#lincoln writes stuff

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

OH MY GOD IT’S FINISHED I DID IT!!! I DID IT!!! AND IT’S UNDER 60k!!!

I AM A GOLDEN GOD!!! *collapses*

Thank you to the five people and a cat who were so enthusiastic in all the snippets I was posting. Writing for this tiny rarepair and seeing people fall in love with the characters and read the fics anyway has helped with my confidence a lot regarding my ability to get people to care about and enjoy my original stories and characters. I plan to share snippets from those a lot more regularly on here.

But anyway, here it is! The reason for all my ominous little snippets! A fun silly story about Ben Jones trying and failing to propose. That’s all that happens. Nothing else. Certainly nothing worrisome. :3

Enjoy!

Title: Like a SIA Board Member in Front of ‘Fountain’

Rating: E

Pairing: Ben Jones/Jamie Winter

Words: 56,930

Summary:

In which Ben Jones has a very simple question to ask his boyfriend, and all of Midsomer seems interested in preventing him from getting the opportunity. Up to and including murder.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

HEWWO EVERYONE

Look at me being all official and keeping you updated!

there might also be some fanfic posted soon la la la

Writing Update: May 2025

Now that I am free from the exhausting purgatory that has been the last four months of my life I wanted to give a quick update!

I was unable to work on Horsemen Quartet as I had planned/hoped, so that is first priority, however, Tales from the Scorched Lands will resume weekly updates over on Patreon. I have three (3) different short stories partially written for that as several characters clamber for attention so we'll see who ends up getting posted first but the guilt of not updating regularly over there has been eating me alive so I'm delighted to be able to get back to it.

The goal right now is to take the summer to finish the rough drafts of War (third of the way finished right now), Famine, and Death to hand over to my editor because I want the story to be viewed as a cohesive whole to make sure everything flows and there's no plot holes.

Meanwhile, Masque of Shadows has been with my editor, so my (very) tentative goal is to make any revisions and edits necessary and publish in December.

I also have a surprise project in the works and I hope to share info about that soon on Patreon, we shall see! Mweheheheheh

Finally, I'd love to take the fall and write the rough drafts of the first two Mortal Leviathan books.

I blabber a lot about my original novels and I don't ever want to come across as someone who's all talk and no walk, so I try to be transparent about where I am in my projects. I appreciate so very deeply the enthusiasm and patience that's been shown for these stories and I hope that the actual books themselves will live up to expectations! Thank you!

[llumimoon]

@kaseyskat and I have been scheming up this AU since April and the latest episode gave the both of us massive brainworms so we're finally posting about it!!

Welcome to the Perfectly Regular AU <3 It's Scary and Normal centric and takes place shortly after the Hell Arc, it diverges from canon when Scary rejoins the teen's side and Willy decides she's a lost cause, causing him to shift gears into a different plan. Scary notices that Normal's been acting really weird lately- and what's this about homunculi?

Nyx has written the first installment of the AU here please go check it out!! :D

edit: here's part two btw <3

[rae-butter]

I had to write an essay on the Gettysburg Address for school so I chose to make it as chaotic as possible

Lincoln was fae president who feigned humanity in order to sneak his way into the American republic and leave unscathed. In this essay I will be explaining and defending the theory of Abraham Lincoln's fae ancestry using his Gettysburg Address as the basis of my claim, analyzing the texts overall structural fortitude and diction choice, along with casual disregard for human life in order to fuel the vicious cycle of war and death.

To begin with, Lincoln starts the Gettysburg Address with the phrase, "Four scores and seven years ago..." Who talks like that? In his book, "The Fae Wilds," Omoi writes of a fae using similar dialogue patterns, chapter five, page 43, where Apal says, "Five scores and three years ago..." And I have reason to believe this is not a coincidence. You see, in that chapter Apal was addressing the Fae rebels attempting to overthrow King Tumor in an attempt to regain their identity after being enslaved to humans for millennia. Lincoln was addressing the soldiers fighting against the prospect of slavery in America. Any longstanding fae scholar can see the parallels in the text topic and structure.

Therefore, in conclusion, I wholeheartedly believe, with all my heart, that Abraham Lincoln was, in fact, a fae, and that his speech was inspired by Apal's speech in Omoi's piece "The Fae Wilds," in an attempt to strengthen the American spirit. At the end of the day, it did work, and America won the war against slavery, which shaped our nation into what it is today. I suppose at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what it was or wasn't, but what it all amounted to in the end. Abraham Lincoln's speech led to a battle, which led to a war, which led to a treaty, which led to freedom. And freedom is a reward worth the cost of lives.

[fleabuki]

i have another husband now. lincoln broadsheet my beloved

i still love vidcund, but like, dilfs... 🤤🤤🤤

i didn't even know lincoln was middle aged, i honestly thought he was in his 20s until i was told otherwise and started paying more attention to his dialogue. he had started the newspaper 25 YEARS AGO FROM 2004, which would have been 1979, so he is in fact a dilf

small fact, i have been so fixated on him that earlier this week, i literally had trouble falling asleep because i could not stop thinking about him 😭

here have some shitposts of him

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

#to be clear this is absolutely no shade to my fabulous coauthor who very much deserves the praise she gets#but she did not write it by herself

Thank you darling. ❤️ I can't speak for anyone else in such a situation but I also know that I personally do not like taking credit for someone else's work. The fics we've written together would not have happened without you as my co-pilot (in fact two of them were your idea ha ha). I really loved writing with you, we had so much fun, and you deserve just as much praise.

Idk maybe this is petty or whatever, but it really sucks to co-write something and have commenters explicitly act like my co-author was the sole writer when both of our names are listed right there (even if you ignore the authors notes where we talk about co-writing multiple times and the individual chapter designations that say which chapters were written by which author). So it would be nice if people would…stop doing that.

[cookies-over-yonder]

through whatever you lose, you will always have me

Taylor has a nightmare, and Link can't calm him down on his own this time.

Part 2 of human nature

[title from No Matter What from Steven Universe]

ao3

✧

Link wakes up with a death grip on his hand.

And then he hears the sound of gasps.

When he opens his eyes, Taylor is beside him, trembling.

Link sits up immediately, and puts a hand on Taylor's shoulder with his free hand, slightly turning him to face himself. "Taylor, hey, what's wrong?"

"I—" he sucks in a breath and whines, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist. There's tears streaming down his face, and his breathing is rough and unsteady.

"Was it a nightmare?" Link asks—it seems most likely.

Taylor nods, frantic, and Link can see more tears streaming down his face. His eyes are shut, and he whines again, and he's sucking in breath after breath like he can't get enough air. The grip on Link's hand gets tighter—and it hurts .

But the pain isn't important. What's important is calming Taylor down.

"Okay, okay, Taylor, hey," Link says softly, running his hand up and down Taylor's arm, "you're awake now, and I'm here, and you're safe."

"I… I know," Taylor mumbles, "Link—" he sobs, pressing himself against Link's chest, and his gasps get louder.

Link's hand slides from his arm to rub circles into his back. "Taylor, breathe—"

-

" I can't breathe, " is what Scary hears from the bunk below her while she's not nearly half-asleep but trying to trick herself into thinking she is. And it snaps her out of whatever thought she was trying to distract herself with.

Especially when she hears it again.

And again.

And again, and again, and—

"Taylor, Taylor , hey, hey, hey, you're okay, come here—"

The gasps she heard become muffled.

"—and feel how I'm breathing. In, out, in, out. Can you try and match that?"

It's quieter for a while, but then Scary can hear muffled sobs. And the gasps starting again.

And so she makes the executive decision to peek over the edge of the bunk to see what's going on… because it's disturbing her sleep. Yeah.

It's hard to make sense of at first, what with the darkness and her view being upside-down, but what she's fairly sure she sees is Link holding Taylor, who's shaking.

And gasping.

And sobbing.

Holy shit.

Link glances away from Taylor for a second, and their eyes meet.

"Is he okay?" she whispers.

His eyes are wide, and it's hard to tell, but Scary thinks they might be teary,  and he shakes his head in the most minute way, she nearly misses it.

But she doesn't, and in a second, she's off her bunk and at the edge of theirs, assessing the situation.

Taylor's face is pressed into Link's chest, and Link is rubbing circles into his back.

It doesn't seem to be helping much; Taylor is clearly hyperventilating, and he's gripping Link's hand so tight she's sure it must hurt.

"What happened?" Scary asks, scooting closer.

"Nightmare," Link whispers, "I don't know what it was, but it must have been bad."

Link is looking at Taylor in a way Scary's never seen before. It's a look of fear. Fear for him.

"Scary, I don't know what to do," he says, and it's quick, and small, and Taylor whines, and Link holds him tighter.

It's not like Scary has never had a panic attack. It'll pass. It has to. But it's definitely hellish, and she's not sure what to do either.

Maybe there's a spell she can use to calm him down? What are her options?

Fireball… yeah, no.

Wall of Fire?

Jeez. Okay. Think, Scary, think.

…

Detect Thoughts…

Now that one might be useful.

Okay… just cast it… but don't dig too deep.

She does so, and hears a flurry of overlapping thoughts, catching small snippets.

'I can't breathe—'

'My chest hurts—'

'I'm so scared—'

'I'm gonna die—'

'This is stupid—'

'Why am I crying—'

'They're gonna leave me—'

'This is all my fault—'

It hits her all at once, and she feels a lump forming in her throat, but she swallows it back down because this isn't about her.

She scoots even closer to Taylor and puts a hand on his shoulder, slowly pulling him away from Link's chest to face her, and oh, god , he looks like an absolute wreck.

Scary isn't sure she's ever seen him anywhere close to in this state. His face is red and blotchy, and his eyes are shut and he's gasping and it's louder now that Link's chest isn't there to suppress the noise, and it sounds painful , and Scary wishes she didn't have to hear it, but she knows what it is to experience it, and she's not about to leave him like this.

Taylor brings a hand up to swipe at his hair and she sees him scratch his face, and his hands are trembling so badly, as is the rest of him.

She holds him with both hands on his shoulders.

"Taylor, hey, can you hear me?"

Taylor doesn't respond at all, but in his thoughts she can hear a 'who is that,' which makes sense, and it's enough of an indication that her words are getting through.

"Taylor, we're here, and we're not going anywhere," she says, mustering up her most confident voice, which isn't very, but she really does try.

"You are not going to die, you're having a panic attack," she says, and, well, it's the words she would always need when in his shoes, so it seems like it should be the right thing to say? "Just focus on your breathing. You're gonna be okay. It'll pass. I promise."

Scary speaks loudly and slowly, not giving a fuck if it wakes up Norm and Hermie, because Taylor needs to hear her words and, more importantly, understand them.

She starts running her hands up and down his arms, because maybe the touch will help him keep focused?

"This isn't your fault ."

Taylor sobs, and swipes at his eyes, and there's one thought on loop at the very surface:

'Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, please—'

"We're not going to leave you, Taylor. We're right here, and we're staying here. You're never gonna be alone again, I promise."

Scary doesn't really realize what she's saying until it tumbles out, but… it's true.

And with that, Taylor nods. Finally.

"Can you… can you try and focus on your breathing now?" she asks, and Taylor's eyes open the tiniest bit.

"Scary…" he mumbles through the gasps, reaching out his free hand ever so slightly. She brings her hand away from his shoulder and takes it. It's hot, and sweaty, and shaky, and gross, and he grips it so hard, and it reminds her that he's still alive, and here, and going to be okay.

"I'm right here, Taylor. So is Link. We're here for you. Can you try to take a deep breath?"

Scary glances at Link as Taylor struggles to fill his lungs. He's looking at her with a mix of awe and confusion, and she isn't quite sure why, but she glances at Taylor, and back at him, as a way to say 'your turn,' which he seems to understand, as he starts guiding Taylor through a breathing exercise.

Scary isn't too familiar with those.

But Link is counting and Taylor is trying and struggling to follow, but he's holding their hands, and he's trying , which is most important.

The… the words she told him… well, they're true. Taylor has people that won't leave him. And, well… she won't leave him. And if he won't be alone ever again… she won't either… right?

The tears refuse to be held back for any longer, but Scary wipes them fast, sniffling a little. Link probably doesn't notice, too focused on Taylor, but even if he does, he doesn't acknowledge it, for which she's grateful.

Seeing Taylor like this… is jarring . He's the last person she'd expect to be up in the middle of the night riddled with anxiety and unable to calm down.

But his fears… well…

She knows them all too well.

When Taylor's breathing finally slows, he blinks slowly, glances at both of them, and then—

"Sorry—"

He pulls his hands away—

"Sorry, sorry, sorry— "

And buries his head in them—

'I'm so fucking pathetic—'

'Oh my god—'

'They're gonna hate me—'

'This is so embarrassing—'

'I don't want them to see me like this—'

'Please don't leave—'

'Don't leave me—'

"Taylor, Taylor, it's okay, slow down," Link says on top of his everflowing apologies, but it seems to roll right off him.

What Scary does next surprises her more than anything she'd done this night.

She pulls Taylor into a hug.

A tight one.

And in a second, his arms are around her too.

"We're not going to leave you," she says again, and fuck it, her voice is wobbly, and she can feel the tears fall, but it doesn't fucking matter.

What matters right now is Taylor.

"Look, I don't know what your nightmare was about or what caused this but just—just believe me, okay? Please?" her voice cracks, and she locks eyes with Link again, and he's crying too.

"Okay, okay, Scary," Taylor mumbles into her shirt, "I believe you."

"Good," she says, trying to regain her sharp tone, but it's long gone at this point in the night.

Link is looking at Taylor, sitting a little bit further from the two hugging, so Scary waves her hand for him to join, and he does, and now Taylor's in the centre of the hug, with a friend on either side.

"See? You're in a Taylor sandwich," Scary says. "Stuck with us."

Taylor giggles, and she's so glad, and his laughter is so infectious, and she's laughing too, and so is Link, and they're laughing together, despite the tears, and despite everything, and somehow Norm and Hermie slept through it all, or maybe they didn't, and they're choosing not to disturb, but either way, they're there, and they're here, and they're together, and maybe it'll be okay.

And even if it isn't, they'll stick together through it all.

No matter what.

♡

[y0url0c4lfr0ggzd0tc0m]

Idk what I made it for but like hey! Short story time! And it’s swiftli!!!

[popcornkwantum]

Swiftli week, day 4

Free theme! (Laser tag)

Summary:

“I’d easily get more hits on you than you on me!” Taylor claims.

Lincoln’s smile turns into a playful smirk. “Oh is that right?”

Taylor leans in, standing on his tiptoes to get a little bit closer to Lincoln’s level. It makes him think of those professional boxing stare-showdowns. “Yea, that’s right, Mr. Li-Wilson.”

“You’re on, Swift.”

“Guys, we literally just finished the first game,” Normal tries to pipe up in between the two, “Maybe it's time for a little break first?”

“No! Someone has to taste true defeat,” Taylor shouts and points to the air, like an anime character ready for the fight, and picks up his laser tag armor again.

-------

OR:

Lincoln and Taylor get a little too competitive in a game of laser tag and are willing to do everything to win

[cha1cedony]

So many Wilsons… so little time

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

The problem with writing established relationship fics is that the bastards insist on being cute together and won't let you get to the fucking plot.

[dinosizedmintz]

latest defunct land video tickling my brain in all the right ways oooooooooooomg

[understandably-odd]

i just want to get cozy and read my book is this to much to ask 😭😭😭

[voided-selfships]

Btw! How'd you come up with your adventure time sona? I've just started self shipping with fionna but I haven't made a sona yet djsdhd @ghost--girlfriend

@ghost--girlfriend

Okay so this is funny bc I was struggling for maybe 2 days before I went "Oh, shapeshifter, duh." Because a lot of my self inserts are shapeshifters. And they were originally gonna be just that before I went "now what if I made them a fucked up scientist before the war." Which is just a combination of what I love making my inserts shapeshifters and fucked up scientists /silly

[burningcheese-merchant]

A Thought About Burning Spice Cookie

I was kind of just going about my business today when I had a sort of... revelation, I guess? About Burning Spice. Looking back, I'm not really sure why it took me so long to think of this, but I like to live by the ideal "the best time was then, the second best time is now", so here we go.

Burning Spice was once the Herald of Change (or History, in the original Korean text). He was said to have fought for and defended fledgling civilizations in the distant past, protecting people and helping them in dark times. His throne decor even says he used to let people into his palace and allow them to engage in honest discussion with him about their problems, after which he'd get up and go out and do something about those problems. He sounded like a pretty swell guy... until he got bored with everything and went insane, of course. But here's the thing.

I think I understand why he ended up this way.

To put it as vaguely as possible, I do stuff in real life that may or may not have something to do with history as a subject. And I will gladly tell you all point-blank: history is fucking horrible. History is bleak. History is dark and cruel. The more you dive into it, the more it appears to you as a joke without a punchline. History is a drama, a tragedy, and a big fucking farce all at the same time.

Of course Burning Spice got tired of it. I get tired of it sometimes. Because sometimes, all history ever seems to be is a bunch of delinquents writing "I'm a bad kid" on the chalkboard repeatedly forever and ever. Just a bunch of bad people hurting each other for reasons that'll only come across as stupid long after they've all died at each other's hands. I'm sure Burning Spice started to think "what's even the point of building anything if someone is just going to come tear it down?" And it's hard to not think that when that's what ALWAYS happens. That's what history is a lot of the time. Brutal competition. A war of all against all.

The cure to the cynicism and melancholy history can and will inflict on you, at least in my opinion, is... to stop dwelling on it, honestly. At the end of the day, you have to remember that the past is gone. What's done is done. Things happen and sometimes, you can't do anything about it. You can't go back and save Lincoln from being assassinated. You can't go back and stop the Holocaust. You can't go back and save the world from all those wars and famines and disease epidemics. History both changes constantly and is unchanging at the same time. You have to make peace with what you cannot change - the past - and move forward, because time won't wait for you. We have to remember these things, these dark times; we all have a duty to do so, for the sake of those that came before us and those that will come after. But we also have to remember to live for the sake of those around us here and now. It is the present that shapes the world the most. It is in the present that we find true happiness. Not in the yellowed pages of old textbooks about the past and not in the pie-in-the-sky fever dreams we have about the future.

I think that's what fucked Burning Spice over. He forgot to live in the present. He was so focused on bringing about change, so absorbed in giving everything he had to everyone else, so invested in preserving the past and paving the way for the future, that he started losing sight of what was already there in front of him. His friends. His people. Too much time spent on the bigger picture and not enough spent on the tiny details that don't seem important at first glance, but when you look closer, you realize are what made the whole, entire picture as big as it is in the first place. He, like many do, like I do, began to see how cyclical and futile history can really be. He just saw people looking for reasons to hurt one another and destroy anything good they'd built together. Civilizations that were once grand and prosperous falling to anarchy. Clans with close ties turning against one another. Friend groups fracturing. All this hard work, undone, over and over again. And for what? What did they do any of this for? What did HE do any of this for?

I think his descent into villainy was slow, but sure. A little piece of his soul crumbling to dust with every person he felt like he failed because whatever great change he enacted was undone and everyone else suffered for it. And no one was ever really there to help steer him back onto the right path. Not his friends, not his family, not his people at large. Whether this was because they didn't know he was hurting like this (he seems like the type to keep things close to the chest anyway), they didn't know how to help or comfort him, or they didn't care, ultimately does not matter; regardless, it boils down to Burning Spice never being reminded to find solace in those around him right now, instead of constantly fretting over those before or after.

Maybe if he did remember, if he paid more attention to what IS and not what WAS or what WILL BE, he could've been saved. If he'd let Shadow Milk tell him more about his books and the little puppets he liked to craft. If he listened to Eternal Sugar play her harp more. If he sat and played a few more rounds of Go with Mystic Flour. If he had a friendly sparring match or two extra with Silent Salt. If he ate and drank and danced with his fellow spices like he probably used to like doing. If he stopped thinking he always had to be this larger-than-life figure who lorded over and protected society, and just let himself breathe and be a normal, happy person. It wouldn't make the ultimate folly of history sting any less, but he could have at least made peace with it and continued onward in spite of it.

But he didn't. He succumbed to history's poison, like so many have and so many will. And in an ironic twist of fate, which you will also often find throughout history, the tide of change swallowed him whole and drowned him. He let the failures of yesterday color his perception of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. More and more people came across to him as bad actors until the whole world was just a devil's stage play, and it was being performed at his expense. Hard work and self-sacrifice lost their flavor. He tried to keep going, tried to keep pushing. Maybe he knew what was happening to him on some level and fought desperately to save himself. Put duct tape over the cracks in a dam, because that's probably all it amounted to, because the wisdom he needed didn't exist within him at that time and he didn't/couldn't find it anywhere else. Pushed forward even when he couldn't see where he was going anymore. Until every muscle in his body hurt. Until he'd lived long enough to see everything he ever lived and worked for be taken apart for scrap, for a vendetta, for shits and giggles.

Until he started looking at those bandits and warlords and terrorists he used to help put away and thinking... "hey. Maybe they're seeing something I'm not. If nothing else at all, they sure look like they're having fun. Way more than I am right now." Until he gave in to despair and grew bitter, and thought "well, if nothing I do really matters, if destroying it all is what makes people happy, then maybe I should give it a shot."

And then he became a bandit, a warlord, a terrorist. He turned into all those people he hated and continues to hate today. He cut out the middle-man and just ended lives before they could begin. Razed civilizations to the ground because that was what was going to happen anyway, whether it be by his hand or someone else's. What does it even matter? What does anything matter? This is all history is. Pain and suffering. He's only doing what's natural. He's solving problems before they can even occur, really. He's doing everyone a REAL favor. Destruction truly is the only way.

The best way to make the world a better place is to make the lives of those around you better first. Even just helping the one person makes a difference in its own way. Think less about making history by winning a war or toppling a regime and more about making history in an old person's life by helping them up when they fall down. Or making history in a dog's life by volunteering at an animal shelter. Or making history in your friends' lives by having a fun day with them that they'll remember and cherish even on their deathbeds. Change doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't need to be an all-consuming tide that rises above the tallest buildings. It can just be gentle waves and seafoam, washing over the sand and kissing one's feet. That's enough, more often than not. More than one might realize.

Maybe if somebody made sure Burning Spice kept this in mind, he wouldn't have turned into a Beast in the end.

TL;DR: History is shit. Him losing it makes perfect sense. It probably would've happened to me, too. Somebody should've been there to keep him grounded. Everyone failed him and he failed himself. Remember to live in the present. YO SOCRATES, IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE

[messrmoonyy]

- rest stop

Joel miller x Fem!reader

Request- Hiiiii. You one write a fic of reader x Tess trying to be quiet even travelling with joel and Ellie. And I was wondering would you do something like that with reader and Joel. But also make it car smex 👀👀 maybe when they’re camping out in the woods and Ellie’s asleep but Joel and reader get busy in the truck they take from Bill? Please

A/N- long time now post huh! This is my first time writing Joel. Which is wild after being in the fandom so long and because I really wanna fuck that old man . But the Joel x reader girlies scare me a bit lmao ( why are so many of you children? ) anyways. So this is my first attempt at Joel and kinda became like if you put Troy’s Joel and Pedros Joel in a blender. And it spit out this Joel. My Joel. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ MDNI || implied age gap( reader is mentioned to be born pre outbreak and was too young to drive pre outbreak too. Making reader at bare minimum 20 years old ), smut: car sex, unprotected p in v, fingering ( reader receiving ) prawn with a bit of plot. ( wc- 5.3k )

AO3 | Masterlist

“- if tanks were so damn useful why would they just abandon them on the road like this? Oh right probably for road blocks right? I heard they used cars and trucks to block people trying to leave cities and towns but wouldn’t that just make things worse? I think- “

Ellie had been yapping for the better part of 2 hours. You didn’t know how she constantly had something to talk about. It was as if she could link any subject to something else with just a beat. One moment be discussing the comic she’d stolen from Bills and then somehow end up on a 45 minute tangent about tanks. 

You’d all been driving most of the day and she’d been talking the majority of it. The only silence had been when she’d given into sleep for a couple hours around lunch time, but woken up and gone straight back to it. It was fascinating to you how much she’d opened up in a short space of time. 

Joel looked ready to screw up his other ear too to fully drown her out at this rate. His hands grasping the steering wheel so hard his bruised knuckles were blanching. You felt a little bad for him, he truly was getting the brunt of it after you’d let Ellie take the front seat. She’d been so excited about being in a car and so you’d let her claim the front seat for a while. 

You’d gotten quite the glare from Joel for that. 

“ - I think if I had a car I’d like one like this. Like a truck. You know? You can fit more stuff in it. Hey, did you have a car?” Ellie’s head popped around the car seat to look at you in the back with a bright smile on her face 

“ no Ellie. My dad had a busted up work van but that was about it. I wasn’t old enough to drive. Joel was though, weren’t you Joel? “ you smiled and she laughed at that 

“ right. Did you have a truck? You must’ve cause-“ Joel caught your eye in the rear view mirror, a mildly pissed expression on his face at you directing the conversation right back onto him. You just gave him a wink and went back to flicking through one of the magazines you’d stolen from Frank's pile back in Lincoln- which were thankfully far more PG than the ones Ellie had found belonging to Bill. All ancient gossip magazines, celebrities having their red carpet looks ripped to shreds. It made you smile a little to try to imagine any of them now. Was there a clicker stumbling around in shredded haute couture? 

After another 30 minutes or so Joel seemed to have finally reached his daily limit of Ellie’s roadside ramblings and declared it was time to stop for the night. 

“ alright. That’s it for today. Goddamn kid “ he grumbled and slowed down a little as he turned off the highway and through a bumpy field- that Ellie found highly amusing as she jostled in her seat- and into a stretch of woods. Thankfully the trees were wide enough for him to manoeuvre Bills ancient Chevy deep enough in that it couldn’t be spotted from the road. Not that you expected anyone else had a damn car this far out from a QZ these days. 

And after an equally talkative dinner of long expired tinned ravioli, in which Joel tried and failed to teach Ellie some table manners like the true southern gent he seemed to be deep deep down. You all set up and settled in for the night. 

You were used to sleeping on the ground. 

Whether that was from the weeks it had been since leaving Boston. Or from the times you, Joel and Tess had travelled your ways over to Bill and Franks. Hell even your bed back in the zone may as well have been the ground with how fucking uncomfortable it was. 

But for some reason you just couldn’t drift off tonight. 

Ellie had had no trouble once Joel had promised her they’d be safe out here. She was flat out in her sleeping bag, mouth hanging open, snoring softly. You’d think the kid was in a luxury hotel, not a musty sleeping bag on the forest floor. 

You looked up at the dark night sky above you, the trees blocking out the majority of the view. It was a little spooky, just like Ellie had secretly whispered when you’d all been settling down to sleep. 

You turned your head, trying to locate Joel. He’d insisted on there being a watch. You thought it was pointless, you were all out in the middle of nowhere. No where close to any towns or cities that a group of raiders could have set up camp in. There’d be no infected out this way either. But he’d been his usual stubborn self and declared they needed a watch. And he’d go first. Of course. Because that meant he could stay up all right and ‘forget’ to switch with you. 

Stubborn bastard through and through. 

And so there he was now, sat up in the truck. 

He had one of the camping lanterns he’d taken from Bill propped on the dash, softly illuminating the space so he could see what he was doing. His face stern in concentration as he tapped the end of a pencil against his scruff covered chin. 

He was taking this job seriously for a man that didn’t want to do it. 

But Tess had always been the driving force in your little trio. She was the brains. You were more often than not the distraction. And Joel the braun. It had worked so well. Until well… it hadn’t. And Joel respected Tess enough to fulfil her dying wish. 

Even if that was taking this random kid half way across the damn country chasing a lead so half cooked it was basically raw. 

You watched him for a while longer. How handsome he looked in the dim lamp light. The frown lines that seemed permanently engraved into his face, the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated - creating the little wrinkles in between

You missed kissing those lines. Tracing your fingers over them in the half lit apartment you’d shared in Boston, close enough to the outside wall that there was a constant chunk of light from the watchtowers seeping through the half destroyed curtains. 

God you missed him. Curling up to him for warmth. His large hands tracing soft patterns on your back, whispering lowly in your ear when you woke up from a nightmare. 

He’d never been one for PDA. And then with the whole… Tess thing. And Bill and Frank thing. And well… everything. He had barely touched you since that morning before you’d ended up with the kid. And that was weeks ago. 

Maybe it was a little silly. In the space of a few weeks you’d lost three friends. Gained a kid. Gained a whole fuck load of responsibility for said kid… and yet here you were lusting over Joel in your sleeping bag? Stupid. 

Or… maybe not. Maybe it was… what was needed. A distraction. Something good in the shitty shit pile you’d found yourself in. 

Well that’s what you told yourself anyway as you double checked Ellie was still snoring. And climbed out of your sleeping bag. 

You pulled open the passenger side door of the truck, climbing up into the seat and closing the door carefully behind you. Joel had the map spread out on the dash in front of him, flask of coffee in one hand and a pencil in the other. Because coffee had been dubbed very important in the ‘ only grab the essentials ‘ talk before they’d left Lincoln. Obviously. 

“ ain’t your turn for watch yet darlin’ “ he mumbled, not looking up from the map. It had a bunch of scribbles and arrows. Clearly his nonsensical version of directions that you would no doubt have to try figure out tomorrow. It also seemed like Ellie had gotten a hold of the pencil at some point, some of the areas Joel had crossed off as suspecting to be total no goes in terms of infected, now had little monster faces scribbled beside them. 

“ I know. Can’t sleep “ you said as you slumped back in the seat and glanced back out towards Ellie. Still out like a light, the little camping lamp by her feet casting a soft glow over their makeshift camp. 

He hummed a response. Setting his flask into the drinks holder and letting his hand drop absentmindedly onto your thigh instead. 

“ Tryna figure out the quickest route from here to Cody but… most of these highways here will probably be blocked off from way back when “ he pointed with the pencil at some of his scribbles and lines. “ some of these smaller towns might not be so bad for bunking down for a night but can’t be too sure. Close to highways. Good for raiders “ 

And he’d know all about that wouldn’t he

You’d joined the little group heading for Boston right at the last hurdle. Had only partook in one or two raids. You were young. Pretty. They’d throw you out as a distraction to lure people in and the others did the most of the dirty work. But you’d heard the stories. And you’d been around Tess and Joel long enough to know what they were capable of. What you were capable of now too. 

“ sooo… that way?” You asked, pointing at what seemed to be his planned route for now. But if you were honest. You weren’t focussing on the map at all. Or what he was talking about 

“ what? No. That’s a no go. Absolutely fuckin not. Look here- “ his thumb started rubbing soft circles into your jean covered thigh and it was like an off switch had flipped on your ears. Not taking in a single word he was saying to you. Not when he was touching you for the first time in weeks. Even if it was just a tiny pathetic thing like that. 

It made your mind drift. Memories of his lips right there. The soft tickle and burn his scruff would cause as he kissed your skin. It made your pussy throb just thinking about it. 

“ - there’s likely to be infected here. And here. Which leads us with no choice but to head up here to KC. But big city like that was probably locked down, ain’t really heard much on it so I don’t know if it’s even still an active quar- you even listenin?” His hand squeezed your thigh softly and you cleared your throat blinking quickly 

“ what? Sure I’m. I’m listening. Ugh KC. KC. Kansas city?” 

“ lucky guess “ he grumbled and let his eyes drift back to his map “ why don’t you try get some sleep?” 

His hand was still on your thigh, his thumb back to rubbing soft circles. God how was something so tiny making you want to scream?

“ not even tired “

You closed your eyes a moment letting out a slow, deep exhale. Get it together you idiot. 

But Joel knew you well. Knew your body well. And you didn’t have to open your eyes to see the smirk on his face when he spoke again 

“ oh. I see how it is baby girl “ you wanted to scoff. Or scowl. Or tell him maybe he should get some sleep because clearly he was imagining things. But then his hand moved up. Deft fingers unbuttoning your jeans and pulling down the fly. 

He really could read you like a damn book couldn’t he?

 “ this the real reason you came in here huh?” He murmured as his thick fingers slipped through your slick folds, dragging the slippery mess you were making up to your clit. 

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your head tipping back against the worn leather of the seats headrest “ asked you a question there babygirl “ 

You whined in response. How could you possibly form a solid thought- never mind a sentence- when his finger was working at your clit like that. Slow but purposeful circles that were making your legs feel like jelly already. 

God you were pathetic. A couple weeks without his cock and this is what it was doing to you? 

“ so what if it was?” You whispered, your hips involuntarily rocking up against his hand. 

Even just the slightest touches from him made you want to cry out in a mixture of frustration and pleasure. Like there was an open nerve, exposed and raw, and his focussed touch sent sparks shooting up your spine. 

“ naughty little thing “ he murmured as he kept working at you with his thick fingers, wrestling the the tight constraints of your jeans to try get his hand in a little more “ tell me what y’need “ 

“ you “ you whined without a moment’s hesitation “ you Joel you “ 

He was always such a smug bastard. The smirk on his face at your response made you want to jump right out of the car just to piss him off. But you didn’t have the self control for that. Not even remotely. Especially when you had his fingers pressing at your entrance like that, the muscles already contracting as if trying to pull him in. 

But two could play that game. 

You reached over and flicked off the lantern. The last thing you needed was this being visible if Ellie woke up. And then your hand moved over to his half hard cock starting to tent his jeans. 

He gave a soft grunt of a sound as you palmed at him through the worn denim. 

“ acting like you’re not in the mood for it too old man?” You whispered, already a little breathless just from his fingers. 

He doesn’t answer you with words. But one of his fingers pushed into your welcoming warmth, making you gasp and your eyes flutter closed for a moment 

“ look at that “ he murmured as he carefully added a second with a slightly embarrassing amount of ease “ suckin me in so tight… tryna keep me right here doll? Right here?” your soft velvety walls squeeze around him in answer. Desperate for anything after weeks of absolutely nothing. 

Everything about Joel was so big. You were damn sure not a single other person could make you feel this good with their fingers alone. Your own fingers never even made a dent in the sensations he gave you. Your cunt stretching around his digits almost obscenely. Gripping onto him in a way that was down right pathetic. 

“ there y’are. Relax f’me sweet pea “ he mutters, feeling you open up more as warm waves of pleasure washed over your body. The space inside you welcoming him back home after so long without him “ good girl, open up f’me… there we go “ 

Your hand was still idly palming at his crotch, but god damn was it hard to focus when he was speaking to you like that. Touching you like that. 

Your free hand grasped onto his arm as he kept steadily fucking you open with his fingers, soft sopping sounds filling the truck in a way that made you whimper softly. The tendons and muscles in his arm flexing under your finger tips with every purposeful curl of his fingers. 

“ Joel “ 

“ I know baby I know “ he crooned “ gonna come on my fingers? “ you nodded eagerly, writhing around in the seat, eyes closed as you focused on how good he was making you feel and nothing else. Not even embarrassed at how fast he’d gotten you to the edge. You’d been lusting after him for two weeks without getting anything, so you weren’t much surprised.  

“ y-yeah. Gonna come for you Joel “ you whispered as his fingers curled up, his thumb pressing against your clit. It made a choked sound escape you in some hopeless attempt to keep your volume levels down. “ fuck- Joel “

“ shh shhh nice and quiet. Don’t need ya wakin the kid before I’ve even had you on my cock sweet pea “ the half promise of finally getting something more than his fingers was enough to spur you on. To have your hips rocking up to meet the pumping motions of his fingers. Just enough to have you tumbling over the edge. 

Your fingers digging into the tanned skin of his arm as you bit down on your bottom lip, back arching off the worn leather as your orgasm washed over you in a powerful, blissful wave. Trying as hard as you possibly could to be quiet. But some soft squeaks and whines slipped out your throat anyway “Joel”

“ there we go. That’s my good girl. Nice and quiet “ he murmured as he worked you through it, pumping his fingers in and out as best he could with your jeans still on “ makin a fuckin mess of my hand. Reckon I ain’t ever see you this wet “ he teased as he gently brought his hand to a stop when your death grip on his wrist released. Little crescent shaped marks left in place of your fingers. 

“ fuck you miller “ you panted softly which made him chuckle. That deep rumble of a sound that often sounded more sarcastic than joyful. But you could usually drag some kind of joy out of him. Usually. 

“ I do plan on it babygirl “ he smirked as he pulled his hand free, his fingers soaked up to the knuckle. The shiny sticky mess catching on the thin chunk of moonlight making its way through the trees and into the truck. 

Maybe he had been right. Smug bastard. 

You watched him with half lidded eyes still catching your breath, as he sucked them clean. It made your blood boil hot, your cunt clench around nothing. Missing those magic fingers of his deep inside you already.  

“ missed your sweet taste babygirl “ 

oh the things you’d do to have him between your thighs right now. That familiar sensation of friction burn from his beard, his strong hands keeping your thighs spread. Refusing to let you close them until he’d made you come on his face multiple times. Not stopping until your were a shaking sobbing mess. 

But that would have to wait for Jackson.  

Your hand still laid idle on his now clearly fully hard cock in his jeans and a gentle squeeze of your fingers made him grunt. 

“ get over here. Now “ he muttered, you didn’t need to be told twice. 

It was not even remotely as easy or sexy as the books you read made it out to be. In fact it was damn right awkward. Wrestling your jeans off in the small space, especially when you were still trembling just a little. Clambering your way onto his lap as he wrestled with the stiff seat lever to try shove it back and give him more space.  

“ goddamn piece of shit Chevy “ Joel huffed and finally managed to get the seat to shift back a little. It was only a couple inches extra room. But it was better than nothing. 

Now wasn’t particularly the best time- or place- for making it last or wasting anymore time on foreplay. So you settled in his lap and immediately reached for his belt, tugging it open. 

“ aw. Come in your pants old man?” You grinned as you unbuttoned his jeans, noticing a small damp spot on his boxers. Clearly only pre come. But you’d never miss an opportunity to call him old. 

“ shut up, brat “ he grumbled, grasping your hips and squeezing in a silent request to lift up. Right. You were in kind of a rush here. Ellie could decide to wake up at any minute. And you weren’t in the mood to be interrupted.  

You lifted your hips as he wrapped a hand around his leaking cock, gently rubbing the tip back and forth between your slick folds. The action making your breath hitch a little, still so sensitive “ you want it?” He murmured, coating himself in your wetness, occasionally notching himself at your entrance for just a second before moving again “ tell me. Tell me how bad this pretty little pussy wants it “ 

“ god Joel “ you whispered, pressing your forehead onto his for a moment “ need it so bad. Been thinking about it every damn day “ He just chuckled and stole a kiss before gently nudging his blunt tip to your weeping entrance again. 

“ yeah? This what you need baby?” He said as he gently pushed in, hands tight on your hips to ease you down inch by tantalising inch “ that’s it babygirl let me in... So fuckin wet f’me… “ he murmured, pushing gently against the resistance of your cunt. Shushing you softly when a sweet whimper escaped your lips as he slipped in deeper and deeper “ shit you’re always so goddamn tight f’me “ 

Your lips part in a steady exhale as he eases his way in, stretching out your soft warm walls as your body welcomes him back home. Settling into the space inside you like it was carved out exactly for him, made for him. Maybe it was. 

He fit with you so perfectly. Your hips flush as his tip kissed your cervix in a way that would’ve been painful if he was even a half inch bigger. It was truly the most perfect fit. 

“ y’okay?” He murmured because sure Joel liked to fuck you like an animal in heat most of the time. But he was nothing if not a gentleman when it came to consent. 

Southern charm and all that. 

“ Hell yeah “ you whisper with a soft laugh that makes him chuckle as you wriggle your hips a little, reminding yourself how incredible it felt to have the thick weight of him inside you again “ missed this. Missed you “

“ missed my cock more like babygirl “

“ it’s one and the same “ 

“ maybe “ he scoffed and rubbed gentle circles onto your hips with his thumbs as he let you adjust as long as you needed. Sitting there completely stuffed full, the pressure almost overwhelming at first. 

You start to move after a few moments, your hands resting on his shoulders for leverage as you push yourself up and down on his cock, building a painstakingly slow rhythm. You had to take it slow. No matter how many times you’d fucked him it always took you a minute to get used to him again. 

You could tell he wanted more. In an ideal world he’d have you bent over the hood of the truck hammering into you like his life depended on it. One hand yanking your hair the other squeezing your hip. Or pinning your hands behind your back if he was feeling like being a real dick. 

But this wasn’t an ideal world. So he’d take what you could give him. And he wasn’t a total bastard. He knew you needed to take it at your own pace right now. So he’d let you. 

“ that’s my girl. Take it easy “ he murmured, his breath warm on your face, your lips just a few inches apart “ look how pretty you look takin my cock like that “ he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip for a moment before he pulls you to his mouth, your lips pressing together hungrily in a eager kiss. He swallows your soft whines and moans “ nice and easy doll. Nice and easy. Quiet f’me “ he murmured against your lips, pressing more soft but determined pecks between his words 

Once you were reacquainted with his cock stretching out your cunt just right. You gave him a small nod and shifted in his lap to let him take over. And your thighs were already starting to burn from the awkward angle

“ made for me ain’t you baby? “ he grunted as if reading your mind. Feeling the way his cock fit inside you so perfectly. Each careful rise and fall of your body letting you feel every ridge. Every vein. Rubbing against your insides in the most delicious way. “ just f’me “

“ yes Joel “ you nodded because truly you felt you were. He’d ruined you for life. You were damn certain no other man could compare. No other man could make you feel this way. 

“ that’s my good girl, takin it so well f’me “ his hands still grasped the plush flesh of your hips, letting you go at your own pace. For now anyway 

“ i miss our shitty bed “ you whispered breathlessly into his neck, you hands grasping his shoulders as he lazily started to fuck up into you, keeping your pace but helping you out just a little. And unable to control himself. Still keeping it slow, probably more on account of the fact you were useless at being quiet. And Ellie was only a few feet away “ a roof over our head “

“ I know baby girl “ he grunted giving you another squeeze “ second we find Tommy I’m takin you to the closet fuckin bed I can find “ at least he was still being optimistic that Tommy might still be in the settlement he’d mentioned exactly once before going radio silent. 

A bed sure did sound nice though. 

You missed lazy morning sex when he’d wake you up with his hand rubbing you through your underwear and his morning wood poking your back. Or having your body damn near folded in half as he pounded into you so hard your brain turned to utter mush, legs hooked over his shoulders like a rag doll. 

“ promises promises old man “ you whispered, shifting in his lap so that your clit brushed the soft thatch of hair at his base in the most delicious way “ shit “

“ that’s it baby girl. Take what ya need “ you rocked your hips, your slick making his curls sticky and warm. He met your pace, sensing your growing desperation, thrusting up into you quicker. Harder. You looked down at where your body’s joined, the way your pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick length. A hint of creamy whiteness starting to stick to his greying curls, more than likely the evidence of your first orgasm. 

“ y’like that huh baby?” He murmured as he caught you watching, that stupid fucking smirk on his face again that you could never be certain if you wanted to kiss it off him. Or slap it off him “ lookin at how messy you're bein f’me?”

“ yeah” you panted, squeezing down on him, your walls fluttering around the deep intrusion of him. Gripping him. Sucking him in. 

“ keep doin that shit and I’ll blow right now “ he grunted, making you smile as you squeezed down on him again just for good measure 

“ easy there old man “ 

“ I’ll give you old fuckin man “ he muttered and readjusted his grip on your body, his hands splaying over your hips as he shifted in the seat “ old fuckin man “ he pushed your body down on his cock with more force than before.

Clearly done being patient. 

You gasped loudly, clamping a hand down on your mouth when you realised just how loud you’d been. Desperately grasping at him with your free hand as he used you like a damn fleshlight, his grip on your hips bruising rather than gentle now. 

And god did you hope it’d bruise. 

“ that’s it baby girl. Take it. C’mon it’s what you wanted ain’t it? You been thinkin about this? Layin out there too fuckin horny to even sleep? Ain’t that right?” He’d always had a damn filthy mouth. Always knew exactly how to make your cheeks flame and pussy throb. Which had surprised you at first. For a man so silent and grumpy in public, he sure could get vocal in the bedroom. Or the truck you figured  “ this what you needed? Needed fillin up babygirl?” 

You nodded eagerly, your brows furrowed and eyes closed as his decelerate thrusts knocked every whisp of air out your lungs. Your brain going foggy. Lost in the sensations of his cock stretching you out, hitting the most devastating spot inside you with every thrust of his hips. Every drag of the heavy weight against your sensitive walls, still sparking like a live wire from your first orgasm“ use your words. Tell me “ 

“ god- Joel. “ you could barely form a sentence with him fucking you like that. The truck shaking with the efforts. Creaking softly like a scene from one of those cheap and cheesy 80s movies Joel has shown you before. 

“ c’mon now. Use that pretty mouth of yours. And tell me “ he said firmly. Mockingly. Still slamming you down to meet his deep thrusts 

“ y-yes this is… what I needed “ you panted out, eyes fluttering closed as you clawed at his shoulders , face falling into his neck “ missed you so bad. Missed your cock Joel “ you whined pathetically, muffling your sounds against his skin

“ yeah baby I know “ he whispered, breathless himself “ I know. Needed it so bad huh? Needed this pretty pussy fillin up. I know “ 

His hand slipped down between your bodies and he started working at your clit again. Quick and purposeful movements that matched the rhythm of his ever increasingly frantic thrusts. You were so wet he could barely even find any friction.

“ fuck Joel I’m- “ you moaned loudly against his neck, cutting yourself off as you felt your body growing hotter. The knot deep in your belly getting tighter and tighter 

“ I know sweet pea. Gonna come all over my cock? Yeah? “ he grunted and you knew that tone of voice. That breathless, husky tone. He was just as close as you were “ gonna be a good girl f’me? Can feel you grippin me like a damn vice. Know you need it “

You nodded quickly, nails digging into his shoulders as you struggled more and more to control the sounds slipping past your lips. The sound of your skin hitting his filling the truck, the lewd wet sounds of your cunt sucking him in. Soaking him. The sticky, filthy mess you were making. And then the dam broke. 

The combined sensations of his fingers. His cock. His husky voice in your ear. You were a goner. Biting down on his shoulder to try to dampen some of your whines and squeals of pleasure. Your entire body trembling and twitching in his lap, clamping down on him in a way that clearly was enough for Joel too. 

Because he’d barely pulled you off him when he spilt his load onto your thigh with a deep, sexy moan. The hot sticky mess painting your skin. 

Sometimes you wished he’d finish inside. Fill you to the brim with his load. But the last thing you needed was a goddamn baby. 

The trucks windows had fogged up now. The air in their thick and warm, sweat beading on Joel’s forehead. You looked down to see the hair covering your mound sticky and messy, Joel’s own greying curls exactly the same. You really hoped there was a river or creek somewhere around here. You hadn’t entirely thought about the aftermath. 

Thinking with your pussy and not your brain. Clearly. 

But it was worth it. 

“ well holy shit “ you whispered and laughed a little as you pushed your hair from your own sweaty face “ never let me go that long without you again “ 

Joel raised an eyebrow and then chuckled himself, shaking his head, his hand gently rubbing along your side. So gentle and tender compared to how he’d just been knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“ Whatever you say sweet pea “ he pressed a kiss to your lips. Far too sweet for a man like him, but you’d never complain “ now get your ass back in that sleeping bag and get some sleep “ 

You grinned against his lips and stole another kiss before giving him a mock salute 

“ yes sir “