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strang3lov3 · 1 month

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Dinner and a Show

A corrupt FEDRA soldier catches you and Joel sneaking back into the QZ. He’ll look the other way, but you’re gonna make it worth his while. (4.8k)

Warnings - dubcon/noncon, smut, mean!joel, dark!joel, pervy!roman, mmf threesome, dirty talk, degradation, implied age gap, m/m blowjob, m/f blowjob, masturbation, nipple play, cunnilingus, daddy kink, edging/orgasm delay, unprotected piv, facial, come eating, creampie, coercion, knife play, guns, drugs/drug use, threats. Fic help - thank you @noxturnalpascal, @beefrobeefcal, and @endlessthxxghts for your help and eyeballs and for cheering me on! A/N - I don’t know what came over me, but I think this is my favorite thing i've ever written. please enjoy with me

Super quickly: Joel readers who aren’t familiar with Roman - you don’t need to know a thing about Succession for this story. Roman’s a creep and that’s about it.

And for my Roman readers who aren’t familiar with Joel/TLOU, Joel’s a smuggler, they’re in the Boston Quarantine Zone (safe area from the infected) and Roman works for FEDRA, the corrupt military authority that controls these QZ’s after the outbreak.

“Are we almost back to the QZ? I’m fucking exhausted,” you complain. Joel’s a couple steps ahead of you in the dark, damp tunnel. Every step is agony. Your feet ache, your hips are burning. You cannot wait to be back in Joel’s shitty, dilapidated apartment. “It hurts.”

“Well, you shoulda thought of that before gettin’ fucked up off our merch,” Joel replies in a clipped tone. A pang of guilt runs through you. A couple of days ago you had stolen from a baggie of pills Joel had intended to sell, and Joel caught you red-handed. He doesn’t bring you along for smuggling runs, but this was meant to be a punishment for your thievery. It was his way of letting you know just how serious your fuckup was, that losing merch is not something that can be brushed off. These are pills he sells to provide for you, you selfish brat. He brought you along to show you how dangerous, how treacherous the trips he makes are. Joel made you raid some old pharmacies buried under the rubble of the bombed buildings, forcing you to see the fungal overgrowth up close and personal. If you wanna waste his pills, he’s gonna make sure you’re responsible for replacing them.

Joel shines his flashlight at the ceiling when you reach a dead end, illuminating a hole covered by a wooden pallet. “Here it is,” he says. He moves a crate against the wall and reaches for the pallet, grunting as he pushes it out of the way. He hoists himself up and climbs out of the hole, then crouches down and extends an arm to you. “C’mon, kid. Gimme a jump. I gotcha.” You step forward and reach for Joel’s hand, wrapping your other one around his thick forearm, his veins protruding. You jump and at the same moment Joel lifts you, pulling you up until you’re safe on the floor. You catch your breath and rub your sore, aching legs as Joel moves the pallet over the hole again, taking in your surroundings. The air is cold and damp, broken windows show a dark, cloudy sky.

That signature metallic clatter of a gun startles you, and Joel freezes when he feels a barrel pressed against his skull. “On your knees,” a voice says. “Show me your hands.”

You watch in horror as Joel shifts to a kneeling position and raises both arms. You come to your senses quickly and reach for your own weapon, a knife that Joel allowed you to bring along on the smuggling trip. He wouldn’t let you carry a gun.

The man points his gun at you. “Clever,” he taunts. “You too, on your knees and arms up. Try anything, and I’ll shoot, I swear to god. I’ve just been waiting to use this thing, you have no idea.”

That cadence - not particularly deep or masculine, but very commanding. That snarky tone. It takes you a second to place it, but you quickly realize: it’s Roman.

Roman, who works for FEDRA. You’ve heard rumors about him, experienced him a little bit yourself. He’s a total pervert, a sexual deviant. He likes to peek in peoples’ windows, jerking himself off as he watches them shower, change clothes, sleep, fuck. He catcalls women, the most disgusting, lewd comments that seem to shock even himself. And he gets rather affectionate when he pats down civilians, his hands lingering longer than they should in places they shouldn’t be. Other FEDRA soldiers are just violent and cruel. Roman stands out by abusing his power in an entirely different way, but nefarious all the same.

“Not at her,” Joel says to Roman. “She ain’t gonna hurt ya. Point it right here. At me.”

“Oh, what a gentleman you are. How very chivalrous,” Roman shifts his aim to Joel. “Very gallant.”

“Weapons on the ground,” Joel commands you. “Do as I say.”

“Daddy knows best,” Roman adds, taunting you. “Listen to your daddy.” Joel glares at him.

Carefully, you put your knife on the ground at the same time as Joel shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and places all of his weaponry on the ground. Roman uses his boot to slide each item out of reach, then begins patting Joel down first. “So broad,” he coos, gloved hands patting down Joel’s shoulders, then his arms. Joel winces in disgust. Roman pats down his waist, hands traveling lower as he gropes Joel’s bulge. Joel grunts in surprise, maybe even a bit in pleasure.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” Roman says to you. You turn to Joel and look at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to do something to stop Roman from patting you down that way too.

“Don’t look at me,” Joel spits. “You’ve only got yourself to thank for this.”

Unlike how he pat down Joel, Roman takes off his gloves for you. He pats down your shoulders, squeezing the muscles there. He snakes his hands beneath the hem of your shirt and touches your bare skin, the procedure turning into more of a caress than a quick patting. His cold fingers travel up your torso, where he fondles and gropes your breasts, twisting and flicking the nipples. You gasp, “Please,” as you wriggle under his touch, like you’re trying to run and hide from his hands.

“Sit - hey - sit still, or I’ll call for backup and they won’t be a fraction as friendly as I’m being to you right now. So just - just chill.”

You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as Roman continues to knead the flesh of your breasts. When he’s done, his hands slide down your back and under the waistband of your jeans, where he massages your asscheeks, fingers dangerously close to your pussy.

Roman finishes patting you down, then steps back. “What a handsome couple,” he murmurs. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. Forgiving.”

“I can give ya half off on our pills,” Joel offers. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”

“Half off, huh?” Roman scoffs, “I’m not a junkie, Joel, you know that. Different animal entirely. Keep your pills.”

“Name the fuckin’ price then,” Joel snaps.

Roman chuckles. “So impatient,” he teases. “Slow your roll, Texas. We’re taking our time with each other today. Don’t rush me, big guy.”

Your blood turns cold. “Joel,” you plead.

“Don’t,” Joel seethes in a hushed tone.

Roman continues, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling hungry. Famished, even. And bored. So fucking bored, you have no idea how boring these fucking patrols are. But you…” Roman takes heavy steps toward you, then caresses your face with his hand. “You make it interesting.”

“What do you want, Roman?” Joel says.

“Dinner and a show,” he answers. Joel scoffs at that, considering how FEDRA hoards rations. “Sounds kinda kinky. Kinda fun and sexy. I think, at least. What do you think?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Roman continues, “Sorry. Don’t, uh, don’t know why I asked. Doesn’t really matter what you think, because it’s what you’re doing,” he says. “And forgive me, I just wanna clear something up before we get started. I didn’t hurt you, so you don’t hurt me. Right? Does that sound fair?”

“Right,” Joel gruffs.

“Right. I’m putting my gun down, okay?” You turn your head to watch Roman set his assault rifle down with the rest of yours and Joel’s weapons. He empties his pockets and holsters to show that he’s unarmed, then points to his radio on his vest. “One wrong move from either one of you and I’m calling for backup. They won’t play by the same rules, so keep that in mind.” Roman warns, tapping his temple. Think it through. He looks right at you, smirking. “You look so disconsolate, you poor thing. I’m letting you off easy, considering what the alternative is. Don’t you think?”

You have to bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. “Tell him ‘yes,’ sweetheart,” Joel urges, seemingly already resigned himself to his fate, which makes you nervous. Roman’s words play over and over in your mind. Dinner and a show. Who’s eating who? What’s the show? “Yes,” you whisper, answering Roman.

Roman winks at you, pleased with your answer. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Joel first. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, Texas.”

Joel is repulsed by Roman’s crudeness. “Jesus,” he whispers under his breath. Roman points to an old, worn out rocking chair and snaps. “Pants off,” he says, and Joel follows orders. Roman watches as Joel unzips his jeans and sits on the rocking chair, his thick, meaty thighs spread wide. Roman turns to look at you. “You,” he says. “You get him hard for me.”

“M-me?”

“Y-y-you?” Roman mocks. “Yes, you.”

You remain on your knees, trembling as you take in the gravity of the situation. “Move,” Joel barks at you. “Right here.”

“See? Joel gets it,” Roman ridicules, grinning down at you.

You scramble to your feet and meet Joel where he’s at on the chair. He pushes you to your knees and you grip his thighs, too nervous to actually do what’s being demanded of you. Your hands shake as you reach for Joel’s cock, unsure of what to do exactly. Joel’s less than sympathetic at your hesitancy. “Do you like this fuckin’ mess you got us in? C’mon, jus’ fuckin’ do it. Don’t make this take any longer than it has to.”

He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to stroke him. You’ve fantasized about intimacy with Joel before, but never, never like this. Not under the threat of Roman, and Joel was always kinder. You feel so nervous, so vulnerable and out of your depth. Joel’s cock hardens to full mast beneath your touch, guided by his hand. He has you swipe your thumb over the tip, so smooth and soft. His shaft is warm and slightly sticky with sweat. Just as you’re getting used to the weight of Joel’s cock in your hand, Roman stops you. “That’s enough, sweetheart. Be a good girl and have a seat while you watch me suck your daddy’s cock.” You nod and stand up, Roman swats your ass as you sit on the couch opposite the rocking chair. Despite the fear and your discomfort, a small part of you feels curious, maybe even excited by the prospect of watching Joel get pleased orally. You’ve heard it happen before, sure. Never had the pleasure of watching.

“I’m trusting you,” Roman says to Joel. “Don’t fucking try me.”

“Whatever. Jus’ get it over with. Enough with the fuckin’ theatrics.”

You watch as Roman sinks to his knees, parting Joel’s thick thighs even more. Joel groans as Roman wraps his cold, bony fingers firmly around the base of his cock, his hot breath fanning over the tip. Roman leans forward and moans when he licks Joel’s cock, swirling his tongue around the blushed tip. He swipes over the slit, humming at the heady taste of Joel’s salty precum.

You can’t believe what you’re watching. It feels wrong to watch Joel in such a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He keeps a straight face, looking mostly annoyed. You look at your feet and pick at your nails awkwardly, listening to the lewd noises of Roman slurping Joel’s cock.

“Hey,” Joel snaps. “Don’t look at the ground, look at me. Can’t come ‘less you’re watchin’,” he says.

You nod quickly and watch Joel fold one of his arms behind his head, the other finding Roman’s head. He pulls off Roman’s hat and tangles his fingers in his sleek strands of hair, grunting as Roman bobs his head up and down on Joel’s cock. There’s nothing romantic or lustful about the interaction in the slightest. It looks transactional for Joel, a means to an end, but erotic and arousing all the same to you.

“Take off your top,” Joel says. “Play with your nipples f’me.”

“J-Joel…” you whimper, looking at Roman. Roman tilts his head and looks at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking as his mouth is stuffed full with Joel’s cock.

“Don’t mind him right now, sweetheart. He’s gonna see it all anyway. Focus on me,” Joel commands. “You answer to me.��

You take off the clothes covering your torso, then bring both hands to your chest where you pinch and twist your own nipples. “Suck your fingers, first,” Joel says. “Get ‘em nice an’ wet.”

You suck your fingers, first two on one hand, then two on the other before playing with your nipples again. Tracing your areolas, flicking over the pebbled, sensitive buds.

Roman’s eyes are shut as he sucks on Joel’s cock, pumping his fist in tandem. Joel watches you intently, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as Roman continues to pleasure him with his mouth. Licking the underside, tracing along Joel’s thick veins, Roman’s scruff chafes Joel’s hairy inner thighs. He presses sloppy kisses down Joel’s shaft before sucking his heavy balls into his mouth, one by one. Joel looks achingly hard, his cock is dark red and angry.

Roman kisses his way back up Joel’s shaft before taking the length down his throat entirely, causing Joel to squeeze his eyes shut and groan. Joel’s face is flushing, his jaw is tensing and Roman feels him getting close, dick twitching between his lips.

And then Roman abruptly stops. He pulls his mouth off of Joel, leaving him a frustrated, pissed off mess.

“Nice,” Joel spits in anger. Roman stands up, his arousal visible through his pants, and pats Joel condescendingly on the cheek. “Poor baby,” he says, then turns to you. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

Your stomach drops and your blood runs cold. Roman approaches you and sits next to you on the couch, gently forcing you down before unbuttoning your jeans and hooking his fingers over the waistband. He pulls both your jeans and underwear down and off your legs in one fell swoop, and you can only watch Joel with pleading eyes as Roman’s hands slide up your legs, parting your thighs. “I like how pliant you are,” he whispers. “Docile. Submissive.” You gasp when he reaches down and pulls a jackknife from inside his boot, unfolding the blade from it. He told you he was unarmed. “This isn’t a threat to you,” he purrs. “I know you’ll be good for me, but I have less faith that Texas over there will behave himself. So this is going here–” Roman presses the blade flat against the skin of your tummy, “And if your daddy does something he’s not supposed to…” Roman drags the blade along your skin, dangling the prospect of slicing you right over your head, “Or if you get smart with me…I will make you regret it. I’ll fucking - oh, I’ll fucking make you regret it.”

You nod in understanding. “Yes, Roman,” you whisper.

“Yeah, not so hard to understand, huh? You’re a smart girl.”

Roman kisses his way up your legs, then your inner thighs. He catches you by surprise when he licks one long, fat stripe up your cunt, gathering your arousal on his tongue. Joel snaps his fingers twice, “Right here,” he says. “You look at me.”

It feels wrong to hold Roman’s head, though your fingers feel inclined to tangle themselves in his hair. Instead, you reach behind yourself and hold onto the couch cushion as Roman laps at your cunt, pulsing with need. He pulls away to admire your pussy, creamy with your arousal, dripping onto the couch beneath you. “What a mess you’re making,” Roman marvels. “I’m flattered, really. All this for me, huh?” He slides his thumb up your slick folds, then circles your clit.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You want to watch Roman, but your eyes stay fixed on Joel as he lazily pumps his own cock in his fist.

Roman shoves two fingers into your mouth, two fingers that you instinctively suck on. Roman pulls them from your mouth and pushes them inside your tight hole, stretching you a bit. You gasp as he curls his fingers repeatedly inside you, stroking that sensitive spot. “Ro-Roman,” you cry. He brings his face back to that space between your thighs, pointed tongue drawing lines up and down your folds before dancing circles around your clit.

“You’re enjoyin’ this, aren’t you,” Joel accuses. You can’t stop your moans from spilling past your lips as Roman fucks you with his tongue and slender fingers. “Look at you, all spread out for him. I’ll be goddamned.”

Roman pulls away from your cunt and grins proudly, lips and face shiny with your arousal. His eyes - usually a light hazel color - are turned dark. Dark with hunger, lust. He dives right back between your legs where you grind on his face, feeling that perfect nose of his buried in your curls, teasing your mound.

“You’re soakin’ him, hon, drowin’ the man,” Joel snarls. “Thought this was ‘sposed to be a lesson to ya, a learnin’ experience. Look at you, rubbin’ yourself on his face like a bitch in heat. Fuckin’ pathetic.” You do feel pathetic. You feel so ashamed of yourself for liking this the way you do. It makes you feel icky inside, humiliated.

Roman eats you voraciously, like a man starved. He loves the smell and taste of you, musky, feminine, sweet and sweaty all at once. You’re like dessert to him. He could spend eternity between your thighs and Joel’s, alternating between having his mouth stuffed full of cock and pussy. He loves how similar yet different they are, the way they feel under his tongue. His tongue laves over your clit, the knuckles of his hand gripping his knife have turned white.

“Roman, Roman, oh my god,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut as pleasure builds in your lower stomach. You find yourself pushing your cunt towards his face, hands flying to his head to keep him right fucking there as your orgasm quickly approaches. Sensing this, feeling the way your wet heat begins to pulse and squeeze his fingers, Roman pulls away from you, betraying you just as he betrayed Joel. You let out a long, guttural cry of frustration, tears that have built up in the corner of your eyes begin to spill down your cheeks.

“Quit the bitchin’,” Joel barks at you. “Gonna make this worse for us both.”

Roman’s eyes widen as he wipes his reddened, swollen lips. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” he says, letting out a breathy laugh. “Ease up on her a bit. She’s allowed to be disappointed. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Roman wipes your face clean of your tears, and you can smell yourself on his hand. You’re not sure why it arouses you.

“Joel, trade me places,” Roman says. Roman and Joel swap places as you’re still laid out on the couch, pussy clenching around nothing as you anticipate being filled. “I like this. Fucked up musical chairs,” Roman giggles. He sits down in the rocking chair, warmed by Joel’s body heat. Joel finds you on the couch and unbuttons his shirt before shucking off his boxers, stroking his large, swollen cock. “Break a leg out there, Texas.”

Joel pushes your legs far apart and slots himself between them, then hovers over you, his heavy cock held between his thumb and first two fingers, eagerly making its way toward you. “Joel,” you sob.

Joel reaches for your face, digging his fingers into the hollow of your jaw and forcing you to look at him. His deep brown eyes are cold and piercing as he wears a threatening scowl. “Don’t make it harder than it has to be,” he growls, pinning both wrists above your head. “Now be good. Open up.”

Joel fits the thick, blunt head of his cock inside your entrance, then slides inside you in one swift motion. The stretch and ache of it all has you squirming, writhing in pain. Joel dips his head and brings his lips close to your ear, “Shhhh,” he hushes, his sharp, aquiline nose tickling your skin. “Quit your cryin’. You’ll get used to it.”

Joel buries himself to the hilt, then pulls out of you all the way. He pushes himself back inside, slowly, watching the way your body reacts. He shifts so that he’s pinning you down with just one hand, the other he brings to your mouth. He pushes his fingers past your lips to pacify you, to quiet your whimpers as he begins building his pace. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “You need to adjust.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he rolls his hips, fucking you with increasing fervor. His cock reaches all the places you need it to, stretching your walls perfectly. In time, the pain dissipates and is replaced by pleasure. Joel chuckles darkly as your whines of pain turn into soft moans of ecstacy.

Roman sits on the chair and observes, his brows knit tight together as he strokes his cock. He spits in his hand and works himself harder, faster, admiring the way you and Joel fuck. He loves Joel’s strong biceps, his toned back, soft belly and his plump ass cheeks flexing as he rocks his hips into yours. And you, Roman loves the way your thighs wrap around Joel, clinging onto him for dear life. Your lips are parted as you moan Joel’s name, your tits bouncing with his every thrust. What Roman loves most of all is that place where your bodies are joined, all the obscene noises your cunt and his cock are making together.

“There she is,” Joel purrs, watching as your eyes roll back into your skull. “Oh, fuck - goddamn.” You’re so soft, so wet, so tight, pussy squeezing around his cock as he draws in and out of you.

You rock your hips to meet Joel’s thrusts, chasing that feeling of your clit grinding against his pubic bone. Joel adjusts himself and then licks his own fingers, then reaches between your bodies. He feels the wet heat radiating from your cunt as his fingers touch your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. “Oh, daddy,” you moan. “Daddy, right there.”

“Really? S’that how it is, sweetheart?” Joel taunts. “Am I your daddy?”

You nod desperately. “Please,” you beg. In your head, you’re silently thanking Roman for planting that seed.

“I can be your daddy,” Joel pants. “S’all you needed, isn’t it? Daddy’s cock in ya?”

“Yeah,” you moan.

“Didn’t have to get the law involved, sweetheart. Jus’ ask me next time you want me to fuck ya, goddamn.” You moan as Joel increases the pace, chasing his long-awaited orgasm. He slows to a still, then reaches for the back of your head. He guides you to look at the place where your bodies join. “Look at us, hon. You’re takin’ it so good, creamin’ my cock.” Joel pulls out of you nearly all the way for you to see his cock, velvety ribbons of your arousal coating his length. The scene is salacious, pornagraphic, as you watch him sink into you. “Fuck me.”

Roman can’t handle it, being the odd man out. His fist seems to pale in comparison as he watches Joel fuck you, listening to the wet, sticky noises. He feels as though he’s lost all control in the situation, and he needs it back. He wants to get his dick wet too. “Stop - stop it,” he says. “Flip her over.”

Joel groans and presses his forehead against yours as he catches his breath, then pulls out of you. You feel so empty without him inside of you.

You look at Roman, awaiting further instruction. “Get on your hands and knees,” he says. “I know, I know. Pardon the interruption, I couldn’t help myself.”

Your sore thighs quiver and tremble as Joel flips you onto your stomach, then grabs your hips to pull you up. He lines his cock up with your entrance once more, then pushes inside of you as if to stake his claim, causing you to grunt. Your pussy is Joel’s, not Roman’s.

Roman kneels on the other side of the couch, where you’re facing. “Open,” he tells you, pressing the head of his cock against your lips. He’s long like Joel, but not quite as girthy. You part your lips and don’t bother teasing him, swirling your tongue around him the way you would with Joel. It seems that Roman doesn’t require that of you either; he grips the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair before bucking into your mouth, pushing his cock as far down your throat as he can. You gag and choke on it.

“Breathe,” Joel reminds you. He’s the one to set the tempo, fucking you deeper at this angle. He rocks your body with each thrust, Roman uses Joel’s pace to measure how he should fuck your mouth. It’s awkward to start, but evens out in quick time.

Your head spins. Behind you, Joel’s fucking your cunt, hands on your hips, fingers bruising your flesh. In front of you is Roman, fucking your mouth and holding your head steady. You’ve never felt this way before, but between the two men there’s nowhere to run, nothing to do except let your mind go blank and focus on the feeling of being fucked at both ends.

Roman’s not gonna last long. You’re moaning against his shaft in time with each of Joel’s thrusts, the vibrations going straight to his gut, down to his balls. He won’t last long at all. Joel’s in the same boat, straining to keep it together. Your wet cunt is squeezing him so tight, dripping all over his cock. Joel leans forward and reaches for your clit, rubbing steady circles into it with a firm pressure.

“Mmm,” you moan. You feel like you’re being fucked into pieces, but Joel’s ministrations on your sensitive clit have you reaching your climax. You gasp and choke on Roman’s cock, stimulating him in a way that he loves. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

You look into Roman’s eyes as he pumps in and out of your mouth, bracing yourself for release when -

“Hey,” Joel swats your ass, “You ain’t comin’ till I say.”

Roman wishes he could hold out longer, keep up with Joel. But he can’t, so instead he pulls out of your mouth and furiously strokes his cock. He groans as comes, painting your face in milky white ribbons of his spend before he falls back on the couch, gathering a bit of his come on your face and pushing it into your mouth. “Yeah, listen to daddy,” Roman taunts with a grin. “Be a good girl.”

Joel lets out a low moan, unable to stave off release much longer. “F’ya wanna come on my cock, do it now,” he says. His permission is all you need to let go. As pleasure washes over you in waves, powerful and overwhelming, your cunt squeezes Joel’s cock and coaxes his own release. He fucks you harder as you come together, Joel’s own orgasm filling you with a deep, satisfying warmth as he spurts hot ropes of his come inside you.

Finally, he pulls out of you. He watches his spend drip from your poor, stretched cunt, and pushes some of it back inside you. You flop on your back between Roman and Joel as you catch your breath, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in the stillness. You’ve never felt so empty.

Roman pushes some hair out of your face and sucks his teeth. “Wow, Joel. Some gentleman you are. You’re just gonna leave her like that?”

Joel glares at Roman with an incredulous look on his face. “What?”

Roman points to all the places on your face he’s decorated with his come. “Clean her up,” he demands. “Fair’s fair. You’re the only one who hasn’t used your mouth, aren’t you?”

Joel rolls his eyes and slides off the couch, then kneels in front of you, knees popping as they press into the dirty floor. He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, then licks all of Roman’s spend from your cheeks, nose, and forehead, wincing at the bitter, salty taste.

Roman wears a satisfied smirk. “We’re square,” he says.

Wordlessly, Joel lifts you up and helps you dress yourself, then dresses himself. He collects your belongings, then guides you to the exit. You walk in a daze, legs and thighs still sore.

“Curfew’s at six,” Roman taunts. “Better get home soon, Texas.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, send me an ask, comment something nice 🩷 your kind words keep me motivated to write.

Tagging my roman readers and others who've expressed interest in this fic <3

@ovaryacted @razrbladekiss @romaescapes @taeslarityy

@dorims @atinylittlepain @joelsdagger @goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6

@bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout @galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife

@kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamii @verstappensrealwife @lilipads @thesummerpetrichor @party-hearses

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sarawritestories · 8 months

Text

You Are Not a Burden

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: You have been tasked with going to the Spring Court to check in on Tamlin for Rhys. Though You and the High Lord do not get along and this visit leaves you injured and doubting your abilities in Rhys and Feryre's court and in the Inner Circle.

Content Warning: Angst, Aggression, injury, Stubbornness, Self doubt, barely proof read.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this angsty fic that has some really good fluff at the end.

Exhaustion had been your constant companion in the past weeks. Doing emissary work between Summer and the Day Court had been successful and have been in good company with Tarquin and Helion, who have always loved when you come to visit. Though standing on the dilapidated building of the Spring Court, you wished you could be anywhere else. The territory has been neglected as shown by the dead plants and the Mansion looking like no one has stayed there in centuries in a matter of months. The once rich color of the land had dulled, and the people of this court have suffered just as much as the land.

Rhys had asked you personally to touch base with him as you were already traveling to nearby territories and seeing the exhaustion on his face mostly from taking care of Nyx and not wanting to have Feyre endure going back there you agree. The relief in his eyes made it worth being here though it meant that you would be apart from your mate for weeks as Cassian was at the Illyrian camps handling Devlon and making sure the camps were staying in line. The time apart has left an ache in your heart, but the work has been a great distraction.

Shaking your mind from your thoughts and sending love down the bond that links you to your General. There was a warmth that took over your body as he sent warmth and comfort through the bond. Taking a breath you raise your hand and ready to knock on the door when the door opens, and your eyes meet Emerald ones. “I could hear your heart rate spike. What do you want?”

You straighten your posture, “I was in the area, I wanted to check in.”

Tamlin scowls, “Consider me checked in. You can go run to your High Lord and your Bastard, like the good little Bitch you are.”

He is about to shut the door when you breach your boot against the frame preventing it from shutting, ignoring how his blow hit his mark and gave a knowing smirk placing the mask Rhys has taught you “Look who got his bark back.” You rolled your eyes, “Can I please come in? The sooner we have an adult conversation the sooner I can leave, and you can wallow in whatever pity party you’re hosting for yourself.”

His claws peeked over his knuckles, “Why do you care, you sure as hell didn’t care when you took Feyre from me? You sure as hell did not care when your High Lord let her come in and destroy my territory.”

You cross your arms, “Tamlin, Feyre, wanted to do that on her own, there was no coercing on our end. As for your territory...you were a ticking time bomb. Your people were getting frustrated with your rule. Feyre just sped up the process. Maybe it’s time you stop blaming others for what happened in your court and take some responsibility.”

In a flash Tamlin tackles you to the ground, your head hitting the concrete at the bottom of the stairs, your vision blurred slightly as Tamlin’s claw clamps around your neck and squeezes, “I want you to listen very carefully,” He snarls and you wince, “You don’t get to judge me when its apparent there is no use for you in that vile court you call home. Rhys and Feyre have no use for you other than sending out and parade around in other territories.” He smirked as a tear escape cascading down your cheek, “I’m sure you are only good for warming your general’s cock and sitting prettily on his lap.” You wince as his blow landed some of your deepest insecurities being confirmed by the person you hate the most. “You are not welcome in my territory and if I catch your scent even in my territory, I will kill you. Leaving your Corpse on your bastard mate’s doorstep.”

He presses his face close to hers causing a whimper, “Get. Out,” he whispered and ripped away from your body the sound of a door slamming solidifying that the High Lord of the spring had slithered back into his tomb. You laid facing the sky the beautiful sight of the sky a stark contrast of what transpired. For a moment not fully aware of how that escalated quickly, and your hand gravitated to your neck and tears began to pool. You make sure that your bond was locked so your emotions were not flooding to Cassian as he was out checking on his armies.

You stood and the ground began to spin briefly before steadying yourself a sharp pain stung behind your eyes and you touched the back of your head and something wet and warm met your fingertips. You look at your hand and find blood dripping down to your wrist, without a second glance to the manor, you winnowed back to Velaris. You ended up on Madja’s doorstep and you stunned the older Fae healer, “Oh dear, let’s get you checked out” Madja brought you inside and tried to tend to your injuries.

The familiar mental claws scraped your mental shield as Madja had you lay in her cot checking your neck to make sure Tamlin didn’t do any permanent damage as a bruise in the shape of a hand was blooming across your skin. You open your shield enough to let your High Lord come in.

“Home so soon?” Rhy’s voice was a mixture of surprise and concern, “Was your trip constructive?”

You take a steadying breath Tamlin’s words began to bubble up. You tamper it down just enough to keep it from Rhys and replied, “Yes my report, will be on your desk in a few days.”

“I’m glad you’re home, Cassian and Azriel are on their way as we speak so we’re having family dinner tonight at the River House.”

“I’ll be there. I am going to rest it’s been a long journey, and I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Rhys chuckled, “I’m sure Cassian will be more than happy to help tire you out when he sees you. He has already promised to kick my ass for keeping him away from you for this long.”

You smile briefly, and once again Tamlin’s words tried to bubble on the surface causing you stress. Rhys must have picked up on the shift of your feelings, “You sure you’re okay. Tamlin give you a hard time?”

“Rhysand, I’m fine, I’m just tired. I’ll see you at dinner.” You put your shield up before he had a chance to press further on the subject, and let unconsciousness claim you.

~Later That Evening~

You make your way down to the dining room of the River House, your plumb colored gown swishing against your bare feet. The high neckline that has a cut out that compliments your breast is why you chose this. Madja was able to close the wound on your head but the dark purple bruise dawning on your neck was going to have to heal on its own. The sound of laughter flooded your ears and the sound usually brings a smile to your face but this time insecurities run rampant.

They don’t need you.

You don’t belong.

You don’t bring anything to this group. They are better off without you.

You wince at the last one, but you school your features and put on a smile and walk into the dining room. The laughter died out and nerves racked down your body by the silence your lips turning down slightly, “Don’t mind me,” You whisper as you make your way down to the empty chair next to your mate. Your heart stopped at the sight of him as he rose from his seat to approach you. Being out in the mountains in the Fall sunshine his skin had darkened a shade and there was stubble along his face that made your toes curl. He was devastatingly handsome, his hair in a clean bun and his leathers been replaced by a dark button up shirt and dress pants.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Cassian scooped you in his arms and spun you around. Placing you down he steals a kiss from you, “I missed you. I was so happy to hear you were home early.”

His hand grazed down your face and as he neared your neck wiggled out of his grasp and got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek and gave him a small smile, “Me too, General.” You take your seat, and You see Cassian take his, his brows furrowed. The food appeared and everyone gave approval

Feyre looked at you and gave her smile, “How is Tarquin and Helion, I hope they are doing well and treated you well.”

You are only good at parading to other courts.

You cleared your throat as fiddle with the food on your plate not having a solid “They are fine, warm and loving as always.”

“Rhys and Feyre have no use for you… you are only good for warming your general’s cock and sitting prettily on his lap.” The image of Tamlin snarling in your face and his hand squeezing your neck.

Rhys stilled his head shot up and his eyes met yours, your eyes widened and slam your mental shields up. Cassian’s head swiveled between his brother and you and guilt washes over you as he realizes that you have him locked out of the bond. “How was the Spring Court?” Rhys asked tension seeping into the room. Cassian’s head whipped to Rhys.

Feyre also stilled, “You sent her to the Spring Court?” she whispered her food forgotten. Mor poured more wine and filled Amren and Azriel’s goblets. Azriel’s shadows almost obscured him from view and Amren leaned against her chair and sipped her goblet.

Cassian’s grip on his fork tightened his knuckles turning white, “I chose to go,” I whispered. I reach my hand to grip Ferye’s across from me, “It was fine. I was banned but that was the only thing that happened,” Feyre didn’t return her smile.

Rhys jaw locked, “Don’t lie.”

Cassian through gritted teeth, “Someone tell me what’s going on right now!” Rhys made eye contact with the General and his eyes went vacant along with Feyre’s. He was showing both yours and his mates the image that slipped. When the connection was severed you saw that the General had tears in his eyes as rage contorted his features. Feyre had tears streaming down her face.

You rise from your seat tears threatening, “I’m fine. I can handle myself. I’m so sorry that I ruined Family Dinner with this.” You fled and could hear Cassian call out your name as you winnowed to the door of the House of Wind and took the 10,000 steps to the top. You are aloud yourself to fall apart and sobs racked your whole body. Emotions swirling, of the pain on Feyre’s face and the pure rage on Cassian’s, the venomous truth that Tamlin spewed to you and when you reached the top. You moved as quickly as you could despite your thighs burning from the trek up the steps.

You reached the bedroom and were greeted by Hazel eyes, and you sniffled, “Cassian,” You whispered.

The General was leaning against the bed post with his arms and ankles crossed his eyes red rimmed, “Why did you block me out?” His voice was quiet and pained, his knuckles were bloody.

You open the bond and worry is sent down to him, “You’re hurt,” you whisper not looking away from his knuckles.

He looks down at his hands and his eyes meet yours and they soften at your worry and relief shimmers down that bridge between him and you. “The blood isn’t mine. It’s Rhys’,” He shrugged, and you bit your lip, Cassian sighs and pushes of the post and approaches you and you avert your eyes. “He’s fine, he could have fought me off, he let me get the hits in. He felt guilty.”

“Why?” You ask, taking a step away from the door and approaching him.

Cassian stared at you in disbelief as he brought his arms down, pushing off the post to close the distance between the two of you. “Because he purposely put you in danger sending you to Tamlin’s territory. That the bruise your hiding behind that neckline is his fault.” Your eyes widened, “Rhys had stopped by Madja, and she told him she was worried about you.” You nod briefly, “We’re all worried about you. Especially Rhys and myself.”

You shake your head, “It wasn’t. I went willingly. I may have pushed Tamlin’s buttons, and he got the up on me.” You whisper, “It’s not Rhys’ fault it was mine.”

Cassian cupped your face in his hands, “Rhys was aware that you and Tamlin do not get along. He also knew that you wouldn’t say no whereas anyone else would have. As your High Lord and more importantly your friend, he should not have put you in that situation.”

You wrap your fingers around his hands that are still cupping your face, “Tamlin wasn’t wrong though.” Cassian’s face fell at your admission. Tears trailed down your cheek, “I feel like I don’t have a job that is really helping this court, but I can’t fight like everyone else and sometimes I feel like Rhys and Feyre really don’t know what to do with me.” Cassian wipes her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m even a good enough friend to be part of the Inner Circle. Then what he said about you.” You closed your eyes, “I know you love me. I know you value me as a friend, partner, mate and wife, but I think back to the number of times you have had to reassure me and take care of me. I can’t help but feel like a burden to you and this court.”

“Oh Sweetheart,” His voice cracked as he picked you up and led you to the bathroom where he took a moment to change you out of your gown. His eyes were flaring with anger at the sight of the bruise. He puts on one of your favorite night gowns that is red and black. He guides you to the vanity back in the bedroom and has you sit as he begins to brush your hair. “There has never been a moment since you came into my life where I ever found you as a burden. You have been such a bright light in my life, your smile brightens the room and even on my worst day that same smile always melts my problems away. You have the affect on the team too, your easy and calm demeanor grounds everyone even Amren.” He meets your gaze through the mirror with his smile that always settles your nerves. “Your charm is perfect for dealing with temperamental High Lords which is why Feyre and Rhys have you go out and touch base with them every now and then. They like you and find comfort in your presence.”

He kisses your cheek and turns you so that you’re facing him, “I love you, You have never under any circumstances simply been someone who warms my cock.” You give him a small smile and his eyes light up at the upward tick of your lips. “I love your kindness, and your bravery. Most importantly it’s your willingness to drop anything for anyone, no questions asked. People know they can come to you for a listening ear, a shopping spree. You even know when I just need to hold you after a difficult mission, and you don’t pry but you somehow know what any one of us needs at any given moment. That’s special, Sweetheart, you’re special.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I will happily remind you of that, everyday from now until my heart stops beating that you are NOT a burden.” Another kiss to your lips briefly before he pulls away.

You feel tears flooding out one more time as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck taking in his scent. “I was nervous, that if you sensed my dread and fear down the bond, you would have shown up in the Spring Court. That’s why I blocked you out and I really wish I hadn’t. I thought he was going to kill me he even told me as much.” Cassian stilled at the admission but did not say anything as you continued, “Then when I got here all I could think about was how I couldn’t inconvenience anyone to help. I was cowardly and didn’t want Rhys to think I failed him. Failed you and began and self-doubt is a parasite that is easy to come in and harder to extract. I just didn’t want to bring the mood down of everyone being home for the first time in weeks. ”

Cassian snorted and you could hear him roll his eyes, “He failed you, Sweetheart. But Tamlin will be dealt with. I promise.” You nod and continue to sob into his neck ruining his dress shirt with your tears. “Also, you are more important to me than any dinner or game night we could have. How you’re feeling takes priority for me that will never change. Just because you're not feeling joy all the time doesn't make you a burden, it's normal to have those bad feelings as it is the good ones.”

Cassian tucks an arm under your knees and behind your back and carries you to the armchair looking out at the balcony. Holding you close as your sobs ebb and flow he strokes your back and presses his head against yours whispering sweet nothings.

A few moments go by when the sobbing turns to soft hiccups, you raise your head from his neck to meet his beautiful honey-colored eyes. “Thank you, for being you, Cassian, you always know what to say.”

He presses a kiss to your hand, “Promise me something, Sweet Girl.” You wait to let him continue, “Promise me that you will not block me out like that again, if you think you will be in a dangerous situation or territory, you keep the bond open so I can help. While we’re at it, tell me things. Don’t try to protect me from your dark feelings, or worries, it’s my job as your mate and your husband to help you through them and work on quieting those loud voices. No different than what you do for me.”

You nod, “I promise.” You kiss him, “I love you.”

He smiles and holds you tighter to him, “I love you too, Sweetheart. Let’s get some rest, we have an early meeting with the High Lord and Lady tomorrow.”

You nod and let him carry you to bed. He quickly removes his clothes, apart from his underwear and crawls into bed next to you, bringing your head to his chest and his wing wrapped around the two of you for extra warmth as your eyes droop close you feel lips on your forehead, “My beautiful, mate.” He whispers as you drift into slumber.

~FIN

#cassian acotar #cassian x reader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian fluff #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader

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ellecdc · 2 months

Text

Not Alone

Marauders x fem!reader who is looking for somewhere safe during a zombie apocalypse [no pronouns are used, but gendered monikers are attributed to the reader!] - 1.8k words

part 1 | part 2

CW: mention of losing loved one's/friends in a violent way but not described, reader has injuries, mentions of hopelessness and violence, hurt/comfort

A/N: honestly, I'm not even sure where this idea came from but I needed to write it down lol, so hopefully someone out there enjoys it too!

It felt like the majority of your brain was focused on keeping your breathing even (and more importantly, quiet) than it was at actually finding you somewhere safe to hide.

You cradled your - now useless - arm to your chest protectively as you fought to keep the disturbing image of your friend being swallowed up by the horde as she told you to run.

You couldn’t think about that now - couldn’t afford to think about the fact that you had now officially lost everyone who ever meant anything to you, and were completely and utterly alone in this world.

You couldn’t think about any of that now; you simply had to run.

You were sure you were only imagining it but you swore your socks felt squishy with the amount of blood accumulating there from the various blisters adorning your feet; you and…. you had been walking for days now in search of anything - any store, any shelter, any body of water - that wasn’t crawling with zombies or hostile survivor encampments.

It had been one bloody thing after another; setting off some security alarm in a pharmacy and having to outrun a horde, having to avoid a camp of survivors who were out for blood, and dislocating your sodding arm simply trying to hop a fence.

And your luck didn’t seem to be coming up any better; the vast abandoned fields ahead of you smelling like nothing but trouble.

You didn’t want to walk through the unmanned fields, not knowing what could be lurking out of sight in wait for you.

The only other option was the gravel road, which while leaving you completely vulnerable was undeniably the safer of two options.

You tried to compartmentalise; you needed water, but to drink water, you needed to take your rucksack off. Taking your rucksack off sounded like a painful endeavour at the moment, so you would need a secure place to do so. If you could find a secure place, you needed to rest.

You needed to pop your bloody shoulder back into its socket.

You needed to take your sodding shoes off.

You needed to sleep.

You wanted to cry.

You needed to cry.

You’re not sure how long you had been spiralling or how long you had been walking without direction when the blazing sun finally started to set and allowed you some reprieve from its scorching heat.

And suddenly, you saw it.

A rather dilapidated barn could be seen just peeking through various overgrown shrubs behind a barbed wire fence a mere kilometre or two ahead.

You had no time (nor the wherewithal) to consider whether the building was safe as your feet seemed to head in that direction of their own volition.

You needed water, you needed rest, you needed to take your shoes off.

You needed to get to that barn.

On autopilot, you crouched behind the rickety fence and listened for any movement.

You creeped forward and pushed the barn door open, listening once again for any movement. You picked up a stick and lobbed it into the darkness of the barn - still nothing.

Rather desperate at this point, you pushed your way into the barn and took in the space.

While there was evidence of people having camped out here before - a few sleeping bags, an empty can or two of food, and other survival paraphernalia - there was no way to conclude how long those individuals had been gone for, or if they planned on returning.

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

You turned and shut the doors behind you, using your good arm to pull a bail of hay in front of it as a poor means of blocking the door.

You fell atop of one of the sleeping bags; your knees screaming in agony at the impact and crying in joy at the relief as you manoeuvred your rucksack off of your good shoulder and sucked in a pained breath as you removed it from the other.

You pulled out your flask of water; the last remaining bit you had on your person since the other two bottles were with…

This was the last remaining bit of water you had.

You took a tentative sip; knowing you’d love nothing more than to down the rest and then some, opting to ration for now until you were able to get your hands on more.

You kicked your boots off and were happy to see that your socks weren’t as drenched in blood as they certainly felt when you were walking.

You needed water - check.

You needed to take your boots off - check.

You had an obvious issue with your shoulder, but when you went to try to reposition it, you felt bile rise to your throat and hastily pulled your hand away.

You’d worry about that later.

You needed to rest.

You couldn’t worry about the fact that you couldn’t worry about your arm later, seeing as you had no one here to reset it for you.

You had no one here.

You had no one.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, as the adrenaline of the day seeped from your body and exhaustion pulled you further into a strangers sleeping bag where you finally fell unconscious.

You found that you suddenly missed camping, which was odd seeing as your entire life now could be considered various forms of camping. You missed the bonfires that weren’t merely a form of survival, you missed the light conversation and inside jokes, and you missed the easy laughter one only ever heard in the company of trusted friends.

You could almost hear it from your curled up position in a sleeping bag; the sound of a gentle fire crackling, gentle whispers and subsequent chuckles.

You almost smiled to yourself, that is, until you realised you really could hear those things.

You could smell it, too; the smell of fire, the telltale scent of pine trees from where a door must be propped open.

And you could feel the heat of the fire, and the familiar weight of company.

Your eyes shot open then as you tried to control your breathing.

You could hear someone - multiple someone’s. Maybe two? Three?

“Good morning.” A deep voice greeted you from near your feet.

You scrambled to a sitting position - painfully ignoring the screaming of your shoulder - and pushed yourself flush against the wall behind you.

The voice was a man - possibly around your age - dark haired, tattooed, and intimidating as he watched you warily with narrowed silver eyes, opening and closing a switchblade in his hand as if he was having trouble sitting still while he watched you sleep.

You turned to grab for your gun only to notice that your rucksack was gone - the only one of your possessions that you still had was the flask that you fell asleep cradling in your arms.

“Easy doll.” The bloke said with a smirk. “Your stuff is safe - it was just a precaution, yeah?” He offered as he motioned towards another member of his group who was holding your bag up for your view.

“You’ll get it all back once we know you’re not here to off us.” A man with glasses and hair that appeared to be a level of wild that could only be natural attempted to placate you.

“And you?” You finally asked; eyes darting between the three men (that you could see) frantically. “Are you lot here to off me?”

The dark-haired man scoffed. “Don’t you think we would have done that already?”

“You’re sleeping in our bed, princess.” The bespectacled bloke added.

You felt horribly like the Brothers Grimm version of goldilocks - sleeping soundly in a bear's home only to be mauled to death upon their return.

“Where are your people?” The man holding your rucksack who had been silent up until this point asked you then, moving to stand beside the dark-haired man as he considered you.

He was tall, looking far more like he’d been living through an apocalypse than his two counterparts did with the various scars adorning his face and hands.

You simply shook your head in response to his question.

His lips pulled together slightly before he looked down at your rucksack. “You don’t have much here.”

You shook your head again.

One of them sighed as the tattooed man continued to scrutinise you.

“Do… do you want something to eat?” The scarred man asked then.

You quickly shook your head and made to stand, catching yourself awkwardly with your elbow as you teetered into the wall behind you, one arm useless and the other holding it protectively. “Sorry, no. I- thank you, but I’ll leave, I swear it.”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” The tattooed man asked as he stood from his crouched position.

You let out a shuddering sigh. “I…I don’t- I think it’s dislocated.”

He let out a chuckle through his nose. “You’re not going to get very far like that, dollface.”

“Do you really have no one?” The man with the glasses asked then as he moved to join the three of you.

“No one.” You whispered, fighting back the violent image of the last person who meant anything to you being ripped from your grasp.

The three men shared a look; the scarred man shaking his head and walking back towards the fire with your bag still in his hand.

“My name is James.” The bespectacled man announced. “This is Sirius,” He continued, nodding towards the tattooed man, "and Remus over there will help you with your shoulder.”

“And then we’ll get some food in you.” Remus added.

“I…I don’t-”

But the tattooed man - Sirius - scoffed derisively at you. “You are not going back out there.”

“Not alone.” James corrected.

The two men went and joined Remus at a makeshift camp stove where he was warming up some sort of canned soup, and James pulled up another lawn chair making four seats around their designated kitchen area.

You didn’t know these men - although they didn’t know you either - but it had been so long.

So long since you met kind strangers, so long since you smelled food that wasn’t preserved fruit or pickled vegetables, and so long since you felt any inkling of hope since the world went to shit before your eyes.

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

All you could think about was how Remus gently patted your new spot at their table as he explained how he was going to pop your shoulder back into place, watching as James spooned some soup into a bowl for you and Sirius grabbed a brand new bottle of water that you could have cried over and set it on the table in front of you.

So, perhaps against your better judgement, you took a seat and allowed Remus to shove your shoulder back into its rightful place before securing it to your side with what looked to be an old lace curtain, and told them your name.

You didn’t know what might come of this little foursome you suddenly found yourself in - you couldn’t think about that right now - but at least, for now, you wouldn’t have to be alone.

continue to part two here

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gutsby · 10 months

Text

Pregnant Pause

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v (duh). Daddy Daryl + daddy!kink Daryl. Difficulties trying to conceive.

Note: Part 2 to Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk. I fully blame @murdadixon and the Blood Ties series for all the pregnancy-related one shots lately - veryyyy much in my Daddy Daryl era now 🫣💓💘

If trying to get knocked up was an Olympic sport, you would’ve won the gold.

On the merits of your efforts alone you and Daryl probably should’ve had several hundred babies under your belt by now. Thousands. The past six months had been nothing but babymaking, a steady stream of rawdog bedroom rodeos and two-person pushups being your primary form of sustenance. But, try as you might, there wasn’t so much as a whiff of a kid in sight after all this time. You were starting to lose hope.

When, one month, your period didn’t make its usual appearance two days after the time it was meant to, you were over the moon with excitement.

Swinging one leg over Daryl’s sleeping form to straddle him in bed, you leaned down and shook him hard.

“Daryl!” you hissed, pinching him under his shirt.

The man below you grunted, shuffled, and blinked uncertainly up at you before slowly raking his eyes over your body and starting to smirk.

“Climb on, cowgirl,” he purred, already starting to tug your panties down.

Your hands quickly covered his and stalled their movements, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Not that, not that!” you whispered, “I’m late.”

“Fer what?” Glancing over at the clock on the nightstand.

“My period.”

Daryl’s gaze darted back to yours. A beat as he processed what you meant.

“No shit?”

“Shit.” You were nodding, beaming.

Daryl hauled himself to his feet in a second, taking you with him. Then he slipped you onto the floor and raced you to the door, practically fighting you through the threshold of the bathroom to get to the cupboards first.

Together, you flung cabinet doors open far and wide and went foraging for little blue boxes in somewhat of a frenzy. Daryl was chucking pads and tampons and rolls of toilet paper over his shoulder while you stuck yourself waist-deep in another stuffy wooden space, searching in earnest for that stupid Clearblue logo.

“Got it!” Daryl chirped. You almost smacked your head on the sink coming out so fast.

“Yeah?!”

Daryl thrust a blue-and-white stick in your direction, grinning with pride.

Your eyes narrowed just a little. Your stomach sank.

“Daryl, that’s a thermometer.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth hung slightly ajar in an ‘o’ shape, and you couldn’t even be mad at his attempt.

Trying to hide your dismay, you sighed and told him to keep looking. You crawled back over to the cupboard and felt a gentle coil just then start to take shape in your stomach—whether that might’ve been a real-life baby or another burst of anxious nerves, you couldn’t be sure. You and Daryl continued to comb over the boxes and bottles lined across your shelves.

That was how your day had started. It continued, at present, outside a largely dilapidated Target Superstore, with your hands on your hips and your eyes scanning a sea of the undead that occupied its front entrance. Shit was worse than any Black Friday crowd you’d ever seen.

“You sure you don’t wanna check the Walgreens?” you asked, tightening your grip on the rifle in your hands.

“Place was overrun last time I checked. Got a camp of military types stationed nearby too. Best ta leave ‘em be,” Daryl answered.

You suspected if anyone came across the two of you now they’d be put off just the same—with the AK-47 in your arms and the crossbow/M4 Carbine combo on Daryl’s person, you probably looked every bit as lethal as you’d ever been.

All for an itty bitty pee stick and some snacks.

You sat down on one of the red cement balls to your left and crossed your arms. You watched the herd. If there was just some way to slip in, sight unseen, and sneak past their rotting bodies to get to the Sexual Wellness section, maybe rappel from the ceiling and drop dead on the spot, go in guns blazing or else just—”

“Mask it,” Daryl said, suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow but quickly had your curiosity quelled when Daryl nodded toward a throng of walkers down the way.

There were four or five of them stacked together, crushed between shopping carts and pinned, interminably, in place as they stood, hissed, and clawed in your general direction.

Daryl had a hatchet in hand in a second. You watched, enthralled, as he made lightning quick work of the walkers, hacking off their arms, dismantling their jaws, and slinging rope around their bodies like they were little more than a miniature herd of cattle. He came back smiling, probably thinking to himself how proud Michonne would be if she could see him now.

“Here,” he hummed. He passed over the rope attached to two jawless walkers like they were pets on a leash.

You accepted it and joined him as he walked, eyeing your newly-tripled group with a curious look.

“Should we—” you started.

“Not naming them,” Daryl said before you could finish.

The six of you trudged along a path of broken glass and steered toward one of the semi-shattered doors. Your stomach started to twist when the sounds of the groaning walkers within reached your ears.

“’S’okay. Nothin’s gonna hurt us with these ugly fucks around,” Daryl murmured to you, glancing back at the doe-eyed, mutilated geeks at your rear.

You nodded silently and followed his lead. The pair of you were practically halfway through the entrance now, making your way past piles of debris and gradually drawing closer to the hissing mob inside. You eyed the looming horde, chewed the inside of your cheek, and yanked your brand new friends a little closer.

And, like magic, the herd hardly stirred when you approached the perimeter. A few parted ways enough to give you entry and, when you’d stepped inside, proceeded to close right back around as if you were one of their own. Not a single snarling mouth or clouded eye turned your way as you and Daryl shuffled ahead, mimicking their moans and hisses and occasionally trading looks as if to say, ‘No fucking way this is working.’

You carried on. Followed by sight where streams of light went pouring in through the caved-in ceiling. Even looked to a couple worn and faded aisle numbers and quickly learned you were much closer than you thought.

You slowed your pace.

“Condoms, 2:00,” you whispered, trying to direct Daryl’s attention to the right.

The pregnancy tests were always stationed somewhere near the condoms—like a warning, you thought. You never could’ve imagined you’d be so happy to see that silent admonition in your life, now, as you and Daryl sidled over to the scattered rows of sexual wellness products and took a closer look.

Daryl reached down, seized a box, and held it up to you.

“Nope. Ovulation test,” you shook your head.

Another.

“Pantyliners.”

“Goddamn, how many pussy products do y’all need?” Daryl groaned, stepping aside to let you check the shelves yourself.

You found a pregnancy test in four seconds flat. You chucked the box his way and grabbed half a dozen more.

Internally, you would’ve loved to celebrate this momentous occasion, but rationally, you knew there were several hundred flesh-eating horrors just waiting for you to fuck up and serve yourselves on a platter a stone’s throw away. Moreover, you were ill at ease—almost fearful—of the result you might get from the tests. After six months of setbacks and cyclic, habitual frustration, you almost didn’t want to know one way or another. You weren’t fit to face another disappointment.

When your gaze flitted to Daryl’s, you saw his expression had softened. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms and cradled your head to his chest.

“Don’t matter what the test says,” he murmured into your hair, stroking it softly, “’m gonna put a damn baby in ya if it’s the last thing I do.”

You surprised yourself by bursting into laughter, not tears, on his front, trying to stifle the sounds in his shirt as he hugged you tighter. You squeezed him back, held him close, and almost forgot your four drooling companions and the many more still prowling about the store. You turned your head up to Daryl.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too.”

Daryl leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips.

He probably meant it to be a peck, nothing more than a second or two, but when you pulled him in and really kissed him back, he didn’t mind at all.

He walked you back into a shelf, pushed your body as careful as he could so as not to disturb any items behind you. You brought a hand to his hair and threaded it tight through your fingers, prompting the smallest of groans between you. Daryl stepped a little closer.

The second your tongue breached the seal of his lips, you felt a hand slide down to your backside and nudge you up a little, so you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your tongues delved deeper, hands roamed further, and moans took on a volume that likely wasn’t safe at all for your current surroundings. Your four gummy-mouthed comrades stood as silent and still as ever.

“Wanna— have another go for good measure?” you muttered against Daryl’s lips. Hips grinding with his against all your better judgment.

“Couldn’t...hurt,” Daryl groaned in return.

Undoubtedly, it could do more than just hurt you—if those walkers sniffed you out, they’d kill you—but, as it was, neither of your hormone-charged bodies had the presence of mind to say any differently. You and Daryl shed clothes quicker than either of you could comprehend and, within a minute, were back on each other with another flurry of quick, frantic kisses.

Daryl gripped your bare hips, pinned them to the shelf, and almost cursed in your mouth when the whole damn thing threatened to give way.

In a blink, he’d grabbed the metal behind you and was slowly, desperately trying to yank it back while you cast a look around you.

Nothing roaming nearby. At least as far as you could see.

You shifted as though you were going to slide out of Daryl’s arms, but he just drew you closer. Once he’d righted the shelf, he secured his arm underneath you and grinned.

“Wanna take this someplace a little more private?”

You nodded and motioned toward the big ‘Rx’ sign at the end of the aisle. Daryl followed your gaze.

The pharmacy counter would have to do.

You were propped up against the cool surface in no time at all—right after Daryl had tied the walkers to a nearby pole—and suddenly you felt warmth all around. In spite of your nearly stark naked stature, you were enveloped by Daryl’s body, pressed flush against the counter and feeling his touch run every which way he pleased. He kissed, licked, and sucked every supple inch of your skin and acted like it was the first time he’d tasted you in ages. Like it wasn’t last night, and the morning before that, and every day preceding that he’d gotten his fill.

Daryl watched with eyes that drank you in like a novelty, and somewhere deep within you both, you knew you needed this now.

You hardly had a moment’s time to think before Daryl was thrusting inside you. Laying you flat on your back and fucking you hard against the counter with your legs draped over either one of his shoulders.

Daryl fought back a moan when your walls first welcomed him, slow at first, but maddening all the same. You felt a hand drift to your neck and seize it at the base, saw Daryl lean in a little and say, through gritted teeth,

“Tha’s my good girl— take daddy’s cock.”

You whimpered in response, feeling him rut his hips even harder. Daryl squeezed your throat as he did, and, seeing how much you loved it, held it there as long as you could take it before you came gasping for air.

He’d fill you to the hilt, pull out, and do it all again, quietly moaning your name as he pumped in and out.

“Fuck, Daryl, I— fuck,” you tried, and failed, to speak a coherent sentence as the archer picked up speed.

“Wha’s’at, honey? Ya say sumn’?” Daryl pried, pretending like he wasn’t already sending you straight to the brink of orgasm with the force of each stroke.

You hummed in an effort to conceal your moan but ended up letting loose an even louder sound, punctuated by something of a shriek when Daryl delivered a particularly hard blow. You clamped a hand over your mouth and watched Daryl shoot a look over his shoulder. Then he turned back, smirking.

“Didn’t quite catch tha’, honey,” he managed between ragged thrusts, “Wanna moan a little louder so the whole fuckin’ store can hear?”

You shot him a look as if to say, ‘Get fucked’—then pulled him even deeper with your fingers wrapped fast around his forearms. Daryl hardly seemed fazed, simply dropping a hand between your legs and offering another shit-eating grin when your body jolted under his touch.

“Feel good, baby?” he hummed.

You nodded and whimpered. Couldn’t help but clench when he leaned forward and angled your legs higher. Daryl let out a throaty moan.

“Gonna cum f’me?”

Before you could answer, he lowered himself even closer, ‘til your legs were all the way up by your ears and your body was chock-full of pleasure, all but brimming with tears. You tried to nod, found that you could scarcely move, and felt Daryl cup your face in his hand as he continued to fuck you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip,

“Cum fer daddy, then. Cum all over this cock.”

Daryl knew he didn’t need to tell you twice. In a matter of seconds he felt you come undone beneath him, hands gripping him tight and walls clenching even harder. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss, tried to quiet your moans, but found himself chasing that high not too long after. He spilled his seed inside you and watched your face contort with pleasure—not from your climax alone, but that pure, primal feel of his warmth spreading out deep within you.

The two of you parted, panted, and grinned in each other’s faces like that wasn’t the single dumbest, and most dangerous, fuck you’d had in your entire lives.

You didn’t need to exchange a word; you knew you shared identical thoughts. Daryl squeezed your thigh.

Twenty minutes later, with your walker quartet in tow, you paced a nervous path back and forth before your car in the parking lot. On the hood sat half a dozen, urine-soaked pregnancy tests with the screens facing down. You stopped and turned to Daryl, eyes locking on his.

“Ready?”

“Flip ‘em.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut

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spatialwave · 4 months

Text

“𝓪 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵’𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓮𝓻”

pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x fem!reader word count: 1k summary: you’d proven to cooper that you were a tough young thing, a vault dweller with a bit of edge—and a thing for mean-mannered ghouls. you were quick to indulge in being his plaything. warnings: mdni! smut, dom!cooper, sub!reader, rough, degrading, withholding/edging, cooper is mean i’m not sorry! notes: these are getting too good ya’ll hehe, i hope you like it! this scene was inspired by @ghoulphile and their amazing cooper writings! please go check out their blog! 🧡

when you first met cooper howard you had been doused in confusion, why the hell were you attracted to this… thing? not a human, but too handsome and sentient to be labelled as lowly as a ‘creature’. he couldn’t be wrangled into the likes of mutated animals, but you hadn’t met a ghoul before, so you didn’t know what to make of him. nor could you understand the way you’d grown slick between the thighs by only looking at him.

fascination struck when he settled striking eyes on you—soon forcing you along to seek out the information you’d gained through your years as a vault dweller.

and it’s not like you fit anywhere else anyway, even your vault allowed you to make way for the surface without an attempt to hold you back from your curiosity— you were stuck with nothing. not even a bottle of water to your name. so, if it meant having to suck up to a bounty hunting ghoul and beg for your life to stay afloat, then you could manage. you hadn’t any ounce of shame or pride, you were a prisoner to the wastelands.

a lover to a damned, 200-year old ghoul.

your face was shoved against the sandy floorboards of an old, battered saloon—destroyed and flimsy. one harsh rad storm and it would collapse into a corpse of a building that once held a proud number of guests before the war.

“cooper, fuck—“ you groaned, pain mixed with pleasure as your cunt burned.

the ghoul had stripped you completely, your vault jumpsuit tossed behind the broken bar, boots across the room and pip boy a few inches from your face. he left your naked body exposed to the cold night air, easy for him to ravage and indulge.

this was a constant repetition in your life now, when cooper was having a stressful day he took it out on you. the first time was near-frightening, thinking that he might end up snapping you in half while fucking you with his revolver shoved into your mouth like a deathly, make-shift gag.

you loved it—it was fucking disgusting, and you craved it like a lowly whore, a term of endearment that came so lovingly from the ghoul.

“quiet down,” he hissed, gloved hand landing harshly against your ass so a loud smack echoed through the dilapidated building, “i’ll shove your panties in your mouth if you keep this up, whore.”

his cock was buried deep into your pussy, swollen and aching around his hardened length that pushed against the ring of your cervix. the fleshy muscle shooting pain through your hips and thighs with each thrust, uncaring if it was painful. large hands massaged the globes of your ass, covered in reddened marks and bruises that would make sitting down hard—it was rare you had that privilege, though. cooper had made sure you two were always on the move.

“maybe i want that, cowboy,” you giggled sloppily, fucked so dumb you could hardly think as you looked over your shoulder at the ghoul, his hazel eyes piercing into yours just under the brim of his hat. you hated that he kept himself mostly clothed during these rendezvous.

cooper groaned, eyes narrowing as his left hand kept your wrists pinned against your back—face rubbing raw against the floor every time his cock slid through your wet walls. he’d been the biggest you’d ever taken, not like you had much experience.

“you love talkin’ with that filthy, cocksucking mouth of yours, don’t you?” cooper groaned, hands tightening around your wrists as his hips snapped sharply against your ass.

to make sure your needs were taken care of, you bit hard onto your bottom lip to muffle any sounds that may escape your throat. it was difficult when his cock stretched you thin, rubbing raw inside you as tears gathered in your eyes and all you wanted to do was scream his name until your voice cracked and the dry, dusty air stung your throat. you clenched tight around his cock, hardly able to keep yourself up on your knees, and he could feel how close you were to collapsing.

“not yet, darlin’,” cooper mumbled, his free hand latching to your hip and pulling you back to your knees when you’d nearly collapsed. then, the same hand slipped around your hips, so his bare fingers rubbed at your swollen clit that had been neglected.

“coop—“ you whimpered, eyes daring to shut tight as he pounded into you mercilessly, barely hanging onto reality as you had begun to see stars while your eyes rolled back.

he fed off your soft mewls of pleasure as you tried so hard to keep quiet, a smirk tainting his lips as he watched with excited eyes and a newfound sense of vigor.

“you gonna’ cum on my cock, lil’ helper?” he whispered, leaning forward so his clothed chest pressed against your back and locked wrists, “say it and i’ll think about lettin’ you,” he huffed, voice coarse as his warm breath tickled the shell of your ear and his finger pulled away from your clit—pulling you away from the edge you’d nearly fell over.

“i’m gonna’ cum on your cock,” you slurred—whining desperately for more, “can i, cooper? please, i’ve been good,” you pleaded, forcing your eyes to focus so you could look at him. you’d been fighting off the coil of heat tightening in your lower gut, waiting so patiently for your lover to say yes like the darling love you were.

you bit back a gurgled moan, eyes shutting tight as he allowed a few, long seconds to pass before his finger rubbed tight, fast circles on the sensitive bud, “go on then,” he breathed low, lips parted as he waited for your release.

all it took was for you to relax your body, then the pleasure soared through you like an explosive. cooper pulled himself upright and let go of your wrists so you could cover your mouth with your delicate fingers—moaning a saliva-filled mess into your hand while you came. every thrust sent your head swirling, sending your body into flames as his radiated body took one final snap of his hips before he spilled deep inside and felt the stress of the day vanish into thin air.

you were certainly this ghoul’s helper.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #walton goggins #fallout fic #cooper howard fic #fallout prime fic #wordsbyspatial

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writeroutoftime · 7 months

Text

pawns in your game

pairing: cassian x fem!reader

summary: when you get injured working a job with rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger

warnings: angst, injury towards reader, cass getting angry at rhys and also rhys kinda being a dick (look I have a lot of thoughts of conversations that never happened in acosf lol - I just hope this isn't horribly ooc)

words: 1.3k

a/n: first cassian fic! honestly, I know I said I'm in love with rhys, but it's the same for cass and az - so this one is for my fellow cassian people! wasn't sure how to wrap this up, so I left it open for a part 2. let me know if anyone is interested and/or has any ideas? but either way, please enjoy!! (also, if you could let me know what you think because I'm so nervous about posting this!)

tagging @captainsophiestark as requested! (hope you're having a lovely day!)

oOoOo

"Cassian, I need you to visit Windhaven and deal with Devlon. I'm getting reports of unrest, and I want this handled before it becomes a problem." Rhys commanded, not looking up from the papers on his desk.

Standing at attention, Cass nodded his head once, sharply. "Of course. I will go and pack, so that y/n and I may leave before the sun sets." He moved to exit the room, holding his hand out for you, but was quickly stopped before either of you got too far.

"Actually, y/n, I need you to accompany me." Rhys interrupted, directing his attention to you.

Your jaw dropped, caught off guard, and you hurried to school your features. It was not that you had to be paired with Cassian for all missions, but it had been that way for at least a century now since your mating ceremony. It served as peace of mind to you and Cass, and usually meant your missions were more successful compared to when you were separated. Surely, Rhys understood that.

"We will be leaving for the Spring Court in the morning, and I need my most trusted courtier with me."

Shock ran through your body, but you nodded your head regardless. It must be a serious matter, for you had not visited the Spring Court in many months. However, you instantly felt a sharp tug of your mating bond followed by waves of anger that poured off of Cassian.

"Spring Court?" he ground out, fists clenched at his side. "Why must you travel to the Spring Court? I thought we put that behind us?"

"Because I have official business to conduct with Tamlin that supersedes our personal desires. And I need the Night Court's courtier present for." Rhys snapped back.

You sent a soothing message down the bond, trying to calm Cass' anger you felt growing with each second that passed. "Cass, it's alright. Both of us will be fine."

"No. Rhys, you know what happened the last time any of us stepped foot there. You really want to risk it? Can't you send anyone else to go? Lucien, Mor, Feyre?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to growl. "Watch it, Cassian. I've told y/n she will accompany to Spring and that's enough."

"But can't you just-"

"I said that's enough!" Rhys shouted, his eyes darkened dangerously as the thread of his patience snapped. "I am your High Lord, and you will not push back against what I command."

A tension so thick that it threatened to choke you immediately filled the room. You kept your eyes locked on the ground, but you didn't have to look to know Cass wore a mask of despair on his face. It had been decades since Rhys had lost his temper like that.

Cassian merely bowed his head in mock respect before dragging you from the room. He did not speak for the next hour, only doing so to whisper his love and goodbye to you, before flying to Windhaven, not saying another word to Rhys.

oOoOo

The next day found yourself in the ruins of the Spring Court. What once was a beautiful court that thrived for all its citizens now lay dilapidated and lonely, a reflection of the court's high lord's own feelings. It had rattled your nerves to set foot on Tamlin's territory considering the rocky history between the Spring and Night courts, but you would not leave Rhys' side.

Now, you were utterly exhausted from mediating with two, stubborn males all day; only for no new development to transpire, meaning you simply wasted a day away from your own court and your mate. Your only relief came from the swift exit Rhys insisted on, making sure you would arrive home before the sun set.

Yet, the tension from the previous day lingered as you and Rhys traveled to the border to be able to winnow out. But as you both walked in silence, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Like someone, or something was watching you. Before you could communicate any of this to Rhys, you caught a solider out of the corner of your eye with an arrow notched and aimed at your high lord.

"Look out!" you shouted. With such little warning, you knew Rhys wouldn't be able to deflect the arrow on his own. And with a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your body to reach Rhys.

Mere seconds before the arrow could lodge itself in its initial target, your body collided with Rhys', knocking him out of the way and safely to the ground. Instead, the arrow lodged itself deep in your shoulder, burning like a thousand fires. You let out a guttural scream, immediately dropping to the ground.

Being part of the Inner Circle - the Court of Dreams - meant you were no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything you ever thought existed. Very briefly, you recognized that Rhys had neutralized the threat and now hovered over your body.

His face was contorted in pain and tears clouded his eyes. He moved to pull the arrow from your body, but halted the moment he touched it. Your scream reverberated in the stone courtyard.

"y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he cried, never seeing you like this. Quickly, Rhys gathered you in his arms and winnowed back to Velaris and directly into the med wing. He prayed Madja could mend the wounds, and he blanched at the thought of Cassian discovering the events that had played out.

oOoOo

Meanwhile, in the Windhaven camp, Cassian was meeting with a handful of males, attempting to negotiate peace. His focus wavered, however, as a blinding wave of agony struck his heart through his bond. He froze on the spot, his heart stopped pumping blood. While on a mission, the two of you had agreed to keep the bond closed - for safety reasons. The fact that he could feel this immense pain, meant something very wrong had occurred.

"I-I have to go." Cassian mumbled, not bothering to offer any more explanation to the Illyrians - consequences be damned.

Immediately, he took to the skies and started the flight back to Velaris. The already long flight felt like it took an eternity. The wind strung at Cassian's cheeks as he soared, but the pain didn't register like the way the bond sung in pain.

Finally, Cass could see River House in his site, and when he finally entered the house, he was met with the site of his family huddled together in the sitting room. All eyes turned his way, a mixture of pity and concern as they looked at him.

"What happened? Where is y/n?" he demanded, fully stepping into his role as Lord of Bloodshed, eyes darkened and wings drawn out menacingly.

Before anyone could answer, another scream could be heard from the halls. Cassian's knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the floor if Azriel hadn't been standing by. Rhys blocked his path, unable to meet his brother's eye.

"She was attacked, brother. We were ambushed while visiting the Spring Court." Rhys whispered.

"And they attacked her?" Cass questioned, though he knew deep down that wasn't the case. When Rhys, or anyone else for that matter, refused to speak, Cassian growled. "What happened?"

Unable to speak, Rhysand gently scraped against Cassian's mental shields and projected to him the whole truth of what had happened at the Spring Court; the ambush, you pushing yourself into harm's way for the sake of Rhys, and the pain you felt from the moment the arrow struck your body.

As Rhys withdrew himself from his brother's mind, Cass drew, deep rugged breaths. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating, but no one dared to move or speak first. However, instead of speaking, Cass pushed past everyone and demanded his way into your room to be by your side.

One look at your crumpled form, sent Cassian to his knees by your bedside. He reached out, hesitantly, to grasp your hand in his and allowed the tears to fall. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he mumbled.

Madja made herself known from the corner, approaching Cass the way one would a frightened animal. "The arrow she was shot with was laced with a terrible poison - much worse than faebane. I've done my best, but some of the poison already made it to her system."

"When will she wake up?" Cass asked, not allowing the possibility of you never waking to cross his lips.

The healer sighed deeply, looking over the famed general, now brought to his knees at the sight of his mate fighting for her life. "Only the Cauldron and Mother know. It will be up to y/n to bring herself back from the brink." Madja spoke slowly.

With a final, soothing touch to Cass's shoulder, Madja made her exit. Now off to deliver the same news to the rest of your waiting family.

"Please don't leave me. Y-you can't leave me." Cass whispered, clutching your hand. "I'm here with you every step of the way." he vowed.

oOoOo

And that was how it continued for the next four days as your body continued to try and heal itself from the inside out. Cass refused to move from the chair he had dragged to sit by your bed. Unwilling to leave your side for even a moment.

The rest of his family took turns sitting with you and Cass, bringing him meals, forcing him to at least take a bite. He knew that everyone else was suffering as well from your situation, but it felt like his heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, with each hour that passed and you still remained asleep.

He wasn't stupid. He knew the longer you went without improvement, the less likely it became you would heal. Cass heard the hushed conversations Mor and Azriel held outside your door, discussing what to do should the worst happen, Cauldron forbid.

It was on that fourth day that Cassian reached a tipping point. He heard the door creak open behind him, imagining it was Amren who would be sitting with him, based on the previous days' schedule.

What Cass had not anticipated was to see his High Lord approach the bed and pull a chair up on the opposite side of your bed. It was obvious to see the prominent dark circles that overtook Rhys's normally bright face, and the way his body and seemingly sunk into itself. But Cass could not bring himself to care for his brother's guilt or be the first to utter a word.

With a wave of his hand, Rhys summoned a tray of food for Cassian, and only sighed when he rejected the peace offering. Finally, Rhys found a sliver of courage and was the first to break the silence.

"Madja has yet to make headway on identifying the poison y/n was hit with, but she is not giving up. None of us are." he offered, unsure of how to breach the subject.

Rhysand could only imagine what Cassian was experiencing. The pain of losing Feyre had been so immense, but in a twisted sense, at least it had been quick. A blink of an eye and she was gone. Rhys didn't think he would have been strong enough to sit vigil, feeling her fade through the bond with each passing minute.

"Stop looking at me like she's already gone." Cass growled, eyes darkening towards Rhys.

"Brother, I only want to help her, and to support you."

"I think you've done quite enough. It's your fault she's even in this position to begin with." he spat, enjoying the way that Rhys flinched at his words.

"Now that's not fair, Cassian." Rhys tried to counter. "I never asked her to that for me."

Cass could only scoff at the High Lord's response. "Of course, you didn't have to ask. You're the fucking High Lord, of course she was going to risk her life for you. Isn't that we all do here?"

"All of you, y/n including, knew what you were getting into, what the dangers were, when you swore allegiance to my court. You don't get to throw that back on me. You think this doesn't hurt me just as it hurts you?"

"No, it fucking doesn't!" Cassian screamed, his blood boiling at this point. "Because you use us like your puppets to protect you and your mate-"

"Careful how you continue, Cassian." Rhysand warned, not caring for slander against his mate, even in Cass's state of grief.

"Ever since this "death bargain" you and Feyre struck, it's like the rest of us don't matter. All we do is making sure your asses aren't killed because Cauldron forbid the saviors of Prythian are stolen from us." Cassian blazed on. "Yes, you've lost your mate before, Rhys, but she came back to you, and you to her.

"Who will remake y/n if she can't fight this? You and your High Lady are so far up on your pedestal that you don't know what it's like for the rest of us. Yes, we understood what our duties would entail, but that doesn't mean we have to continue to stand for this." Cassian spat, finally allowing years of pent-up fear and anger to spill over.

With one last, murderous, glare, Cassian turned his back on Rhysand, letting his words ring out for all in the House to hear. His wings stretched out behind him, hiding both you and he from Rhys, the Night Court, and the rest of the world. If it was to only be the two of you against everyone else from that point on, so be it.

part 2

oOoOo

a/n: part 2?

#cassian x reader #cassian imagine #actoar cassian x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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natalievoncatte · 2 months

Text

“Let her go,” said Lena.

“Not a chance, said the Atomizer. Or Atomo, or the Atomic Lad. Some idiot with a cheesy atom symbol on his jumpsuit and a beam projector strapped to his arm.

Lena knew why this guy hadn’t already been mopped up by Supergirl: he wasn’t worth her time.

This was, frankly, embarrassing. She wasn’t listening to his monologue, something about losing his job after Supergirl stopped a nuclear incident and he was found out to have violated safety protocols. He’d jury-rigged himself up some kind of particle beam, probably not enough to scratch the maid of might.

He was still giving it the old college try, so he’d kidnapped Lena Luthor on the logic that whenever Lena Luthor was in danger, Supergirl was quick to appear.

She’d been sitting here for four hours, tied to a chair at the docks on the west end in some dilapidated shithole warehouse. Supergirl was decidedly a no-show.

Lena could almost write this off as an inconvenience. This dipshit meant her no harm and she was, at least a first, sure that Supergirl would show up and this would turn into one of those heartwarming ones where she didn’t have to throw a punch and the bad guy ended up forgiving her.

He should. From the bits and pieces she heard, it was his fucking fault anyway.

There was a problem. It was making Lena’s heart race, her pulse pound, and a thin trickle of sweat run down the small of her back. Kara was in a chair just like hers, parked six inches away, and tied up.

She was also drifting in and out and had a knot on her head from where Captain Doofus here whacked her over the head with his arm beamer.

Her head perked up a little and she glanced at Lena, looked around.

“Whu… where am I?”

“You’re in the lair of DOCTOR ATOMOS!” he screamed. “I thought the Kryptonian would put in an appearance to save Miss Luthor, but she’s been a no-show, so I grabbed you. You’re her best friend, aren’t you?”

Kara shot Lena a furtive glance. “Not exactly.”

“Where is she? Why hasn’t she come? Do I need to grab that photographer, too? Jim Olden?”

“James Olsen,” Lena corrected.

“Shut up! I’ve broadcast to the city that if Supergirl doesn’t face me and admit what she did, I’m going to drop you two into the acid!”

“What acid?” said Kara.

Lena looked at her and looked down. They were both sitting on hinged grates positioned above a rather large vat of a nasty corrosive. Some toxic sludge that Lex probably had the company stockpiling here back in the back-when.

He was always ruining her day.

“I gave her an ultimatum,” he declared. “First one of you, then the other.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. Hard. She almost threw up her tuna wrap and kombucha. For some reason, the thought of her own shockingly horrific death -drowning in the acid, her lungs melting from the inside with no hope once she was submerged- was secondary.

Oh God. Oh God please not Kara.

“She’s not coming,” Lena said, firmly. “She’s busy or-“

“She wasn’t too busy to ruin my life!”

Kara looked frantic as she wriggled against the ropes holding her.

“Come on, come on come on come ON!” she thrashed. “Why now? Why now?”

The ‘villain’ paused. “Why now what?”

“Nothing. Just, listen. Don’t do this. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.”

“I’m INNOCENT!”

“Then don’t start a list of crimes!” Lena pleaded.

He rounded on her.

“Look,” said Lena. “I’m Lena Luthor, I’ll get you a new job. I’ll build you a fucking power plant if that’s what you want. Just,”

“What, let you go?”

Lena looked at Kara.

“Let us go. Please. I’ll stay if you let Kara go.”

He belly laughed at her. “So she can tell the cops where we are?”

“You already announced where we are!” Kara snapped.

“Don’t hurt her. Please. Just not her.”

Kara turned slowly and looked at her.

“What’s your real name?” Lena asked, looking at their captor. “You know mine.”

“Ha! That hostage negotiation crap won’t work on me.”

He turned and headed for a pair of levers.

“Eeenie meanie miney moe,” said… the guy. Lena was not giving this bastard the dignity of a trade name.

“Kara,” said Lena. She felt strangely calm, looking at her… her best friend. Like she knew she needed to do this right in whatever little time she had, and her nerves gave her the gift of tranquility.

“Lena?”

“You mean so much to me,” Lena said. “I… I just want to… I wish I could…”

Oh, now she couldn’t get the words out. Perfect.

Kara looked at her wide-eyed, and terror flashed briefly in her eyes as the grate swung below her and she plummeted into empty air.

“KARA!” Lena wailed.

Splash.

Lena screamed, a wordless, titanic cry of agony that tore her throat and burned her lungs. When it faded she wailed again, words lost to her. Oh God.

“You monster!” Lena screamed, “you miserable fucking monster, you’d better fucking kill me too, because if you let me live I’m going to-“

Lena went silent as a shape rose through the hole in the floor, rising gracefully into the air. Supergirl hovered in the air, a scowl of righteous fury carved on her lovely face.

“At last, there you are!” Professor Douchebag snarled, aiming his arm at her.

Her eyes flashed and he screamed, suddenly tugging at the red-hot ruin strapped to his arm. Supergirl landed, and dragged Lena’s chair, and Lena with it, away from the grate.

She turned and sucked in a breath, flash-freezing his ruined weapon with a concentrated blast. With a contentious smack he knocked his helmet off, revealing a doughy, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and blood running down his nose.

Supergirl grabbed his collar and hauled him off his feet. She stalked over and held him above the opening in the floor, his feet dangling over the acid.

“Supergirl?” Lena said.

“How does it feel?” she said, coldly.

“Please,”

“Lena said please,” her voice was ice. “You didn’t listen to her.”

“Supergirl,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

Then it hit her.

Supergirl had her hair up. She never wore her hair up. It was exactly the same as…

Her mind raced though possibilities. None of them fit. There was only one conclusion.

Oh.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Please.”

Her gaze snapped to Lena and a harrowing moment later, she tossed the wannabe villain aside, and wrapped a chain around him, binding him to an upright. Then she turned to Lena.

Kara tapped her ear.

“Alex, you have my location? There’s a wannabe here, he kidnapped Lena. She’s fine. He’s not. Get a cleanup crew and a bus down here please. No, I’m not staying.”

With a single smooth motion, she snapped the cords binding Lena and scooped her up against her powerful chest, tucking her in close before lifting off through skylight.

Lena pressed her eyes shut- she hated flying, even like this. She opened them when she felt the jolt as Kara’s boots touched down, and Kara set her down.

They’d come in through one of the tall windows in Kara’s loft.

“Oh my God,” Lena breathed. “I thought he… I thought you were…”

“I almost was,” Kara said softly. “I solar flared a few days ago. I burned out my powers fighting that Mondarian. It usually takes a few days, maybe a week, before I can use them again, but sometimes an adrenaline rush will make them kick in early.”

“Was it hitting the acid?”

Kara shook her head.

“No. It was what you said, and the way you screamed when I fell. I knew I had to live.”

Lena blinked a few times, surprised by the hot burn of her own tears, mirrored by those falling down Kara’s cheeks.

“What you said… what I think you were trying to say,” said Kara. “Me too.”

Lena stood frozen in shock for a second, before she launched herself at Kara. Their lips met in a dizzying soft crash and when Kara’s hands landed on her waist, Lena felt a pang of fear that she’d misjudged and ruined it all.

Then Kara’s hand snaked up her back as the other looped around her waist and pulled her in, using her height to tip Lena back just a touch as the kiss deepened and Lena felt her heart flutter in her throat as her tongue tasted the soft taste of Kara.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #solar flare Kara #softcorp #Lena is a sarcastic bitch #Kara loses it when Lena is hurt #identity reveal #identity reveal via invulnerability

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absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

White Christmas {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.8k

Warnings: Post apocalypse setting, threats of violence, technically forced entry, survival, mentions of family death, virgin reader, Reader celebrates Christmas, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, loss of innocence, fingering, somnophilia, Joel's a little horny, cum play, pull out method of birth control, face sitting, 69, anal play, slight angst

Comments: Finding a cabin right before a winter storm blows in seems like a gift. Finding it occupied with you - a Christmas celebrating virginal survivor, is Joel's own Christmas gift. Providing safety and security in and out of your bed and giving Ellie the Christmas she had always dreamed of.

A/N: Merry Christmas belatedly!!! Charlie and I meant to have this finished by Christmas Day but life and family got in the way. But it's finally here! Cheers!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| 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.

The temperature is dropping again, the chill making Ellie shiver as she pulls her jacket closer and follows behind Joel. There’s a heaviness to the air, it feels almost wet and Joel told her that meant it would snow today. They need to find a cave, a dilapidated building, something, and she wouldn’t complain about a fucking fire to thaw out her frozen fingers. “Joel-“

“I’m fucking working on it.” His tone is annoyed and she bites her lip. She hadn’t been about to complain, but he seems to think she is.”

“No, do you smell that?” She demands, sniffing the air loudly. There’s the scent of a fire in the air. Someone has to be nearby.

Joel frowns, squinting as he tries to look into the distance. His eyes aren’t the same as they used to be. He fucking hates getting old. Sometimes, when his body aches and he misses Sarah too much, his mind goes back to that dark place that’s memorialized on his face. He grunts, “come on kid. Let’s see what it is. Probably assholes who want to kill us but let’s see.” He snorts and Ellie chuckles, knowing how hard life is in the wilderness. The only person she trusts is Joel. He leads the way through the snow until your cabin comes up in the distance.

Joel tightens his grip on the rifle and looks around carefully, aware that the area might be booby trapped or there might be some guards. The place looks too neat to be someone holed up for the coming weather. This is obviously someone’s home. “Fuck.” The first flurries start to fall as the wind picks up and there’s nowhere else to put Ellie. He’s just going to have to make sure that he gets the upper hand when surprising whoever is inside and hold them at gunpoint until the coming winter storm is over. “Stay close.”

Ellie nods, watching Joel as he walks towards the cabin, and she shivers when the snow hits her face. He’s exhausted, clearly needing to rest, and so does she. You don’t notice his approach, too busy humming a Christmas carol as you putter around the cabin that’s been in your family for a hundred years. You smile as the pine smell fills the air, the fire crackling. You don’t hear the slight jiggle of the locked door until it’s flinging open and a man holding a rifle strides in. “Get down!” He yells and you scream as you do as he says, laying down on the floor. Joel immediately comes over to pat you down, wanting to make sure you’re not armed. “Anyone else here?” He asks, standing up and swinging his body around to see if there’s another person in the cabin with you.

“Don’t- no! Please don’t- don’t hurt me!” You curse yourself for not putting the bar on the door but you had been expecting to bring in another few loads of firewood. “Please, I-“ you know that you are in very real danger, it’s not like you’ve been isolated from what the world has become, even if you’ve managed better than most. “Don’t- don’t hurt me.”

Joel growls as you don’t answer his question and he smacks his rifle down on the floor next to your face. “Are you alone?” He shouts out at you and you shake. “Are. You. Alone!” He yells.

“Yes. Yes. I’m alone!” You cry and he stands straight, deciding to go through the house to make sure no one is hiding. “Ellie!” He shouts, calling the teenager in. “Aim your gun at her. She moves. You shoot.” He commands and goes around the cabin, opening every door and cupboard to make sure you’re alone once Ellie has her gun aimed at you.

You are shaking, only slightly relieved when the girl shows up. Somehow hoping that because there’s a younger girl, that some of the evils that could be visited on you, won’t be. “I - there’s no one else here.” You promise quietly.

“He won’t hurt you.” The girl murmurs. “Not unless you try to hurt us.” Huffing quietly, you listen as this dangerous man shuffles through your cabin, your home.

“You broke into my house, not the other way around.”

Joel comes back after realizing that you are indeed alone and he’s shocked. A woman in a cabin all alone. Something he hasn’t come across. “Stand up.” He orders, reaching down to grab your forearm and he practically drags you over to the chair at the dining table. “Ellie. Rope.” He demands, needing the rope from her backpack to tie you up. He doesn’t trust anyone. “No one coming back here?” He asks, wanting to know that there’s not an army of men coming back to this place.

“I- no, I’ve been alone for two years.” You admit, hating that fact. People don’t come here and you had burned and buried the last member of your family before the snow two winters ago. “Please, take what you want and - are you hungry? I have some stew, take it. Just- just don’t kill me….or worse.”

That makes Joel pause. You’re more scared of what he could do to you than being killed. That makes him feel sick. He never wants to be that kind of man in this horrifying new world. He swallows harshly and lowers his rifle from your face. “I ain’t gonna kill you.” He promises.

You bite your lip, trying not to show how scared you are. It’s not that you’re weak, you’ve survived the outbreak and the past twenty years since, but now you’re all alone. “Why are you- what do you want?” You manage. “Just take what you need.”

“We need a place to stay. Storm is coming. We can’t keep traveling in the wilderness without dying of frostbite. We need to stay here. You gonna let us?” It’s a rhetorical question but Joel is a gentleman enough to make it seem like you have a choice.

“You didn’t have to shove a gun in my face for a place to stay.” You frown. “All you had to do was ask. I’m not- you have a kid. What kind of monster would leave you two outside during a blizzard?”

Joel feels a little embarrassed now that he went so extreme but he is used to the dangers of this new world. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t take a chance. The kid- we have been used to some bad people.” He confesses, “I didn’t - I’m sorry.” He says, deciding to untie you just as Ellie says “you decorate for Christmas?” She asks, noticing the garlands and baubles placed around the cabin.

You’re confused by the turn of events but nod as the man starts to untie you. “I did.” You confess. “My Christmas tree is on the back porch. I was planning on decorating it after getting some more wood. Before the storm got too bad. It’s silly, but it makes me happy.” You shrug slightly, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“It’s Christmas.” Joel murmurs, remembering the holidays he spent with Sarah. He didn’t even know what month it was, let alone what day.

“It’s so pretty.” Ellie coos, eyes wide at the bright colors and decorations you have clearly maintained since before the outbreak.

“How do you know it’s December?” He asks out of curiosity. He only knows seasons.

“I’ve kept track.” You admit with a small shrug. “My dad had one of those organizers that had calendars for fifty years.” You snort, shaking your head. “We started making sure we kept track after the outbreak.”

Joel is equally impressed and peeved. Why would you keep track of the date when the fucking world ended? He doesn’t understand it. It’s all about survival. He glances around at the nostalgia. “I can’t - where’s the stew?” He asks, knowing that Ellie must be starving.

“It’s- the stove.” You nod towards the rustic kitchen. At the time, it had been considered quaint to have a wood burning stove and a water pump in the kitchen instead of the modern conveniences, but it had proven to be the best possible thing when the electricity went out. “It’s- I’ll fix you some bowls.” You promise, slowly standing up and watching him warily. “Warm yourselves. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you need to use it.”

Joel knows Ellie will want the bathroom. “You can go.” He tells her and she looks at him with gratitude before rushing down the hall. He watches you as you grab two bowls and pour the stew into it. He can’t believe you’re alone. Most women on their own…well, it’s a cruel world and all the women’s rights that were so hard fought went out the window when the pricks who were against them took over again with the new world. Joel is certain that you’re capable. You have to be if you’re still out here after so long in this small piece of paradise in the middle of nowhere. “So…you grew up here?” He asks, curious about you.

“I did.” You carefully ladle the hot stew and add a few of the coarse ground crispy corn bread rounds that you had fried up to go with it. Looking up at him to find him watching you closely. “I’m not going to poison you.” You promise. “You don’t hurt me and I’ll be happy to have guests for Christmas.”

Joel watches you for another second before he sits down, deciding to trust you but not enough to set his gun down away from him. When you set the stew down, he can’t help but groan softly. “Sorry. We, uh, we haven’t eaten for a few days.” He admits quietly, averting his eyes when you look at him in understanding.

“There’s plenty.” You murmur softly and move back over to the kitchen to get him and his daughter something to drink. “I’ve been lucky growing and canning vegetables. And I had just finished processing the deer I shot a couple of days ago.”

Joel is impressed but he doesn’t let that show as he watches you as you move around the kitchen. Ellie comes back a few moments later and her eyes widen at the hot food. “Holy shit this place is amazing.” She gasps before she sits down and starts to dig into the food.

“Manners.” Joel reprimands her, shaking his head until he looks at you. “Sorry. She’s feral.”

You laugh and wave off his apology. “It’s good to know some things haven’t changed since the world went to shit.” You tell him, setting down glasses of water. “Later on, if you want, we can heat up some water for a hot bath. It’s probably been awhile?”

Ellie nods, opening her mouth with food in it. “Swallow first.” Joel reminds her and she dramatically swallows her food.

“I would love a bath. Jesus, this place is incredible. How the hell haven’t you been killed?” She asks you, wondering if you’re some kind of super woman to have kept this place safe.

You snort and shrug. “It’s remote.” You remind her. “Not a lot of people come this way. Winter is too harsh. And when I’m not being surprised, I’m a damn good shot.” You glance towards Joel and then look back at his daughter. “I’m just living the way my ancestors did, I guess.”

Joel hums before he takes a bite of the stew, groaning at the taste after not eating for a few days. “Fuck this is good.” He says and Ellie nudges him, “manners, old man.” She says playfully and he rolls his eyes.

“So where are you heading?” You ask and Joel swallows, reluctant to tell you his plans.

“We are heading west. Trying to find my brother.” He says vaguely.

A gust of wind pushes against the cabin and you look outside. The sun is fading fast. “I understand.” You tell him, knowing that most are reluctant to reveal information. “But you will be stuck here for a few days at least. The storm is going to be bad.” Walking over to the coat rack, you pick up a heavy sheepskin coat. “I have to latch the shutters and bring in more wood.” You tell them. “Eat.”

Joel is cautious but doesn’t react as you head off to secure the cabin. “You can relax. She doesn’t seem like the type to stab you in your sleep.” Ellie says and Joel tuts, turning to face her.

“You should never trust anyone. Especially someone you underestimate.” He tells her, knowing he learned his lesson about that.

Outside, you scold yourself. “Fucking idiot, they could lock you out.” You huff, realizing your mistake as soon as the door closed behind you. “Then you’ll freeze to death.” You can’t go back inside and demand they come with you, and the temperature is falling faster than the snow. Making you shiver as you hustle around the cabin, snapping the shutters closed and latching them together to protect the windows and insulate the cabin more.

Joel doesn’t say anything until the door opens and his hand grips his rifle, ready for anything to happen. When you enter alone, shivering, he relaxes and lets go of his weapon. You set the logs down and he releases the tension from his body. You notice and he sighs, “I’m not - it’s not you.” He says, wanting you to know it’s not that he thinks you’re bad, he’s just developed habits.

“I should probably get another few armfuls.” You tell him. “The wind is starting to pick up and I’d rather not have to use the guide rope.”

“I can help.” He offers, standing up from the table. You hesitate for a second before you nod and he follows you outside to where you store the logs. “You prepped all this by yourself?” He asks, impressed even if he doesn’t say it explicitly.

“It’s not easy.” You admit. “I try to chop wood all year. Every day to make sure that there is enough. And during the summer, I try not to burn much, just for cooking.” You start to stack wood up in your arms. “Worth it when I’m warm in my cabin.“

Joel reaches out to take the wood from you, knowing he’s vulnerable without his hands free but also wants to show you that he can help. “You are very capable.” He offers you an awkward compliment just before he clears his throat.

“Thanks.” You murmur back, eying him warily until you’re back in the cabin. You lock the door but don’t bar it in case you need an escape. “So…bath time?” You ask Ellie who nods eagerly.

“Have you had others come through here recently?” Joel asks once you’re heating up water.

“Not for a long time.” Your eyes slide away, looking towards the wall where you have pictures of your family hanging up to remember their faces. “Last time was about five years ago.”

“You’ve been on your own this entire time? How the fuck haven’t you gone crazy?” Ellie asks with wide eyes. “All alone? Jesus, I think I’d lose my mind.” She says and Joel doesn’t comment, knowing that he’d probably enjoy the solitude if he didn’t have Ellie.

“I had family up until two years ago.” You explain. “So I haven’t been alone that entire time; but work keeps me busy. And there’s always plenty of it.” You set a bucket into the sink and start to pump the water handle.

“Two years.” He murmurs, surprised that you’ve been able to be alone for so long but he knows Bill was alone for a long time until Frank came along. Survival is more important than company. He watches you pump the water and he works on building up the fire.

There’s something about having people around that makes you happy. Humming a Christmas carol to yourself as you move the bucket onto the stove and open the burner to let it boil. “I should make some hot chocolate on Christmas Eve.” You hum to yourself. There’s still some left that had been dry sealed and you only make a cup on special occasions. Perhaps it would be something that the girl has never had before.

“Fuck yes. I’ve never had hot chocolate.” Ellie confesses and Joel raises his eyebrows at her in warning. Ellie watches you with curiosity. You seem like a glimpse into what the world was like before the outbreak and she loves it as you hum something she’s never heard before.

“I haven’t heard that song in…well, since before.” Joel confesses, amazed that you observe a holiday that is no longer relevant when it comes to this new world.

“Christmas was our favorite holiday as a family.” You admit. “I’ve got this crazy idea that if I continue to celebrate, then they aren’t really gone. You know?” You shrug, knowing how insane it sounds, but maybe you are a little crazy.

Joel doesn't understand that kind of mentality. For him, he tries to forget about those times. For a second, he glances at the tree you had brought in and remembers decorating one with Sarah year after year. How she'd tell him off for putting too many of the same baubles in the same area. Bossy like her mother. He shakes his head slightly to clear the memories and focuses back on you. "And you've never had anyone stay with you that wasn't family?" Joel asks, curious if you had someone at some point. You are beautiful, even he can see that, and he's certain that most men would've killed for a chance to stay here with you.

You smile wistfully and shake your head. “Never really had that opportunity.” You know what he’s really asking and you shrug before you get another pot of water to temper to boiling in the bath. “The few that have come have been groups. Passing through or seeking shelter for a time. No one stayed.”

Joel nods, surprised that no one has taken advantage of you. The world is harsh and you’re lucky to have gotten away with your life so far. “Do you have a razor? I need to shave.” Joel says, reaching up to scratch the heavy beard he’s grown during the travels in the wilderness.

“I’ve got a razor.” You motion for him to follow you to the bedroom that you had taken for yourself two years ago, because it has a fireplace. “My father was about your size.” You tell him. “The closet dresser still has his things, he’d want them to be out to good use.” You reach for the shaving cup and straight razor he had used your entire life, preferring it over the ones with cartridges.

Joel nods his appreciation, glad that you have some spare clothes. The ones he is wearing are practically threadbare now with holes in them. He walks back into the living room and looks over at Ellie, “go have your bath. I’m going to check the perimeter before it starts to storm.” Joel says, grabbing his gun and he trusts you with Ellie for some reason.

“Soooooo.” Ellie looks around and then back at you. “You don’t mind that we are here, right? Joel really needs to rest and maybe he can get some during the storm.”

You tilt your head curiously. “Do you always call your dad by his name?” You ask, wondering if the outbreak had changed those customs.

Ellie shakes her head and laughs. “My dad? He’s not my dad.” She declares and your eyes widen, suddenly tense. “And it’s not like that either. He saved me and I- I guess you could say he unofficially adopted me and now he’s stuck with me.” She explains and giggles, “he’s a miserable bastard but he has a good heart. You can trust him. He won’t hurt you.” She promises, “unless you give him a reason to.”

You relax slightly and nod. “I think you two are more of a threat to me at this point.” You point out. “But why don’t we just enjoy the fact that we are cozy and warm.” You click your tongue. “I think I have some clothes that might fit you too. From when I was younger.”

Ellie nods, “gee. This is - you’re like the best place we could’ve found.” She says and stands up. “Thanks for all of this.” Ellie tells you and you smile, “it’s nice to have the company.” She disappears down the hall. Joel comes back an hour later, surveying the area and checking the cabin for any weak points in case the storm gets bad. He doesn’t want to get ambushed during the storm. Old habits die hard.

“You have to be cold.” You huff, closing the door behind him and locking a thick piece of wood into hooks sunk into the walls of the cabin. It keeps the door secure against bear and man, even the wind won’t rattle it. “Go stand by the fire, get warm.”

Joel shakes slightly as he shuffles over to the fire, rubbing his hands to warm them over the flames. "Where's Ellie?" He asks and you tell him she's having a bath. He envies her a little as he shivers but the kid will be happy to be clean. "The perimeter is clear. Checked to make sure we have enough clearance in case someone decides to sneak up." He tells you, having learned some things from Bill.

You decide to not mention they are the first in years to come here, instead you decide to pour Joel a cup of hot chamomile tea you had decided would be the perfect ending to an adventurous day. “I have a bit of whiskey or brandy left if you’d like it?” You offer, having pulled a few bottles up from your father’s collection in the cellar.

Joel nods, "that sounds good." He doesn't remember the last time he had whiskey...maybe the night before he left Boston with Tess and Ellie. Yes, that was the last time. When you set the bottle down on the table with a glass, he pours himself a small measure, not wanting to lose his senses when he's in a strange place. "You having one?" He asks, looking up at you.

You take that as suspicion on his part and shrug, reaching for the bottle. “Sure.” You pour a larger drink and then tip the bottle back to take a shot straight from the neck. “It’s not poisoned.”

Joel snorts softly, "I was askin' if you wanted one. Didn't think you'd poison me like a goddamn black widow." He smirks and shakes his head before he downs the shot of whiskey.

You chuckle dryly. “Hard to be a black widow when you’re me.” You tell him, sitting down and staring at your tea cup. “Sheltered. That would be the word, I guess.”

Joel can tell you've been sheltered, not as jaded by life like he has been. "So does that mean you've never...?" He trails off, not wanting to fully ask before he remembers himself. "Sorry. That was over the line."

“Honestly? It’s kind of nice to be asked questions.” You admit, not exactly being embarrassed by your life, or lack thereof. “Didn’t exactly attract a lot of boys when I was younger.” You tell him. “Guess I was kind of the Ugly Duckling. It’s sheer fucking luck I was home visiting for the weekend from college when the world turned to shit.” You shiver slightly, not even wanting to imagine how bad it would be if you had been in the city. “And I was surrounded by family. So….no, I’ve never had sex.”

Joel nods, surprised and not surprised at your answer. It’s obvious you’ve been alone but you’re a beautiful woman who should’ve been worshiped by now. “That’s a real shame. I bet you look gorgeous when you orgasm.” Joel says bluntly, not one for mincing his words.

Your eyes widen and you look towards the closed bathroom door where Ellie is still soaking in her hot bath. “I-“ the man in front of you is handsome, rough and rugged like the men you had grown up around. He’s obviously capable and he must have a tender side if he’s caring for a young girl who isn’t related to him. You’re literally a forty year old virgin, and who knows when you’d ever have another opportunity? “Do you want to sleep with me?” You ask just as bluntly.

Joel raises his eyebrows in surprise at your bluntness and he glances behind you to the door where Ellie is. “Tonight. After she’s asleep.” He says, cock twitching at the thought of touching you, of taking your innocence. He knows it’s wrong. You should have a dinner date with flowers and chocolates and all that shit but fuck, he wants to see you fall apart. It’s been so long since he lost himself like that, not since Tess, and he needs to let go for just one night.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “After she gets out, you can clean up too.” You would prefer to have your first time to be a good experience. “Then I’ll clean up as well.”

Joel nods, remaining silent as he thinks about touching you, making you moan. He doesn’t know you but he knows he wants to make you cry out in pleasure. He wants to lose himself in the act of sex. His mind has been so focused on survival, he wants to forget for a while.

Soon enough, your drinks are finished and you have cleaned up the kitchen from their meal. You had eaten while Joel was gone and you add some more wood to the fire. The light from the flames fills the space and the stove keeps the bedrooms warm on the other side of that wall. It might be a bit much to keep both going, but the temperature is falling fast and you want to keep the house warm since you have guests. “I should start warming more water.”

Joel can tell you are nervous and he works on getting cleaned up after Ellie is done and you heat up the water again. He groans as he sits in the bath, itching his beard and he sees the scissors and razor on the side. He looks down at his crotch and figures that could use a trim up too since this is your first time. He wants to make a good impression.

While Joel is in the bath, you settle Ellie down into the other bedroom. “Joel will want to sleep on the couch.” She tells you, flopping down on the bed with a sigh. “So I’ll just sleep here.” You chuckle quietly, knowing that he would probably be in your bed. “He’ll have plenty of choices on where to rest.” You promise and grin. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Since there’s snow, we’ll make some candy, how does that sound? To go with the hot chocolate?”

“Hell to the fuck yes.” Ellie nods rapidly, unable to believe she’s wearing pajamas for the first time in…well, ever. “This place is fucking awesome.” She grins before she yawns, “thanks for letting us stay.”

“Despite what others might do, I think it would have been inhuman to let you stay outside.” You shake your head. “Besides, it will be nice to have company for Christmas.”

Ellie smiles, appreciative and glad you’re so kind. A rare bird in this world she’s grown up in. “Thanks. Joel will be nice to you.” She promises, “and if he isn’t, I’ll make him be.” She smirks and settles into the bed.

You grin and shake your head. “The sheets are fresh and the room stays warm from the stove.” You promise. “Good night, Ellie” She had told you her name while Joel was gone and the girl bids you goodnight as you close her bedroom door.

Joel stands up and dries himself with the towel, deciding to not bother dressing as he keeps it wrapped around his waist while he trims his beard and shaves it back into the mustache of his younger years. When he's clean and ready, he exits the bathroom and enters what he assumes is your bedroom. He finds you standing there, adjusting the pillows, and he offers you a rare smile. "All clean." He says to announce his presence.

“Oh, uh, I better clean up too.” You bite your lip. “Do you- um, I don’t know, do you want me to shave? Bare? I mean I keep my-uh, hair tidy, but what’s the preference for cunt hair after the apocalypse?” You ramble nervously.

Joel snorts, "baby, it's your choice. I don't mind exploring a jungle or you can shave. I ain't fussy. It's the end of the world." He chuckles and shifts to sit down on the end of the bed.

You laugh quietly, shaking your head at your nerves. “Okay, I’ll- I’ll be quick,” you promise, rushing over to your underwear drawer and pulling out a lingerie set that never saw any use since you bought it the week before the world ended.

Joel finds your nerves endearing and he watches you rush around your room until you disappear down the hall to the bathroom. The fire is roaring and Joel takes a moment to imagine that the world didn’t end. That he met you in a bar and you decided to take him home.

In the bathroom, there’s still a bucket of warm water and you make sure you scrub every inch of your body, sure that he’s not fussed but you want to pretend like this happened organically. He’s attractive and someone you would have crushed on in college, even if he is a little older looking than you.

Joel licks his lips, his stomach twisting as he thinks about how strange life can be. One minute he’s out freezing in the wilderness and not sure if he’s gonna survive. The next, he’s preparing to take a woman’s innocence in her cabin that’s like a haven in the middle of nowhere. When the door opens again, he takes a second to inhale deeply before he looks at you. That breath is knocked from him when he sees you standing there dolled up in silk and lace. “I- wow. You look - wow.” He chokes pathetically, his cock twitching under the towel.

“I know it’s stupid.” You feel foolish for putting on the trappings of another time, another social expectation. “But I- I wanted to feel like this is normal. We are normal.” You step forward and devour the sight of him on your bed. “I’m not expecting words or emotions. I just wanted to pretend this was not desperation on both of our parts.”

Joel shakes his head, “it’s not desperation. It’s a connection. The need to feel something other than desire to survive. I want you. Thought you were gorgeous from the moment I saw you. Let me make you feel good. You’ve been alone for so long, you gotta be touch starved. Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” He says, standing up to walk towards you but stopping before he touches you.

You lick your lips, feeling wet because of his words. “Drop your towel.” You order softly. You’ve seen a naked man before, but you want to see this one, the one who will finally touch you like you’ve dreamed of. “I don’t know what I need, but I want you to touch me. Make me think of nothing but you.”

Joel doesn’t deny you. You deserve more than what he can give you but he can at least offer you his body. He drops the towel, his cock half hard as he stands before you and his dark eyes drop to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Yes.” You whisper, eyes trailing up and down his body. He's not exactly hard, but he’s also not soft. Weathered, and experienced would be the words you would use to describe how he looks. Reaching out, you brush your fingers over his hot skin, resisting the urge to moan.

Joel closes his eyes briefly as you touch him with soft hands. He shuffles closer and reaches out to cup your cheek, leaning forward until he’s pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck.” He murmurs when you whimper into his mouth and he deepens the kiss, tilting your head so he can taste more of you.

This man, the same one who had threatened your life and tied you to a chair, completely consumes you. Taking control of the kiss and making you forget your hands are even on his chest as his tongue sweeps into your mouth and makes you moan.

He cups your other cheek, pressing close until his body is completely against yours. His tongue sliding against yours and you’re a little clumsy but so is he. It’s been a while since he kissed someone like this. His hands slide down from your cheeks until he is caressing your back and finally, his hands squeeze your ass.

Your eyes open and you hum into his mouth when his hands find your ass. Unable to believe that the simple squeeze feels so good. “Fuck.” You gasp when he pulls back to breathe.

You’re so reactionary already and that makes Joel harden, imagining the noises he can get out of you when he’s inside of you. He groans softly and kisses down your throat while you catch your breath, his hands kneading your flesh.

“Can I- can I touch you?” You ask, emboldened by his groan of permission. Your hands map hot skin, scars and you feel him shiver as they drift lower. Groaning yourself when your fingers wrap around his hard cock.

Joel’s breath hitches. It’s been so long since someone has touched him, since he allowed his mind to relax. “Baby.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up your back to the clasp of your bra. He undoes it and you let go of his cock so he can drag it off of your body. “Shit. Look at you.” He murmurs, tossing the bra down so he can cup your tits.

There’s something that is so raw about someone else’s hands on your body. The feeling is so different from your own. He throb when you squeeze him and it’s amazing how the book descriptions have it right. Velvet over steel. His cocks skin is so soft and warm, the hardness underneath such a contrast. “Can I-“ you pull away and start to sink down to your knees. “I want to-”

Joel swallows, his stomach twisting. “You don’t have to. This should be about you.” He says, “this is about making you feel good.” He shakes his head, “you don’t - this is - you don’t have to.” He repeats, not wanting to be selfish.

“I want to.” You confess, your cheeks hot with both desire and embarrassment. “If this is the only chance I have, I want to do it all.” You tell him, looking up and wrapping your fingers around his cock again.

Joel nods, unable to deny you when you ask him like that. He wants this to be all about you and even if what you want is to suck his cock. You kneel down before him and he swallows harshly as you look up at him with wide and innocent eyes.

He doesn’t rush you and you’re thankful for that. Obviously circumcised, the head of his cock is beautifully flushed and beading a clear liquid. “Tell me if I do it wrong.” You order before you lean forward and press the tip of your tongue to the slit.

Joel hisses, watching you as you close your eyes and take the head into your mouth. It’s more than he can take but he inhales deeply and calms down so he doesn’t ruin this for you. “Fuck baby.” He murmurs, opening his eyes to watch you.

You think that you’re doing it right from the way that Joel’s voice drops, hitting you in the pit of your stomach and you swear your cunt is dripping onto the floor. You hum, enjoying the clean taste and surprising saltiness of the pre-cum. Squeezing the base and keeping yourself from going too far and gagging.

Joel caresses your head, allowing you to take your time as you explore him. Your innocence is obvious but he likes it. You are doing this for yourself and he likes that you aren’t acting. Some girls used to make a show about sucking his cock and then complain they didn’t want to do it.

You appreciate that he will let you take your time. Slowly feeling what he likes, what makes him groan. You hollow your cheeks and push him a little deeper, until you feel your throat close and your eyes water as you look up at him.

“Jesus.” Joel hisses as you take him deeper. A tear slides down your cheek and he quickly wipes it away. “Baby. Don’t push yourself. Take your time. Feels so good.” He murmurs, wanting you to know that he’s enjoying this.

Your lips stretch around his cock in a smile and you swallow around him, enjoying the way he moans when you do. This is something that you had thought would just be for the experience, but you love it. Especially when his knees buckle slightly and his hand on your head flexes in pleasure.

“Baby. Let me - you need to- shit. I need - stop.” He chokes, not wanting to cum. It’s been way too long since he jerked off, unable to sneak off and leave Ellie alone even while she slept. He doesn’t want this to be over before he even gets to be inside of you.

“Are you sure?” You pout slightly, wiping your chin and looking up at him. You’re out of breath, your cunt aching and all you want is to see this man cum.

Joel nods, dragging you up and he surges down to meet you to press his lips to yours. Turning you, he walks you back towards the bed. He presses you down onto it, his lips trailing along your jaw as he straddles you.

You gasp and are taken by the dominance in the motion. This is a man who can be so damn sure of himself and capable. Your hands slide over his chest and around his sides to stroke his back as he nuzzles and kisses your pulse. “Joel.” You moan softly, as if he were an old lover.

He twitches at your moan, loving how his name sounds coming from your lips. He wants to hear more of it. He continues kissing down your body, his tongue sliding along your collarbone before he ducks down to take your nipple in his mouth after he cups your tit and tilts it up for him.

You had never imagined it would feel so good, your thighs pressing against his hips when he’s between them. Keeping you open as he circles your nipple with his tongue and scraps his teeth over it.

Joel takes his time, sucking and biting your nipple until it's puffy from his manipulations. He groans and switches to the other breast, his calloused hands squeezing both as he slowly grinds against you.

His cock is throbbing against your thigh, leaking and hot. Making. You whimper with pleasure as you imagine him inside you. There’s no fear, no hesitation. Not when he could be rough and quick and he’s taking the time to make you feel so good. “Joel.”

He groans as he releases your nipple, kissing down your sternum and he flicks his tongue into your belly button as he lays between your thighs. His dark eyes meet yours as he pushes them back to get a good look at your cunt. “Jesus. Such a pretty pussy.” He murmurs, his fingers sliding through your folds until he spreads them with his thumbs. Leaning in, his eyes focus on you as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

You gasp out a sound, half inhuman as you experience his tongue against your sex. Hot and wet, he’s not timid as he tastes you. This is a man who doesn’t mind getting dirty and diving into things, just like he’s proving with your cunt. Eyes wide, they are fixed on the man between your legs.

Joel groans as he laps at your cunt until he is pushing his tongue into you. Curling it and pushing your legs back so he can get deeper. Fuck, you taste amazing and he groans as you moan softly. He wants to make this good for you so he focuses on your clit, his hand sliding along your thigh until he's pushing a finger into you.

“Oh god.” You whine, your walls clenching down around his finger. “You- your fingers are thicker than mine.” Just one finger is stretching you out like you aren’t used to, or maybe it’s just because it’s not your finger but someone else’s. He presses deeper and you hiss in pleasure when he finds a spot deep inside you.

Joel loves the way you whine, glad he’s not hurting you, and he pumps his finger a few times before he adds another, wanting to stretch you out to take his cock. He’s girthy and he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way.

“Oh fuck.” You moan quietly. “Where have you been for the past twenty years?” You could have used him in your bed, to be your companion in this decidedly lonely life. “Fuck baby.”

“Survivin’” He answers honestly against your clit as he curls his fingers, scissoring them to stretch you out, and he loves the way you gush around his digits, getting closer to your orgasm. He wants you to cum like this for him.

“Yeah.” You nod and understand what he means. Closing your eyes and letting him push you towards an orgasm. The first one that you’ve ever experienced from someone else. “Joel.” You gasp, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders and your hips push down. “Gonna- fuck, gonna cum!”

Joel grunts, loving the way you squirm beneath him and rock onto his fingers. He keeps the same pace until you are squealing, soaking his fingers with your orgasm and he’s so proud. He is glad you came so hard and he can tell you enjoyed it.

Your thighs are trembling and you’re breathing as hard as you did the night you had chopped down one of the big trees to let it cure. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You can’t help but giggle a little, looking down at the man who is staring up at you with his chin on your inner hip. “That was….i have no words.”

Joel is pleased that you enjoyed it. He leans in to press his lips to your skin, kissing along your hip. You deserve some tenderness and he is happy to give it to you. He shifts to kiss up your body until he’s hovering above you. “You still want me inside of you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you still want him.

“All I want for Christmas is you.” You manage to tease breathlessly, reaching up and caressing his cheek. “Just- be gentle?” You ask, suddenly nervous about the thick cock that is throbbing against your belly. He feels like he could just cum against your skin right now if he rocked his hips a few times.

He chuckles softly, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “You tell me if anything hurts and if you don’t like it.” He demands quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours and he caresses your thigh, lifting it up on his hip so he can reach down to grip his cock. “You ready?”

“Been waiting all my life, Joel.” You roll your hips down and moan when you feel his cock pressing against your cunt. “Better make it worth the wait.” It feels good to tease, to make it lighthearted. You know he won’t stay, so there’s no entanglements here.

He likes that you don’t want him to offer you sweet words and endearments when this isn’t that kind of experience. He wants it to be good for you. He positions himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, starts to push into you.

The feeling is so foreign, so overwhelming that your mouth drops open on a low moan. Fingers curling around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin lightly as your entire body quivers. “Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, hating that it’s taken so long to experience this.

Joel keeps his eyes focused on you, on your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. You shake beneath him and he slowly rocks into you, opening you up inch by inch on his cock. “You okay?” He rasps, trying to control himself. It’s been too long since he was inside of a woman and you’re unbelievably tight.

“Fucking amazing….” You moan, caressing his back and staring up at him in wonder. “It’s so, I’m so full.” You whimper, “move baby, I want to feel more.”

Joel isn’t even all the way in yet and you’re looking at him like he hung the moon. He pushes the final inch inside and your nails bite into his back. “Tell me if anything hurts.” He demands before he slowly starts to pull back, his eyes fixed on your face as he pulls out until only the tip remains before he’s pushing back into you.

“Jooooooelllllll.” You practically wail his name when his hips snap forward and he slides into you to the hilt with a delicious pressure that has your thighs tightening. “Oh god, it’s so- so good.”

Your reactions have him gritting his teeth to control himself. You’re so lost in the sensation and your cunt is gripping him, wet and hot. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Good girl.” He murmurs, caressing your side.

“Is it- does it feel good for you?” You want to know that he’s enjoying it too. This isn’t just about you. “Does it- oh god,” your eyes roll back when he thrusts into you again. “Fuck.”

“So good.” Joel promises gruffly, “you’re so - Jesus. I haven’t felt like this in so long.” He admits, knowing that while Tess was good, she didn’t make him want to blow his load within seconds of being inside of her. There was no emotional weight, just raw physical need. This is heavier and he feels it in the way he thrusts into you, wanting you to enjoy every second of this.

You moan softly, stroking his back and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I would be addicted to you.” You confess, your walls clenching down around him tight.

Hearing you say what he was thinking has him thrusting a little harder. He leans down to kiss you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to swallow your moan, wanting to absorb everything you give him.

It helps, his kiss. Your moans are getting loud and you don’t want to wake Ellie, even if you’re sure she’s dead to the world. Wanting to keep this moment for just you and Joel as he rocks into you again and again.

He wants you to cum more than once on his cock tonight. He slides his hand between you to find your clit, rubbing it as he pushes into you.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, Joel.” Your eyes widen when he starts to rub your clit. Immediately clenching down around him again. He is amazing.

Joel needs you to cum for him. He wants to hear it, feel it, see it. He rubs your clit a little faster and adjusts his hips, wanting you to cum for him.

“Ohhhhh, oh god!” You cry out, throwing your head back and moaning when you start to cum. Body shaking under Joel’s in pleasure.

Joel groans as he feels you start to cum. Pressing his lips to yours to smother your cries in case you wake Ellie, he works you through it. Continuing to rub your clit and make you shake beneath him.

You pant against his lips, grabbing his hand when it becomes too much and drag it up to your breast. Wanting him to feel all of you, to leave not part of you untouched.

He squeezes your tit, his lips pressing against your jaw and he takes a moment to slow down, let you ride your orgasm. He wants another one from you before he pulls out to cum. He groans, “you’re so fucking beautiful. Beautiful and just - shit. So good.” He praises you, unused to being a man of many words but you deserve this considering how long you’ve waited for this moment.

Now that you have cum, you pull your legs back, wrapping them around his waist. “Let me- let me ride you.” You beg, wanting to feel what it’s like to sit on a cock and ride it. “Please, can I- I just want to feel it.”

Joel swallows, wanting to give you whatever you desire tonight. You deserve it. All of it. He nods and pulls out of you, shifting to lay down against your pillows. “Take what you want, baby.”

Biting your lip, you throw your leg over his hip and straddle him. “It looks bigger like this.” You admit, smirking slightly as you wrap your hand around him. “It’s supposed to feel bigger too, right? Feel deeper?

Joel nods, “yeah. Yeah it is. So I’ve heard.” He says, his hands sliding up to caress your waist until he’s cupping your tits. He squeezes them, pinching your nipples as you pump his cock.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, rolling your head back as he toys with your tits. “I want to feel you.” You murmur, lifting your hips and positioning him at your entrance before you slowly start lowering onto his cock.

Joel’s eyes flick down to where his cock is disappearing inside of you and he groans at the sight. “Baby, fuck.” He hisses and his eyes meet yours when your mouth falls open at the way he stretches you out.

There’s something intoxicating and empowering about being on top. About the man under you taking what you want and letting you have control. You have no doubt he could overpower you, force you to submit to him, but he squeezes your hip and your breast in encouragement.

He watches you as you take what you want, what you need. It's an honor to watch you discover what you like as you start to move on top of him. He swallows harshly, knowing that he will need to tell you he needs to pull out but right now, he's happy to watch you and be still beneath you while you use his body.

He does feel bigger from this position. Making your eyes roll back when you are settled on him fully. “Fuck, it’s like you’re in my stomach.” You whine, loving the sensation. “I love this. Fuck, does it feel good for you?” You ask as you roll your hips slowly.

Joel inhales deeply, trying to control himself as your walls flutter around his cock. You feel like a goddamn vice, squeezing him, and you haven’t even cum in this position. “It’s - Christ, it’s fucking incredible.” He promises, his hands squeezing your hips before they slide around to squeeze your ass.

You moan in pleasure and start to roll your hips faster. Feeling incredible every time you sit back down on his cock and moan out his name softly.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need.” He murmurs, watching you take your pleasure and his cock twitches inside of you. “You feel so good. So fucking good.” He rasps, his brow furrowed as he concentrates on you.

You feel powerful, invincible as you ride him. Bracing your hands on his chest as you bounce on his cock, the bed creaking and swaying under you. “Fuck, baby.” You whimper, throwing your head back. “This is amazing, you’re amazing.”

Joel groans as you bounce a little faster. “You’re - shit - I need you to cum for me.” His hand slides down to rub your clit. “Cum for me baby.” He orders, surging up to wrap his lips around your nipple.

His arm is trapped between you, fingers furiously rubbing your clit while his mouth deliciously assaults your nipple. Making you cry out again when that knot of pressure explodes and the hot rush of your orgasm washes through you. “Joel!”

He works you through it, your hips stuttering from their previous rhythm and he loves the way you cry out into his ear, soaking his cock with your orgasm. “Baby. I need- I gotta pull out.” He chokes against your breast as he withdraws his fingers from your clit.

“Okay, fuck- let me-“ you don’t want to pull off his cock, but you have to. Obviously there’s no birth control and you’ve never been on it. Sliding your hips back, you watch as Joel quickly takes his cock in his hand and gives hard, quick tugs to the stiff length.

He grunts, eyes fixed on you as he works himself to his orgasm. It only takes a half dozen thrusts until he is pulsing in his grip and spurts of hot seed hit his skin, some hitting yours and a low groan escaping his lips as the pleasure overtakes his system.

Leaning forward, you press your lips to his after watching the first ropes of cum splatter over his stomach. Moaning into his mouth as he pants into yours while he works himself through it, finding it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Fuck.” He pants into your mouth, squeezing his cock as he milks himself dry and he slides his tongue against yours, slowly pumping himself until he works himself until it becomes too much. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek.

Catching your breath with the kiss, you smile when you can finally giggle. Feeling like you are flying from the endorphins and the pleasurable ache between your thighs. “Merry fucking Christmas.” You whisper. “Holy shit, thank you for that.”

Joel chuckles softly, kissing your chin when you lean back. “My pleasure, sweetheart. Jesus, I don’t think - yeah, I haven’t had sex like that since I was in my early twenties.” He confesses, “did you enjoy it?” He asks, wanting to make sure it was everything you wanted and more.

You flip your leg over his and collapse against his side. “I fucking loved it.” His cock is softening and it’s strange to see it lying against his stomach, cum pooling under the flaccid flesh. “Can I taste it?” You ask softly, wondering if he will think you are strange.

He nods, a little speechless. Most women never want to go near cum, let alone taste it without it being direct from the source. Tess wasn’t one to swallow, she always spat it out. You look entranced and that makes his cock twitch in interest.

You were going to swipe your fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach, but you decide against it. Instead, you lower your head and take the cum covered head of his cock into your mouth to clean it off with your tongue.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel hisses, overstimulated but fuck, you are gorgeous. He thinks you’re incredible. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He pants when you give him mercy and release his cock from your mouth. “What do you think?” He asks you breathlessly.

“I think that I want this again.” You look up and shoot him again. “When you can, of course.”

Joel chuckles, caressing your back. “Might be a while. I ain’t young. I ain’t - it takes a while.” He says with a blush, “and I want this to be perfect for you.” He says softly.

“It already is.” You promise with a smirk and roll over to grab your panties off the floor to wipe the rest of the cum off his stomach. “Right now, I want to sleep, if you want to stay?” You ask, not sure where he would want to sleep beside you just because he fucked you.

“I want to.” He promises you. Joel should go sleep on the couch but he doesn’t want to. He wants to curl around you and fall asleep. He reaches for you, pulling you close as you grab the duvet to pull it over you both.

The room is warm from the fireplace and the sex, making you sigh softly as you settle into his embrace. “Goodnight Joel.” You murmur quietly. “I hope you sleep well.”

Joel knows he will. He feels safe and secure for the first time in God knows how long. He wants to curl around you, breathe you in, and go to sleep. He kisses your forehead, “goodnight.” He murmurs and closes his eyes, pleased to be safe and sound.

****

The storm wakes him up, the wind blustering past the window and he blinks a few times to remember where he is. His cock is hard again, morning wood from you curled around his body, and he remembers every detail about last night. God, you gave him all of you. You didn’t hold back and he’s honored that you let him touch you. He wants to touch you again. His hand caresses your back, gently shifting you onto your back, and he snakes down between your thighs. Spreading them, he groans at the sight of your pussy under the sheets and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds.

You don’t want to wake up, warm and comfortable with the weight of someone beside you, but the most pleasure feeling from between your legs rips you out of your dreams. Waking up and gasping out Joel’s name when you realize he’s got his tongue pressed against your clit under the sheets, feasting on you while you slept. “Oh god.”

He loves the way your voice is rough with sleep as he wakes you with his tongue. Sliding it into you and his nose presses against your clit while his fingers push your thighs back so he can get even deeper

“Oh my god.” You moan again, eyes rolling back and your fingers twisting into the sheets. “Merry Christmas Eve to me.” You pant out jokingly. “I’ve gotten my present.”

He chuckles against your flesh, pulling back to flick his tongue over your clit until he sucks it back into his mouth. “Merry Christmas Eve.” He murmurs softly, his hand trailing along your thigh until he can push two fingers into you.

The room is still fairly dark, from the shutters and the storm outside, the room is slightly chilly so you know the fire has burned low, but you are in a magical place. Reaching under and running your fingers through his hair. “Joel, you’re so good to me.”

He curls his fingers, sucking your clit into his mouth and he desperately needs you to cum for him again. To hear it, to feel it. He’s addicted to you and he wants to make you feel amazing while you give him and Ellie shelter during the storm.

Your breathing comes in waves, the pleasure sometimes making you forget how as he presses against a spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “Joel.” You gasp out. “I- oh shit!” You squeal when the pleasure rockets through you and catches you by surprise. Soaking his fingers with your release.

He’s surprised by the way you soak his fingers and chin. Loving it honestly. He groans and works you through it, cock hard as he grinds into the sheets and moans your name as he pulls back to gently kiss your clit.

“Oh my god.” You whine. “Please tell me you are hard?” You ask, panting as you catch your breath. “Please, please be hard. I want you inside me again.

He grunts, “I’m hard. Have been since I woke up. Feel like a damn teenager.” He says, kissing up your body until he is pressing his lips to yours. His hard cock pressed against your thigh. “How do you want me, baby?” He asks softly, wanting you to continue to be in control.

“Just like this?” You know that it’s not emotional, but you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist as your hands slide up his arms to curl around the back of his neck. “Slow? We have all day until Ellie wants food.” You joke. “It’s still early yet. She’s snoring.”

Joel nods, knowing the emotions between you are only because of your physical connection, of what you’ve given him. He swallows harshly and leans in to softly kiss you as he reaches between you to position his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in.

You moan softly. Loving how gentle he is. You know that he’s tough, he could have hurt you, but he’s gone out of his way to make this amazing for you. “Joel.” You whimper into his mouth.

Your walls grip him and he hisses as your nails scratch down his back. “Sorry.” You mutter and he shakes his head, “no, I liked it.” He promises and pushes all the way in. He pulls back to look into your eyes as he starts to rock his hips, taking in every detail of your pleasured face.

Just like you asked him to, he takes his time. Staring down at you with a tenderness that almost makes you believe that this is real. This is your partner, maybe your husband, making love to you. “So good.” You whine softly. “I could spend the rest of my life right here.”

He knows you’re talking from a place of pleasure and not reality. He has to move on, to take Ellie west and find his brother. He rocks into you, caressing your side until he’s cupping your breast, squeezing it as he leans down to kiss along your neck.

It’s all you could want, this moment right here. You will be remembering it for a long time after this man is gone. You moan softly and tighten your thighs around him as he fucks you. Your walls clenching down around him.

Your walls grip him and he rocks slow and deep, wanting to hear and feel you fall apart beneath him again. “That’s it, baby. Christ, you feel good. So wet and tight around me.” He murmurs, loving the way you gasp when he lowers his pelvis so he can grind against your clit.

Biting your lip, you keep yourself from Asking him to stay. To settle here with you, him and his charge. You’re lonely, you can admit that. But you don’t say anything, just moaning when he works you back up to the edge.

He can tell you’re close. “Cum for me baby.” He demands, grinding lower and he pinches your nipple. “Cum for me. Cum.” He growls, needing you to fall apart for him again.

You shudder and can’t help but fall over the edge. Loving the roughness of the pitch and the desperation in his voice. Tilting your head back, you cry out softly as you shake under him in the most intense orgasm yet.

Joel pants as you cum around him, soaking him, and it’s an orgasm that seems to overtake your every sense. Your eyes close as you cry softly and he wishes he could commit that to memory. “That’s it, sweetheart. Shit. I- I gotta pull out. Got me worked up.” He confesses, reluctantly pulling his cock from inside of you. He reaches down to grip himself, pumping his length as he watches you recover.

“Cum in my mouth.” You immediately pant, reaching for him and pulling on his body as you beg. Wanting to see him cum as he fills your mouth is something you want to memorize.

Joel can’t deny you. He lets go of his cock and he shuffles up your body, straddling your chest. You lean forward to take his cock into your mouth and he groans. “Fuck. I- I’m not gonna last.” He confesses, “do you - fuck.” He chokes, pumping his cock as you suck on the tip.

Your eyes widen when the first rope of cum shoots into your mouth. Much harder than you had expected, it hits the back of your throat and forces you to start swallowing. Loving how his cock is pulsing, throbbing in your mouth as he spills, your hand gripping his hip to keep him close as you try to swallow every drop.

He closes his eyes as you take everything he gives you and he grunts your name, cock twitching inside of your mouth and his hand cups your cheek. “Fuckkkk.” He exhales shakily, one last slow thrust into your mouth until he pulls out of you.

Some of him has spill out of the corners of your mouth, making you lick your lips when he pulls out. “That was amazing.” You sigh, caressing his thigh as he hovers over you. “Thank you for the experience. And the wake up.”

Joel shifts off of you, reaching for you to curl you into his side. He cups your cheek and leans down to press his lips to yours. Not caring about the lingering taste of his cum. He doesn’t care about that. He kisses you firmly until he pulls back to nudge his nose against yours, “thank you for - well, I didn’t expect this when I saw smoke coming from your cabin.”

“I didn’t expect to have people come.” You admit easily, “but I’ve enjoyed having you both here. And while the storm blows, we will be nice and cozy here. And when you decide to leave, I’ll pack you up some supplies.” You offer softly.

Joel nods, unable to say anything else as you curl around him. He relaxes into the pillows, wanting to savor this time where he doesn’t have to fight for survival, to fight for his and Ellie’s lives. He kisses your forehead and closes his eyes, allowing himself to imagine a life spent here with you in safety.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the other bedroom door open. Joel is still asleep beside you and slowly, you ease out of the bed. Dressing quickly, you slip out of the room and out to find Ellie looking around. “Where’s Joel?” She demands, knowing the bar is still on the door and his gun is still here.

“He’s asleep.” You look back towards the bedroom. “Why don’t we build up the fire and I’ll start breakfast?”

Ellie nods, confused that Joel is still asleep. He never sleeps this much. He must be exhausted from all the late nights. You walk over to the fire and Ellie follows, "so...Joel slept in your room?" She asks teasingly.

“He did.” You aren’t embarrassed, but you don’t offer anything else. You aren’t sure if Joel would want her to know his business. Bending down. You stir the coals to life and quickly add more wood.

Ellie nods, “good. He needs to relax.” She isn’t sure what you guys did but she’s glad Joel isn’t fighting for survival right now. “It’s Christmas Eve!I” She remembers, “we can have hot chocolate, right?” She asks, excited for the holiday she’s never celebrated.

“We can.” You nod and smile at her eagerness. “And tomorrow, you will get some Christmas presents.” It might just be some old clothes you have and some socks that you had knitted, but you would be able to give her something.

Ellie’s eyes widen, “presents?” She asks and you nod. “I- wow.” She surges forward to hug you, “thank you. This is - this is the best fucking place ever.”

“You’re welcome.” You laugh softly and hug her back. “Don’t be too excited, it’s not a Nintendo or one of those gaming systems that were all the rage the last time Christmas was popular, but it’s given in the spirit of making you happy.”

“Nintendo?” Ellie asks and she snaps her fingers. “I used to - me and my friend-” Her eyes get dark with a loss that you know too well. “I- I lost my friend. We used to play arcade games in this abandoned mall until she was-” Ellie trails off.

“I’m sorry.” You tell her quietly. Everyone has lost someone during this time, but it’s obvious that this friend had been dear to Ellie. “Hopefully one day you can find a place to play again, smiling when you think about her.”

Ellie nods, appreciating how you don’t treat her like a little kid and you actually tell her how you think without censoring stuff. She appreciates you treating her like she should be. Joel tries to censor stuff but he can only do so much in this new world. “So…what’s for breakfast?” She asks.

“Well, I still have some eggs from the chickens, so I had thought we would have eggs and wildberry oat cakes.” You grin. “Like pancakes, but I ground up the oats for the flour.”

Ellie grins, “fuck yes.” She makes a fist and you giggle at her enthusiasm for something so simple. “I can help. I’m sure Joel will be up soon.” She offers and you nod.

Joel groans as he wakes up, his body stiffening as he tries to remember where he is until it hits him. He’s safe. It’s Christmas Eve. He swallows harshly and rubs his forehead as he sits up and reaches for the pajama pants you gave him that belonged to your father.

In the kitchen, the stove is hot, and you’re showing Ellie how you had ground up the oats using an old hand crank coffee grinder. Putting her to work with a grin as she talks to you.

Joel comes into the kitchen, finding you and Ellie cooking. “Something smells good.” He murmurs and walks over to you, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

Ellie puffs out a laugh and quickly turns her head. “I didn’t see nothin’ man.” She insists before showing Joel the oak cakes she had made, flavored with the dried wild berries you had picked this summer.

Joel appreciates the fact that she doesn’t call him out and he admires the oat cakes with a hum. “You did a good job, kid.” He praises her, suddenly able to let himself feel like the man he was before shit hit the fan. His shoulders aren’t tense, he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die every moment of the day. He ruffles her hair and she growls, making him chuckle.

You see that he’s relaxed and you smile, happy that you can provide that for this duo. To be a safe haven in the literal storm. “I thought that we would eat breakfast and then I will go into the cellar and bring up the small ham.” You offer Joel with a shrug. “I had planned on a small ham steak when it was just me, but it would be nice to have a proper Christmas dinner tomorrow?”

Joel bites his lip, “I don’t want you to waste all your food, sweetheart. You gotta survive the winter and I don’t- we don’t need to eat much. I’m already fuller than I’ve been in months.” He confesses, “don’t waste your resources.” He orders softly, not wanting to be the reason you go without.

“Joel….” You shake your head. “I have plenty of food.” You promise. “Although, I will need to get out to the barn at some point. Check on the animals.”

Joel nods, “I can do that. You stay in the warmth. I can see if there’s anything to hunt as well.” He adds, wanting to do his part. “I- I haven’t celebrated Christmas in many years and I- I do want this one to be special.” He admits and reaches up to cup your cheek.

“It will be special.” You agree, melting slightly at how kind he is being. “We will make sure of it. But you need to eat before going out in the cold.”

Ellie has never seen Joel like this before. He’s gentle. Something she hasn’t really witnessed. She’s seen the worst of Joel. The terrifying moments that he saved her life by doing what needed to be done. She’s never seen him caress someone. She focuses on the oat cakes as she turns away from the intimate moment, wanting to give Joel the time to enjoy this before he hardens up into the survivor he is

Breakfast is finished and it’s strange sitting down with other people, often it’s you and one of the books you are rereading. But it’s festive. You and Joel start talking about old Christmas traditions and Ellie is intrigued by the idea of ugly sweater contests.

Joel chuckles at her reaction, “yeah. Sarah used to make me and my brother Tommy wear the ugliest sweaters she could find.” His chuckles die down after a second, reminded of Sarah, and he frowns at how his heart aches but he’s happy to have the memories. “Another one was, uh, mistletoe.” He says, trying to distract from his reaction.

“Yeah.” You snort and grin. “Mistletoe actually grows wild around here.” You admit. Ellie has a confused look on her face. “If you were with a partner or a friend under the mistletoe, you had to kiss.” You explain with a small shrug.

Ellie smirks, "you should get some mistletoe. You know....so you guys have an excuse to kiss." She giggles and Joel clears his throat, raising his eyebrows at you. It's not the worst idea he has ever heard.

You shake your head, remembering how meddling teenagers can be. “I think that we will make the candy this morning.” You decide, eyeing Ellie. “How does that sound? Have the hot chocolate once Joel is back inside and everything is cozy again?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, “hell yes.” She is so excited. She hasn’t experienced anything like this before. Joel smiles, pleased that she is happy. He remembers how much Sarah loved Christmas. “I’ll, uh, go get ready and I’ll go check on the animals.”

“Northwest corner, two hundred yards from the front door.” You’re sure that he had seen the barn, but just in case, you tell him. “I’ll bring in some more wood.”

Joel nods, standing up to go get dressed. You left some of your father’s clothes on the chair for him. If he thought it would be strange wearing a dead man’s clothes when the outbreak first happened, he’s immune to it now. Knowing that no one is making new clothes. At least not in the wilderness. He gets dressed and puts on his coat and boots, ready to face the storm for you.

You show Ellie how to clean up and start to bundle up as well. “Don’t stay out there too long.” You beg Joel as he grabs his rifle. “We don’t need meat too bad for you to risk yourself.”

Joel nods, knowing that he’s taken a lot of risks in life. He won’t linger out in the cold. He has to think of Ellie, of getting her where she needs to go. He winces as the storm blows in his face as he makes his way outside.

“I wish he wouldn’t try to hunt.” You murmur to Ellie as you wrap a scarf around your neck. “There’s plenty of food in the cellar.”

Joel squints through the blizzard as he makes his way into the barn, the animals all huddled together and Joel exhales, the cold air puffing as he checks on the animals, refreshes the water and hay, and makes his way back outside to see if he can find a lone deer or something.

With Ellie opening and closing the door for you, you manage to bring in another good few hauls of wood inside. Wanting to make sure that you stay nice and cozy over the next day or so. With Joel checking the animals, they should be set for a couple of days. You had meant to check them before the storm hit, but Joel and Ellie’s unexpected arrival had thrown that off. You had known the animals had plenty of food and water, but now you know they will be set for a few days.

Joel shivers as he picks up the two rabbits he managed to shoot and he makes his way back to your cabin. He knocks on the door and you unlock it. He shakes off the snow from his jacket as he enters the cabin, wiping off his boots and you take the rabbits so he can take them off along with his jacket.

“Go sit by the fire.” You huff, seeing how chapped his cheeks are and you rush over to the stove. You boiled together an herb tea, thinking it would be good for warming up the bones after coming back and you pour him a cup. “It’s herbs, but it’s tasty and hot.” You tell him, handing him the steaming mug. “I have some Vaseline for your cheeks.”

Joel huffs at you fussing over him but he secretly likes it. He rolls his eyes as he rubs his hands over the fire, feeling Ellie watching him with a smirk on her face. “We are gonna make candy today.” She tells him and he nods, trying to remember the last time he had candy.

You stoke the fire and pull out the large black cauldron to boil the sap. “So I have some syrup from my trees that we will boil down into a sticky candy.” You explain as you swing the hook around and set it up. “Then we pour it over clean snow.”

“Jesus. You have it all figured out, don’t cha sweetheart?” Joel says with awe in his voice. He’s never seen someone so capable except Bill. Only Bill never made goddamn candy. “Does it taste good?” He asks you.

“It’s amazing.” You shrug slightly, preening slightly at his praise. “We’ve been doing sugar boils for a long time. If you cook it down, you have sugar for the year.”

Joel hums, impressed at your ingenuity and your survival skills. “Sugar? For a year? Damn. I might never leave.” Ellie jokes and Joel meets your eyes, a hopeful sadness to them that makes his heart clench.

“You would be welcomed back anytime you’re traveling through the area.” You promise, although you know that you would probably never see them again when they leave. It’s just the way the world works now. “It takes a lot of sap, but there’s a lot of trees. I hang the buckets when the sap runs and gather it up once a day.”

Joel is impressed, certain that he’s never met a woman like you. Most women are strong in this new world but you seem to be thriving. Joel warms his hands and Ellie announces she’s gonna wash her hands before she helps you. Joel looks up as you walk over to him, displaying a piece of mistletoe in your hand. He stares at it for a second before he smiles, reaching for you. He cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you softly.

Leaning into the kiss, there’s something soft and sweet about this. You needed this. A reminder that you aren’t alone in the world and that there is good. Things to live for.

Joel knows he should be distancing himself from you but it’s hard. He pecks your lips when he hears the bathroom door open and he steps back just as Ellie enters the room. “Let’s make some candy!” She declares, rubbing her hands together.

Laughing at her enthusiasm, you show her how you are going to do it, bringing up a bucket of the sap from the cellar and pouring it into the cast iron cauldron. Soon, it’s bubbling over the fire and the entire house smells like syrup.

Joel watches you and Ellie work, making himself useful by gutting the rabbits for dinner. This feels too easy. Too domestic. It scares him a little.

It takes a long time, but Ellie is giggling as you talk about growing up here and thinking all the traditions and old ways were ridiculous when you were learning them. “Yeah, but now you have sugar.” She reminds you, making you grin. “True. And now, I’ve taught you some of the things that should never die out. Like the Christmas songs.”

Ellie grins, “so fucking cool. I wish I could’ve seen it. Before the world went to shit. How cool it must’ve been with the lights and the trees and - and the presents!” She exclaims and Joel sighs softly under his breath, wishing he could give her that dream but he can’t.

“It was really cool.” You admit. “There are times I wished that we had some sort of natural power. To run the lights.”

Ellie nods, “me too. Back in Boston, we had solar and some other sources but it wasn’t enough for a ton of lights.” She confesses, not really knowing much about how the QZ operated. Joel watches you interact with Ellie and he smiles, enjoying the way you seem to connect with her more than he has managed in months. He’s excited to spend Christmas with you and the kid. “You finish that candy yet?” He asks about an hour later.

“Almost.” You roll your eyes playfully at Ellie. About five minutes before, you had gathered clean snow in pans and you had shown her how to drizzle the thick, liquid candy into the snow and she had gone to town. “Come taste.”

Ellie grabs herself a piece, groaning at the taste, and Joel can't resist. He comes over after washing his hands and you pop a piece of candy into his mouth. He groans as the sugar hits his tongue. "Fuck, that - that's damn good." He murmurs, closing his eyes.

“Glad you enjoy.” You smile as it looks like Joel is having a religious experience. “I was thinking that some of the syrup might be used to bake the ham?” You ask, unsure of what they might think of the idea.

He nods, swallowing the candy, and finally opening his eyes. "Yes. Yes. That - Jesus, that's damn good." He confesses, licking his lips. Ellie turns her back to you both and he leans in to kiss you softly, letting you taste it from his lips.

Your eyes flutter closed and you wish that you could sink into the kiss but the kid is right here. You pull back reluctantly and smile.

The kiss is quick and Joel offers you a smirk as Ellie turns back just as he straightens up and he smiles at you softly, "let's get ready for Christmas." Joel says and Ellie grins, "fuck yes."

The day seems to go perfectly. You have decorations that you pull out and Ellie gets to squeal over. Soon the living room is filled with garland and bows, the small tree you had brought in just because you love the pine scent haphazardly decorated with the old ornaments. Adding to the decorations that you had up before they arrived. You sneak into the rooms and pull out items that both Joel and Ellie can use when they leave, a nice hunting knife that was your brothers for Ellie, thick socks and a heavy lined leather jacket for Joel, along with other things. You wrap them in scapes of flannel and bring out a stack of them to put under the tree.

Joel comes out of the bathroom to find Ellie shrieking over the tree. His eyes widen, "wow. I- shit. This is - presents?" He frowns, confused about what you managed to find to wrap up. He feels bad he didn't get you anything but he might have an idea of what to get you.

You smile at the unbridled joy on the teens face and shrug. “Just popped down to the store.” You joke. “Last minute Christmas deals are fantastic.” You had managed to find a pocket watch of your grandfather’s that was solar powered. You plan on giving it to Joel and telling him to charge it when he leaves since his wrist watch is broken.

Joel chuckles, coming over to you and he wraps his arm around your waist. “Thank you for making this so special for her.” He says, kissing your cheek. He allows himself to be tender, to shed the hard shell he hides in when he’s out there trying to survive.

“She’s a good kid.” You acknowledge, leaning into him. “I’m honestly happy that the two of you were here.” You bite your lip. “I was wondering what was the point of living out here by myself.”

Joel frowns, not liking the sound of that. He knows what it's like to be alone. "Then maybe...maybe you'll meet someone who will stay here with you. You gotta keep fighting. You gotta keep living. Otherwise all of this would've been for nothing." He says softly, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“Maybe.” You smile, the motion slightly bittersweet and shrug. “It’s not exactly a major metropolitan area. But maybe lightning will strike twice. You came when I needed something other than my own voice.”

Joel nods, letting go of you. He knows you want him to stay. If he’s honest, he wouldn’t mind staying, but he can’t. He has to find Tommy. He has to get Ellie where she needs to go. “You’ll be okay. You’re too good to not be.” He says softly as Ellie marvels over the tree. “Who wants to start preparing dinner?” You ask and Ellie nods, happy to help.

Dinner isn’t the ham, you are saving that for tomorrow, but the rabbit casserole you had decided on would go over well. You show Ellie what you are doing and how you make it and in no time, you’re sliding the dish into the oven.

Joel feels relaxed and he notices the guitar in the corner of the room. “Do you play?” He asks, trying to remember the last time he played the guitar.

“I do.” You smile at the guitar. “My father taught me a long time ago. After the world ended, it was the way we entertained ourselves during the evenings.”

“You play? I’ve always wanted to learn.” Ellie declares, eyes wide as she walks over to the guitar. “I used to play. Back in the day. I- I didn’t - haven’t played in years.” Joel confesses, “maybe we can teach you some chords?” He offers Ellie, wanting to give her something since you wrapped up some presents.

Joel nods, “I’m sure we can arrange that.” He promises and Ellie beams.

“Great! That - fuck yes.” She says and Joel doesn’t reprimand her like he normally does. It’s Christmas Eve.

“Come on, kid. Let’s help with the dinner.”

Ellie sets the table and Joel pours out the herbal tea you had made. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cellar.” You offer, shrugging slightly. It’s your last bottle but it’s a good excuse to open it as any. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Joel won’t deny you if you want a drink. Hell, Bill and Frank went through most of their wine during their years together. He wouldn’t mind a glass. “Can I have a glass?” Ellie asks and Joel shakes his head, “no. You’re too young.”

You tilt your head and bite your lip, knowing it’s not your place to interfere, but you do anyway. “I don’t think a glass would hurt.” You offer. “My father let me have a small glass of wine on special occasions starting at ten years old.”

“Pleaseeee.” Ellie asks, “I used to drink vodka. Sneak it back in the QZ.”

Joel sighs, knowing the world has gone to shit and so have social standards. He nods, “one glass.” Ellie hisses in victory and Joel snorts, “one glass.” He repeats, knowing he has to limit himself too just in case something happens. You have to always be prepared.

You hide your smirk of triumph as you get down the wine glasses. “Joel, will you go down to the cellar? The wine rack is on the left.”

Joel nods, making his way downstairs to the cellar and he sees the stored food you have there. It’s impressive. It’s clear you’ve prepared a lot and he is proud of you. You’re not his. He’s not yours, but he’s proud of the strong, capable woman you are. He grabs the wine, blowing off the dust and he carries it up the stairs.

You are pulling the casserole out of the oven when Joel comes upstairs. “Perfect timing.” You smile softly, wishing you could have this every day. “Ellie, throw another log on the fire, will you?” You ask the girl.

Ellie nods, stoking the fire, and Joel takes the wine opener, remembering how to open a bottle of wine. He pulls out the cork and grabs the glasses, pouring three glasses just as you serve up the casserole.

“Soon, the snow will bury the cabin and insulate it even more.” You muse, the wind still rattling the shutters as the snow falls. “But we are nice and cozy here. The living room looks so festive thanks to Ellie’s decorating.”

Joel hands you a glass before he hands one to Ellie, teasing her by pulling it back for a moment before letting her have it. He takes his own glass in hand and clinks it with yours and Ellie. “Merry Christmas.” He declares, reminded of when he and Tommy would cheers with beers on Christmas Eve.

“Merry Christmas.” You hum and Ellie beams. “Merry Christmas!” She all but shouts it out, making you laugh.

“Let’s sit down and eat while it’s hot, shall we?” You ask and the teenager practically bolts for the table.

Joel chuckles and takes a seat. It’s strange to enjoy this time. To not feel like he constantly has a target on his back. He sips the wine after he sits down and groans softly at the smell of the casserole. “God, you could’ve opened a restaurant back in the day.” He compliments you.

“Thank you.” You fluster at the compliment and bite your lip. “I am sure that anything tastes good when food can be scarce.” You know you’re lucky, you had a family who worked hard and prepared so you can reap the benefits of it for years to come. “Merry Christmas, Ellie, Joel.”

Ellie holds her glass up, feeling so fucking cool as she clinks her glass with yours and says “Merry Christmas.”

Joel smiles, clinking his glass and when his eyes meet yours, he can’t help but stare for a long moment. Taking in this rare minute of peace and happiness in his otherwise turbulent world. He feels safe and secure. A rarity. And all because of you. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He murmurs, winking at you.

You fluster again, feeling your cheeks heating up and you smile. It’s been such a whirlwind and you have enjoyed having them. “May your next Christmas be just as cozy.”

Joel doubts it, unable to confirm if he’s even going to be alive for the next Christmas but he murmurs a “thanks” and takes another sip of the wine. You grin and he continues eating his dinner with a groan at how good the food is after so long without consistent meals.

The meal is finished, devoured by both Joel and Ellie taking seconds and in the younger girl’s case, thirds. You smile at Ellie after she clears the table and notice that her cheeks are flushed. “How did you like wine?” You hadn’t missed her slipping some more wine from the bottle.

“It was…okay.” She admits, “kinda burned.”

Joel snorts, “that’s what it’s supposed to you. You get used to it. Then it tastes good.” He promises and ruffles her hair. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Sleep off the wine.” Joel tells the teenager.

You laugh when Ellie yawns and wish her a good night. “Presents in the morning!” She cheers and quickly shuffles off to the room that is hers for now. “I’ll clean up and then we can sleep if you want.” You offer.

Joel waits until Ellie’s door is shut and he shakes his head, setting down the plate you have in your hand on the counter, before he reaches for you to drag you against his body. His nose nudges your chin, dragging along your jaw until he whispers in your ear, “I don’t want to sleep.”

Shivering, you lean into his touch. “What do you want to do?” You whisper, almost afraid that you are reading the situation wrong.

Joel smiles against your skin, “everything. Want to touch you again. Hear you moan my name.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up until he is cupping your tits. “Want to feel you.” He whispers harshly, his mouth going dry at the idea of sliding into you again.

You moan softly and nod. “I want that too.” You agree, pressing up against him shamelessly. It’s thrilling that he wants you, even if it’s just because of convenience. Even if he just wanted you because of that, he wants you.

His hands squeeze your breasts as he kisses along your neck. “You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Wanna make you moan my name again.” He murmurs, sliding his hands back down to grip your waist and he turns you so he can softly kiss you.

The kisses you’ve shared have become familiar, your own hand sliding up into his hair as you kiss him back. Falling into his arms easily as he presses you into the counter.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he groans at the warmth of your body. He loves it. He groans into your mouth and his hands caress your body. “Bedroom.” He murmurs, wanting to see all of you.

Joel is one step behind you as you eagerly disappear into the bedroom. You’ll have to come back out, but for right now, you want nothing more than this man for Christmas.

He shuffles you into the bedroom, gently kicking the door shut behind him, and his hands grab the hem of your shirt, eager to pull it over your head. “Fuck baby. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” He murmurs before surging down to kiss along your chest, kissing every inch of skin he can access until he bites down on your nipple through your bra.

“Joel.” You moan softly, eyes flitting closed and you are eager for him to touch you again. The fact that he is eager makes you drip with arousal. “Touch me again.” You beg softly. “Make me- I want you to fuck me.”

Joel groans as you beg him and how can he resist? He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and drags it down your body, exposing your breasts which he eagerly attacks with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your nipple to suck and bite on it while his other hand squeezes your other breast.

His touch is burned into your skin. You will feel it for the rest of your life. Moaning, you reach down to unbutton your pants, eager to strip down and have him inside you again.

He chuckles into your flesh at the way you shove your pants down your legs and he helps you. When you’re naked, he guides you back towards the bed and pushes you down onto it. “Tell me what you want, baby.” He murmurs, his voice quiet but demanding.

You look up at him and bite your lip. “Strip for me.” You demand, wanting to see this rough, virile man take his clothes off for you. “I want to see all of you. And then I want you to make me cum.”

He can’t deny you. He shifts off of you and works on the buttons of the shirt you gave him. He slowly unbuttons it and exposes his chest. His dark eyes focus on you as he works on the belt before he unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down alongside with his briefs to expose his half hard cock.

“I want to suck your cock again before you leave.” Your cunt throbs and you have to press your thighs together. “It made me so wet.” You admit. “Want to see if it will happen again. Maybe you could cum in my mouth again?”

Joel groans, “baby. You- you don’t have to. I want to taste you again. Maybe…you wanna sit on my face and suck my cock?” He asks, always wanting to give you the choice.

You clench around nothing, turned on by the idea and you nod quickly. “Please.” You beg. “I - is it bad that I want to suck your cock? I love the way you moan.”

He s hakes his head,“not bad. Most women…they don’t like sucking cock.” He confesses. He shifts to lay down on the bed beside you. His cock hardens at the idea of you sitting on his face and he pats his cheek, “take a seat, sweetheart.”

You giggle slightly and bite your lip, wondering how to best do this. Joel takes your thigh and starts to guide you over him. “This is- really intimate.” You huff, feeling a little exposed with your holes on display to him.

He smiles, “it is but I’ll take care of you.” He promises and you hover over his face. He groans at your wet folds and he grabs your ass, pulling you down onto him with a moan of your name that’s soon smothered when his tongue slides through your folds.

Like last night and this morning, Joel’s tongue is magical, making you forget all about everything but the pleasure of him between your thighs. Until his cock twitches in front of your face because of your moans. Wrapping your fingers around his thick girth, you lean down and take the head into your mouth eagerly.

“Jesus.” He hisses into your pussy, his tongue going lazy from his swipes as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck.” He mutters into your folds and he hisses when you moan around him. Reignited, he goes hard on making you moan again, sucking your clit into his mouth.

It becomes a competition, seeing who can make the other moan louder, to stop pleasuring the other because the intensity is too much. You pump the base of his cock and take him deep into your mouth.

Joel groans into your flesh as you take him deeper, swallowing around him. He sucks on your clit, desperately trying to make you cum on his face.

You can't help but moan around his cock, grinding your hips back shamelessly onto his face. You had gotten over your embarrassment really quickly when you learned how much he liked this. It makes you take him deeper, swallowing around him as he spurs you on.

Joel groans into your cunt as you rock back onto him, helping him get you closer to cumming on his face. He pants as you work his cock a little harder, spit gathering in the coarse hair at the base of his length, and he grabs your hips, working you a little faster on top of him.

It's becoming a frenzy. Both of you are trying so hard to make the other break but Joel has the advantage of experience on his side. His grip shifts and he presses his thumb against your other hole, making you choke around his cock and the next flick of his tongue sends you flying.

Joel loves how you cry out, unable to care if you wake Ellie up as you moan so sweetly for him. He works you through it, his thumb pressed against your puckered hole until it slightly dips in to stretch you and he continues flicking your clit until you cry out in protest.

You rock your hips forward, pulling away from his still working mouth to make him chuckle. Taking his cock back in your mouth in an almost desperate attempt to make him feel just as overwhelmed although you know he will probably not want to finish in your mouth right now.

Joel pulls back, “wanna- wanna make you cum on my cock.” He pants, “please baby. Hands and knees.” He orders, wanting to do something different for you to experience everything while he’s here.

Moaning, you scramble off of him, eager to try the position you had always wanted to feel. You had been too nervous to ask if he would fuck you that way, but now you get what you want without ever even asking. “Fuck me.” You beg, looking over your shoulder as he shuffles to his knees.

Joel groans, leaning in to press his body against yours, his cock sliding along the crack of your ass. “Fuck baby. You’re - shit - you’re so pretty.” He murmurs, caressing your back before he grips his cock and positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

Honestly, this position is more intense for you. He feels bigger than he had when you were riding him. Your back bows slightly and you push back to let him grind into him even more. "You're pretty." You gasp out, closing your eyes. You're sure that he's just saying that because he's inside you but you are a sure thing. He can fuck you as often as he wants while he's here. "More baby, please."

He can’t fucking deny you anything when your pussy is choking him like a goddamn vice. He pants and caresses your ass before smacking it. “You want more?” He asks and your pathetic whine makes him chuckle. He goes harder, his hips hitting your ass, and he eagerly watches the flesh jiggle.

All you can do is hold on, your fingers twisting in the sheets under you. After a particularly rough thrust, your elbows give out and you collapse down onto your face, right as you moan out his name. "Jooooooeeeellllllllll."

He groans, “that’s it baby. God, feel so fuckin’ tight around my cock.” He hisses, thrusting deep and hard. He shifts to plant his foot on the bed, jaw clenched as he works to push you into an orgasm. He wants to hear it again.

Rocking into you harshly, you grunt and moan while he fucks you. Clenching down around him every time he pushes deep, you love the way he twitches inside you. “Joel, fuck, yes.”

He groans as you clench around him. He reaches down to rub your clit, “cum for me. Cum for me baby.” He leans over you, kissing along your neck.

His chest is at your back and you moan. The expert touch of his fingers quickly has your body bucking under his. Starting to cum just like he ordered you to.

Joel groans when you clamp around his cock. He pants into your ear, kissing along your neck, and he rubs your clit a little faster to work you through it. “That’s it, baby.” He coos, rocking into you.

You pant against the sheet and moan. Wishing that he would fill you up just once so you could experience it. “Cum for me.” You whimper, closing your eyes in bliss.

He pants, so close to orgasm, and he hisses as he rocks into you. Over and over again. “Fuck. I- shit. Shit. Shit.” He manages to pull out just as he cums over your ass and back, hot seed hitting your skin.

You whine at the loss of his cock inside you, humming as you listen to him gasp for breath. “Fuck.” Your grin is tired and satisfied as you slowly straighten out on the bed. You know you will have to let him clean you up, or go to the bathroom to clean, but you don’t want to move right now.

Joel is uncaring as he looms over you and kisses along your neck. “So good, baby.” He murmurs, caressing your side until he’s shuffling off of the bed to head into the bathroom to clean you up.

Listening to someone move around the house is a luxury that you savor. Closing your eyes again with a smile on your face. Almost ready to beg him to stay and help you stave off the loneliness but you know he can’t.

Joel comes back in with a wet rag to clean you. He caresses your skin after you’re clean and leans down to kiss you softly. “Get into bed, sweetheart. It’ll be Christmas morning before you even know it.” He promises, tossing the rag in the sink after cleaning himself up and he pulls the covers back for you to get under them.

You climb into bed and into his arms. Enjoying the strength and steadiness of his heart beating in his chest. “Good night, Joel.” You murmur, holding back a yawn and suddenly ready to sleep.

Joel wraps around you after he blows out the candle on the nightstand. He smiles and kisses you softly until he falls asleep, a rare look of complete peace on his face. He winces when the sunlight streams through the slats of the shutters hours later and realizes it’s Christmas Day. He smiles softly and kisses your face, waiting until you whimper awake and he whispers, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas.” You groan softly, waking up and snuggling into his hold and sighing contentedly. You feel warm, safe and not alone, something that you had been wishing for a long time. It’s the best gift that you could have been given and you tilt your head up to kiss his chin. “Best Christmas ever.” You hum, kissing down along his throat gently, enjoying the sleep-warm scent of him. Memorizing it for when your bed is colder without him. “We should get up and get ready for an excited teenager.”

Joel groans softly, playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Or we could just stay here all day.” He suggests just seconds before he kisses you softly. “She would kick the door down. She’s so excited.” He chuckles against your lips.

You sigh softly and smile. “We will have a good day. Pretend the world is normal outside.” You tell him. “Be cozy in this little bubble for awhile.”

Joel smiles, kissing your head, and he shifts to get out of the bed, grabbing his pajama pants, and he looks over at you, winking. “I’ll go make some coffee.” He offers as he grabs his shirt and slips out of your room into the kitchen.

You lay there for a moment before you get up and start dressing. Listening to the sounds of Joel opening the wood box in the stove and stirring the coals. The thunk of more wood being added. It’s completely domestic and you love it more than you should.

Ellie comes out once you’re dressed, eyes wide at the presents under the tree. “We got presents?” She exclaims and you nod, “yeah. Santa came.” You tease and she grins, rushing over to you and she wraps her arms around you. “You’re the fucking best.”

You grin as you hug her back. “You’re welcome. I hope that you like what I picked out for you.” The smell of coffee soon fills the air and you look towards the kitchen. “How about we have breakfast first and then presents?” You suggest.

Ellie pouts a little and Joel nods, reminded of Sarah when she used to be so eager to open gifts on Christmas morning. “Breakfast first.” He says sternly and Ellie nods, knowing it’s best to not argue with her father figure.

You decided to make breakfast quick since Ellie was so excited, so it’s done almost as soon as the coffee and you grin as you set it on the table. “We will have presents opened in no time.” You promise her with a wink.

Ellie tries not to pout as she agrees while Joel pours you out a coffee. You wink at him and he leans in to kiss you softly, “merry Christmas baby.” He murmurs and Ellie smirks, “Joel. Never knew you were a softie.”

Joel rolls his eyes and huffs but you just grin at how cheeky she is. Bolting down her breakfast as quickly as she can in her eagerness to get the day moving along so she can open her presents. Taking a sip of your coffee, you start your own breakfast when Joel sits down. It sounds like the storm has died down outside and the cabin is nice and warm. It’s a good day.

Youk grin as Ellie practically vibrates as she looks at the presents under the tree. “Go on sweetheart. Get the presents handed out.” Joel orders, knowing he would get Sarah to do that for him and Tommy when they’d celebrate Christmas.

You show Ellie which pill of presents is which, and pour you and Joel refresher cups of coffee to bring into the living room. The fire has been built back up and for a moment, you pretend, it’s just a normal Christmas morning. Sitting down on your old sofa and reaching for a throw to toss over your legs as Ellie bounces around creating two piles of gifts between her and Joel.

Joel frowns when he sees you don’t have anything and he remembers the simple gold ring he keeps on the gold chain around his neck. It belonged to his mother and no one has really seen it. He kept it hidden when he was in the QZ but grabbed it when he was leaving. He watches Ellie divide the presents and he looks at you, “this is too much, baby.” He says and Ellie is already ripping into a present.

“No it’s not.” You shake your head. “Things are hard to come by.” You murmur quietly. “I’m all alone. I don’t need my entire family’s wardrobe and things.” You remind him. “You two will be more comfortable traveling.”

Joel nods, opening a present to see a flannel shirt. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He murmurs and leans in to kiss your cheek. He watches Ellie open her presents with a grin and he frowns when you hand him another present. He quietly opens it, the velvet case and his eyes widen when he sees the watch. “This- I can’t accept this.”

“Yes you can.” You shake your head. “It’s solar. Hasn’t been used since my daddy died, but it’s a good watch.” You tell him. “I noticed your watch is broken, you wear it for the memory it carries. This will carry the memory of this Christmas, of me, with you.” You reach for his hand and close it over the watch. “I want you to carry it with you when you leave here.”

Joel caresses the watch, honored you’d want to give him something so special, so close to your family. He swallows harshly and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Thank you. I- wow. I - thank you.” He repeats, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thank you baby.” He murmurs, “I love it.”

“Of course.” Ellie squeals and coos over her presents, clothes from your younger years and even some of your old jewelry for her to have. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squeals and crushes you in a hug before she bounds off to try on the new things. You are happy she enjoyed everything and she’s having a good Christmas. “Now, I’ll start our dinner and make us some hot toddy’s to enjoy.”

Joel nods, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom.” He murmurs and stands up, heading into the bathroom to pull the chain from around his neck so he can take the ring off. He places the chain around his neck and holds the ring, heading out into the kitchen to find you. “Baby. I - I have a gift for you. It- it was my mom’s. I want you to have it.”

It takes you a minute to realize he’s trying to give you a ring. “Joel.” You whisper, frowning at the ring. You know that he will give you the same argument that you had given him. It’s probably the only thing that he has to offer you in his mind and to refuse it would be an insult. You look up into his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel smiles softly, a rare event, “like you. I want you to have it. You’ve shown us so much - well, no one has ever been quite as nice and I want you to have something special.” He says, reaching down to close your fist around the ring. “It’s something to remember me by.”

“I’ll never forget you, I promise.” You reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “Thank you, Joel. I’ll cherish it.” Leaning in, you kiss him softly, wishing again that he could stay and you could see what could grow between you. But it’s not to be. “Merry Christmas.”

Joel smiles, enjoying that you are happy on this holiday. “Merry Christmas.” He cups your cheek, his dark eyes meeting yours and he leans to softly kiss you. “I’ll never forget you.” He promises, “never.”

****

You shove another wrapped parcel of food into Ellie’s bag, zipping it up and patting it. They have stayed for two more days until the storm passed and every day was spent falling in love with both of them. Nights in Joel’s arms and days playing board games with Ellie and laughing at her sense of humor. Now it is time for them to leave and you are putting on a brave face. “You are all set.” You promise her, accepting the bone crushing hug she gives you and when she pulls away, you wrap her scarf around her neck and pull the beanie down over her ears. “Stay warm.”

“I’m gonna miss you.” Ellie huffs, squeezing you tight once more and pulls away to wipe her eyes since she’s told you she’s not going to cry.

Joel swallows harshly as he steps towards you after you hug Ellie. He pulls you close, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. He’s going to miss you. So much. He has to leave though. He leans down to press his lips to yours, uncaring of Ellie watching as his tongue slides against your lips.

It’s easy to let him in again. Clinging to him and cherishing the last kiss you’ll ever have. “Stay safe.” You beg softly after a long minute where you are both panting for air when you pull back. “I hope you accomplish your mission. Find your brother, be happy.”

Joel doubts he could be happy. Not like how he’s felt while he’s been with you. These past few days…he hasn’t felt this at peace since he…well, pre-outbreak. He sighs and rests his forehead against yours and he kisses you softly one last time. “Be good for me, baby.” He murmurs against your lips, “stay alive.” He adds, knowing that being alone can be hard.

You give a small smile, knowing you can’t promise that, just like he can’t promise to be safe. The world is full of uncertainties and danger. Watching them from your porch is the hardest thing you’ve done in a long time. Waiting until they disappear from sight before you go back inside, the warm cabin is colder and lonelier now without the two people who had literally broken in and stolen your heart.

****

It’s been a year. Joel has been keeping track of the time and he asked Tommy to confirm it. After telling Ellie his plan, she’d been all in on joining him on the trek back to your cabin. Along the way, he had chopped down the best Christmas tree he could find and he knocks on your cabin with the snow just starting to fall on Christmas Eve.

Your gun in your hand, you warily unbar the door and slowly open it. You had shuttered the cabin earlier and the decorations are still in the box, in no mood this year for Christmas. The knock on the door seems almost surreal and you squint out through the crack before your eyes widen. “J-Joel? Ellie?”

He grins, seeing your beautiful face, and his memories did you no justice. God, you’re gorgeous. He nods, seeing the gun and he doesn’t care as he surges forward to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours.

You melt into the kiss immediately. Hastily setting the gun down on the table next to the door and throwing your arms around him. You never thought you would see him again and here he is, on your doorstep for a Christmas Eve. It’s the best present you’ve ever had.

He kisses you until he’s pulling back and pecking your lips. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Can we come in?” Ellie eventually interrupts the moment and Joel rolls his eyes. “I missed you.” He murmurs after they take off their jackets and boots and he’s wrapping his arms around you. “We found my brother. He’s - he’s in Jackson. It’s - it’s amazing. It’s a proper town. With people. Doctors. A goddamn bar. Come back with us to our house.” He requests softly.

“Your house? L-leave?” You are so confused but Ellie pipes in.

“Joel and I have a house. It’s got plenty of room and we want you to come. We can bring whatever you want and come back with the wagons to get everything.” She bites her lip. “Joel’s missed you. A lot. He’s been a grumpy fucker since we left.”

Your eye brow lifts when Joel nods. “I’ve missed you.” He repeats. “I want you to come live with me and Ellie. You can bring the chickens and everything you want from here.”

You stare at him in shock. It’s been a year and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. “Baby. I- I want you to come back with us but you don’t - it’s your choice.” He promises, caressing your cheek and he lowers his hand, “you don’t have to decide now. It’s Christmas. Let’s celebrate and decorate the tree and then we can discuss it.” He promises, trying to compromise.

“I- yes..” you decide instantly. “We will have our Christmas here and then I will go back with you to Jackson.” You have been miserable without Joel or anyone else here and you never thought you would see him again. He’s back and he wants you with him. Christmas with Joel might have started here, with the white Christmas that had blown him into your life, but next year, you will celebrate with Joel and Ellie in Jackson. Next year and years to come.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

Yandere Coworker (part 14)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(2945 words)

tw: afab reader, infantilization, butchered Spanish,

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 15

You're in Cyprus's car, munching on one of the many treats he bought you from the farmers market. It distracted you from how Cyprus would sensually knead your thigh as he drove.

The car is full of fresh vegetables and fruits that he bought, so he could make tastier meals for you and him. In his styrofoam cooler, rest slabs of butchered meat and numerous ice packs to keep them from spoiling, as the ride home is quite far.

He was talking about an anecdote, in an attempt to prompt you to open up to him. But his tactic has been failing for the past half hour, all you did was nod and eat.

Cyprus pursed his lips as he glanced at you from the corners of his eyes. You have exhausted his conversational topics and he has a whole arsenal of them. You're driving him insane! What does it take for you to talk to him about yourself? He failed to consider that you may not have a lot to say in the first place because he truly believed that you are complex and more than your internet addiction. He wants to know your thoughts, more about your likes and dislikes, your beliefs, family, friends... anything!

Then, he had an idea.

"We're not going home just yet."

You looked at him and asked what he meant by that. He merely smirked and stayed silent.

Cyprus didn't drive back to his apartment or yours like you expected. You knew it was close to his home, since you and he passed by this place to get there.

He pulled up to a dilapidated building, no doubt another apartment complex but older and dingier. The wall paint was chipping off, and windows were shrouded with overgrown trees and moss. Cars were haphazardly parked around the complex without regulation or visible parking lines.

He pulled on his handbrake and switched his engine off. You're still staring out the window, wondering where he took you.

"Baby." You turned around, to have him cup your cheek and gently pull your lower eyelid down with a thumb. You initially struggled against him but relaxed when you realized he meant no harm and wouldn't let go until he got what he wanted. Which was to examine your eyes.

He hummed, staring intensely at you. Making you blush at how attractive he appears to you now, you would be caught dead before admitting that to him. But you didn't have to, he knows what you're thinking and is fully aware of how he presents himself.

Cyprus checked the time on his wristwatch. He finally lets go of you and reaches for his center console, where he has tucked your medicated eyedrops away.

You complained, telling him that you could apply your own antibiotics. He merely clicked his tongue in annoyance and rolled his eyes as he uncapped the bottle. "Look up."

You didn't have to do anything, Cyprus was the one who tilted your head upwards while pulling a lower eyelid down. Sighing, you let him administer the drops in your eyes. It felt humiliating, yet secretly, you felt somewhat comforted to know someone was out there remembering these little details of you. If it wasn't for him, the thought of your medication would have completely slipped your mind.

You blinked hard, letting the liquid sting your eyes momentarily. You could hear the rustling of the pharmacy's paper bag as he kept your medicine away. He had also pulled a sheet out of his tissue box. "Stop that!" Cyprus hissed, pulling your hands away from your face as you instinctually went on to rub your eyes.

You grumbled, letting Cyprus coddle you; gently wiping the excess drops using the tissue and carefully picking the crust out from the corners of your eyes. You remained still for the entirety of this, allowing Cyprus to do whatever he pleases. Luckily, he's acting with the best intentions in mind.

"There, done." He crumpled the sheet of tissue and shoved it into his pocket to dispose of it later. Cyprus then kissed you on the forehead. "Good girl." Whispered praises and chuckling.

You didn't respond, but instead stormed out of his car and slammed the door shut behind you. Cyprus got out shortly after, he took out the styrofoam cooler from his trunk and a couple bags of fresh vegetables before locking his car using his key fob.

"Come on, let's meet tu suegra." He gestured for you to follow him to a dim stairwell, where the only source of lighting was the outdoors. Cyprus started ascending the steps with the bags in hand.

The cogs started turning in your head, you may or may not understand what he just said, but all hints are suggesting that you're now at his mother's place. You also noted how his American accent suddenly changed into a completely different one when saying those two words. However, looking back, he tends to roll his "R"s.

You tailed behind Cyprus, climbing the bare, concrete stairs with suspect hand railings. It's dusty and cobweb-ridden, but at least it's functional.

You and he eventually reached an open-air corridor, grateful for the sunlight shining the path for you.

"Here." He handed you a bag and knocked on the door. It seems like the plaque fell off, you could see the screw holes, but you have no idea what number unit this is. The other doors don't seem kind enough to give you hints either.

You held the bag of vegetables in your arms as you watched Cyprus knock again, trying to get the attention of whoever was residing behind it.

Silence blanketed over him as you were made to wait for any further developments. You opened your mouth to say something, but your ear perked up at the sound of the door unlatching and unlocking. An unpleasant creak of the hinges, and then a surprised gasp reached your ears.

"Mi-" The voice, aged and feminine, stopped midway. You peered over the bag to see a woman in her fifties, her grey roots are showing as it seems she hasn't refreshed her black dye in a while. Like Cyprus, she too, wore glasses and had the same beautiful set of grey eyes. Her eyebrows were thin, charmingly drawn on and her lips were in a deep shade of red, but they were pulled downwards into a frown as she eyed you cautiously. Even taking a few steps back into her room, hiding behind the door.

"Mamá, tranquila." There was a sense of urgency in his voice as if he was trying to prevent a catastrophe from happening. But immediately after, he purred at you. "Ella es muy dulce." He gave you a sweet peck on the crown of your head. Cyprus rested an arm around your waist and brought you closer to his side.

Upon seeing her son's calmness and hearing his assurance, you saw the tension on her shoulders leave. But she's not convinced enough to fully come out of her hiding place. She stared at you unblinkingly, observing what you might do next. At this point, you felt embarrassed, feeling like a filthy, feral stray under her intense gaze.

You gave her an awkward, crooked smile and wave. Unsure if she could understand you if you spoke English. You also had half a mind to act insane, scaring his mother off so she would disprove your forced relationship with him. You assumed that the bag that Cyprus gave you earlier was meant to be for his mother, so you presented it to her. Which made her look amused with her focus darting between her son and you.

"Say 'Buenos Tardes, señora.'" You felt his breath on your ear as he whispered.

You did just that, butchering the pronunciation a bit but it's not too bad. Just enough for his mother to understand and be impressed by. You wonder if her standards for her son's partners are as low as Cyprus's.

"Buenos Tardes, Buenos Tardes. ¿Es eso para mí?" She gestured towards the bag in your extended arms.

"Sí, mama. Es un regalo por tú, Mi vida quería dar una buena primera impresión." He spoke up for you, affectionately stroking your hair as she took the bag off your hands. "Ella no sabía qué regalarte. Entonces sugerí comprar algunas verduras."

"¿Mi vida?" She appeared astonished at the apparent pet name he used for you. "Eso es nuevo. Ella debe ser muy especial para ti."

He laughed and nodded. "Sí, claro." Cyprus put the cooler down and went on to hug his mother as a delayed greeting. It was brief, they let each other go and brought their attention back to you.

Feeling the peer pressure crushing your bones, you mirrored what they did and hesitantly went in for an awkward hug. But it seems like she has warmed up to the idea of you, her arms wrapped around you comfortably.

"Entre, por favor." She stepped aside and opened her door wider. You assume that she's telling you and Cyprus to come in. You were about to step foot into her residence, but your boyfriend grabbed you by the arm before you could get any further.

"Take your shoes off, baby." He instructed as he took his own shoes off. You look at his mother and see that she's barefoot, there is a shoe rack inside that holds a few pairs of shoes and you assume that is where you're meant to put yours. So, you removed your footwear like how Cyprus told you to and it earned a nod of approval from his mother.

He picked your shoes up for you and coaxed you inside. You were about to whine that you could have done that yourself, but it's probably not worth the trouble. The quicker you finish this, the quicker you can leave.

You took a look around at her humble abode. It's not as bad as the outside, quite homely with the oddly luxurious items making their appearance here and there. But it is to be expected, as you remember how Cyprus described his mother as someone who prioritized looking expensive over her children's welfare. You were eyeing the leather massage chair in front of the flatscreen TV, wishing that you owned one.

"Good girl." He praised, kissing you on the temple. Cyprus then went on to put the two pairs of shoes on the rack. His mother is in the process of unloading the styrofoam cooler, bringing the meats to the kitchenette nearby; putting them away in the fridge.

"¿Quieres algo de tomar? ¿Té? ¿Cafe?" She asked, directing her gaze mainly to you.

"Una taza de té por ella, Mama. Ella no podrá dormir esta noche si toma café ahora." He took off his leather jacket and hung it on a coat stand nearby. The woman cocked her eyebrows at how much her son cared for you, it's something new and refreshing. She nodded and prepared three mugs on the counter.

You wish that you could have a say in your choice of drinks.

"¿Y tú, Mijo?" She filled the electric kettle up with tap water.

"No hay necesidad. Compartiré una taza con ella." He ended the line of conversation and turned towards you, cupping the sides of your face in his large, warm hands.

"You're doing so well." He crooned, gently squeezing your cheeks affectionately. "My mom likes you..." Cyprus nuzzled his nose against yours, feeling the cold frame of his glasses brush against your skin. "You make me so fucking happy, princess."

You tried to push him away, telling him that his mother was right there.

"Okay, and?" Your eyes quickly dart in her direction, seeing that she's still busy preparing two cups of tea.

You said that it's embarrassing and probably disrespectful to his mother. No one wants to see their son getting all sappy with someone else!

"She's fine." He brushed you off and pulled you into a hug, swaying you side to side. You felt judged when his mother glanced at you and a smirk, a damn smirk so reminiscent of her son's, began curling at the corners of her lips. So you firmly pushed him away, that did the trick but it was as if you gave him a soft nudge.

She brought the two mugs to the dining table, Cyprus lead you to the chairs and sat down on one of it. However, before you could park yourself onto a chair, Cyprus pulled you into his lap and kept you imprisoned there. His arms tangling around your form tightly, making it impossible to escape his hold without making a scene. So you let out a resigned sigh and sunk into him.

"Cuidado, hace calor." Said his mother as she picked her own cup up, blew on it, and allowed the steam to waft around her face. She used the metal spoon to mix the milk and sugar in the beverage.

"Lo sé, mamá." He picked the other cup up and blew on it. You were wondering if she had forgotten to make you a cup, or if Cyprus told her not to for some reason. It's such a shame, you were looking forward to it-

"Say aah." You were presented with a spoonful of cooled tea. And immediately, your face turned red as a tomato. Really? This level of humiliation in front of his own mother? You opened your mouth to say something unsavory, but Cyprus took the chance to feed you the drink.

It was delicious, no doubt. Enough to shut you up and seek more, but the cup was occupied by Cyprus; he was taking a sip out of it and probably burning his tongue with how hot the tea was.

This whole performance earned some laughter from his mother. You tried your best to hide your face from her, but in the end, Cyprus handed you the entire cup to drink. It's at an appropriate temperature for you to drink.

"Que niña tan Consentido, ¿Te gusta mimarla, Mijo?" You heard clinks coming from her spoon hitting the ceramic walls of her cup as she stirred.

"Sí. Muchisimo." Cyprus watched you with adoration as you drank sipped on the beverage.

Eventually, the mother-son duo started chatting in Spanish. You don't know if they're talking about you, or just catching up. You think it's most likely the latter because you've been with Cyprus 24/7 for a few months now. He has not visited his mother once, this is the first time in a while, you assume.

You're not stupid, though. There was a good chunk of the conversation where it's just talking about you, based on the glances she would give you and the mention of your name, and what you assume are Spanish pet names.

Either way, you felt ashamed. You felt inferior and belittled. You wish you could just go home and hide under the covers. But your home isn't even your home anymore, it's Cyprus's.

You decided to look around once more and drink in your surroundings, noting the lack of picture frames or any indication that his mother has children or a husband. There is a distinct detergent smell, nothing like you've ever smelt before and it's lovely. Cyprus washes his clothes with something similar, but the aroma isn't identical.

Cyprus picked the cup up and took a sip for himself. His eyes were trained on your bored face.

"Doll." He caught your attention and his mother's. Cyprus brought a thumb to your lower eyelid and tenderly tugged it down to check on your pink eye.

His mother seemingly asked him about what he was doing, to which Cyprus explained to her your situation. He then brought his attention back to you.

"Do you want to head home?" He asked.

You were about to say yes, but his mother's innocently wide eyes stared at you with a tinge of sadness.

"My mom is really enjoying having you here." He explained what that look potentially meant. "But if you're tired, we're going home. We can visit her another time."

She's enjoying you here? She's barely talking to you! And that language barrier is not making it any easier. You think that his mother is sad that her son is leaving so soon.

You told him that you could head back home by yourself, you know the way back and he should spend more time with his mother while he still can. Cyprus narrowed his eyes at you. "No way in hell am I letting you go alone."

You said you're fine. It's just a few blocks away.

"We're leaving." He lifted you off his lap. "Gracias por el té, mamá." Cyprus rose up to his full height, towering over you and his mother.

"I have extra pillows and blankets if you want to take a nap." You whipped your head towards the woman at lightspeeds, she could speak English fluently all this time?!

You looked back at Cyprus, he was crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for your response. He isn't shocked, annoyed, or amazed at this sudden switch, he's simply indifferent.

You turned back to his mother and asked why she didn't speak English from the beginning.

"I'll tell you if you stay for dinner." She smiled, speaking in a moderately heavy accent. Now you know where Cyprus gets his blackmailing traits from.

You looked back at Cyprus. He merely shrugged.

"Your call, Mi cielo." You asked him what that term meant.

"I'll also tell you that if you stay for dinner." Beamed his mother.

Cyprus smirked and chuckled, but didn't say anything else.

#yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere x you #oc cyprus #tw infantilization #male yandere x reader #tw afab reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #thank you so much for your commission

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 4 months

Text

Garden of Adam

Adam remembers when he first woke up in Hell after getting stabbed. He was lost for a very long time and absolutely upset about the situation. No matter how hard he prayed and tried to contact heaven, he couldn't get through.

He was on his own.

It wasn't until he got a glimpse of himself in some window, did he realize how different he looked.

His halo was gone, long black and gold horns in its place. His once light brown hair was now a dark brown, so dark it was almost black. His golden wings were now the colors of black and red, same as his outfit. His skin was more gray, the only thing that was the same were his golden eyes.

Adam had to steal some new clothes, his were torn and covered in blood and dirt.

He also couldn't risk any of these freaks recognizing him, he had heard horror stories of angels that fell into Hell and were left at the demons mercy.

They showed no fucking mercy.

Now he wore loose fitting pants, a shirt and hoodie. Anything to keep him on the down low.

When Adam was walking down the street, he came across a huge dilapidated building that was sandwiched between two thriving stores. A demon was locking the place, looking sad. "So long old friend, we had a good run." He threw the key in Adam's direction and the fallen angel caught it.

What luck.

Adam waited until the guy was gone until he went inside. No wonder he was leaving it behind. It was fucking filthy!

There was only one chair in the room and it looked to be hundreds of years old. There was dirt, dust, and cobwebs everywhere.

He slumped, knowing that the only person who was going to clean it would be him. Adam got to work cleaning the place up.

Once all the filth was gone it didn't look too bad, just needed a coat of paint.

Being in Hell, he knew he'd need to have money to make it. He could use the space to sell something but at first he didn't know what.

It took him until the end of the week to realize he had powers to manipulate and grow plants, it took another two before he figured that was what he could sell.

Who doesn't like flowers?

That's how his garden center, named Eden was born. A garden that would not be destroyed and be all Adams.

That had been two years ago.

Business was booming, apparently flowers brought many demons, especially sinners a lot of joy. It reminded them of earth and when they were alive.

Adam started collecting souls for employees six months into having the place. It started off with just one or two to give him a helping hand.

He really didn't know what to do with souls, but he didn't let that stop him.

Now he owned over fifty souls, with some more locations that he branched out to get more business he was considered an overlord.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

So of course things wouldn't stay the same and Adam couldn't just love his somewhat happy life in Hell with his flowers and other plants. Today was the day everything changed.

Adam was doing up the weekly center piece to draw people in, it was a large bouquet of flowers that were on sale that week.

The door chimed, Adam stepped away and wiped the dirt off his hands onto his apron. "Welcome to Eden, how can I-"

"Adam?"

Adam felt the blood in his veins grow cold. Oh no. He turned to look at the group that entered his store and the one who addressed him was front and center. "Lucifer?"

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Flu Season.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Mentions of Guns, and Imprisonment.

[I have a fever. Excuse the self-indulgence.]

It should’ve been enough that you’d just been kidnapped.

Dragged into the storage closet of an art gallery you could barely afford to visit, bound and gagged and blindfolded, the barrel of a gun shoved into the notch underneath your diaphragm as a man with slicked-back hair and a woman in a wine-red suit walked you out of an obscured backdoor and into a windowless van, already stocked with haphazardly packaged paintings and sculptures. It was just business as usual, the woman had explained, as if that would make you feel any better. They’d keep you as a hostage until attention died down, sell off the stolen artwork, and drop you off on the outskirts of the nearest city, alive and unharmed. As long as you didn’t put up a fight or get on anyone’s nerves, you’d walk away just fine.

Or, mostly fine, at least. Really, you had to be the unluckiest person in the world.

It wasn’t enough that you’d just been kidnapped by some shady, hyper-violent gang of thieves.

You had to get kidnapped, then come down with a cold.

Or the flu. It might’ve been the flu. You definitely had a fever. You couldn’t take your temperature, but you could feel those tell-tale chills, the splitting headaches, the constant pull of an exhaustion no amount of sleep would’ve been able to sedate. Your throat was raw from coughing, your head pounding and your tongue permanently dry, but you’d resigned yourself to nursing the lukewarm glass of stale water you’d gathered the strength to get for yourself more than a few hours ago. You barely had the energy to stand, but it wasn’t as if you could ask your kidnappers to wait on you. They seemed begrudgingly tolerant of your presence – vaguely amused at best, mildly annoyed at worst. It was safer not to draw any attention to yourself, even if that meant suffering alone for another few days.

Another sudden chill, another knot of ache in the back of your skull. You shuddered, pulling the small pile of blankets and quilts you’d amassed that much closer. The abandoned mansion they’d chosen as their temporary lair was an awful, drafty structure – all rotting wood and dirt-caked windows and thin walls that did nothing to keep out the winter air. You’d holed yourself up in one of the countless decaying bedrooms, but even the surprisingly clean king-sized mattress offered little consolation. That, paired with the holes in the walls, the layer of dust coated over every surface, didn’t make you feel very—

Your bleary thoughts were cut off by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open, of quiet footsteps approaching the spot where you laid. You shot up on reflex, but that immediately proved to be a mistake – a jolt of pure agony racing from the nape of your neck to your temples and settling in the space just behind your eyes. Cursing under your breath, you buried your face in your hands, doing your best to block out the light and soothe the sudden pain, but you didn’t have much time to console yourself. The intruder had already reached your bedside, the plush mattress dipping under their weight as they settled into your space. You spared them a withering glance, but once again, that only seemed to make things worse.

For whatever reason, the thieves’ leader himself – Chrollo, if memory served – had seen fit to pay you a visit.

And just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse.

You stiffened, pressed your back into the dilapidated headboard, did what you could to make yourself look small and unremarkable without giving him the impression that you were meek enough to go down without a fight (despite the fact that, if worst came to worst, you probably would). For what it was worth, he didn’t seem hostile. If anything, the expression written across his face was one of pleasant neutrality – a slight smirk paired with a distant look in his eyes, like he had a million things to do and whatever he’d come to you for barely ranked on his list of concerns. When he noticed you were looking at him, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Rather, he only lifted the hand furthest from you, bringing a nondescript plastic bag into your line of sight and placing it in front of you gingerly, as if he was leaving a hunk of raw meat in front of some exotic beast.

It was only when you failed to react that he started to explain himself. “I heard you were sick.”

Fuck. And you thought you’d managed to fly under his radar.

“I… I think it’s just a cold.” Because colds were safer than flus, easier to recover from and only half as contagious. Because they were less likely to decide you weren’t worth the effort it’d take to keep you around if you just had a cold. “I should be alright in a couple of days, but if you think we’ll need to move before that—”

“Oh, no, it’ll be another week or so before we move on. You'll have plenty of time to recover.” He spoke casually, as if they weren’t wanted fugitives. As if you weren’t a bargaining chip for them to flaunt in front of the police if things went south. He gestured towards the bag, his grin growing just a little wider. “Let me know if I missed something. I tried for variety, but I can make a second trip if you find that your needs haven’t been met.”

Hesitantly, you took up the bag, dragging it into your lap and pulling it open. The contents consisted of what a friend might’ve brought over after you’d missed a morning lecture to a particularly bad hangover. Mineral water, tissues, brand-name painkillers and generic cough medicine. There were a few sporadic add-ons, too – chocolate bars, two bracelets with matching broken clasps and a silver wedding band, a miniature teddy bear that’d clearly been plucked off of a Valentine’s Day clearance rack, but you choose not to linger on those any longer than you had to. Honestly, you were just glad not to find any bullet casings or disembodied extremities. “One of nen’s many silver linings. Once your body surpasses a certain point, illness tends to be more of a peripheral hazard than a daily inconvenience,” he went on, as you rummaged through the bag. “I’m a little out of practice, but hopefully, this will suffice.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about, but you did your best to nod along, only letting a small portion of your confusion shine through. None of this made sense, none of this was anything you’d ever thought to prepare yourself for, but when he finished, you scrambled to respond, as eager to please as he seemed to be to soak in your praise. “Thank you. It’s perfect, I—” The air hitched in your throat, and anything you might’ve said broke down into a violent coughing fit, only somewhat stifled by the back of your hand. He was still staring at you, when you found the strength to look toward him again, still wearing that fucking smile. Something quirked inside of your chest, and you turned away from him sharply. “I appreciate it, I really do, b-but I’m not sure what’s going on, and I don’t want to disrespect the— your—”

“The Phantom Troupe,” he finished. “My Spiders.”

“Right. That. I don't know how to deal with that.” You shook your head, letting out a slight sigh. “I’m sorry, I don’t really keep up with the world of high-class art theft.”

“Oh, we steal all sorts of things. Art, antiques, the occasional organ.” He paused, then seemed to brighten, his tone taking on a kind of childlike eagerness. “A few years ago, a buyer I’m closely acquainted with was interested in amassing a collection of teeth from notable living figures. It was a dull job, but it paid well enough, and my group made the most of it. We're very versatile.”

There was another chill, this time with a source other than your smoldering fever. You wrapped your arms over your chest, shrinking into yourself, but if Chrollo cared about how reflexively you pulled away from him, he didn’t seem to think of it as a mistake that couldn’t be corrected with a breath of a laugh, a slight tap to his knee. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a question, a request, but you considered refusing for one brief, delusional second before ignoring your better judgment and moving towards him – gradually, at first, as slowly as you were able to, until you’d gotten just a little too close and he was able to lash out, to snake an arm around your waist and pull you against his chest. There was a low chuckle, a hand brought to your cheek before it was used to brush the hair away from your face. He held you like that for a long moment – tucked against him, fingers tangled in your hair, his lips ghosting over your forehead – before his grip slackened and his hand fell back to your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. “Poor thing,” he muttered, his voice muffled by your skin. “You’re burning up.”

He let you go as quickly as he’d taken you up, unraveling himself from you and rising to his feet. There was a click of his tongue, a new lilt to his smile, and when he spoke, he did so with a certain lightness – as if he was playing a role he’d spent just a little too long preparing for. “I’ll make tea. Try to get some rest while I’m gone.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move, didn't look away from you. With no small amount of trepidation, you turned your back to him, lying on your side and drawing the tussled blankets over yourself. That earned a hum of approval, but you didn’t let yourself so much as breathe until you heard his light footsteps, until the bedroom door groaned closed and you were left alone with only the impending knowledge that you wouldn’t be, for very long.

At least things couldn’t get any worse, right?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #hunterxhunter #hunter x hunter #hxh imagines #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter imagines #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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mykneeshurt · 2 years

Text

Ice

Keegan x AFAB reader

This is what he’s wearing in this … Keegan is underrated in this outfit. @sashadiurnal @taurus-ted I know you love him, and thank you once again to @yeyinde for these perfect clockwork gifs.

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, implied breath play and choking, praise kink, cream pie

Walking through the snow you tried desperately to keep up with Keegan. The snow nipped at your knees as you waded through the vast landscape. The terrain was as unforgiving as it was beautiful, the moon shone down on you both casting elongated shadows before you. Your lungs burnt from the cold air permeating the tissue deep within your chest. You were running on empty.

It was meant to be a straight forward mission, get in, extract the information and get out. Meant to be being the operative phrase. What went wrong, did go wrong. The guards were alerted early, forcing you to abandon the mission. Hesh, Logan and Merrick got split off from you as you tried to escape, forcing you to pair with Keegan. Not that you minded, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’d had a crush on him since day one.

‘Come on kid, gotta keep up’ his husky voice burst through the deafening silence between you. The cold air burnt as you tried to keep your breaths steady, trying to focus on just moving one foot in front of the other. ‘You still with me kid?’

‘Barely’ you shot back, not meaning for it come across as blunt as it did. He turned his head briefly, giving you a once over.

‘I can see something up a head looks like an old building or house. We’ll head there for the night.’ Groaning in agreement you again focused your mind back on your breathing. In and out. Nice and slow. The snow crunched under your boots, hypnotising you as you counted your steps. Anything to distract you from the cold.

Approaching the old structure you breathed a sigh of relief, you weren’t sure what you were looking forward too more. Sitting down or taking your boots off. It was an old run down cottage, the top floor had caved in on itself long ago. Keegan cautiously opened the door, he swept the downstairs area checking for any imminent danger. Once he was satisfied he returned to the living room and threw his backpack on the floor .

The ground floor consisted of a small living room, dilapidated kitchen and bathroom. An old torn sofa was the focus point of the living room, along with an old stone fire place. You walked over to the fire place and stuck your head up the chimney. Lucky for you chimney was still open, meaning you could light a fire. ‘Keegan?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We can light a fire!’ Your voice echoed up the empty chimney.

He joined you at the chimney bending his 6’1 frame to meet yours. ‘Don’t hurt yourself now’ you quipped, a grin on your face. He rolled his eyes ‘hilarious, I’ll go look out back see if there’s any wood.’ Nodding you went and sat on the sofa removing your boots. Stretching your cramped feet a moan of ecstasy escaped your lips.

Keegan returned empty handed, ‘no luck?’ You asked as you massaged your aching feet. ‘Nothing. But that might do’ he said nodding his head towards an old table. He walked over to it and flipped it upside down, gripping the leg he pulled it clean off. Now while the table was likely rotten he still made it look effortless. He grunted softly as he yanked off the remaining three legs. You watched in awe, thinking about how his strong hands would feel around your throat.

You didn’t realise how zoned out you were till Keegan was stood in front of you, hand out stretched. ‘Lighter?’ Plummeting back to reality you shook the depraved thoughts from your mind. As you handed it to him the tips of your fingers grazed the palm of his hand. He held his hand there a little longer than usual as your eyes met. He watched as your mouth opened slightly, a shaky featherlight breath danced along your lips.

‘Thanks.’

He hovered by the fire place as he tried to set some old cloth alight. Eventually he managed to get a decent size fire going, ‘finally’ he huffed. He stood there warming his hands against the flames. You stood next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder ‘thank fuck, good job sir.’ He felt his heart flutter at the praise, you’d praised him before, but not like this. Not in these circumstances.

Sitting on the floor your stretched out your legs, removing your jacket so you were just in your base layer. Keegan sat next you and did the same, as he removed his jacket he glanced over at you. He took in the shape of your body as the orange glow of the fire enveloped you. How your shadow flickered against the stone wall of the cottage, accentuating the shape of your breasts and neck. He could feel his self control faltering.

‘What’s the plan?’ You asked innocently looking over to meet his gaze once more. ‘Rest for the night, see if we can get out of this comms black out zone …’ he looked around nervously. ‘What?’ You asked, eyebrows raised. ‘We’ll have to share the sofa.’

‘For warmth?’

‘For warmth.’

You felt your heart rate pick up, butterflies now making themselves known in the pits of your stomach. The flutter of their wings transcended from your stomach to your cunt, causing you to clench against the seam of your trousers. ‘Ok’ you breathed heavily, trying to keep some composure about you. He’d ditched his jacket, his thick muscles pushed against the fabric of his undershirt. Without his jacket on you could see his sculpted body teasing you from beneath his clothes. ‘You want the inside or the outside?’

‘Of what?’ Your mind too distracted to think straight. ‘The sofa.’

Oh.

‘Inside, I like to be near something solid when I sleep.’ He nodded.

‘Found some old blankets we can use. Might smell, but it’ll do.’ You smiled and nodded at your Sargent.

Yawning you made your way to the sofa, feeling on edge, were you excited? Excited at the prospect of what could happen? Surely not. He’s your superior, a friend. Was this a line you wanted to cross? You felt giddy with questions.

Facing the back of the sofa you felt it dip behind you as Keegan slid in next to you. ‘Is this ok? I know it’s not ideal.’ You could feel his warmth seep through your clothes as he relaxed into you. ‘Yeah’ you whispered, your mouth suddenly becoming dry. As he settled down next to you, the only sound that could be heard was the crackle of the fire. His breath tickled the baby hairs at the nape of your neck.

The oxygen in your lungs felt heavy, you could feel your panties becoming wet from the mere thought of him touching you. You stared wide eyed at the worn patterned fabric in front of you. Begging yourself to fall asleep, but you couldn’t shut off your mind. ‘Can I just …’ Keegan shifted behind you, sliding his arm under your neck. Settling back onto his arm you could feel his muscles tense against your skin.

You counted your breaths as you tried to steady your heart, it was now or never.

Trying to disguise it as just moving you arched your back, pushing your ass into him. You felt his arm tense under you as you heard his breath hitch in his chest. Keegan bit his lip trying desperately to compose himself, you were his subordinate. This was wrong. But he wanted it, he wanted you.

‘Kid?’ His pet name for you brushed over you in a wave of pure excitement. ‘Keegan.’ He laid his free hand on your hip, drawing small circles. Tracing the texture of your skin under the pad of his thumb. Closing your eyes you swallowed, hard. You arched your back again. This time Keegan squeezed your hip pulling you in closer to him.

You turned your head slowly as you looked up at him through your lashes. His ice blue eyes bore down into your own as his grip tightened. You dropped your gaze to his lips, his perfect rosey pink lips. Your chest felt heavy with want as you hovered just above his lips. Breath fanned over each others lips, silently daring each other to make the first move. Keegan flitted his eyes from your own to your lips, his mouth gently brushed yours as he moved his hand from your hip to your jaw. He brushed your jaw with his thumb urging you to give in.

You whispered his name into his lips as you pressed yours against them. All the tension fell from your body as you relaxed into the kiss. It was cautious at first, but it was soft and tender. Keegan caressed his fingers along your neck causing you groan into his kiss. Pulling back you nipped his bottom lip and smiled at him. Brushing hair out of your face he bucked his hips into you as he coaxed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. Reaching behind you, you cradled the back of his head whilst running your fingers through his jet black hair.

With your foreheads still pressed together you broke the kiss, trying to catch your breath. ‘Touch me Keegan, please’ you whimpered. He searched your eyes as he smiled at you ‘you sure?’ You tried to find words to answer him but found none. ‘Words sweetheart, use em.’ Sighing you focused your mind just about managing to whimper a ‘yes.’

Dropping his hand to your trousers he popped the button sliding his hand into your panties. His breath wavered as he trailed his fingers along your slit. ‘Please’ you begged again.

‘So needy, you sound so pretty when you beg.’ You could practically hear him smiling behind you. ‘Just fuckin touch me Keegan’ you hissed between your teeth. He let out a cocky grunt as he pressed against your clit causing you to jolt. ‘That feel good?’ You grunted a moan of affirmation.

As he slowly gathered your arousal on his fingers he whispered into your ear ‘I want you to taste yourself.’ He brought his fingers to your mouth, you ran your tongue along his fingers savouring the taste of your pussy. He whispered praise against your cheek as he sunk his fingers back into your trousers. He toyed with your cunt once more before plunging a finger into your tight hole. You bit your lip as you bucked your hips back into him. ‘So fukin wet’ he praised.

The palm of his hand ground against your clit as he moved his fingers inside you. Your moans became more frequent, intense which only spurred him on more. ‘Fuck, you feel so good, this pussys perfect.’ The praise was sending you wild, but you wanted more. More of him. ‘Fuck me … please.’

Without wasting any time Keegan pulled his trousers low enough to free his cock. You pushed back into him once more, ‘patience’ he mumbled into your neck. A choked giggle bust from the back of your throat, you really did sound pathetic. But part of you loved feeling like this, putty in his hands, coming undone beneath him. He gathered your juices on the end of his cock before pushing himself into you. Both of you gasping for air as he gripped your hips.

He thrusted slowly at first, allowing you to get used to his girth. ‘Fuck Keegan’ you drawled, slurring your words as he started to pick up his pace. Using his arm that was under your neck to pull you closer to him he pawed at your breasts. Tweaking your nipple as he placed the other around your neck. ‘Fuck baby … fuck …’ his voice began to crack as his eyes rolled back into his head.

You moaned into his arm but Keegan pulled your throat back into him, ‘I wanna hear you, I wanna hear when you come round my cock.’ Feeling as though you’d now gained permission you allowed yourself to moan louder. He upped his pace again, burying his cock deep into your dripping pussy. He became breathless as his groans shifted to the back of his throat. He could feel you begin to tighten around him ‘that’s it, atta girl … I can feel you, cum for me sweetheart.’

‘Don’t stop Keegan, fuck … don’t stop’ you choked out. You gripped onto his muscular thighs as you dug your nails into his skin. Turning your head you kissed him once more, swiping your tongues against one another’s in between moans. ‘I’m close’ you whisper as you zone in on your muscles tightening. ‘Come on, come on my cock … good girl.’

With a few more thrusts you fell into the void of complete euphoria. Your pupils blown wide with pleasure and lust as you felt Keegan’s thrusts become sloppy. Sensing he was close you placed your hand on his lower back ‘in me Keegan, cum in me.’ His voice broke into a whimper at your command. It was enough to push him to his climax, cumming inside your stretched pussy. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls as you felt his cock pulsate within your cunt.

Heavy breathing filled the suddenly silent room, the fire had withered away to embers, the orange glow has become a dull light in the background. He pulled you in tight kissing your cheek ‘ready?’ You nodded, as he pulled out you both hissed at the sudden loss of sensation. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, you looked ethereal in the dull glow of the fire, so … breed-able.

Standing he pulled up his trousers and went to stoke the fire, rolling over you watched as he knelt down and tended to the dying flames. He turned back to see you smirking at him ‘what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Doesn’t look like nothing.’

Your grin grew wider ‘just enjoyed myself is all.’

His gaze softened as he looked at you ‘it’s always been you, you know.’

‘What?’ Your eyes widened as you sat up onto your elbow. After poking the fire he returned to your side and cupped your face, ‘I said it’s always been you.’ Pulling him into a tender kiss you ran your thumb along his jaw, ‘then you’ll always have me.’

#call of duty #keegan russ #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ smut #call of duty keegan #cod ghosts #smut #keegan p russ x reader

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songforeddiemunson · 7 months

Text

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter One: Steve's Big Mistake

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. This is largely setting the scene babes. Author's Note: Submission for @stcreators Event 5: Dynamics Submission for @somnambulic-thing, @allthingsjoeq, and @bettyfrommars event: strangerprompts (#14) {Okay so I took a bit of liberty with the prompt, but that's just how my brain wanted to do it! You know how that goes. ;) }

Word Count: ~2K

You swore under your breath as the taxi pulled away, leaving you staring at the monstrosity you were meant to be staying in for the weekend.

“This is the last time I leave that jackass in charge of anything,” you muttered, prompting a snort from Eddie, who stood beside you.

You liked Steve. Loved him even, in the way that friends that have known each other for years did, who’d seen each other at their worst, thick as thieves, none of that ‘will they or won’t they’ shit, especially after you started seeing Eddie. But in that moment, you could strangle him.

Most of your group of friends had scattered to the four corners of the country, so when you all received your invitations to Joyce Byers’ and Jim Hopper’s wedding in the Smoky Mountains, you decided to rent a whole house instead of getting hotel rooms. Correction: Steve came up with the idea to rent a house, and admittedly it was a good plan. It would likely be cheaper to pool your resources, and you could all hang out in the common areas and catch up.

And then you saw the house.

It was a stereotype in peeling paint and dilapidated wood. The porch was creaky and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Gnarled old vines and weeds encroached from every direction; you thought maybe it had been landscaped last sometime in the 1960s. A broken old fountain sat on the front lawn, with a scummy green puddle of rainwater gathered at the bottom, and there was a broken gate that hung loose on its hinges near the drive.

Eddie tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of a terrier as he surveyed the old structure. “I think it looks kinda cool, like that house in IT. The house on Neibolt Street, remember?”

You blinked at your paramour. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the weekend in a house like that. It’s one thing to read about it in a spooky story, it’s another thing to actually sleep there.” He had the good grace to laugh at that sentiment.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

Of all the houses in Asheville, Tennessee, THIS is the one he chooses? You thought bitterly as you made your way up the walkway toward the porch, stepping carefully on the worn wood and looking for nails that could be lying in wait to impale your foot.

You had no idea if anyone else had already arrived, and whether you were supposed to knock or just walk in. You had decided to try the former, but your knuckles hadn’t had a chance to make contact with the wood before the door was whipped open, revealing a clearly exasperated Robin.

“Omigosh you’re here!” she cried joyfully as she threw her arms around you. You let your weekend bag drop to the porch as you reciprocated the hug.

“Robin! I’m so glad to see you!” you cooed as you gave her a good squeeze then released her. “But what the hell is this house?”

“Right?! I feel like it’s right out of a Scoobie Doo episode or something. Talk about creepy. Eddie! Hi!”

“I’ve seen worse,” a deeper voice intoned from out of eyesight, shortly before Steve stepped into the foyer.

“Steve! It’s lovely to see you, but what the fuck?” you scolded.

Steve’s expression was so sheepish that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I know, I know,” he moaned, before putting his face in his hands.

“Come here and hug me, loser. I haven’t seen you in almost two years and you’re gonna make me sleep in the house from Amityville Horror?”

“Hey now,” Robin countered, “The Amityville Horror house was waaay nicer than this.”

“True. Eddie said it looked like the house from IT.”

“Oooh yes! That fits,” Robin said.

“What’s that? It?” Steve asked, never one to embrace pop culture.

You hugged Steve despite wanting to hurt him a little bit. “Nevermind. So what were you thinking with this house?”

“Okay so in my defense the pictures were much nicer in the Want Ad, and in black and white. I didn’t realize it was going to be so…”

“Shabby?” you offered while Robin said “terrifying” at the same time.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie chuckled as he hugged his friends by way of greeting. “Alright well, as long as the bed is clean, I don't really care,” he said. “This one is scared of spiders,” he said, gesturing toward you.

“I am not, you are!” you yelled.

“I am NOT afraid of spiders,” Eddie replied defensively. “It’s those fucking centipede things with all the legs. I hate those things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure there are plenty of things in this house to trigger all our phobias.”

The interior was a little less gloomy than its exterior, but that wasn’t saying much. The common room in which you were standing was decorated in 50 year-old wallpaper that was peeling and yellowing. The floors were hard wood but hadn’t been refinished since the wallpaper was installed, and the dusty old upholstery was flat and worn around the edges.

“Where are we sleeping, anyway?”

“There’s three bedrooms, one with a queen and two with a pair of singles. I figured we could draw straws or someth–”

“Dibs on the queen!” Eddie shouted.

“Eddie, we have to–” you began.

“Nah babe. We’re a couple, and we got here first. You snooze, you lose.”

“I think that’s fair,” Robin said with a shrug.

“Nancy and Jonathan won’t love that,” Steve said. “But you can fight it out amongst yourselves. I’m staying out of it. Looks like you’re bunking with me, Robin.”

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t snore.”

Nancy and Jonathan arrived about an hour later, and while they weren’t thrilled to be relegated to a pair of twin beds, they conceded that Eddie did in fact call dibs.

“I feel like we’re eighteen again,” Nancy laughed as she explored the kitchen for a clean glass for water. “Calling dibs and bunking up together. Feels like old times.”

“It does,” you agreed from where you were leaning against the counter. “I don’t know if I would use any of the dishes in this house though.”

“I might just make a store run, get some solo cups and paper plates,” she said as she put one grimy glass back in the cupboard with a look of distaste. “Any requests?”

“Oooh, cheez-its, snapple peach tea, pizza pretzel combos…”

“PBR,” Eddie contributed as he sidled up next to you and bent to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“Well of course,” Nancy said with a smile. “Can’t forget the beer.”

Robin poked her head into the room. “Grab a couple of pizzas! I’ll give you cash.”

You all pitched in for the snacks and sent Nancy on her way as the sun began its descent behind the trees. The rest of you gathered in the living room to figure out what to do for the night.

“Care for a toke?” Eddie asked, as he held up a joint he pulled from his jacket and set it alight.

“Yessss,” Jonathan replied with enthusiasm, leaning forward to pinch the little joint between his fingers.

“That didn’t take long,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Lighten up, Harrington,” Jonathan said in a fragrant plume of exhalation, stifling a cough. “You could probably use this more than the rest of us. You’re too wound up.”

“It’s true Steve, why are you always so stressed out?” you asked, taking a pull from the joint.

“I don’t know, I just feel like I’m the responsible one–” he began, but was cut off by a chorus of jeers and naysaying.

“You think you’re the responsible one, but everyone knows it’s Nancy,” Robin said, laughing.

“Yeah man, like…the King Steve days are over, you can stop trying so hard,” Eddie added with a grin.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Steve said, accepting his ribbing with a modicum of grace. His voice trailed off, however, as his attention was pulled in another direction. “Hey what’s that?”

“What?” you and Jonathan asked at the same time, following his gaze.

“It’s on top of that bookshelf…” he began, already getting up and walking toward it. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it, and pulled it down, unleashing a cloud of dust and grime.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

Steve brushed the dust off the cover before looking up at you with wide eyes.

“It’s a ouija board,” he said.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said, laughing. "You can't be serious."

“What! No, no thank you!” Robin yelled.

“I dunno man, you might want to put that back and pretend you never saw it,” Jonathan added with a smirk.

“What, nah, that stuff isn’t real,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Steve agreed. “It’s just a silly game.”

“If it’s just a silly game,” Eddie taunted, "why don’t we take it for a spin?”

“Oh man, no, don’t give him any ideas,” Robin piped in with her trademarked ‘mile-a-minute’ cadence. “Did you see the movie Witchboard? Well I did, and I didn’t sleep for a week afterward. Too scary for me. And it’s kinda weird that that thing just shows up in the spookiest house I’ve ever seen, and we’re in the middle of nowhere and…”

“What’s Witchboard?” Steve asked.

“Dude, watch a movie…” Eddie moaned while Jonathan doubled-over laughing.

Steve laid the box down on the coffee table. “Well, just because there was a movie about these things doesn’t make them real. The Princess Bride isn’t exactly real either.”

Eddie gasped with mock incredulity. “It’s NOT?”

“Have fun NOT storming the castle I guess,” Jonathan tried to say without laughing, which came out as a choked squeal.

“Inconceivable!” you yelled, making the entire room erupt in hearty laughter and dispelling some of the unease that had grown since the discovery of the ouija board.

“Jesus guys, are you that stoned already?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Eddie only buys the good stuff,” you said.

“Zero to zooted within three hits, or your money back,” Eddie said before taking another pull from the joint.

“Good to know,” Steve said sarcastically. “So are you guys gonna play with this thing or not?”

“Fine fine,” you said. “Eddie, let’s do this.”

He agreed, and you sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table. You opened the box, took out its contents, and each placed the index finger of your right hand gently on the planchette. You sat silent for a moment, not doing or saying anything, unsure of where to begin.

“Uhhhh,” Eddie said before dissolving into giggles.

“Ask it something!” Robin whispered, leaning forward in her excitement.

“Okay, uh…” you began, pausing to think. “Is there anybody here with us right now?”

It seemed like the entire room held its breath with anticipation.

“Is there anyone here in this house?” you repeated.

The silence ticked onward.

“Well this is thrilling,” Jonathan said with a snort.

“Give it a minute,” Steve said.

“Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff, Stevarino,” Eddie teased.

“I don’t, but–”

You thought you felt the planchette move ever so slightly.

“Wait!” you gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“No, wait. Maybe?” Eddie whispered.

You sat motionless for a beat, but nothing happened. You began to think that it was your imagination when…

….suddenly the front door banged open with a loud smash, and every single person in the room screamed like a banshee.

“Jesus, guys!” Nancy said as she struggled to hold several brown paper grocery bags. “A little help here?”

“Oh fuck, sorry babe,” Jonathan said, and the rest of you sheepishly got up to help, leaving the ouija board on the table. You bustled into the kitchen to put things away and pop open cans of beer, laughing about the silly jump scare you’d all just shared.

What none of you saw, however, was the planchette on the ouija board slide over to ‘hello.’

To Be Continued...

Sorry this one is short, but I needed to get it out. More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

PART TWO MASTERLIST

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #spooky story #stranger things fanfic #strangerprompts

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

Text

Nobody’s Fool Part 2 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion surprises you at the dock and an impromptu sleepover occurs. You and Astarion talk about why you worship Selune and your history.

Content warning: Deceased parents, work camp, Dead dove, mentions of attempted SA

Author note: thank you so much for all the love! This will probably have a few more parts so I hope you enjoy! Also I am writing him as super awkward on purpose

Not my pic- if it is your, please let me know so I can tag you! @casualya

You sit and skip rocks across the murky water- the rest of your companions are in their respective spots inside the dilapidated buildings. You usually spend time with Karlach, but, for whatever reason, Shadowheart seems to enjoy taking whatever company you have. Thankfully Karlach is actually your best friend and loves you, but it still hurts.

You know you could ask the others- you are sure one of them would want to spend time with you. Hells, Gale even commented on the Beach being a fun place and you didn’t think to invite him. Maybe it’s because the last time went so catastrophically that you don’t want to put yourself in that position again.

Or because it would never be the date you had envisioned with Astarion. You had your blanket packed up next to your tent with a bottle of wine- you had a pouch to collect shells. You thought it might be fun for him to have something from a different place and shells are always so fun to find- at least from what you remember before the Mine. Your parents used to take you all the time and you would collect seashells together.

It’s the last time you truly, truly felt loved outside of praying to your Goddess. You don’t feel like you fit in with the other Selunite Clerics, you try your best, but there is always someone more desirable, more interesting, and you are just eh.

There is always a Shadowheart that stands out in the crowd- deservedly so- she is a rare gem. You are just like any other gem Astarion has seen over the last two hundred years.

Sure people liked you, but it was never the people you liked. It was always the ones who were overbearing, hell bent on settling down and having a housewife. That isn’t what you want, but the men who want adventure and to be best friends, lovers, etc. want the more exciting individuals

The tears fall without your permission and you release a sigh of despair. You let your shoulders shake and your heart ache- it is better to release the pain in your chest than power through it. It will be better to get it out now while no one is around and you don’t have to be so wildly embarrassed about being emotional.

It’s not that you are still hung up on Astarion- you actually find it’s easier to keep boundaries if you don’t talk to him for tooo long. Just long enough to not make him feel left out, but not too long that he feels like he is special to you.

Of course, it hurts you to do that. You feel like he deserves to be special to someone- it just wasn’t meant to be you and you need to hold onto all of that specialness for the person you are meant to be with.

But what if you don’t want to be with anyone else ever again? This is your first big big crush, ever! What if you are never capable of developing feelings like this again!?

You skip another rock pitifully across the water and watch as a fish jumps out to get it- only to be eaten by a bigger fish right after.

Typical, you sigh, my rock was given to someone just for someone else to receive the benefits.

It’s probably a good thing you are by yourself- you are quite the bummer today.

“There you are- I have been looking for you just about everywhere, Darling,” a familiar voice says from behind you.

Oh great, you think, trying to collect yourself enough that it’s not obvious you are crying, he probably wants advice on how to make things right with Shadowheart. He never comes over and this is the first night Karlach is-

“I bought this for you,” he says awkwardly as he sits down next to you on the dock, “I thought it might help while uh fighting- so you don’t have to use up all of your magic like you did the other day.”

You had felt like shit and slept through a whole day- you had overextended yourself with healing the day before and it had really taken a toll on you. You began feeling better today, but Shadowheart still took over the healing matters which you appreciated.

You look at Astarion’s hands and you are shocked to see an Amulet of Restoration. You have always wanted one, but they are ridiculously expensive. You had been eyeing this one while you were visiting the Myconoid Colony- you didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I think the typical response is, ‘Thank you’, but I would like to request a very kind adjective at the end.”

Astarion wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snort, shaking your head.

“Thank you, beautiful,” you tease and notice how his face becomes slightly more lively and the tips of his ears grow pink.

How silly- he probably gets that descriptor all the time.

You put the necklace on, it’s warm against your skin and it helps to heal the cracks in your chest. A sigh of relief leaves you as the weight of the world seems to lift ever so slightly.

You both sit there in silence- you are unable to come up with any topics of conversation. Your brain just feels icky and tired. You also wouldn’t even know what to say anymore. You haven’t really talked in a while- a whole week to be exact. Time seems to move differently on this journey- a week feels like months.

You mostly expect him to get up and leave, but he never does.

“So- uh- the water is… dark.”

You don’t know what surprises you more- that Astarion attempted to start a conversation first or that his small talk is truly truly terrible.

Either way, you may need to use this necklace sooner rather than later so you don’t die of shock.

“It’s exceptionally dark,” you add, “I bet there are all kinds of beasties down there.”

Astarion’s feet get a little further away from the edge of the dock and he chuckles nervously. The water is quite unsettling and you hope you didn’t scare him too much. You don’t think you are ready for him to leave yet.

“Oh, you think so? Like what?”

This is… odd. He wants to keep talking? You feel like you are usually dragging the conversation along and now that you have had time to thoroughly analyze all of your previous interactions- you still don’t know how you had been so blind.

This is not within the norm.

“Well- I heard,” you look left and right before making eye contact again, “a Kraken may live down there.”

Astarion groans and you laugh heartily- Gale has been talking about Kraken’s all day and Astarion had looked so annoyed by the end of the journey to the Decrepit Village that everyone steered clear of him. No one wanted a piercing insult on their psyche that evening.

“Not you too!”

“Did you know-“

“Please- no!” He says in exasperation, “any more fun Kraken facts and I may let myself become one’s meal.”

You shake your head and play with your hands- trying to find some way to keep the conversation going. It’s pathetic, but you don’t want to stop talking to him. That tiny piece of hope doesn’t want to.

“What do you think it’s blood tastes like?” You ask, “the Kraken, I mean.”

You don’t necessarily know why that particular thought seems to interest you, but you look at the water and think. You don’t look at his face, mostly worried you might have offended him by even asking. Is that something you can ask a Vampire?

“Would it be more mammal or fish-like?”

Astarion looks equally as curious regarding this line of thought.

“Well, I tried a fish when we were near the Grove- it was atrocious, truly,” Astarion shudders, “I can’t imagine a Kraken is going to taste that much better.”

“Fish really tastes that bad?”

Astarion nods with a scowl, “it’s not nearly as bad as the bugs and rats Cazador fed me, but I still have no desire to indulge in that again.”

You blink a few times, unsure if you heard him right.

“Rats and bugs?” You ask, “I thought you always fed off of people.”

Astarion throws his head back with a cynical laugh.

“That was a good one, Darling.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Astarion looks perplexed and then seems to be immediately flooded with shame- beginning to get back up and make his leave.

“On that note-”

“Wait,” you get up quickly, “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, okay? But there is no judgment from me- ever. I promise.”

You both stand there, staring at each other, and he is searching your eyes for any sign of deception. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he sat back down.

You aren’t sure how close you should sit next to him, so you give yourself and him a relatively decent-friend sized gap.

You can still be his friend- that you can do.

“Cazador would have me bring the prettiest souls in all of Baldur’s Gate,” he scowls, “he would ask me if I wanted to dine with him and if I said no, he would flay me. If I said yes, he would sooo ‘generously’ give me a putrid, dead, rotting rat.

“You are the first thinking creature I have…”

You aren’t really sure what you are supposed to say in this situation. You have never been a Vampire Spawn before and you certainly haven’t had to drink putrid blood. Rotten food and such, sure, but you have a feeling expressing empathy and your own experience would not be perceived well.

“I am really sorry you had to do that.”

“It doesn’t matter- I will never have to do that again.”

“True.”

You both sit there quietly and just enjoy the silence- the sound of gentle waves flowing through the air is soothing and it’s calming. You enjoy his company- immensely. You will let yourself soak into it for a moment.

“I made a mistake,” Astarion breaks the silence, “going with Shadowheart the night of the party.”

You are frozen and entirely unsure of how to respond to that. Does he mean he should have accepted your offer or does he just want to talk about it?

“Oh- I’m sorry it wasn’t enjoyable for you.”

He stares down into the murky water and doesn’t say a word. The silence is heavy between both of you and you don’t want to ask the question that is weighing heavily on your mind because you honestly don’t think you want to know the answer.

It was probably just that the sex was bad or they didn’t end up having as much chemistry as they thought.

“He said your name in the middle of the act itself!”

You feel the tips of your ears heat up and your heart begins to hammer in your chest when Karlach’s words resurface.

No- it was probably an accident.

“When you asked me to walk on the beach that night,” he whispers, “what were your intentions?”

You feel like a stone has dropped on your chest again with his words and you really have no desire to answer them, but you probably should.

“My intentions,” you say meekly, “were to take you on a date. Don’t worry- it won’t happen again.”

“You,” he sounds stunned, “you didn’t invite me to go to the beach with you for sex?”

You hadn’t even thought about sex if you are being entirely honest. You have never been intimate with anyone before- some stupid chastity thing you had felt was important as a youth and now you are picky.

“Oh- no that was very far from my mind,” you say sheepishly, “I had other activities in mind, sex was not one of them.”

“Like what?”

You feel embarrassment course through your veins- you really shouldn’t be talking about this with him. Maybe they are all in on this big joke and when you share what you were going to do, they will all laugh around the campfire.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you say with a pinched smile, meeting his unreadable expression, “come on- we should head back to camp.”

You don’t catch the frown on his face as you get up to walk away.

*************************************************

You are going cross eyed as you try to read and continue to zone out.

Why did Astarion ask you so much about your date plans three days ago? Why has he been unusually atune to your recent needs? Why does he consistently keep your favorite alcohol on hand lately?

A lot has changed within a few days. You still spend an exceptional amount of time with Karlach, but Astarion has begun finding times to get your undivided attention too. It is as if he is helping Shadowheart with developing her relationship with Karlach.

Maybe he feels guilty for things not working out between them and is “taking one for the team”. It is likely that- there really isn’t any other reason for him to be spending time with you and you refuse to believe he has just suddenly developed feelings for you.

Have more bizarre things happened in your life? Certainly- there is even a tadpole in your head to prove it. Astarion having feelings for you is never going to be one of those bizarre things and you would be a fool to suddenly have hope now- even with the Amulet of Restoration warming your skin.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You are jolted from your thoughts when an incessant knocking pulls you back to reality. You blink a couple times and rub your eyes- yawning while telling the other individual to come in. You are hoping it is Karlach- she had been spending time with Shadowheart and she seems to be quite smitten. It is not Shadowheart’s fault that she is beautiful and wonderful nor was it her fault that Astarion was more attracted to her- you just want Shadowheart to be happy.

“You sound awfully tired, Darling,” stunning ruby eyes are peering at you from the shadows of your tent, “I can leave you be for the night if you would prefer.”

It would probably be for the best, but the ghost of tears on his cheeks makes you think otherwise. He needs someone right now and in spite of your efforts, you still adore him. There is a book in his slightly shaking hand.

“Oh, no! That’s alright- you are welcome to sit and stay here as long as you need.”

He smiles softly- something you have never seen before- and he sits down next to you. Both of your knees touch as you get back to your book and he begins to read his own. You are struggling to read your page even more now.

His cologne consumes you inside of your tent and you feels like you could begin to cry- you want to cuddle into him. You want to melt into his arms and know what it means to fall in love, be in love, and be loved in return. However, he does not want you. He needs you and that is wildly different than wanting.

“What are you reading?”

Your mind goes blank all of a sudden.

What are you reading?

You turn the book over in your hand to look at its cover- how are you going to explain not knowing the cover of your own book?

“Shar’s Teachings of Loss.”

Astarion looks bewildered by your choice of literature and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“Shadowheart gave it to me and I told her I would give it a try.”

“Why?”

“Because it can help me understand her better,” you say with a shrug, “and maybe I can help her see that there is more to life than darkness and suffering.”

The silence in the air is thick and unsettling- not in a dangerous way, but as if you opened a Pandora’s box for Astarion.

“Why do you care?” His voice sounds sharp and judgmental, “she would rather slit her own throat than bother to read Selune’s doctrine.”

You sit and think for a moment- why do you care?

“I guess I realized that Shadowheart fell into Shar’s lap because she was a victim of circumstance,” you say slowly, “and I suppose if I had been in her shoes- I would have fallen into Shar’s Doctrine as well. I was just lucky enough to be found by Selune first.”

The silence continues and you try to go back to reading your book, but it’s no use. Your brain is entirely distracted by his presence in your atmosphere.

“Why did you begin worshipping Selune?”

You hate to admit how giddy you feel that he is asking you questions about yourself. You are so used to being the one to keep conversations going between both of you that you honestly are still surprised when he makes an effort instead.

“My parents had died in the mine we were being forced to live in by some Ravengers,” your voice is barely a whisper, “they became really sick and then they were just gone.

“I ended up getting sick a few weeks later. I was hallucinating and I was in so much pain. I knew I was dying and I was… I was okay with that. I wanted to be free and with my parents again.

“But then a girl who was only a little older than me began taking care of me and praying to Selune every night that I would live.

“A week later, when I was on my deathbed, Paladins and Clerics of Selune freed us from the mine and I lived.”

“And you have worshipped Selune ever since?”

“Gods no,” you laugh, “when I turned 22, I left the church and I was very angry. I couldn’t understand why I lived and my parents didn’t. I couldn’t understand why we had ever been put in that mine in the first place when Selune had been capable of saving us. I joined a local thieves and assassins guild in Althkalta for about five years.

“I was laying in bed one night with the leader of the guild- he had drugged me and… well I remember looking up and seeing the moon. Right as he was about to, uh, enter me?” You chuckle nervously, “he was burned alive by the moon. I had abandoned her, but she never abandoned me. I realized I had become someone I wasn’t. I left and returned to the church after that. I have been there ever since.”

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “you have been holding out on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of luxuries we could have stolen together by now.”

You smile awkwardly, “Oh I am not sure about that- I was quite miserable doing that, unfortunately. I am a bit lame.”

“Well- if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

It’s back to being entirely silent and it remains that way long enough for you to finally finish three pages of the book.

This is so depressing- the book. No wonder Shadowheart is so guarded and paranoid 80 percent of the time. You would be too if you were brought up to believe this nonsense.

“I can’t see you being a very good thief or assassin,” Astarion says awkwardly, “for what it’s worth.”

You blink a couple times and look at him for a moment. You begin to laugh like a mad man- his expression is so serious and he certainly isn’t wrong. You were terrible at it and you still aren’t sure how you are going to bring back Nere’s head.

“You would be correct! I was horrendous! Most of my targets remained alive- some I even warned beforehand because I didn’t feel like the contract was fair.”

Astarion snorts, “what do you mean fair? I don’t think any part of that work revolves around being ‘fair’.”

“It most certainly does not,” you sigh, “one time a guy tricked me into thinking he was a good person and then he went on to kill eight people. You could probably imagine how great that felt.”

Much to your surprise, Astarion continues to ask you about your misadventures- both as a cleric and as a horrible excuse for a rogue. It leads the way for some of his own stories to bleed in- snatching a beautiful necklace from someone for Gold so he can buy the nicer wine one night and other shenanigans like that.

You tell him that you are rather terrified to have to decapitate Nere and it isn’t something you really want to do. Astarion offers to do it for you so that you can A. Not embarrass yourself and B. Not have to do something you really do not want to do. You would be remiss if you said it didn’t make your heart beat with joy. It is very white knightish of him and you are still a person who adores a good fairytale at the end of the day.

At some point you fell asleep, but you barely remember telling Astarion he doesn’t have to go. However, waking up with his arms wrapped around you and his habitual breath fanning across your face is not a bad way to start your day.

His body is cool against yours, a welcome change in this excruciatingly warm environment. Your entire tent smells like him and you silently pray that it will remain this way. You honestly aren’t sure how you will feel when you walk into it later today and his cologne is gone.

And what if he regrets staying? What if he regrets cuddling with you or he felt like he had to? You really don’t want to regress in your friendship and go back to square one. He has been much kinder and agreeable lately. Astarion has really begun taking his mask off and you aren’t ready to see it go back on.

“Stop overthinking, Darling” a grumble from near your ear makes you jolt ever so slightly, “your body is so tense I can practically hear your thoughts.”

“I-sorry.”

Astarion hums before asking, “unless you are tense because you want me to stop touching you- then you can say something, obviously.”

“That’s not it,” you say much faster than you wanted to, “this is… nice.”

A pleased hum comes from your companion’s lips and you feel him begin to relax against you again. Your heartbeat eventually calms along with your thoughts and you allow yourself to indulge for however much longer he will allow you to.

It’s possible that he does have feelings for you- this is something you have refused to entertain up until now, but Astarion’s love languages would be buying something at full price, decapitating someone, and cuddling you. He doesn’t like to be touched, doing things for others, or paying for something when he can just as easily steal it.

He could also be afraid and feel like he needs to be close with someone for safety. That is a feeling you understand all too well with your own history. You suppose that is why you are struggling to believe that this is truly happening in the first place.

You know actions speak louder than words and his actions are telling the story of a scared individual who is fighting for his freedom.

Maybe Selune has answered his prayers- you can be here for his comfort and as his friend because that is what he needs from this journey. It’s why you met each other. One day you may have to watch him fall in love and you will also find someone else in spite of the pain, but that’s okay.

That’s what friends are for.

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tiddygame · 4 months

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Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

#soap is kicking his feet twirling his hair and ghost is scared for his life #soaps doing his best alright #old gods this old gods that. simon pretty much went into sensory overload because someone was nice to him #and two things:#yes the mural was inspired by the painting of the grim reaper in white #and this will be the last update to this but just for a bit cause i want to try to do something for mermay #emphasis on try #words have not been wording #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #queue #forgotten death au #me try not to over tag and over explain everything challenge (impossible)#once more posting this right before i sleep #if you’re reading these tags goodnight drink water and i hope sleep comes easily to you when you lie down

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