but you see he’s exhausted. “Go up to bed. I’ll be in there soon. I’ll borrow your shirt.” You murmur, rubbing his back, and he nods, making his way upstairs. You secure the house after cleaning the kitchen, and make your way upstairs. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed again and you pull one of his shirts from his drawer, a half finished wood work on top of the dresser. You know he had to move everything into his bedroom after Ellie took up residence in the garage so his bedroom has become his workshop. You take his shirt into the bathroom to clean up and change, coming back out to find him under the sheets. He holds them open and you eagerly slide under them, shifting closer to him until you’re snuggled into his chest. “Get some sleep.” You order, kissing the space above his heart.

He’s more appreciative than he could ever articulate. His arms wrapping around you while you hold him. Closing his eyes and letting the weight of the day settle. It’s not oppressive, like it should be. He’s not wallowing in despair and recriminations. Tommy understood, he could see it in his brother’s eyes. Even if he had always been the one to be a little more tenderhearted. Joel had been the protector, the one who had made the choices and sacrifices, taken the blame. He had understood it then too, he was tougher, meant to take that role. He wouldn’t change anything, he wouldn’t have let Eugene come back to Jackson. Just like he wouldn’t let the Fireflies kill Ellie. He kissed the top of your head and lets himself drift off to sleep.

**** 

You watch Joel push Seth down after he insulted Ellie and Dina, a sigh escaping your lips when Ellie tells him she doesn’t need his help, and you look at Maria. She raises her eyebrows and you stand up after Joel stumbles outside, “I better go after him.” You murmur and she nods, “see you next year.” You smile and rush into the cold air to follow Joel home. You know he’s spiraling. You find him standing out in the snow, chest tight as he struggles to breathe and you rush over to him, “breathe baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” You murmur, stroking your fingers through his hair. “You’re okay.”

“It’s never gonna get better.” Joel gasps out, closing his eyes and wishing that he had said something, anything. Made her listen to reason, but he had just walked out. Embarrassed that she had told him in front of everyone that she didn’t need him.

You let him squeeze you, trying to ground himself, and you murmur to him, “she will come around. She will. She will forgive you at some point. She’s young. She doesn’t understand.” You reason, rubbing the back of his neck, “she will. Soon.”

He doubts it, but it helps him open his eyes again. “I’m gonna go home.” He murmurs softly. “You can stay, if you want.” He would never ask you to come with him if you wanted to socialize, but he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping you do come with him.

“Let’s go, baby.” You murmur, taking his hand to guide him back to his home. “You’ll be okay. It will be okay, baby.” You grip his hand tight and shiver as the cold air hits you. The snow is starting to fall again and you are shaking when you step onto his porch.

“I’m gonna- sit out here.” Joel tells you quietly, wanting to make sure that Ellie comes home safely. He sees you shivering and he immediately pulls his hand away from yours to rub your arms. “I’ll get the heater,” he offers, knowing that you would want to stay with him. You have so far.

“Can you- can you play me something?” You ask, knowing the guitar offers him an escape from the chaos that seizes his mind. He nods and you smile, reaching out to kiss the back of his hand. You squeeze it before you let it go. “Lemme go make you a coffee and I’ll be out in a sec.” You promise after he opens his door to grab the heater and his guitar.

Joel sets up the heater, angling it towards the seat you will be sitting in. Sitting down and plucking a few chords on the guitar to start tuning it more after replacing the broken strings.

You prepare the coffee, waiting for the water to boil for the french press after you grind up the beans and soon enough, you’re stepping outside to hand the coffee to Joel. “I gotta get mine.” You caress his cheek when he takes it, rocking on the porch, and you head back inside. When you come back towards the front door, you hear voices and look outside to see Ellie standing next to Joel. Deciding to give them some privacy, you step back into the kitchen.

You don’t come back outside, but Joel knows that you should have seen Ellie. He listens to her as she talks, obviously having come to the correct conclusions about what happened in St. Louis with the Fireflies. He doesn’t say a word, just nods when he is asked questions. Until it comes to the why. “Because I love you.” Joel choked out gruffly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “In a way you can’t understand.

You wait until you hear the garage door shut and you quietly close the front door behind you, finding Joel leaning against the railing. Your hand comes up to rub his back, “are you - is everything okay?” You ask, seeing the tears on his cheeks.

Joel licks his lips and nods. “Eventually.” He admits quietly, looking over at you and then back out at the front lawn. “She knows what I’ve done and I- I have to accept that.” He hasn’t told you about St. Louis, but he thinks you know already.

You had never heard him tell you the story but you’ve guessed that he saved her and killed a lot of people to do it. You understand why he did it. Ellie saved him from himself and he was selfish but any parent would’ve done the same thing. “She will come around.” You promise, “she loves you and she will forgive you. Just give her time.” You reach for his hand that’s resting on the ledge of the porch and you squeeze it in yours.

“Yeah.” He looks down at your hand on top of his and wishes tonight had gone like he had expected it to. He had hoped to dance with you, to show you how much you mean to him tonight. Finally putting into words what he has felt for years. Now, that moment has been ruined. Changed into this. Where Joel can’t verbalize what he thinks. “You’re gonna stay, right?” He asks. “Still gotta finish paying for the coffee.”

You snort, turning to wrap your arms around him, the heat from the porch keeping the chill off you and Joel’s body heat is even better. “Nearly paid it off, Miller.” You tease, tilting your head to kiss his jaw. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed. You have patrol in the morning.” You sigh and he nods, squeezing your waist. You smile, leaning back to look at him, “happy new year, baby.” He smiles, leaning in to softly kiss you, “happy new year, honey.”

**** 

The fire still burns, the blood that is covering the side of your face isn’t yours, but it’s dried and crusty as you work to clear the bodies and bring them to the fire burning in front of the fences. You have to concentrate on that, on the task at hand, because you are worried. Before the storm hit, they lost contact with Joel and Dina. Then the hoard attacked. Jackson had been fighting for its very lift and your shop had barely missed being burned down. Now, you keep looking towards the north, where Joel was supposed to be scouting, hoping to see him riding in, worried about what had happened and who had been lost while he was gone.

You look up when you hear the horses neigh, heart pounding with the need to see Joel and you frown when you only see Jesse, Dina, and Ellie. You run towards them, only to freeze when you see the bloodied sheet covered body being dragged. “No. No. Don’t tell me - Joel? He’s - no. He can’t be.” You choke before a wail escapes your lips when you see the look on Ellie’s face and you collapse to the ground, your sobs echoing off the buildings of Main Street.

Ellie chokes out your name, nearly falling off her horse and her eyes roll back in her head as she faints. Making Jesse shout for help as he scoops her up and Tommy rushes forward to see what is happening. Choking up and freezing when he sees the shroud covered body and he slowly kneels down beside you. “Joel.” He murmurs softly, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against him to let you cry.

"El-Ellie. Need to - to help - he- her." You can hardly breathe, gripping onto Tommy to keep grounded but he is choking on his tears until Maria arrives and takes his place. Her hands pull you close as Tommy lifts Ellie, stumbling as he takes her to the hospital. You push Maria away, crawling over to the shrouded body, your tears dropping onto the blood stained cloth as you touch it, knowing it's him underneath the material and your sobs are soul crushing.

Maria hates watching you mourn, her own sorrow softer, but she hadn’t been in love with Joel. She kneels next to you, her hand on your back while you untie the rope and pull the sheet away from his face. Sobs getting louder when you see the battered face of the man you love. “Don’t.” She murmurs softly. “He wouldn’t want you to remember him this way.” She draws the sheet back up.

You nod, heart breaking at how he’s been killed. Tortured and why? Who did this to him? Eventually you’re dragged away so they can untie Joel and carry his body to the ever growing morgue. “Come here.” Maria pulls you into her arms again, “let’s go. You need to sit down.” She says, taking you back to hers and Tommy’s house. 

**** 

You’re numb as you stare at the glass of whiskey, a blanket wrapped around you, and you’re still covered in blood. You can’t process what’s happened today. Your body seems to have shut down and you don’t even look up when Tommy appears in front of you.

Tommy looks up at Maria, his eyes expressive and he sighs as he kneels down in front of you. “Honey…” you wince when he uses Joel’s nickname for you, so he switches to your name. “Joel loved you. So fuckin’ much.”

You continue to stare at the glass, “he never - he didn’t tell me. He never said it. Neither did I.” You choke, regret threatening to drown you. “I should’ve told him. Just once. I had years to tell him.”

“You know how Joel is….was.” Tommy had told the stubborn son of a bitch to tell you, but he had been so insistent on making it right. Making it perfect for you. “He wasn’t a words guy, but he-“ his younger brother fights back tears of his own as he hands you a small box he had taken from Joel’s pocket. “He was waiting for the right time to give you this.”

Your watery eyes widen and you stare at the box, “what’s - he - I don’t-” Tommy gestures for you to open it and your shaking hands open the tiny box. “Oh my God.” You choke, seeing the diamond ring. It’s beautiful and you are shocked by it. You never imagined it. Never imagined that he’d want that. “He never - I knew he cared for me but I didn’t - when did he-?”

“He talked to me about it last summer.” Tommy admits softly. “Asked me if I thought he was crazy.” He snorts, smirking slightly as he recalls the conversation. “Told him he was insane not to marry you.” He pauses for a moment. “He was gonna ask you at the dance last night, but….” He had left to put Benji to sleep, but he had heard what happened. Figured he had put it off.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shakily take your ring out of the box. Twisting it in your fingers, you watch the diamond catch the light until you notice the engraving. “He, uh, engraved it himself.” Tommy confesses and you choke when you see “I love you” engraved into the metal. “Oh God.” You sob, struggling but finally you manage to slide the ring onto your finger. “I would’ve said yes. To him. A thousand times.” You murmur, “yes.”

“I know you would have.” Tommy murmurs softly, reaching out to take your right hand as you stare at the ring Joel had picked out for you, the symbol of the feeling that he could never find the words to express. “He was happy with you. Loved you with everything he had.” He reminds you. “Had loved you from the first bag of coffee he traded you for.”

You chuckle at the memory, “he really wanted coffee.” You joke softly and Tommy snorts, “he might have come to you for coffee but he kept coming back for you.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t know how to live without him.” You confess softly and Tommy chokes, “neither do I. He’s always - he was always there to protect me. To take the blame whenever I fucked up and our dad wanted to beat me. He took the belt. He took it to protect me.” Tommy whispers like he’s a 13 year old boy.

Joel Miller didn’t talk about his feelings a lot. He could be chatty about thing, mostly related to his love of building things or fixing things. He loved his community, protected it. He loved Ellie, and wanted the best for her. He died protecting the girl that Ellie loved, keeping her from being hurt up in that lodge. It’s why he didn’t try to fight them. And he loved you, the evidence is on your finger, the inscription etched by hand, with love.

**** 

Years later, you lay in bed, chest heaving as you take your last breaths. Dina, Ellie, and JJ by your side and you close your eyes as you pass away. You open them to bright light, a familiar hand outstretched, and your eyes widen when your body moves smoothly, just like it did when you were younger. “Hey, honey.” His dark eyes come into focus and you smile, surging forward to wrap your arms around him, “Joel.” You choke, pressing your lips to his until a throat clears. Joel pulls back, turning his head, and he smiles when he says “this is Sarah.” The young girl smiles at you and says “Dad has told me so much about. I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Joel rubs your back as you say “I’m sorry I took so long.” He shakes his head, “you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Come, we’ll show you around.” You take his hand and let him guide you through the light, his ring sparking on your finger as you finally get to enjoy forever with the man you love.

​​

​​

[straw-berrysoju]

The Tease (18+)

Pairing: Soobin x female reader (smut)

Synopsis: YN is failing English, and her quiet, soft-spoken tutor Soobin is her last shot at passing. But she’s more focused on tempting him than studying—flirty remarks, suggestive touches, revealing outfits. She wants him to lose control. And maybe teach her how to behave.

Setting: College AU | Age gap: 2 years | Private tutoring sessions | Senior -junior dynamic

Genre: slow-burn, smutty build-up, needy fl

Warnings: suggestive content, sexual tension, teasing, oblivious (or very self-controlled) Soobin, needy and bratty fl, unprotected sex(pls be safe y'all never skip protection), oral sex, anal sex

Word Count: 3.1k

Minors dni!

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You didn’t expect your literature professor to assign him as your tutor.

Choi Soobin.

Tall, broad-shouldered, annoyingly soft-spoken Soobin. The kind of senior who showed up to class fifteen minutes early just to get the best seat and probably highlighted his notes in pastel color-coded perfection.

And worse? He was gorgeous in a way that felt unfair. Sharp jaw, full lips, thick lashes, and a voice deep enough to curl your toes when he said things like “Turn to page twenty-seven.”*

You were doomed from the first session.

Because Soobin, for all his charm and bedroom eyes, was utterly, painfully innocent. Or at least, he acted like he didn’t notice the way your skirts kept getting shorter. Or how you started showing up in clingy little tops, gloss on your lips, your perfume just a little sweeter than usual.

If he noticed, he never said a thing.

Which only made you want him more.

---

Session Two: The Beginning of the Game

You trade your hoodie and leggings for a soft, slinky V-neck tee and shorts so short you have to pull them down every time you sit. When he opens the door, you smile like nothing’s changed.

He does a double-take. Barely. His eyes flicker down, but they don’t linger.

“You look… ready to work,” he says with a nod.

You hum, dropping onto the edge of his bed—the only surface you two can sit on since his room doesn’t have a proper desk. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, crossing your legs slowly.

He sits beside you, opens your notebook, and starts circling mistakes in red ink like the outline of your thighs isn’t right there in his peripheral vision.

You shift. He doesn’t look. You lean in. He scoots a little away.

It’s frustrating but it only makes you crave him more.

---

Session Three: You Up the Stakes

You pick your outfit carefully—white tank top, no bra. Just soft fabric clinging to your skin. You tilt your neck as you sit beside him on the bed again, fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone.

“It’s really hot in here,” you murmur, fanning yourself.

“I can turn the fan on,” he says immediately, rising like a soldier responding to a command.

You pout, but he doesn’t see it. He’s already across the room.

When he comes back, you lean back on your arms, arching your back just a little. His eyes flicker to your chest—but only for a second.

You catch it.

Still, he sits back down like nothing happened and starts explaining compound sentences again.

You blink slowly, letting your eyes trace the curve of his lips, the way his fingers grip the pen tightly.

You want them on your skin.

But Soobin just keeps talking.

---

Session Four: The Drop

You “accidentally” drop your pen in his lap mid-sentence. It lands on his thigh, dangerously close to the center.

“Oops,” you murmur, leaning in to grab it before he can react.

Your fingers brush something firm. Warm.

His breath catches, just slightly.

You pause. Meet his eyes.

He looks startled—like he’s holding his breath.

“Sorry,” you whisper, your hand still there for a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t mean to.”

He clears his throat and slides your pen back into your hand, avoiding your eyes.

“Uh… so, anyway—” He flips to the next page, visibly tense.

You bite your lip.

He’s definitely noticed now.

---

Session Five: Hands-On Learning

You rest your hand on his thigh this time.

Just gently. Just casual. Just to see.

He stiffens beneath your palm.

You start reading your worksheet aloud, pretending not to notice. You trail your thumb in slow, lazy circles as you speak. His breathing slows. His pen stills.

“You’re… uh,” he says, not looking at you. “You’re missing a modifier in that sentence.”

You glance over at him. “Maybe I just need some… hands-on correction.”

He finally looks at your hand.

Then back at the paper.

And you swear he’s using every ounce of willpower in his body when he doesn’t move it away.

---

Session Six: Dangerous Territory

You’ve stopped pretending this is about tutoring.

Your skirt today is indecent. Your tank top is cropped to the edge of decency, and when you stretch, a sliver of skin shows just under your chest.

You lean over him, breasts brushing his arm as you reach for your phone.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sorry at all.

His arm tenses. His eyes flick to your chest. You see him swallow.

Then he sits up straighter, shifting away.

“Let’s stay focused,” he says, voice slightly strained.

You blink at him, all fake innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

He meets your gaze. His eyes are darker than usual.

“No,” he lies.

---

Session Seven: On the Edge

You moan.

Softly.

Not on purpose—not really. You just stretch, tired from trying to care about grammar, and a little sound slips out. Frustrated. Drawn out.

His head snaps up.

“You okay?”

You nod, lips parted. “Just… tired. This stuff is hard.”

Soobin’s jaw tightens.

“I can slow down.”

“I like it when you go fast,” you say without thinking.

Silence.

His eyes flick to your lips.

You shift closer. “Soobin,” you say softly, “why do you always sit so far away?”

“I don’t,” he says. But he does.

You’re barely breathing now. You’re close enough to smell his cologne, the clean warmth of it making you dizzy.

He looks at you like he wants to say something.

And then he stands up.

“I think we’re done for today,” he says, not looking at you.

You want to scream.

---

You know he’s close to breaking.

You see it in the twitch of his fingers when you reach for his pen instead of yours. In the way his knee bounces when your thighs brush under the table. In how he never sits back once during a session anymore—just leans forward, elbows on his knees, like he's trying to put as much space between your body and his as possible.

So of course, you push more.

And God, you hope he breaks.

You want to see the exact moment he snaps.

---

Session Eight: New Tactics

You're late on purpose. Not by much—just seven minutes. Just enough to have him open the door with furrowed brows and a furiously working jaw.

You pout up at him. “Sorry, Soobinnie.”

The nickname makes his ears go pink.

You step inside, brushing past him on purpose, your arm grazing his chest.

It’s warm. So firm. And for a moment, you wonder what he’d do if you just turned around and pressed your body against it.

But not yet.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, skirt barely covering you. You wore a lacy bralette under your loose cardigan and a skirt you’d be terrified to wear outside.

He notices. You know he does.

His eyes lower—just for a second—before he opens your textbook like it offended him.

“I marked your assignment,” he says, like he’s not obviously distracted.

You hum, stretching back on your palms. “Am I improving?” you ask, letting your chest lift slightly with the motion.

He doesn’t look. His neck goes stiff.

“I think you’re… testing me.”

Oh?

“Testing your patience?” you tease, eyes glinting.

He turns a page too hard, the paper nearly tearing. “Let’s start with sentence corrections.”

You grin.

---

Session Nine: Body Heat

Soobin is already seated on the bed when you arrive this time. Legs apart. Slouched like he forgot to be tense.

You take it as an invitation and plop down next to him—closer than usual. Your bare thigh touches his denim-clad one.

He tenses immediately.

You pretend not to notice.

You lean over the textbook between you, making sure your side is practically glued to his.

“This part confuses me,” you say, pointing vaguely.

He leans in too. And you tilt your head until your cheek almost brushes his shoulder.

He smells like citrus and cedar. Clean, masculine, unfair.

His fingers start explaining something, but you’re not listening. Not really.

You shift your weight and accidentally press your chest against his arm.

You stay there.

He clears his throat, voice tighter. “You’re… really close.”

You smile, eyes wide. “We’re sharing a book.”

“Right.”

He doesn’t move.

---

Session Ten: The “Accidental” Fall

It’s late. You’re both tired. The room’s dimly lit, the lamp on his desk throwing warm shadows against the walls. Your cardigan is slipping off one shoulder, and you make no effort to fix it.

Soobin is explaining something. You’re half-listening, half-admiring the veins on his forearms as he gestures.

You shift positions, stretch lazily—and then fake a little wobble.

“Shit—”

You catch yourself—sort of—your hand landing right on his thigh as you tip forward onto him.

You gasp. Your chest lands against his stomach. Your hand is just inches from his crotch.

He freezes. So do you.

Only, you’re pretending.

“Sorry,” you whisper, staying there just a second too long. You’re almost in his lap.

He inhales sharply.

“You okay?” he asks. Voice like gravel.

You nod. “Just clumsy.”

You slide back into place, fingers trailing down his thigh as you pull away.

He swears under his breath.

You smile into your hand.

---

Session Eleven: Legs

You sit sideways today, knees up, leaning against the wall while he sits on the bed beside you. Your skirt slips higher with the position. You don’t adjust it.

You stretch your legs across his lap.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you say sweetly. “My back hurts.”

He looks down at your thighs—bare, smooth, warm against him.

“I—uh—no. It’s fine,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t touch you.

But you can feel the way his muscles tense under you.

Every time you shift, his jaw tightens.

At one point, your foot brushes against something solid.

You freeze. So does he.

You raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t answer.

Just flips the page harder than necessary.

---

Session Twelve: The Whisper

You’re behind him.

It wasn’t planned, but he’s standing now, scanning your paper at his desk while you linger behind him on the bed. His shirt has ridden up a little. You see a sliver of skin.

You rise slowly. Walk over.

He doesn’t notice you until you’re right behind him.

You lean in, your breath brushing his neck.

“I think I’m failing,” you whisper.

He jolts, turning slightly.

You don’t back up. Just tilt your head, close, lips nearly brushing his jaw.

“You’ve been helping me so much,” you say softly, voice dipped in honey, “but I feel like I’m just… not focusing.”

He swallows.

“Maybe you should punish me.”

He turns to face you fully now, eyes locked with yours.

And fuck, there’s something in them.

Something dangerous.

Then he steps back.

“Break time,” he says tightly. “Five minutes.”

He practically flees the room.

You flop back on the bed, laughing into the pillow.

He’s so close.

---

You decide you’re done playing fair.

You’ve been soft, suggestive, patient.

And he’s still trying to pretend you’re just clumsy. That you just don’t know what your body’s doing when you’re crawling into his space with skirts that barely cover your ass and sweaters that hang open to show just enough lace.

Tonight? You're not leaving any room for confusion.

Tonight, you're making it filthy.

---

Session Thirteen: Endgame

You show up wearing his weakness: a tank top so tight it clings to your tits like second skin, no bra. And the shortest shorts you own—barely more than underwear. One wrong move and you’d be flashing him everything.

Good.

He opens the door and doesn’t even blink at first.

Just stares.

Then swallows hard. “You, uh… going somewhere after?”

“Just here,” you say innocently, breezing past him.

He follows, a little stiff. (Everywhere but his cock.)

---

You don’t sit on the bed this time. You crawl.

Slowly. Deliberately. Letting the hem of your shorts ride up.

Soobin’s behind you, silent.

You sit on your knees and look over your shoulder. “Coming?”

You swear his eye twitches.

He sits beside you, at the very edge of the bed.

You don’t open the textbook. You don’t even pretend to care.

Instead, you drag your fingers over your own thigh slowly, tracing a lazy path toward the hem of your shorts.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“You okay?” he croaks.

“Mmhm. Just hot.”

And with that, you reach back and lift your hair, exposing the sheen of sweat on your neck.

He watches you like he’s in pain.

You lower your voice. “Can I sit in your lap?”

He chokes. “What?”

You pout. “My legs hurt. It’s just for a sec, Soobin.”

He stares. Doesn’t answer.

So you do it anyway.

You straddle him.

Carefully, deliberately, sliding onto his lap with a weightless innocence that’s anything but.

You feel him the second you settle—his thighs tense, cock already thick and pressed between you, trapped under his sweats.

He still doesn’t move.

Doesn’t touch you.

Just freezes like if he blinks you’ll disappear.

But you’re not going anywhere.

You shift slightly, grinding just a little.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough to feel him twitch beneath you.

He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp.

You lean forward, your lips brushing his ear.

“Am I making it hard for you to focus?” you whisper, your breath hot against his skin.

He finally reacts.

His hands grip your waist—tight, tight—but he still doesn’t pull you closer.

“Y/N…” he warns, voice shaking.

You roll your hips again.

His jaw clenches.

“I just want your attention, Soobin,” you murmur, lips brushing his jaw now. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t want me.”

“You’re my tutee,” he grits out, “I’m trying to be good.”

You smile wickedly. “I don’t want you to be good. I want you to make me feel good.”

And then you do it.

You grind hard—slow, filthy, full pressure.

Right against his cock.

He groans. Deep and choked and utterly ruined.

Still, he doesn’t move.

So you tip your head back and moan.

Loud.

“Fuck, Soobin…”

His hands tremble on your waist.

You do it again.

And again.

His cock is so hard it’s pressing against you, leaking through the thin fabric, and you’re soaked now—completely shameless.

“I’ve been thinking about this every night,” you whisper, breath hitching, “about how it would feel to ride your cock right here… right on your stupid study sheets…”

“Stop,” he rasps.

But he’s grinding back now.

Breathing hard.

Losing it.

“I touch myself thinking about you, Soobin,” you murmur, lips at his neck now. “About how you’d sound when you finally fuck me. If you'd make me beg first. If you’d make me cry for it…”

He groans. His hips buck up once—completely involuntary.

You whimper at the contact.

And that does it.

That breaks him.

His grip slams tight around your hips and suddenly you’re dragged down onto him, hard, his cock pressed directly against your soaked core through layers of clothes he’s about two seconds from tearing off.

His forehead drops to your shoulder.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” Soobin growls, your body pinned to his lap, soaked through and trembling.

“Then ruin me,” you whisper, voice wrecked with lust. “Please, Soobin. I need it.”

“Fuck me like I belong to you”

Something snaps in him.

His mouth crashes into yours.

No hesitation. No gentleness.

Just teeth and tongue and all the desperation he’s held back for weeks.

You gasp into him and he swallows it, hands already yanking your tank top up over your tits.

“No bra?” he mutters darkly, palms closing around your breasts. “You planned this.”

You moan as he thumbs over your nipples, rough and fast. “I wanted you to look.”

“I did. Every fucking day.”

His mouth drops down, lips wrapping around one nipple, tongue lashing it hard as his other hand slides down—under your shorts, under your panties—and slams two fingers into you.

You scream.

“So wet,” he groans, thrusting them deep. “You’re soaked through everything. Fuck, baby, were you this needy all semester?”

“Yes,” you cry, hips bucking against his hand. “All for you, Soobin.

He chuckles against your breast, lips curling cruelly.

“Oh, I know.”

He pulls back and flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing. Your shorts and panties are ripped down your legs in seconds. He drops to his knees between them, eyes locked on your soaked pussy.

“God,” he breathes, voice shaking. “Look at you. You’re a fucking mess.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Tongue everywhere—sliding through your folds, flicking your clit, sucking it hard as he finger-fucks you like he’s mad at you.

You can’t even moan—you scream.

Your back arches, hips lifting, and he slaps your thigh down.

“Stay fucking still.”

You whimper, twitching under his mouth. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he orders. “Now.”

You shatter.

Soobin doesn’t stop.

Even as you squirm and sob, overstimulated, his tongue keeps working your pussy like he’s starving.

You’re begging, babbling nonsense, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

And when he finally pulls away, face glistening, lips slick with your cum—

You’ve never seen anything so hot in your life.

“You thought you could tease me,” he mutters, climbing back up your body. “Thought you could grind on my cock and walk away?”

You nod, dazed.

He smirks and grabs your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter. “Wrong.”

He frees himself from his sweats—thick, veiny, hard as sin—and you whine the second the tip rubs against your dripping entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Soobin—”

“Beg.”

You sob. “Please, fuck me. I need it. I need your cock so bad—please ruin me, please—”

He slams into you in one brutal thrust. Your pussy clenches around him as you scream his name.

“Ah Soob—FUCK. Yes”

Soobin groans deep in your ear, his cock buried to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight. Jesus—made for me.”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You cry out.

He sets a pace that’s vicious—deep, punishing, your body jolting with every thrust.

Your nails rake down his back. Your moans turn into sobs.

“Yeah,” he pants, fucking you harder. “Take it. This is what you wanted, right?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Yes—yes, please—harder—”

He grabs your hips and slams into you, over and over, cock pounding your g-spot until you can’t think.

“Gonna cum again,” you choke out.

“You better,” he growls. “You don’t stop cumming until I say so.”

You cum again—harder than before.

And he fucks you through it.

Every twitch, every scream, only fuels him.

He doesn’t stop.

He flips you onto your stomach, pulls your ass up, and fucks you from behind—his hand in your hair, dragging your head back.

“You like being used?” he snarls.

“Yes—fuck—use me, please—”

He spanks your ass, hard. “Louder.”

“Use me, Soobin—fuck me until I can’t walk!”

And he does.

He slams into you until your body collapses.

Until you’re a sobbing, ruined mess under him.

Until he finally groans, “Fuck—I’m cumming—where?”

“Inside,” you beg. “Please. Fill me—”

Soobin growls your name and pours into you, hips jerking as he empties himself deep.

You collapse together, sweaty and panting.

Silence, save for your wrecked breathing.

And then—

“You still failed that assignment,” he mutters against your neck.

You laugh, breathless. “Then maybe you should punish me again.”

He grins.

“Oh, I plan to.”

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