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netherfeildren · 8 months

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Pink : Part I : Humanist Seeking Person in Love

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Humanism: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Possessive behavior; Jealousy; Slow burn but like not really; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 7.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

1. Humanist Seeking Person in Love

The video you’d watched had said that the differences between a jamb nut and a coupling nut should have been obvious. A jamb nut, which was what you were currently looking for, was typically half as tall as a standard nut, or a coupling nut, and would be of a small, stouter shape compared to the other options. As you stare at the wall of overwhelming stock, the incomprehensible mess of steel, PVC, aluminum and plastic hardware you feel, a little bit, like you’d like to start screaming as loud as you possibly can, for as long as you possibly can. Just a rip roaring and rageful, top of your lungs, screech. Maybe it’d scare the leering men around you. Maybe they’d desist from the ogling of your ass in the tight confines of your ratty leggings, or the mildly pitying glances as your frustration and confusion becomes more and more obvious.

You try and take a deep breath, glancing down at your phone again and the screenshots you’d taken of the parts you need to fix your leaky kitchen sink. Zooming in, you hold the picture up next to the pipeware currently gripped in your sweaty hand and wonder again if what you’ve chosen is the right piece. You don’t understand why the hardware store, a local business, isn’t as neatly and efficiently organized as the larger chains, and why they make it so damn hard for someone without experience to come in and shop. You don’t want to buy the wrong thing and waste the money you already don’t have, you don’t want to have to make the trek back to this God awful fucking place. You hate the hardware store, you hate the way it smells, dusty and wooden, the cavernous hollow echo of it, the leering gazes of the men shopping, looking at you as if you’re some helpless child, something soft and easy to snap up and eat. You hate the memory of following your father around on many a Sunday morning after he’d forced you to come with him in some false attempt at bonding, at spending time together when really all it was, was another instance of you cowering behind him, trying to make yourself as silent and small as possible so as to avoid his anger and irritation.

You look back down at the piece of PVC in your clutch, at the picture of what you’re supposed to be buying again, back at the other option, a copper bolt you think might look right but can’t really tell the difference, and you feel the backs of your eyes pinch and go hot and achy. A sharp, throbbing pain starting up behind your left eye and spiraling out like a stain to cover your forehead. You want to go home. You want your kitchen sink to stop leaking. You want the past year to never have happened. For your marriage to not have so irrevocably unraveled that the husband you’d so desperately fought to keep had left you out in the cold, divorced, very nearly penniless in a new apartment that you couldn’t make feel like home no matter how many fall scented candles and throw pillows you stuffed into every nook and cranny. You want to not have to make decisions like these and take care of things like this. You want very, very badly for someone else to come and take care of you, help you, make the choices that seem very hard in the moment but that, in the grand scheme of things, aren’t really so difficult, but that still sometimes call for a second opinion, wiser, more experienced hands.

And in that next blink, in a soft, deep voice that should not be as easily recognizable in your mind as it is given the handful of times you’ve actually heard it, your name, being murmured from behind you. The lilt of a question, the gruff of shock coating the syllables as it pushes against your bare nape. Soft as a sledgehammer, like ice water down your naked back, your shoulders hitch up to your ears, going tense and frightened, a hot flush of shame spilling through you, the keenest desire to run away from that soft voice as fast as your stupidly October flip flopped feet’ll take you. You hiccup the half sound of his name, not turning around, lashes fluttering quickly to prevent the dry heat of your eyes from spilling over, nerveless fingers going listless around the plastic nut. You don’t want to turn around. This is a cursed place, this hardware store, and you should never have come, and you really do hate it here. Deep breath, deep breath. Be polite, be succinct. You don’t need to talk to him. You don’t need to think about the past. Fuck the sink, fuck the pipes. You’ll just move apartments. You let a long stream of air out of your mouth, and then turn on the ball of your foot to face him.

“Mr. Miller,” you breathe with a limp smile you know isn’t going to fool anyone.

He frowns, the line of his mouth wavering as he tries to contain his displeasure. “We really back to that?” You shake your head, looking away from him as the last shopper in the aisle you’re inhabiting walks away, leaving the two of you alone. The store suddenly seems to exist in a vacuum echo, all other patrons seeming to disappear, all sound going out. You even feel the imitation of a hollow pop in your ear drums. When you look back at him, he’s really scowling now. His strong brow pulled down over those too pretty, thickly lashed hazel eyes that you know so well on another man, a younger version of him.

It was the first thing you’d noticed about him, the first time Sam had introduced you to his father, they have the same eyes. The same but different. There was a coldness to Sam’s gaze that you hadn’t recognized until it was too late for you, but you recognized it now, with a painful sort of awareness, recognized the lack thereof in his father’s eyes, how different they were even in their similarity.

He raises his brows at you, a pressing gesture, “Joel.” His name feels like salt on an open sore in your mouth. “What are you doing here?” And he looks at you, just a little bit, like you’re an idiot, or maybe that’s only you, for his voice is gentle when he says, “Pickin’ up supplies with some of the boys on my crew. What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart? Sam with you?” Your heart beats like that of a small and hunted creature, pounding painfully against the confines of your ribs while a hot, humiliated flush washes through your entire body, heat suffusing your face so intensely there’s probably steam rising off the surface of your skin. You shake your head quickly, a barely there jerk. You’re suddenly trembling so hard your throat aches as if it’s been pierced by a lancet straight through. Another sharp jerk, and he steps forward a concerned look marring his face.

“You haven’t spoken to him.” It isn’t a question.

“He’s been feildin’ my calls for months. Assumed I’d done something– something else, last time to piss him off again. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He pauses, head tilting, and you can’t look him in the face as you say it, gaze falling to your fingers twisted around the nut.

“We’re not together anymore. He– he left me. We got divorced six months ago.”

Shocked into silence he takes another step towards you, the toe of his heavy boot coming into your eye line. The ends are thick and rounded, and you wonder if there’s a casing of steel within, how much a kick in the ribs would hurt delivered by a boot like that, and the violent thought startles you, your eyes going wide, shooting up to his face as if worried he could read your thoughts. Ashamed that something like that in reference to him would even cross your mind, for looking at him, the gentleness in his gaze, the utter concern, a man like this would never hurt a creature softer than him, you know that.

It’s funny, or strange, or a phenomena not easily understandable or explainable unless you’d had a certain type of experience with a certain type of man, but there was a sort of sixth sense instilled in a person who’d dealt with cruel men that made it easy to recognize when one had the capacity to hurt you and when he didn’t. There were, of course, those who were good at masking it, but there was always something, a way they held themselves or moved around others, the cadence of their voices, clues that spoke of the sort of man he was. And from the first moment you’d met him, you’d thought Joel had something that spoke only of gentleness. Despite his size and seemingly rough aspect, there was something about his voice, and the way he carried himself, the way he moved around those who were smaller or weaker or less, less alive, less potent than him, that was always careful and always aware.

“What?” He moves as if he’s going to reach for you, and you flinch back, the curve of your spine bumping into the framing of the shelves behind you, face turning away quickly. He goes tense, forcing himself into stillness, the white of his teeth flashing in a grimace, but he puts his palms up in a staying gesture, it’s alright, easy, he murmurs, I won’t touch you, hands lowering to fist in the pockets of his jeans into tight balls of false restraint. As if he’s afraid of what they might do of their own volition otherwise. “What do you mean he left you? What happened? He–”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you. Call him again or– or I don’t know. It’s not my business anymore. He was never happy with me,” you stupidly add, finally braving a look back at his eyes again, a bitter laugh scratching up your throat, “You know this. Call your son, Joel.”

You move to leave, to get away from him, but he shifts, blocking your escape, sending your heart up into your throat. “Honey, wait–” but you’re spinning on your heel the other way, stumbling in your flip flops, and you think he says something about the wrong way, but you’re rushing, blindly trying to get away from him down the aisle as fast as you can. You’re going to cry, you can feel it, any second now. You weren’t expecting to see him, the reminder of everything that had happened, your marriage and its failure and the part Joel had played in it. A painful and jarring shock to your nervous system that you’d not been prepared to receive. You blindly scramble through the aisles of the hardware store, losing yourself to the gloom of the dimly lit back rows where plywood and carpeting are stocked, that detested dusty hollow smell intensifying. You take another blind turn, another, until the sounds of the store have gone faint and then a frightening pressurized silence. Bracing your palms against one of the eye level shelves you let your head fall between your shoulders, your bag sliding down your arm to hang and sway at the bend of your elbow. You watch the slow back and forth pendulous movement, eyes wide and blurred. If you don’t blink, you won’t cry, and you’re so fucking tired of crying over this.

“If you were tryn’a get away from me, exit was in the opposite direction,” comes his voice again. Your eyes flutter shut, a single tear drips from the line of your lashes onto the dusty concrete floor.

“Please, go away,” you croak.

“Tell me what happened.”

“What do you think happened? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“He– he’s a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart–”

Your stomach lurches, “Don’t call me that.”

But he doesn’t listen, continues on unheeded. “There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll– I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see that–” You let your head fall back the opposite way now, looking up at the high, cavernous ceiling of the store, another bitter laugh. It’s the only kind left to you now.

“I don’t want him back, Joel. Be serious.”

“He needs you–” And oh, that makes you angry.

“Fuck you.” You spin around to spit the words at him, rushing forward to shove at his rock solid chest. He doesn’t budge even half an inch. You shove again, again, a humiliating sob making its way up your chest. You blink then, you can’t help it, the tears fall unrestrained. It’s a specific type of humiliating, facing the estranged father of the man who you’d been married to, who’d been unable to love you, who’d abandoned you.

Sam and Joel had been unaware of each other’s existence for almost twenty eight years, but two years ago, Sam’s mother had finally told him about his father, his name, where he lived, how they’d gotten together when they were too young, and how she’d split, scared and vulnerable, without telling him a thing. The two of you’d gone looking for the man, and you’d both been varying degrees of shocked at what you’d found. Sam, faced with a man so unlike himself he’d immediately resented him more than he already had for the fact of his absence his entire life. You, as well, faced with a man so unlike your husband that it had made you resent your marriage even more. Immediately welcoming, loving, patient, gracious and generous and forgiving of the fact that a son had been kept from him for almost three decades. Despite the severity of his character, his serious reservedness, he’d done everything in his power to open himself to this long lost son. Not once had the news been met with cruel anger or outrage. Joel had accepted his son immediately and without question, listening to his mother’s reasoning, accepting the fact that a mistake had been made, forgiving, willing to move on and embrace Sam in all the ways he’d been denied for so long. Sam hadn’t been able to fathom it. He’d been mistrustful, hostile, angry, all the things he always was but compounded and heightened to a terrible degree he eventually started taking out on you.

And it was funny because the fraught, or lack thereof, relationships with your fathers had been the thing that had initially bonded the two of you. Too young and alone and without direction, you’d met him in your last year of college. The relationship had immediately developed without boundaries or reason, you’d been obsessed, a little desperate, unquestioning, and then married a few short months later. Two too young, too lost people, burdened with daddy issues. A terribly sad cliche. You’d never had a chance. You never should have been. And there’s a part of you now, looking up at this man, your ex-husband’s father, that wants to feel angry at him, that wants to spit in his face and say this is all your fault, everything that happened to me, everything that was done to me was in your name, and I blame you for all of it, but you know it’s without reason or countenance. And worst of all, anger, blame, resentment, it’s not anything near to the things you feel when you look at him. The memory of a small, dark restroom flashes in your mind’s eye, his eyes gleaming above your face, the thick slope of his shoulder, the patterned wallpaper behind him, sickening comfort.

You go still and frozen, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, jerking with a painful shiver from the top of your head, down the length of your vertebrae, to the tips of your toes that cramp and spasm. Looking up at his face, you can feel a pulse throbbing in the muscle beneath your right eye, and the way he looks down at you, as if he’s never felt as sorry for any other creature in his entire life as he does for you in this moment, so embarrassing. You let your head fall forward again, landing with a soft thump against his chest, an uncontrollable tremble moving like fire through your frame. “Fuck you,” you say again, whispered, soft and weak and without any sort of force behind it. “How dare you say that to me,” another tear. “He’s always needed you. It was never me he wanted, never me he needed. It was always you.” You watch as one hand withdraws from its pocket cage, lifting to push a soft tendril of hair back behind your ear. And there’s fire left in the wake of the brush of his skin at the hollow there. Another shiver of a worse kind, one of desire, one of lust, moves through you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it – I’m sorry, honey.” Stupid southern charm and their stupid pet names. You clutch at his shirtfront more tightly, press your forehead harder into his sternum, and he brings his hand to your shoulder, tucking you into himself more securely. He’s huge and warm and smells faintly of salt and sweat and laundry detergent. Something clean and fresh and masculine. He smells alive. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, moving through your hair. Fucking, Sam, he murmurs above you, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head in that disappointed fatherly way. “Tell me what you were looking for. What had you lookin’ so confused and irritated in the plumbing aisle?” You’d laugh if you could, a non bitter sort, but you don’t have the ability anymore, and that makes you so angry. Angry and irrational.

“My sink’s leaking, and I can’t afford a plumber because your son divorced me and left me with no money and no house and nothing for myself, and I hate this stupid place. I hate the way it smells, and I hate that nothing’s labeled clearly, and I hate the way you men,” you shove at his chest a little bit again, “look at me like I’m some dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right.” Even if that’s what you kind of feel like, a dumb little girl who doesn’t know left from right anymore. Slightly out of breath, you go limp and exhausted against him. His palm flattens at the center of your spine, supporting you, and it’s so fucking inappropriate. You should move away. You don’t know him well enough for this, he’s your ex-father-in-law, you shouldn't let him touch you, but should and should not and right and wrong and inappropriate or not has never really mattered to you where Joel Miller is concerned. “This is the worst place in the whole world,” you mumble, voice muffled from where your face is squished against the annoyingly hard and delicious muscles of his chest. You feel, keenly, like you’re being a little bit ridiculous, a little bit embarrassing, but his big hand is slowly moving up and down the length of your spine, soothing and comforting, and you can’t bring yourself to care. He’d been kind from the first second you’d met him, and then, at the worst moment, he’d been understanding, and you’d never really stood a chance against him either.

You’d never had a chance with the son, you’d never stood a chance against the father, there had never really been much choice or possibility for you as a whole where either of them were concerned.

I was such a little person. Tiny in my insignificance, naivety, hope. Desperate to be as good as I could be, and pathetic in my failure to make myself into what I thought the world wanted of me.

“You can’t afford–” He breathes out roughly through his nose, stopping himself from continuing. “Do y’know what it is you’re looking for? What part?” And you nod your head, still buried against him, unable or unwilling to pull away. “Let me help you,” and he says it so, so gently that it makes you want to stomp your foot and cry and throw a fit at the unfairness of it all.

“Don’t want your help,” you can’t help the muffled whine it comes out as. All you want is for someone to help you.

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart,” he soothes. “But let me anyway. S’the least I can do for talkin’ out of my ass.” You finally pull back, looking up at him, and he brings his thumb up to catch the wetness at the fine skin beneath your eye. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispers like it hurts him.

And even though he’s currently catching the salt of your eyes with his fingers, you lie obstinately, “I’m not,” whispered back just as quiet.

After he helps you find the correct piece for your sink, finally, which ends up being neither of the options you’d been previously weighing, a fact that almost sends you over the deep end again, and paying for it at his aggravating and overbearing insistence, he walks you to your car.

“Is he still in Austin?” He asks as he holds your door open for you, your shopping bag still clutched in his hand. One of the guys on his crew had come to find him while you were checking out, but he’d sent him away with a shake of his head, said he had something to take care of.

“I don’t know, but he sold our house.”

“Fuck– Where’re you living?” The sound of his spit curse has a wet flutter moving through you, shame following bitterly in its wake.

“I got an apartment in the East Side.”

“And he just left you to fend for yourself? Took your fucking house?” He’s getting angry, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get angry. Something foreign like excitement jumps within you.

“Well, that’s the point of divorce, Joel. You separate and are left to your own devices.” You reach for the little plastic bag, but he jerks it out of your reach.

“He has a responsibility to you. He–”

“Again… the point of divorce.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that boy,” he mutters, shaking his head. And that’s the thing of it, you think, that’s always been the crux of the issue. Sam was always a boy, has always been just a boy… there had never been any chance. “Let me come help you with the sink. Let me fix it for you.” Something to take care of, that’s what he’d said, that’s what he’d called you, what he sees you as.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish getting the words out, full of regret, and a wish that it could have all been different from the very start. “You know that isn’t a good idea,” and he goes silent because he does, he does know, he’d known since the first time probably. It had been obvious in the way that a secret thing can only be between the two people involved in the unsaid. “I can do it myself. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way.”

“You still got the same number?” He asks.

“Please, don’t call me. Call Sam. He’s the one that needs you. He’s the one that–”

“And who’s taking care of you? Who’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart? You need someone too, we all do.”

A flash of that earlier anger again, and you reach forward to rip the bag out of his clutch now, angry because he’s right. Because he’d always seemed to have a grossly misplaced ability to read you exactly as you are. He’d read you for what you were from the first second he’d laid eyes on you, naive and hopeful and falsely in love with a son who’d never loved either of you in return. “Maybe,” you tell him, “But that can’t be you.” He looks away from you, gruff sound of irritation passing through his clenched teeth, and he drags a heavy palm down his bearded mouth. Fuck, again that provoking spit curse. The wallpaper in that dark restroom had been covered in little blue motifs, butter yellow details sparsed throughout. It had surprised you, the pretty and delicate design in the home of a, for all intents and purposes, bachelor. It spoke of intention and attention to detail, to his space, to care of his home. That dim moment was, strangely, sickly, the brightest memory of the entire two years of your marriage.

“You still got my number?” He presses anyways. Unheeded or uncaring of you trying to push him away, and there’s something about that, that’s pleasurable, his inability to let a thing go where you’re concerned, his unwillingness to allow you to hold him at arms length. Like he doesnt care to be kept away from you, and so he won’t. You nod your head once, face burning, molars grinding to keep yourself still and in place. You’d felt, for two years, trapped, running in place, and now left limp and exhausted and colorless, and you hope that he can’t read that exhaustion in you. For some reason, that would be more embarrassing than everything else, for him to see just how defeated you’d been left. He gives you one of those looks, those direct, piercing, aggravating looks that you’ve seen from him before, aggravating in a way that is inciting, like a relentless tongue against a slick swollen cunt, God. Your hands are shaking, and he bends his head down to your level to look at your directly, “You promise me that if you need anything, anything at all, doesn’t matter what it is – that you’ll call me. No matter the hour, no matter what it is. Promise me.” Another sharp jerk of your chin, if you talk you’ll scream or make a sound not wholly belonging to the body of a girl, woman, whatever you are. Another nod, the mute shape of an okay passing through your lips. And his face is so concerned, his hand almost lifted in the imitation of what you have to tell yourself, as a form of self preservation, is an ill intentioned caress or hug, but that you know he’d mean as nothing more than genuine comfort. You deflate in relief when he doesn’t touch you, right here, out in the open for the whole world to bear witness to. Things like that, after all, are only meant for dark, wallpapered bathrooms. He’d already taught you this.

The relationship had not been what either of them had expected, Sam and Joel, from the get go. There was a smallness to his son, a pettiness and a cruelty and a spoiled rotten vein through the core of him that was incongruous with who Joel was as a man, something that was glaringly obvious to all involved. And try as he might, in those early days, they could not overcome the disparity in their personalities. The attempts from Joel at closeness had been fraught with tension and unsaid resentments, and eventually Sam had given up, stopped answering his father’s calls, evading his attempts to connect. Your marriage had spiraled into dissolution shortly after that. As if the failure to find whatever it was he’d for so long hoped for in a relationship with his father had highlighted all of the things you yourself lacked, all the ways in which you were so specifically dissatisfying to him and always would be.

The marriage had not ended up being what either of you had hoped for, the honeymoon phase quashed and dead early on, no brightly lit halcyon. Reality had set in quickly when confronted with the disjointedness of your pairing, a bone out of place, your specific inability to please him in the ways he’d thought you would when he’d first met you. There was something about you that had always been a little bit lacking, something ascetic and cold natured about your personality at times. Since you were a child, trying to appease an unappeasable father, to emulate a singular mother. Always impossible, always falling just short of utter failure. Not so terrible that you were outwardly obvious in your mediocrity, but never everything you could be. Painfully, succinctly average. Sam had come to realize this quickly. Perhaps, unaware prior to tying himself to you because the only thing you’d ever been not average at, was being a little bit of a liar, of being placatingly complacent when the moment necessitated, manipulative in a way that you found protecting. But you see, that’s what happened when you had a cruel father who always needed appeasing, something Sam, in his abject fatherlessness, couldn't understand. Funny, you’d said that to him once, near the end, called him abjectly fatherless, his weakness a consequence of his lack of a paternal role model, and oh, how he’d hated that. Endings could bring out such cruelty in people, you’d found.

But the manipulation of a moment had become, in some ways, your only talent. The art of superficial gratification at a moment's notice as a way to keep the people around you falsely happy and calm. Like all small and frightened creatures, you’d learned your strengths well, but as all truths do, yours had eventually surfaced. The fact that you weren’t really so appeasing in the ways he desired, not so nice, not so perfect, not so subservient. That the persona was all just a way to keep him happy as a means of getting someone to love you, to stay because you didn’t know how else to be.

Your mother always said you could’ve been nicer to him. She was a kind, soft, patient thing. Quiet and easy and always, always, above everything else, understanding. It was the worst thing about her. A detriment, a weakness, and she resented you for your resentment, for seeing her as such, but you could never help it. Always asking you why you couldn’t just be a nice girl, a good girl.

You didn’t think you had not been nice, not been good. You had only been yourself.

Your father had always hated that about you, you being yourself. The man you’d chosen to marry didn’t seem to like it very much either. And she’d tried to instill her better qualities in you, your mother, so you weren’t all bad all the time. There could be a brightness and a lightness and a sweetness to you sometimes, it’s true. You weren’t always all bad. But there was – is still – also a bitterness and a resentment and an anger, a screaming that you could not quell no matter how hard you tried. And so you’d attepted to give him everything you could, your husband, everything you had at your disposal in all ways, to do and be all he could have ever asked of you during those two small years of marriage. Because truly, they had felt so very small, made you even smaller.

Everything except for sex. You’d never been able to give him that the way he’d wanted.

At first, it had been normal, sweet, soft missionary in the darkness, tepid insinuations of orgasms, always hushed, always exactly how he wanted it. But eventually, when the other parts of you began to fail, he got mean and callous and casually cruel. And as you pulled away physically, he called you frigid, a prude, boring, cold, bad in bed, didn't know how to make a man hard. And it had made you so agonizingly insecure, already a sensitive and anxious thing when it came to your physical form, he’d beaten you down, embarrassed you, belittled you.

With time, you’d realized the truth of it which had been nothing more than that you’d never really wanted him. He had never made you desperate, he had never made you wet. It was his character, his attitude, yes, but it was also him. He just wasn’t it for you, and it wasnt that you were a prude or frigid at all, only that you needed patience and understanding and care, gentleness. Things he possessed none of.

You just needed a little time to warm up and someone who wanted to give you that time.

The reality that your life had not been full of varied and foolish adventures, and that time had seemed to simply slip away like an echo in the brain from one moment to the next was duly painful. A handful of months of wan and false lust, two years of cold, bitter marriage, and now, six months of barren aloneness. Too many mistakes had been made, too many regrets, three big ones that could be held like stones scorched to burn by the sun in the palm of your hand so that even if you let them go eventually, their imprint would still be scarred into your flesh afterwards forever.

So, perhaps the divorce had been painful in the moment. Or not perhaps, there was nothing uncertain about it, you’d fought tooth and nail to make it work, to keep him with you. Prostrated and humiliated and debased yourself. But with time, it became obvious that it was a fantasy you decided you should finally cast aside, as all children do childish things at a certain age. And then, it had been the easiest thing in the world. After all, and let’s be honest now for a moment, the reckoning had come in the shape of his father. That is, at the end of it, the reason you’re really here.

Sat now, before the open cabinet below your kitchen sink, leaky pipe drip, drip, dripping monotonously in front of your glazed over eyes, you think of him. He’s a large man, intimidating and dark and stoic. Taller and broader than his son. Lush, mahogany curls streaked with silver that speak of age and experience like the smile lines around his eyes. Deeply grooved when he laughs that beautiful laugh of his. He looks exactly like the opposite of whatever his son is, like he’d have the ability to make the opposite of you, to pull out of you whatever the antithesis is of what his son was able to. It had been immediate, the nature of your thoughts towards him. The desire, the desire, the desire, you had wanted like you’d never wanted before — like an illness, like dying.

Your marriage had been circling the drain, and then you’d met him, and it should have been innocuous. He’d been kind and polite and welcoming, but also, aloof. Holding himself at a distance, something afraid that he carried within himself, like he didn't want to hope, like he was just a little bit scared of what it meant now to have a son, something to lose. You knew a little bit about that, the worst part of it all is never the cruelty, it’s the hopelessness. Everything had become so much worse after meeting him. An unbearable sort of awareness of something that your listless, frigid self recognized as man, man, man, something like hunger. Something slanted about the desire, wrong, sure, for he was your husband's father, and yet, you wanted him. You wanted to know what he smelled and tasted like, and what the weight of his cock on your tongue would feel like. If it was bigger than his sons, you were almost positive of that, if it would stretch the corners of your mouth to near splitting, the hinges of your jaw to aching.

You’d met your husband's father, and had realized, painfully, with uncompromising clarity, all that your husband could be, all that he was not, all that he would never be. There was no comparison between the boy and the man, and it made you hurt.

Your eyes flit back to the screen of your open laptop and the instructional video there, popping another fuzzy peach gummy onto the flat of your tongue, mouth full of sucking sugar. You’re going to fix this sink if it’s the last thing you do, and you’re not going to think about him again. But tomorrow, you’ll start not thinking about him tomorrow. The talent of a liar never really wanes.

The apartment is quiet, nothing but the cheerful crackling of your sweet pumpkin candle and the mocking splish splash of the drain pipe. You had, in recent weeks, come to think of your abandonment as something of an accomplishment. Perhaps, your loneliness is a good thing, you’ll tell yourself as a comfort, a sort of friend; you can’t be used against yourself again in this solitude, and oh, how you’d been used. That anemia in your character, the ascetic thread of your personality had been weaponized and wielded against you until you couldn’t tell up from down and left from right. You were certain there’d been cheating, even if you’d never had any proof to confirm it, merely grateful you’d never gotten sick as way of evidence. But you knew. And it could've been so much worse for you, of course, of course it could have. But he’d left your mind so off kilter, broken and confused and not yourself. Utterly damaged in a way that was humiliating and devastating when you thought of the way you’d been, such a little person. So often, not a woman, just a little girl.

And then his father. Joel. Seeing him today – you had never felt the way you should have felt towards him. Like your eyes were open, awake for the first time in your entire life. A man like that – he was changing. And you wanted, needed very much to be changed. Seeing him today, being presented with that reminder of what he was, how he made you feel, how he’d always made you feel. There’s something ghoulish about you concerning him – about this desire. That ascetic or anemic or under-grown, illformed thing about you, exterminated in the thrum of how alive he is. How unlike his son. You’d never known what it specifically was, never been able to categorize it, and then there had been that moment, brought so low, six feet beneath the ground sort of debased, and he’d been there and you had been – unburdened from the weight of his own son, by him, and you’re not even sure he knew the extent of it. The power he’d wielded over you in that moment in the dark. And you can’t say it out loud, what it is you’d want from him, you can’t even say out loud what it is about him that changes you as it does – not a woman, just a little girl – but you think that if you could just see him, then you’d know, or maybe you could be brave. You don’t know what it is, but you’d know it then, with him in front of you, you’d have the answer to this question that’s plagued you for so long – how to be yourself in a way that is good.

You’re pushing yourself to your feet, fueled by the thought, fingers gripped over the ledge of the counter to pull yourself up, sink forgotten, stumbling to your front door, shoving your feet into your shoes and fumbling for your keys. How to be yourself in a way that is good.

When you were seventeen, your father had been at his angriest. Angry in that way that all angry father’s are. Loud and brutish – an anger that is cowing, a sign of true weakness. Brute force in the shape of the man who gave you life. When you think of it now, even as a grown woman, you still feel that phantom limb of fear, and you know that it isn’t normal for a grown woman to be afraid of her father, and yet you are. And then to think that you’d gone from your parents home directly to the bed of the same sort of man, one even crueler, if possible. You’re forced to laugh your singular terrible, self deprecating laugh at the irony of it – even worse, if possible. For what’s worse than a person who constantly needs to be soothed into kindness and patience and calm?

Once, in that terrible seventeenth year, funny and strange and unknowingly perfect, you’d been gifted the Farmer’s Almanac by your elderly neighbor. She’d said that she’d read it since she was a girl, liked the peace in knowing that the year had been predicted by experts and put down on paper. It made life seem more secure, more in control in a small way. You’d needed that during that turbulent time, locked in your teenage bedroom, lulled to sleep by the sound of your father’s anger and the year’s long-range weather predictions before your blurry eyes. It was so comforting to be able to read the future in text, catastrophe or sunshine, at least it was there. You still read it to this day. And there’s no congruity to the thought now, as you crawl into your car, a ghoul in the night, banging your knee on the hastily opened car door, sprouting gooseflesh in the cold; this desire, desire, desire that is the worst thing you’ve ever felt in your whole life, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to stop because there is something about control in this moment also. Control like knowing what the future will be like on paper, control like a man who is entirely grown into himself, who knows who he is and who he is not and is not uncertain, who will not yell, who will not hurt you. He has this – your husband’s father – you know he does. There is something about control, there is something about knowing how a thing will be, there is something about being yourself in a way that is good.

You’d picked up the wrong wine on your way here. Rushing, trying to fix your makeup in the car, you’d gotten confused, chosen the one he didn’t want instead of the one he did. And it was nothing, or an accident, surely nothing to incite his ire, but he’s so fucking angry hovering in front of you. He looks at you, now sometimes, like he hates you, like you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He said you’d humiliated him in front of his father. That he was going to think he didn’t have good taste, couldn’t afford a decent bottle of wine. And you don’t know Joel very well, but he doesn’t seem like the type of man to care about such things. Calling you an idiot in that poisoned shrill tone he takes on when he’s delivering a set down, and you’re trying to tell him to please, please keep your voice down, Sam, your father is going to hear you. You’d heard someone say once that a truly powerful man never feels the need to raise his voice, it simply isn’t necessary for him, and you’re reminded, terribly, of your father, with the sight of your shrill and seething husband in front of you. And then a low toned that’s enough, son from the mouth of the kitchen, and it’s so much worse, entirely catastrophic in a way, and you’re rushing away so humiliated, face on fire, tear caught over the trough of your lower lid, trying the doors in the hallway for the nearest restroom. You hear the murmur of voices, one struggling to maintain composure, the other, cool and steady, then the slam of the front door, and finally, the silent din of his house settling around the two of you as you find a restroom to hide in. Your heart beats so fast it makes you nauseous, knees strangely aching, listening to the heavy steps of Joel’s boots, as if he’s trying to warn you with those measured, weighted thuds that he’s coming, coming, coming for you. Turning to face the far corner of the restroom, you press your palm over your mouth, face slippery and burning and so stupid, the soft swoosh of the opening door, a paused breath as he takes in your form huddled into the wallpaper, and then the muted snick of the door closing behind him, shutting the two of you away together.

Part II

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

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This protector. Left in Lincoln, pt. 1

3k | dark dads' best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

Premise: Bill and Frank raised you after you were orphaned by the outbreak. They left Lincoln to get treatment for Frank and asked a neighbor, Joel, to look in on you (early 20s) while they were gone.

He rubbed your arms harmlessly, then his hands grazed your breasts lightly enough to pass for accidental as he hugged you. His breath deepened and his jeans twitched. He slipped his arms under yours and you tried to settle in, still nervous. You sat for what felt like a long time. Eventually, you relaxed into him.

Warnings/Notes: NSFW 18+ (not graphic yet), creepy!joel, dark!Joel, pervy!Joel, big legal age gap, very inexperienced/naive reader, angsty premise, dry humping, touching over clothes, pressure, blue balls, alcohol, pining. Slow-burn horror. Post-outbreak but playing fast and loose with a couple of ages.

When Frank got sick, he and Bill went in search of treatment and left you safe at home in Lincoln. They knew you could manage on your own, but they still asked a trusted neighbor, Joel Miller, to look in on you. You knew Joel from when he came over for meals, but he didn't talk much, so you didn't feel like you knew him very well. You felt like he knew you, though. He knew a secret.

- - -

The secret was that one time, you went on Joel's property and helped yourself to his fruit. It wasn't your first time there, but it was your first time picking any fruit. You snuck in from the back and stayed deep in the orchard. You didn't think he'd see you.

Joel would've been more than happy to pick some fruit for you, or even with you, but you were shy. He was intimidating. Plus, you wanted to take your time to enjoy the orchard. He had the most beautiful peach and apple trees. You were still getting over Jesse and being there reminded you of him. Jesse kissed you there, way in the back, after dark when no one would know. This was your first time there in broad daylight.

You admired the peach in your hand, lightly brushing your thumb over its curves, captivated by the gradient of yellow to pink, then plum.

"You picked a nice, ripe one." Your face went cold as you looked at the peach in your hand. You turned around to see Joel Miller half smiling at you, then he slowly stepped forward and put his hands on his hips with his knee out. "Should be juicy," he added. He didn't seem mad at all, but it made your heart race. It was your first time stealing and you got caught.

"Mr. Miller, I–"

"Call me Joel," he said. "Come on in, let's make some apple juice."

"I really shouldn't. . ."

“C'mon, I just cored a bunch of apples."

He was reassuring, but you were too embarrassed and said you should get home. He told you to come back any time, but you never did.

The next time Joel came for dinner, you answered the door and he handed you a jar of apple juice. He normally just brought hard cider. Knowing you didn't drink, he brought a jar of juice that night to commemorate your trespassing.

"Wow, thanks," you said.

"’welcome, peaches," Joel whispered in your ear, and his thumb brushed your opposite cheek as it burned.

You prayed he'd never say it in front of anyone else, but that brief teasing was the most personality you ever saw from him. He almost always wore a scowl - he and Bill had that in common.

That was also the night you realized Frank was truly unwell. He tried not to show it, but he kept steadying himself, and it wasn’t because he was drunk. He only drank one cider and Bill teased him for not having any wine. Later, you overheard your dads weighing the options. They mused that Joel could check in on you if they left. You were embarrassed at the thought - you could still feel Joel's touch on your cheek.

When Frank's health got worse in the following weeks, they decided to go.

- - -

Your first night alone in the house after your dads left, it took you hours to get to sleep, then you barely slept. There was an eerie silence, eventually broken by a creaking sound. You brushed that off as the house settling, but soon you heard rustling, then a thump. You couldn’t recall what the night normally sounded like. Each one of those noises made your heart jump. Unable to sleep, your mind drifted to Frank. You worried and cried.

The second night was even worse. You got to sleep but awoke to a repetitive scratching noise that sounded like it was right outside. You knew it was probably an animal, but you were too afraid to look. The wind howled, and you could have sworn you heard voices.

Once Joel came by, you were relieved to see him. Too relieved to be embarrassed. He was somber when you answered the door, though.

"Sorry 'bout your dad…"

It brought everything back to the surface. You nodded, unable to speak with such a knot in your throat. Your head throbbed and your eyes welled up. He jammed his hands in his pockets and hung his head. You could no longer hold back the tears.

Joel's Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow. "Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldnt’a mentioned it." He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and awkwardly opened his arms for you. The hug was rigid and obligatory until you collapsed into his arms like you really needed him. Then it changed. His body relaxed. His thick arms wrapped softly but strongly around you and he rubbed your back. His broad chest swelled against yours with a deep breath as he inhaled you. His flannel smelled like pine, cotton, and sweat.

You stood there resting in his arms for a good minute or so before sniffling, "sorry," and pulling back to dab your swollen eyes and look at him. His eyes were different. Less aloof. His scowl had softened. You wondered how long it had been since someone hugged him. You asked, "do you wanna come in?"

Joel sat you down on the oversized sofa and got you a glass of water. Then, he comforted you as you tried to get a hold of yourself. It was refreshing having someone there. You hugged him from the side, and his armpit was warm and a little damp against your shoulder. Then you started thinking about Frank again and folded forward with your face in your hands.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, rubbing your back. Then he put his feet on the ottoman and gently pulled you back against the couch with his arm around you. You cuddled up to him again like a big, surly teddy bear. He rubbed your arm, then began to brush the inside of your elbow with his thumb. It was a comforting gesture. Entrancing, too. A little sensual. It certainly relaxed you. Somehow, you fell asleep with your head on his thighs.

You woke up when his lap shifted under you. He was stroking your head, and you could feel he was hard. You pretended not to notice, but when you sat up, he didn't shy away from adjusting himself like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.

You wouldn’t know. You were mostly homeschooled and there was barely anyone your age, or even generation, in the community. By this point, it felt like there was no one left in Lincoln. Jesse was just gone one day, no kiss goodbye, not even a word. He always talked about going West, but you thought it was just a dream. Even Ellie and Riley went their own way when Ellie turned 18. You knew how hard that was for Joel, especially when he already lost Tess.

You averted your eyes from his jeans, then asked Joel, "What do you do? To deal with everything?"

Joel swallowed and clenched his jaw. His his eyes were dark. He hesitated, looked you over, then said, "Tell ya the truth? I'm the worst guy to ask. . . Shit, I knock myself out. I drink. I take pills."

You were flattered by his honesty and felt respected as an equal. Emboldened, you asked him, "Can you gimme some? I can't stop thinking about it. . .I cry every night."

“What, give you whiskey and pills?” Joel laughed, then saw how serious you were. It was surprising because you were so straight laced. You were of age but still never drank more than a sip of wine, and that was only if Bill or Frank insisted you taste a pairing. Never really snuck out. Never done more than kiss a guy - although you'd like to think you would've.

"I don't think your dads would like that, darlin'. I'm s'posed to keep ya safe–not sayin' you need keepin' safe–but I'm sure as hell not s'posed to give ya drugs 'n whiskey."

"I'd never tell," you promised, desperate for anything to get your mind off it and let you sleep. "if either of them ever makes it back." You started to cry again.

"Sorry, peaches." He kissed you on the head and you got butterflies. He stayed with you awhile longer until you stopped crying, then said good night.

You didn't expect to miss Joel, but you did, as soon as he stepped out the door. When you sat back down on the couch, it was even worse. You never realized how huge and deep that sofa was until you sat on it alone that night after Joel left.

You thought about Joel more and more. It was hard not to – he was the only person left. At least Jesse hardly crossed your mind anymore. Finally, after all that time wondering why he didn't say goodbye, you decided he just wasn't man enough. You wondered if you were ever truly attracted to Jesse anyway, or if he was just the only guy around.

- -

The next time Joel came over, you surprised yourself with your girlish reaction. Your cheeks burned as soon as you saw him, before you even answered the door. And when you noticed the whiskey bottle in his hand, your whole chest went hollow, making room for your affection. He was really treating you like the adult you were. You greeted him with a hug and his nose brushed your ear as he inhaled you. He smelled like whiskey, aftershave, and pine.

You got two glasses from the kitchen. He poured you a drink and slouched with his legs wide open and his long arm on the back of the couch. His other hand rested on his inner thigh. You asked if he was going to have a whiskey.

"Nah, had enough. Any more and I won’t be good company."

You wondered what that meant, but didn't pursue it. You sat shyly at the other end of the sofa and winced as you took a sip of your drink alone. You coughed and he came over and patted your back. Then he talked you through your next sip.

"Straight to the back of the throat. Can’t let it linger. Do the rest all at once.”

You took it as a shot.

“There ya go, darlin’. Good girl."

He resumed his splayed out posture at the other end of the couch and you sat where you were, still wincing and recovering from the drink. He gave you a subtle, knowing smirk and nodded toward his end of the couch.

You only moved half way down the sofa. "Get over here, darlin'," he said and patted the space right in front of his crotch. He brought his closest leg up onto the couch then coaxed you back between his arms and legs. You settled back into him, a little stiff at first. Nervous.

"Relax," he whispered. "You're safe. . . You're with me."

He rubbed the sides of your arms harmlessly, then his arms wrapped in front of you. His hands grazed your breasts lightly enough to pass for accidental as he hugged you. His breath deepened and his jeans twitched against yours, giving you butterflies between the legs. He slipped his arms under yours and you settled in like that, still nervous. You sat for what felt like a long time, and eventually, you relaxed into him. You felt the buzz of the whiskey.

Your head fell back against his shoulder. He stroked your head. He kissed you on the crown of your head every minute or so, comfortingly. Then, one time, his lips lightly touched the bare skin of your temple. Then your cheek. Then his hand nudged your face up toward his. You shifted your body to look at him and your hip moved against the bulge in his pants. He inhaled deeply at the friction, and your cheeks burned.

You studied his furrowed brow, wondering what he was thinking. Your heart raced and your skin felt hot from the buzz. Emotions ran high. You kind of wanted to do something, or you wanted him to do something. You just didn't know what, or how. He was still intimidating. You didn't know anything at all and were afraid to make a fool of yourself.

With heavy eyelids and rosy cheeks, Joel looked from your eyes to your mouth and back, then leaned in. When his nose brushed yours, you offered your lips and he closed the distance. He sucked in a chest full of air through his nose with his lips pressed into yours. You stayed mostly still as his tongue parted your lips and he seemed to suck the air out of your mouth. His tongue brushed yours and arousal flooded you. Then your lips embraced his and you let him taste your mouth.

His manhood swelled against you, much harder now, sending a rush to your core. Your heart pounded when you realized how wet you were getting. You scooted your butt forward, self-conscious of your contact with his privates. When you broke contact, Joel broke the kiss.

He stroked your head gently again and kissed your temple.

"You’ve never felt one before, have ya?" He asked soft and low as he slowly palmed the hard bulge in his jeans behind you.

Your face burned and you just barely shook your head no.

"It's ok, baby. It's s'posed to feel good."

"What is?" you asked shyly even though you figured you knew. You wanted to shrink into the sofa, but you'd be shrinking into him.

He gently pulled you back against him. With his hand on your stomach, he pulled you all the way in. His arousal was already stiffer, larger.

He lowered his voice and said, "Feelin' this against you, knowin' it's there." His hips lifted gently, and his hard package swelled against you. "It's s'posed to feel good. Nothin' to be ashamed of"

Butterflies swarmed inside you, multiplying, filling up your ribcage, your pelvis. He coaxed you into relaxing back on him again. He cradled you from behind and caressed your thigh for a minute, then his masculine hand slid between your knees, gently nudging them apart. His hand slid up one inner thigh and your legs opened for him all on their own.

"Feel it here?" he asked before he flattened his fingers and slowly, lightly felt the crotch of your pants. You didn't answer. You didn't have to. With several fingers, he ghosted a line from the seam of your pants up to your clit, driving you mad.

He pressed his hardness into you again with a soft grunt. His voice was low as he reassured you with his hand still between your legs. "See, what you're feelin' right here, it's natural. It’s right."

His other hand stroked your stomach, gradually approached your chest, then caressed your breast lightly with his hand mostly flat. His chest rose and fell under you. You inhaled deeply, your breast swelled into his hand, and he cupped it, grinding his hardness into you harder than before. Your nipples hardened and you got goosebumps all over.

You knew there was a pool in your panties, and you didn't want him to feel it if it seeped through your pants. If it hadn’t already.

As though reading your mind, Joel said in a near whisper, "and when it's wet here, that's a good thing." His thick fingers ghosted the crotch of your pants. "Means your body wants more."

"More what?"

"Well. . . We can figure that out together, darlin'." You weren't that naive, you just wanted to know what more meant to him.

He pressed his crotch into you again, hard as a rock, his fingers still lightly stroking you between the legs. “When you’re wet. . .makes me feel good, too. . . .” His breath was hot on your neck, then he began to leave open mouth kisses there.

Joel shifted behind you so you could see each other again. He took your hand in his. "Wanna feel it?" He put your hand on the hard bulge in his pants and thrust against it, biting his lip and lowering his already half-closed eyes. He was so hard, it made your whole body tingle. You could feel the outline of the head. It overwhelmed you with a level of arousal you never knew was possible.

"I think I should go to sleep," you said. It came out as a whisper

"Want me to tuck you in?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye, wrapping you in a hug. It was tempting. You suspected he meant more than that. Maybe he'd even stay over. You hated to see him go. It would be a jolting contrast to be all alone in this big house on all this land, not knowing when he might come back. But you couldn't bring yourself to say yes. It was something in your gut.

"Not tonight," you said.

Joel looked in your eyes and studied your face thoughtfully, then brushed your cheek. "Ok baby," he said. "Not tonight." He kissed your cheek. Feelin' a lil better though?"

"Yeah," you said. At least your mind was off things. You stood up and fidgeted with your hands behind your back.

He put his hands on his knees and stood up with a groan. You tried not to stare at the major protrusion in his jeans. He hugged you tight, and when you felt him from the front, it took your breath away.

"Why don’t you come by this week? We can go for a walk, pick some fruit. Trees are lookin’ real pretty.”

“Okay,” you said.

"Night, peaches." He kissed you on the cheek.

He left the whiskey there, but you wouldn't touch it without him.

You felt like you were aging a year a minute that night. Adults did these things. Even teenagers did these things. You were embarrassed to be several years into adulthood with no experience, no idea what you were doing. You were so far behind. You thought about Bill and Frank's attempt at "the Talk" – how precious you were and that you could love anyone, but needed to protect yourself. Especially from men. Joel seemed like the protector. Not someone you'd need protection from.

It was all happening so fast after years of nothing. You worried that if you didn't slow down, you'd miss it.

PART 2

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! It's really motivating to me and means the world 🖤

While you're waiting for the next part, consider catching up on my series that just wrapped (different story, Joel, & AU): Silence can never be bought, only rented.

Lincoln tag list: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblog @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn @pedrosbabygirl @shotgun-shelby @romanarose @reader-without-a-story @shewantstoknow @jaxxiepup @yvonneeeee @elvinaa @internetobssesed1234-blog @jbcalway

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months

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common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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miasmaghoul · 4 months

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Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

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It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether/dew #aether x dew #aethdew #dewther #hurt/comfort #dont mind me self soothing via ghouls lmao lmao #not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

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creedslove · 4 months

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LATE AT NIGHT WITH JOEL 🍓 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: Hi besties! I thought of this because last night I simply couldn't fall asleep so I decided to spend the whole night up, but there was something missing and that something is our husband Joel Miller 😞

• it is uncommon for you to wake up in the middle of the night and have a hard time to fall back asleep; it's frustrating because it usually happens when you have something to do in the morning, such as work or an important appointment

• at first you even try to go back to sleep, tossing and turning, but then, the temptation of grabbing your phone to check up social media, text back some friend you've been postponing or anything like that, but you know you can't do that in bed, not with Joel asleep next to you

• just because you can't sleep, it doesn't mean you are gonna wake up your husband, he worked hard all day, he deserves to have his peaceful sleep, so you carefully take your pillow and a small blanket if you feel a little cold and head downstairs

• but Joel has a hard time sleeping when you're not next to him; it's instinctively really, he just rolls over and looks for you, not feeling you beside him makes him open his eyes and sigh. He knows you aren't sleepy again

• so he gets up and goes after you, he wants to see what you are up to and spend time together, after all, with everyday routine, sometimes you only see each other briefly either before or after work

• one of your favorite late at night sights is to see Joel climbing down the stairs shirtless with a messy bed hair, rubbing his eyes lazily; it melts your heart, he sort of resembles a toddler when he does so and it makes you picture what having a baby boy with Joel would be like

• then he heavily sits down next to you and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and resting his head on top of yours

• he yawns and keeps his eyes shut for a while, as you chuckle and cuddle him; as much as you wanted him to sleep and relax, you can't deny you love when he joins you on the couch for a lazy middle of the night date

• sometimes you and Joel enjoy that moment to make out a little and make some love, but it's more common to get sexual with your husband in the morning before breakfast or before falling asleep, as Joel is usually very lazy and you both are tired, so it's mostly cuddling and snuggling

• but he doesn't rule out a snack in the middle of the night; you are more into having a fruit or some chocolate, but Joel is more like eating sandwiches or dinner leftovers

• he doesn't really care about what you are watching, it can be anything really, he just loves spending time with you, so Joel pulls you closer and snuggles you

• he usually falls back asleep before you, and when you are all comfortable on the couch, you don't even try to go back to bed, after all, you feel relaxed enough to sleep when you have Joel with you, no matter where

• and he agrees with you, but that doesn't mean his back won't kill him the morning after

• and yet, he's willing to do everything again the next night, because he loves you 💗

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

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romanarose · 5 months

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Santa Joel-y

Chubby!Joel Miller x chubby!fem!reader

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Summary: Joel is insecure about his weight, you help him feel beautiful.

Warnings: Weight gain, insecurity around weight, mentions of eating disorders and bulimia, reader was bulimic, PIV sex, handjob, brief mentions of drinking, creampie.

Immersability: Reader is fem, has hair, is chubby, reader was at least pre-teen in the 90's so not much of an age gap. Reader isn't necessarily Christian but celebrates Christmas at least with her kids at the school

**************

He would kill Tommy right now if it didn’t mean dealing with Maria.

Joel had said ‘absolutely not’ to Tommy’s request for him to play Jackson’s Santa Claus, saying yeah, he may have gained a few pounds since settling into Jackson, but he wasn’t THAT fat.

Naturally, Tommy was annoying about it but Joel did not back down. Neither did Tommy. So, Tommy sent you. You, the school teacher. You, the woman that made his heart palpitate but he did not have a crush on you, because he was 57. You, who Joel had slowly been getting to know and would even sit with him and Tommy or Ellie, both of him teased him relentlessly about his crush. You, who said that you would be dressed up as an elf and Joel agreed faster than he was proud of.

And now, you, who conveniently brought your tape measure as if you knew he would say yes, were measuring him and finding out just exactly how fat he’d gotten.

“41 inches” You declared with the tape measure around his waist. Joel was in charge of writing everything down.

“Jesus christ” He mumbled, writing down as he was told.

You sat back on your hunches, and it took everything in Joel to not look down. For one, he did not want to look at his stomach right now, but also if he saw you on your knees looking up, he was afraid he’d get a boner.

“Joel?” You ask him, fingers adjusting his pants to measure correctly, cold fingerprints brushing his love handles.

He wanted it to stop. “Hm?” but he never wanted it to end. He liked your skin on his, even if it was touching his fat stomach.

“You know putting on weight can be a good thing, right?” You moved to stand up, being done measuring for his costume.

Joel held out a hand for you, helding to pull you up. “I don’t really see how.”

The smile you gave was so soft and kind, it made Joel’s heart flutter. Definitely not a crush though.

“It means your safe, you’re eating 3 meals a day, you aren’t purely on survival mode. You body is probably so used to starvation, it’s holding onto everything it can. It’s just a sign of things… looking up.” Joel didn’t look convinced. “Look, Joel…” You shove your hands in your pocket, blushing a bit. “This might be a lot but, we’re friends, right?”

Joel’s eyes widened. Friends? Fuck, he didn’t think you considered him a friend. Sure, he took the long way home after church and stopped at your house a lot, asking if you needed a hand with the shoveling. Sure, you always took him up on it and then invited him to stay for lunch. Sure, sometimes if the timing was right, Joel walked by the school as the kids were leaving and offered to walk you home. Jackson was a safe place- he’d never let Ellie run around the way she did if he didn’t think it was safe. Still, couldn’t be too careful.

“Yeah, yeah uh, we’re friends.” He agreed, buckling up his pants again.

You looked so earnest as you spoke. “Years before the outbreak, I had an eating disorder. Pretty bad, this was before Princess Diana talked about being bulimic, so there was like… not much help for that kind of thing. Had to handle it on my own.”

“Shit.” Joel whispered, hurting for you. The idea of someone as perfect as you feeling that low that you needed to hurt yourself that way… He thought you were stunning, every curve. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. The point is, when I entered recovery- the dozen attempts it took- I gained back not only the weight I lost, but a lot extra. I found out later that was common. It was difficult, but I learned to look at my weight gain with pride. It meant I was no longer harming my body like that.” You took your hands out of your pockets and grabbed both of his hands. “I don’t wanna tell you how to think, but just know that this change means you and your daughter are safe, okay?”

Joel felt like he could pass out, his body suddenly so warm from your touch. “Okay- I- thank you, darl’n.” He blushed.

“And for what it’s worth…” Hesitating a bit, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek. You feel him giving your hands a squeeze. “I think you’re very handsome. I’ll see you on Christmas, Joel.”

“Why the fuck are you so giddy.” Ellie asked, mouthful, shoveling the pancakes Joel made her into her mouth.

“Wha-” Joel turned around. “Im not- I’m not giddy. I’m a grown man, you little shit.” But he was smiling.

“Does it got something to do with the pretty school teacher you’re gonna be with all night?

Joel threw the washcloth at her.

Besides the fact a child said he wanted his dad for christmas, his dad who died before they came to Jackson, you thought things went smoothly. He dressed up in the costume you’d made for him, and you were in a green elf costume. You thought you looked pretty cute, if you were being honest. Joel did a good job, and after the kids cleared out and it was just you and Joel, you made sure to tell him.

“I was really impressed with you, you got really into it.” You Laughed, holding a drink as Joel flopped down on a chair.

He groaned when he settled. “God, I know I’m getting old now. Shit was exhausting. I don’t know how I can still do patrols and fighting raiders just fine but this has me pooped.”

“Kids are tiring.” You hand him his drink.

“God bless you and your work, honey. Doing God’s work there.” He said with a small chuckle and took a deep drink.

“Hm.” You hummed. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired too, mind if I take a seat?” You say, walking over to him.

“Oh!” Joel scrambles to try and sit up from the only chair in the room. “Shit, sorry, come sit here-”

You place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down and straddling your legs over his lap, taking a seat on him. “This okay?” You whisper in his ear.

“Y-yeah,” Joel whimpers. He looks up at you hand gripping his mug of beer like a life line.

Finishing your wine, you set the glass down and place your hands around Joel’s mug, guiding it to his lips and pushing it up. Gently tilting, you watch Joel’s throat bob as he swallows the rest of his drink, setting his glass next to yours.

“You know I think you are very handsome, right?” You ask his, running your hands over the red of the suit, feeling the swell of his belly.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah, you um… you mentioned it…” Joel admired your in your green elf costume, and he was actually aware he was still wearing the full Santa costume.

Your hands find their way back up. “And I think you are very sweet.”

“I, um… I don’t hear that one very often.” Joel’s face feels warm, that warmth spreading through his body and settling into his lower stomach.

“Mmmmm” You touch his fake, thick, white beard, but take it off in favor of his patch greys. You kept the hat on.“And a good father. That’s a very attractive trait.”

His chest is rising a little too much to act natural. “I’m… trying…” He had a death grip on the chair handles.

“You can touch me, you know…”

Tentatively, Joel settles his hands on your hips, and when his touch makes you smile, he ventures a bit further. “I’d like to kiss you if I could.”

You look down at Joel, hands warm on his scruffy face, the red and white all over his full body. “I’d love that.” His face still in your hands, you lean down and slot your lips up against him, taking his mouth in yours.

“Mmmm” He moans, and you can’t help but grind down onto him, feeling the swell of your stomach against his. The movement caused his hardening cock to twitch in his pants.

“Ooohh, fuck, Joel.” You can’t help whining into his mouth.

His body stiffened, his grip on your wide hips pushing you back away from his erection. “Shit, sorry-”

You grind down on him agsin feeling his full hardness and kissing him wetly. “Don’t ever apoligize for that, fuck… Joel, I want you.”

He’s still hesitant, breathless, Joel closed his eyes. “I dunno if you want that, honey. Made a real nice costume but the body under it ain’t what it used to be.”

“Joel.” You take his hand. “Do you want me? We ain’t gotta do nothing you don’t want to…”

Joel’s next words are barely ground out through gritted teeth and tightly shut eyes. “I, fuck, I want to… I just don’t think you’re gonna want me.”

With a soft sigh, you bring his hands to your chub. “Feel that?”

He can’t get words out, eyes still screwed tight.

“Do you like how my body feels?”

“So much.”

You drag his hands up your front, planting them firmly on your tits that he was happy to play with as you put your hand on his fat stomach. “Then can’t you understand how beautiful I find you?” You rock your hips, and a light whine escapes him. Joel motherfucking Miller whined for you. “Can’t you see how fucking hot you are?”

With his hands massaging your breasts, swiping his thumb over the sensitive nipples and rolling them in his fingers, his beard scrapping your face as you kiss his neck, you are fucking soaking your custome made green pants.

“Mmmaybe?” He’s losing control, becoming needy under you, and you needed him in turn.

“Fuck, Joel, can I feel you? Can I touch you? Please?” You beg.

When he frantically nods, you reach for the big black belt and undo it, slipping your hand in his pants to pull out his cock. “God, Joel… fuck your cock is as thick and beautiful as you are…”

Joel’s hands wander, traveling the length of your body despite being unable to open his eyes to you as you jerk him. “You’re fucking sexy, Joel, all of you. All of us. Every inch. Every scar, every bit of fat and hair loss and sagging is beautiful because we lived, we’re alive and we’re happy, and god Joel, I’m happy right now with you.”

He mumbled something you couldn’t understand as his hands groped at you desperately.

“What did you say, baby? You can say no, it’s alright.”

“Fuck me, please?”

You spit on your left hand, using it to fist his cock while your right explores his body. “That’s all I needed to hear, handsome.”

Joel helps you sit up, strong arms practically holding you up as you maneuver off your pants and line him up at your entrance. You place a hand on his meaty chest and one soft on his cheek “Joel? I need you to look at me when I fuck you, okay? Need your eyes on me when I take you inside me, alright?”

Still clearly nervous, Joel opened his eyes slowly but god he was blessed with a sight when he did. You, your green outfit and little elf hat and you smiling down at him. You were a vision. And you wanted him.

Your eyes were locked on him as you sunk down, your eyebrows pinched together in concentration as you took him, your perfect lips held tight.

“It’s alright, darl’n.” Joel says soothingly, rubbing your thick thighs. “Just go slow… You’re nice and wet for me already, arentcha? Yeah, thatsa good girl… mess girl, fuuuuuck.” Joel dropped his head back, groaning obscenely when you were fully seated, and almost dropping the Santa hat but you caught it. You didn’t want to miss out on how cute he looked in it. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

You smile at him, feeling stretched to the very limit but so, so satisfied. “Kiss me, Santa” With your fingers entangled into his hair, you pull him towards you as you begin bouncing on his cock, repeatedly filling yourself up. His taste was exquisite, but nothing compared to his smell, he was woodsy and leather and safety, and you wanted to melt into all the senses he surrounded you with. The masculine smell, the sweet taste, the feeling of his thick member throbbing inside you and his hands gripping at your ass, his belly rubbing on yours, the sight of him, red and white on brown skin, the grunts as he thrust up… Joel was all that mattered, Joel was all you knew.

“Fuck, Joel, baby you feel so goddamn good.”

Joel moaned into your mouth, moving his hands from the fat of your sides to unbotton your green shirt.

“Joel, ‘salittle cold, don’t wanna be naked”

He paused his movements. “Is it okay if I unbutton a few so I can see your tits?” He looked up at you, hopeful but clearly allowing you to say no.

“I like that idea, handsome.”

When Joel took your breast in his mouth, he paid no mind to the way they sagged and stretched, he devoured you like you were a supermodel, licking and softly nibbling over every inch of the flesh before suckling on the tender nipple.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, bucking a bit as you rode him with everything you had. You place two hands on his protruding belly for leverage, feeling the fat on his chest graze over your fingers as you press down when you bounce. “Gonna cum, Joel, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He removed his mouth only for a moment, frequently going back to suck at your tits while trying to get his sentence out. “Me to, honey *suck* where do you *lick* want me?” His mouth was back on you in a second.

“Inside, cum inside.”

A loud whimper, and he sped up his movements, fucking up into you until you cry out in pleasure, screaming out “OH SANTA!” As you cum around him, Joel right behind. He fills you up with his warm cum, never stopping fucking you until you road out all of your orgasm and his dick was limp inside you. Exhausted, you fall onto his plush body with a cold sweat, kissing tenderly at Joel’s stubbly neck.

Pudgy fingers were buttoning up your shirt. “‘S cold, darl’n. Let’s get your pants on.”

“Mmmmm, just a minute. Like feeling you inside me.”

“Like being inside you.”

Joel’s strong arms wrapped around you, warm and loving and pulling you closer, but then moved to your thighs. Sweetly, Joel rubbed your legs as the heat of sec cooled on your body, fingers occasionally digging into the flesh.

Likewise, you wrap your arms around his full body, feeling the way his fat felt so right against you.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

***************

So, I don't celebrate christmas, but I wanted to put this out there <3

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO THOSE WHO DO!

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @k-ra @whatthefishh @ahookedheroespureheart @mikaelak @littlenosoul @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @harriedandharassed @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @milly-louise @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fem reader #tlou smut #tlou #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #daddy joel #Christmas #christmas special #joel miller santa #santa #jackson joel #jackson joel miller #the last of us christmas

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avastrasposts · 7 months

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 36: The End **

I am glad you are here with me, here at the end of all things, Sam. Frodo Baggins - The Return of the King

Series Master List

Epilogue Warnings have their own post - Word count: 17.5k (I saved the longest for last 😊)

Having electricity wasn’t a new thing to you both, the QZ’s had electricity, albeit black outs where common. But electricity in Jackson, in a community where everyone worked towards a common goal of making things better, it was like a return to a more normal life. Supplies were still scarce, daily hunting trips a necessity, but suddenly you could cook food, freeze it, preserve it and lay away stores for the winter. A large cold storage had already been built and as the summer drew to an end and the trees started to shift in color, it was being filled with the harvest of the community garden and the berries collected in the wild during hunting trips. And all the projects picked up speed when power tools could be maintained and used. Although Frankie cursed the raw blisters on his hands after he and a few other of the strongest men had worked at felling trees by hand, fuel was still a rarity so axes had to be used for that.

But it was also the simple act of coming home and the house, yours and Frankie’s house, being lit up by lamps, the warmth hitting you as you opened the door and the smell of cooking drifted out along with music, actual vinyl record music.

You poke your head around the corner, into the living room, and find Frankie hunched over, holding on to Jack’s chubby hands, as the baby’s unsteady legs wobble with each step.

“C’mon, Jack, look at you go!” Frankie smiles, “You’ll be walking in no time, gordito!”

Jack gurgled, grinning widely, proudly showing his two tiny teeth, the sources of many sleepless nights lately. Frankie looks up as you step into the room, turning Jack around to face you.

“C’mon, Jackie, walk to your mamá, show her how good you are,” he gives you a wide grin, “He’s been standing up all afternoon, holding onto the couch.”

“You’re growing so fast, Jack,” you smile, crouching down as he wobbles towards you, holding onto Frankie’s hands. The baby stumbles into your chest and grabs onto your hair as you pick him up, holding him tight and kissing his chubby cheek. Being Jack’s mamá had become second nature, the little boy inserting himself into your life just as easily as Frankie and you had settled in Jackson.

You’d worried briefly over how Frankie would fare with sleepless nights, his nightmares and troubled sleep hadn’t gone away. But it was as if his body clicked into another gear, remembering sleepless nights with his own daughter. He’d be wide awake as soon as Jack whimpered, out of the bed and picking him up before you’d barely opened your eyes. Half asleep you’d listen as Frankie padded around the room across the hall, soothing Jack, singing endless renditions of Arroz con Leche until even you knew it by heart. On the nights when Jack just wouldn’t settle, Frankie would take him downstairs, heat up some baby food, usually berries with some sweet honey, and wander through the house with Jack in his arms until he fell asleep again. And then he’d tuck Jack back in and you’d briefly wake up as he slipped under the covers, reaching out and curling himself around you. You’d grumble as his cold skin met your bed warm body but he’d just bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as your hair tickled his nose. It would put you right back to sleep, his body slowly warming up, his arms around you and his hand in yours as you felt his hot breath over your neck.

It was the most domestic it had ever felt since the outbreak, sometimes you woke up forgetting it had even happened. You’d blink your eyes open to sunlight filtering in through the curtains, a soft pillow under you, Frankie’s arm around you and clean sheets and blankets on top. If Frankie had snuck up and left the bed before you woke up, you’d smell breakfast from downstairs, frying eggs, warm bread, even jam. The crackle of the fireplace would drift up to you as you pulled your robe on and walked on bare feet down the stairs. You’d stop at the entrance to the kitchen, just like you did when you came home, and just take in the sight of Frankie, your husband, making breakfast for Jack, your son, like it was the most normal thing to do and the outbreak had never happened. It made your heart warm and you could watch the scene for hours. But it also made you realize how much you had to lose, now more than ever, and it scared you. You knew both you and Frankie would fight tooth and nail to protect this life that Jackson offered its small, but growing, population, because this was worth fighting for, more than just fighting for Frankie and yourself.

…

The first time Pat took you and Frankie up to the radio tower it was a beautiful morning. You’d left baby Jack with Maria before heading out. The first snow had fallen over Jackson and the surrounding mountains overnight and the weather had turned properly cold. It had taken longer than planned to get out to the radio tower, many things needed to be prepared before the winter in order for the community to survive. With the electricity up and running, alot projects took priority. Houses were mended and isolated, two women with medical training needed help setting up a small clinic, the stable had to be completed and isolated. On top of that were the necessary and constant patrols and guard shifts almost everyone had to participate in as well as going hunting with Pat.

But now, finally, you were on your way up to the radio tower to see if the radio could be made to work. If not, Pat thought it would be good to have a safe house on one of the patrol routes where patrols could seek shelter if they needed too. With you was another Jackson resident, an older man called Eugene. He was a former electrical engineer and to be honest, you thought your participation on this mission might be pointless, if Eugene couldn’t fix the radio, you didn’t think you’d be able to either.

The entire radio tower compound had at some point been surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire on top. It looked in pretty bad disrepair by now and was pulled down in places.

“It’d be good if we could get that fixed,” Pat says, looking at the fence, “get a gate in place and make this place a bit more secure.”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded, “we still have plenty of fence and barbed wire down in the Jackson HomeDepot, pretty sure we could build a gate too.”

You were on Winston together with Frankie for this ride. You were slowly learning to be a better rider and had been practicing whenever you had time, but you preferred riding with Frankie when you had to go outside Jackson. You felt safe sitting in front of him, he had one steady arm around your waist, the other holding the reins. Now you feel him move his hips and nudge Winston onwards, through the main gates and into the small yard in front of the entrance.

“Has anyone been into the radio tower recently?” Frankie asks, looking at the door that’s hanging off its frame and half open.

“No, not since we first came up here,” Pat says as he swings himself off his horse after stopping by the fence, “We’re going to need to clear it out carefully.”

Frankie keeps an eye on the door as Eugene gets off his horse but makes no move to let you get off, “Was the door always open?” he asks, pulling the rifle from its holster and Pat turns around, furrowing his forehead as he looks at the door.

“We had to break it open when we first came up here, but I’m sure we closed it when we left.”

You can feel Frankie tense up behind you as Pat carefully approaches the door, gun raised. He bends and picks up a brick from the ground and tosses it in through the door. A shriek cuts through the air, making the horses skittish, and then the tell tale sound of a clicker.

“Fuck…” Frankie breathes behind you and Pat hastily retreats and swings himself up on his horse. You’ve got your gun raised too now and when the door slams open, the clicker is hit with several rounds, two shots exploding through its head, making it drop on the ground.

All four of you sit in silence, waiting to hear if something else stirs on the inside. After a few minutes Pat gets off his horse again and approaches the door, you can’t help but wonder if he’s really brave or really stupid, but he nudges the dead clicker out of the way and shines his torch into the darkness.

Behind you, you feel Frankie press a kiss to the side of your neck, “Stay here, cariño,” he whispers before he slides off and quietly walks up behind Pat, joined by Eugene, who’s also gotten off his horse again.

“If I remember correctly, there’s a light switch just inside here,” Pat says, and feels around just inside the door. It clicks and the room fills with light and nothing stirs. Frankie waves you towards him and you tie up Winston and join them.

“Eugene, no offense,” Pat says, “but you’re the oldest and least nimble here, could you stay and watch our backs?”

“No offense taken,” Eugene chuckles and takes up post at the door, looking out at the horses and the front yard while Frankie, you and Pat move towards the inner door. It’s a wide double door and it’s undisturbed.

“We did close this one too, hopefully nothing else got in,” Pat says in a low voice as he reaches for it. It opens without issue and nothing moves on the other side. Silently and carefully the three of you go through the building, clearing out rooms and gathering any supplies you come across until you reach the main radio room on the second floor.

“This seems to be the way we left it too,” Pat says and you walk over to the radio. It’s not a military radio but it’s different from the one you worked on in Boston but it doesn’t take you and Frankie long to start it up. The electricity cables from the Jackson Dam run up here too and the console hums to life, but when you flip the switches to receive or broadcast, all you hear is silence, not even static.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, “but if you could check all the wires Frankie, and I’ll check that equipment does what it should.”

“Sure, cariño,” Frankie says and while Pat scans the top floor for any supplies, you and Frankie work through the radio.

“I’m gonna go get Eugene,” you finally sigh, on your back underneath the console, “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong if all the wires are connected and all the equipment works, something else is up.”

“Ok, I’m just gonna double check the connection from the outside, up on the radio tower,” Frankie says as he gives you a hand up from the floor. You jog down the stairs and back towards the front door. Perplexed, you stop by it and look around, Eugene isn’t there but you can’t see any other footsteps in the snow so you turn and look into the building, his snow covered footprints are moving off towards one of the rooms you cleared coming in.

“Eugene?” you call, walking towards the back. You’ve cleared this area so you’re not too worried, but there’s always a risk of the crumbling building deciding to collapse a floor or a ceiling on any explorer. There’s a door you haven’t seen before, half open at the back of a hallway and you carefully poke your head through it. You can see a set of stairs going down and a flashlight moving around in the dark.

“Eugene, you ok?” you call and to your relief you hear Eugene’s voice come back up to you.

“Yeah, yeah, just checking this basement, the door was locked but I got through it. It’s pretty empty down here though.”

“Ok, just come up when you can, we need you to check the radio,” you call back down to him.

“Right, I'll be there in a jiffy.”

You hear it as you turn, the fast, uneven scrambling of feet behind you making your adrenaline spike. The infected runner bolts through the open front door and immediately sees you, launching itself at you with a shriek. Your hand goes for your gun and… you grasp at nothing, panic shoots through you as you realize it’s on the table upstairs where you left it before you crawled under the table.

“Frankie!” you scream as the infected runs down the hallway and you back up, through the basement door, barely slamming it shut in time. But the broken lock won’t let the door close and the runner's hands are scratching through the opening, pushing it back. With a cry you stumble back as it throws itself against the door and get it open. You lose your balance and tumble down the stairs, a sharp pain shoots through your head as you slam down against the first landing. You fight to keep your eyes open, a haze overtaking you, but the infected screeches and runs down the stairs. It’s on top of you in an instance and you just manage to get your arms up, avoiding its snapping mouth as black dots dance around your vision. As you slip under you hear Frankie roar your name.

Frankie hears you scream, the desperation in your voice cuts through his heart like ice and he almost falls off the ladder as he slides down, dropping everything to get to you. He hears the infected shriek and he roars your name, taking the stairs three steps at a time. He sees the runner shove the door open as he reaches the first floor and hears your scream as you tumble backwards and the loud crack as you hit something on your way down.

He slams through the door and almost falls down the stairs as he tackles the infected, “Get off her,” he roars, wrenching it to the side and shoving his gun point blank to its head, pulling the trigger. The ragged body drops immediately but Frankie doesn’t even register, he’s turned to you, hands roaming over your still body, searching every inch of skin he can reach.

“Did she get bit?” he hears Pat pant from behind but he can’t respond, he’s pulling off your shirt, trying to lift you up without jostling your limp body.

“C’mon cariño, please, please, don’t do this to me, not like this, not like this,” his voice breaks and he grabs your cheek in his hand, the other around your back, carefully sitting you up, cradling you in his arms.

“Put that away, she’s not fucking bit!” he snaps at Pat as he sees the man come around the side, aiming his gun at you. Pat lowers it, your eyes are still closed.

“Please, hermosa, mi vida, I’m here, please don’t leave me,” he caresses your cheek, lightly tapping it to make you wake up, “Don’t go, I can’t…” he whispers, “I can’t lose you,” he bites back the panic that threatens to rise up. “Please, you know I need you more than you need me, that’s how it’s always been. I’m a fucking mess without you, I can’t keep my shit together without you, I need you with me, always, cariño. Fuck, please, just wake up!” He’s rambling as fear fills his chest, making breathing hard. In desperation he gives your shoulder a little shake and suddenly your eyes blink open, with a groan you squeeze them shut again against the bright light of Eugene’s flashlight.

“Frankie…” you mumble and he shushes you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you hermosa, I’ve got you, just don’t scare me like that again.

One of his hands is still feeling as much of your body as he can, lifting your arms and hands, inspecting them while Pat waits, his eyes searching your skin too.

“Cariño, I need to open your shirt,” Frankie says, leaning closer to your ear, “I’m sorry, I have to make sure you…” he trails off, his jaw tightening as he exhales through his nose, “I have to check you for bites,” he grits out, looking into your eyes as you carefully open them again.

“Ok,” you breath out, your voice small and scared and Frankie cups your cheek.

“It’s ok cariño, I won’t let you be alone if that happens, I won't leave you.” Gently he unbuttons your flannel shirt, pushing it off you while trying to not hurt your head, a large bump is already forming at the back. His hands roam across your bare skin, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he finds nothing. Cupping both cheeks with his hands he presses his lips hard against yours, kissing you deeply before pulling back again.

“You’re fine, nothing on you,” he says, releasing your cheek to push a strand of hair behind your ear, “let me check that bump on your head though.”

“The dog will have to check her when we get back, Frankie, you know that,” Pat says, putting his gun back in his holster and Frankie nods while gently probing your head.

“I know, but she’s fine, you can see for yourself.”

Pat takes Eugene upstairs to the radio and Frankie carefully makes you stand up on unsteady legs. You pull your shirt back on and button it as you tell him what happens, Frankie curses Eugene for leaving his post under his breath.

“What the fuck was he gonna do in the basement anyway?” he growls, putting his arm around your waist and leading you back upstairs. On the way past the front door, he stops and closes it, dragging a heavy desk in front of it, “Should’ve just fucking done that from the beginning,” he grumbles.

When you get back upstairs, Frankie insists on you sitting down on the floor, leaning against the wall, while he helps Eugene with the radio. It doesn’t take the old man long to figure out what’s wrong, quickly replacing some sort of mechanism in the back and tweaking it. When Frankie flicks the switch, statics fills the room.

“Let me hail Sean back in Boston,” you say, pushing yourself up from the floor, making Frankie rush over to hook his arm around your waist. You want to tell him to not fuss, but you’re still woozy and your head hurts so you gratefully accept his support.

After a bit of experimentation you find Sean’s frequency, praying he’s still working the radio, that FEDRA hasn’t shut it down, and hail him. After you say ‘Over’ the airwaves go silent and you wait, everyone in the room holding their breath.

“Boston QZ here,” Sean’s distinct voice comes through tinny and shrill but it’s definitely him and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Sean!” you cry out, “It’s so good to hear your voice!”

“What…is…is that really you?” Sean sounds amazed and relieved on the other end. “I thought you were dead, and your Frankie too, you just disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth! Where are you?”

“It’s a long story Sean, and I can’t tell you where we are, in case you know who is listening. But we’re safe, we’re fine, both of us.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, and how’s Frankie, is he doing well?”

“I’m here Sean,” Frankie leans forward and grins into the microphone, “I’m doing good, really great.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that, my dear boy! The last time I saw you, I’m sorry, but you didn’t look well,” You can hear Sean’s smile through the speakers and you give Frankie’s hand a little squeeze.

“I know, Sean, but it’s all good now. And we’ve met some good people here too, so we’re doing good.”

“Listen, Sean,” you say, before Sean can say something else about Frankie’s health, “Can you pass a message to Will and Benny? Let them know we’re alive and well and that we want to schedule a time to talk to them on the radio?”

“Absolutely, of course! I’ll leave the radio station early and go past their place before the curfew tonight.” Sean replies and you hear him scrabble around for something in the background before he comes back on, “I’ll have to leave straight away, it’s almost five thirty here, and the curfew is still at six pm.”

“Thank you, Sean, you’re the best,” you say, “Be careful, and give them hugs from us!”

“I won’t even reach up to give them hugs,” Sean chuckles, “but I’ll try. I’ll radio at two pm tomorrow, does that work for you?”

“We’ll be here, Sean,” Frankie says, “talk soon, over and out.”

“Over and out.”

…

You feel giddy on the way back to Jackson, despite the dull throb in your head. The feeling lasts right until Pat stops you just outside the Jackson gates.

“Sorry, I need to get Maria and the dog, you know the rules,” he says and you just nod to him and he disappears inside the gate. Frankie helps you out of the saddle, gently setting you down on your feet.

“It’ll be fine, cariño, he just has to be cautious,” he says, running his hand over your cheek before he wraps it around your shoulders, holding you close.

It doesn’t take long for Pat to return with Maria, she’s got a worried look on her face but stops a few feet from you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I really hope you’re not infected but you know the drill,” she kneels to release the dog and looks up at Frankie. “I’m sorry, Frankie, but I need you to step away from here, and I’ll let the dog sniff you too, just to be safe.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, letting his hand fall from your shoulder as he steps back.

You hold your breath as the German Shepherd approaches, you blacked out, you don’t know you didn’t get bit but Frankie insists you’re fine, but what if he missed something? The dog sniffs your legs and jumps up, bumping its snout into your belly with a happy wag of its tail and you exhale deeply. Maria whistles and directs the dog towards Frankie and he trots over, Frankie reaches down and holds out his hand, the dog takes one sniff and then lifts his head and licks Frankie’s face, its long tongue lapping across his nose.

“Jeez, Scout,” Frankie chuckles, holding the dog off with his hands, “you’re not meant to eat me if I’m not infected, you know.”

“Thank god you’re both fine, I nearly had a heart attack when Pat told me what happened, I’m going to have to have a talk with Eugene about abandoning his post,” Maria shakes her head and clips the leash back on Scout’s collar. “But I heard the radio works and you got in touch with someone in Boston?”

“Yeah, Sean, who I used to work with on the radio there,” you reply as the four of you start walking back through the gates, Winston trailing behind Frankie who’s got his arm back around your waist, making sure you’re still steady on your feet. “And actually, we wanted to talk to you and Pat about that, about Boston, but in private first I think.”

“Ok,” Maria looks curious but nods, “I’ll put Scout back in his kennel and you can meet me at my house when you’ve stabled Winston.”

“Cariño, I need to check your head too,” Frankie says, lightly running his hand over your hair, “we’ll meet you there Maria, as soon as I’m sure she didn’t get a concussion.”

Maria nods again and Frankie leads you over to the stable along with Winston. You feel ok though, a bit battered and you know you’ll have bruises all over your back soon, but you let Frankie check you after he hands Winston over to Ned.

“Just follow my finger with your eyes, cariño,” he instructs and you do as he says. He lets his finger trail back and forth in front of your eyes until you sigh and wave it away.

“Frankie, I’m fine but if you keep waving that finger I really will get nauseous.”

“I’m just making sure,” he says, “you scared the shit out of me, I hear the crack when you hit the floor you know.”

“I feel fine, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my gun behind, that was a rookie mistake,” you say as Frankie gently cups your cheeks with his hands.

“You should’ve had it on you, but Eugene really shouldn’t have left the front door unguarded, we were lucky it was just one runner.” he tilts his head forward so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck…I hate when things like that happen to you, it’s like I a get a glimpse of what like would be without you and I don’t think I could fucking cope.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask in a small voice, “That you wouldn’t leave me if it did happen?”

“If you’d been infected?” he asks, “I wouldn’t leave you, I could never leave you, especially like that,” his thumbs stroke across your cheeks, he’s trying to keep his voice and eyes calm but you see the anguish in his face as he touches upon that thought. It fills you to, the very idea of Frankie being infected, of seeing the mycelium under his skin, losing him to that, it makes you shiver and he tightens his hold on you.

“Would you kill me? If I asked you to?” you whisper and you see his jaw tighten.

“If you wanted me too,” he says after a long pause, “I would, but I think…I might…” he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to say it, not even think it, but he knows he’d be hard pressed to not turn the gun on himself afterwards if it came to that.

“You can’t, Frankie,” you say, reaching up and tangling your fingers in the curls around his neck, “we can’t. Not while Jack needs us.” You pull back a little and look at him, his hands still around your face. “You have to promise me, that if the worst happens, you stay, for him. Don’t leave him.”

Frankie’s face flashes with pain and you feel it too, the idea of trying to go on without him, in this world, is just so very hard, but for the first time you feel responsible for someone else apart from Frankie and yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you, Frankie, not ever. But if I have to, for Jack, I’ll have figure out how to. And you need to do the same.”

He nods, it’s the smallest of gestures, but he’s looking at you and you see the intention in his eyes and you bring him close again, forehead to forehead.

“I promise, cariño,” he whispers, “I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out too. But I’m not letting that happen, I’m keeping you and Jack safe.”

“You can’t promise that, Frankie,” you whisper back, coming back to the same objection as always.

“Just fucking watch me,” he growls, but he’s smiling, challenging you to contradict him in his conviction.

It’s only a little bit later that you make your way over to Maria’s house, the plan for what you’re going to ask her ready. She calls for you to come on in when Frankie raps his knuckles on the front door.

Pat is already in the living room, on the couch with a cup of herbal tea in his hand, the only warm drink the community is able to produce, yet at least.

“How’s the head?” he asks as you sit down.

“Not too bad, there’s an egg sized lump on the back of my head that’s throbbing, but nurse Frankie says no concussion.

Pat chuckles as Frankie rolls his eyes at you, “Good to hear, you gave us one hell of a scare there, sorry if I was a bit rough with you afterwards.”

“There’s no need, Pat, it is what it is,” you shrug, trying to feign a casual response you don’t feel.

“I made some tea for you two too, thought you might need some warming up,” Maria says as she comes into the living room, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie accepts the tea from Maria and clears his throat, “We wanted to ask you if we can invite four friends of ours, to Jackson, if they can make it from Boston.”

Maria has raised her eyebrows in question, you know how protective she is, how protective you all are, of the community, who you let in, and how crucial it is to keep the circle of people who know about it small.

“Before the outbreak, as you know, I was in Delta Force,” Frankie says, rubbing his thumb over the tea mug, “two of my best friends from those days, Will and Benny Miller, are still in Boston with their girlfriends. Will and Benny are two of the best people I know, my brothers, and very competent soldiers. For selfish reasons we’d both like to have them here, but I also think they’d be a great asset to Jackson.”

Maria nods slowly and looks over at Pat who’s rubbing his hand over his chin, “Frankie, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I trust you with my life when we’re out on patrol, and if they’re anything like you, and you vouch for them, I’d be more than happy to welcome them here.”

Pat’s glowing review of Frankie’s character makes pride swell in your chest and you see Frankie’s ears turn pink at the praise.

“Thanks, man, I…I don’t know what to say,” Frankie stutters, failing to hide his grin, “I…We’ve just really tried to do our best for the community, and I know Will and Ben would do the same. And their girlfriends are great people too, Diana, Will’s partner, is a nurse and Eve was training under her, it’d be great to have them here too.”

“It’s a long and dangerous journey, you two know that very well,” Maria says, “but if they’re willing to risk it, and as Pat says, you vouch for them, I don’t see why not. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another two ex-soldiers to deter any raiders.”

“We’re hoping to talk to them tomorrow at two pm, Boston time,” you say, “Sean was going to try to set it up for us.”

“Ok, but make sure you don’t tell them exactly where Jackson is, in case FEDRA listens in. Guide them to the radio tower, we’ll do patrols there regularly,” Maria says and Frankie can’t help but chuckle.

“Trust me, if we tell them to go to the radio tower, they’ll find Jackson the same afternoon, Benny will smell the food and Will’s going to read the map and figure out exactly where we are in under a minute.”

…

Pat and Ned come up to the radio tower with you and Frankie the next day. The front door had been properly secured before you left yesterday but you still carefully clear the building before heading up to the radio.

You start it up and find the right frequency, hailing Sean as Pat’s old wind up watch hits noon. Wyoming is still two hours behind the east coast, time zones strangely still being a thing, at least over the radio.

But it’s not Sean’s voice that comes back at you over the radio.

“Fuck you both for taking off like that,” Benny roars over the air waves, filling the small room in the radio tower, making Pat raise his eye brows and look at Frankie with alarm.

“We thought you were fucking dead! And not a word, not even fucking note, first Pope and then you two just disappear, what the fuck was that about? And now you just suddenly fucking turn up out of nowhere and you’re safe and you’re somewhere out west and I don’t know fucking what? Fish! You are so dead the next time I see you!”

“Benny, shut the fuck up for a second and let them respond,” Will’s voice comes through, interrupting Benny’s angry tirade, “Ironhead, over.”

The radio goes silent as someone on the other end lets go of the broadcast switch and you press yours down to reply, not quite sure what to say after Benny’s outburst. Sure, it was probably justified, but it wasn’t exactly the way you thought your first communication with them would go. Pat is looking very surprised and a little bit hesitant next to Frankie.

Frankie leans forward over your shoulder and puts his hand over yours on the switch, “Catfish here. Good to hear your voices, and I guess we had that coming Benny. We owe you guys an explanation.”

He pauses, his hand still on the switch as he collects his thoughts, “I had to leave, you guys know why, and she made me see that it was the only way. We didn’t want to leave without saying anything but…we couldn’t let you risk everything too. I know you both would’ve come anyway, even if I told you not to, so we had to leave without saying anything. But I’m sorry, really, Benny, I’m really sorry we didn’t say anything. Over.” He takes his hand off yours and you let the switch flip back up into the receiving position.

“Are you good now, Fish? Over.” Will’s voice comes over the radio almost instantly and Frankie hits reply.

“Yeah, I’m good now, been good for a while. But I’ll tell you all about it later, because we’ve found something really good here and we want you to come out too, if you can. It’s a long journey, but it’ll be worth it. I don’t wanna say too much in case FEDRA or someone else is listening in, but remember that job we did in Iraq? And the name of that fucking C.O. that kept calling Pope and me spics? There’s a place in Wyoming that matches, that’s where we are, come find us there. Over.” Frankie lets go of the switch.

“You’re in Wyoming? How the fuck did you end up there?” Benny’s voice is incredulous and he still sounds a bit pissed off but Will interrupts him.

“So you want us to travel halfway across the country but you can’t tell us why?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know it’s dodgy as fuck, but I know you trust me, it’s good, it’ll be worth it, we’ve got something really good going here. And you know the names right?”

“Yeah, sure, I still have a fucking five inch scar from that job and I know exactly what asshole you mean,” Will responds.

“Will,” you lean forward, “it’s a dangerous journey, we know that. But if you can get a car, you’ll find abandoned cars almost the whole way so that you can fill up on gas as you go, that’s what we did. Only thing is, the last two days, once we got to Wyoming, there were no more cars so we had to walk the rest of the way.”

“But why the fuck did you go as far as Wyoming?” Benny asks again and you can’t help but smile, you can see his face in front of you, his forehead bunched up as he tries to wrap his head around it.

“We didn’t plan it,” Frankie says, “we were just trying to get away from populated areas as much as possible. And then…something happened in Nebraska, and we had to head further west.”

“Yeah, be careful of people, we ran into some really nasty types in Nebraska, just about got away,” you fill in.

“But you’re saying it’ll be worth the journey, if we make it out to you guys?” Will asks and Frankie nods as he flicks the switch.

“Yeah, absolutely, I’m sorry I can’t say more over the radio, but yeah, one hundred percent worth it.”

“Well, anything is better than fucking Boston QZ at the moment,” Benny grumbles as Will flicks the switch again. “FEDRA has turned it into a fascist state, it’s even worse than when you left.”

“Fish, we’ll talk to Diana and Eve and let you know, but…I mean, I trust you with my life, you’re my brother,” Will says, “If you say it’s worth risking our lives for, then I believe you.”

“Ok, can you be back on the air at the same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Will says, “We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Over and out.”

The radio goes silent and you sit back, you can hardly believe you just talked to Will and Benny again. You just hope they want to come, and that they make it. Frankie wraps his arms around you from behind and gives you a big hug, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“So fucking great to talk to them again,” he grins, “I hope they want to come but I hope we did the right thing to ask them, it’s a long journey.”

You nod as you go through the motions of switching off the radio, you hope so too and a little ball of anxiety is settling in your stomach.

…

That ball grows as you don’t hear from them the next day. Not even Sean is on the radio and you can’t get in touch with Boston at all. You fiddle with the dials, trying everything Sean’s taught you, but there’s nothing, just statics. Frankie stands behind your shoulder, looking anxious. It was always a risk, contacting them inside the QZ, if FEDRA listened in they might’ve tried getting to Will and Benny straight away.

“Fuck, I really hope we didn’t put them in danger just by contacting them,” you say with a sigh, looking up at Frankie, he’s rubbing his hand over his jaw, deep in thought.

“I don’t know, cariño, I really hope not. I guess all we can do is come by here every day at noon and see if we get a response.”

You and Frankie take the patrol route that goes past the radio tower every day and make sure to be there at noon. The first couple of weeks you remain hopeful, maybe something broke, maybe there’s a curfew preventing anyone from getting to the radio, life is so unpredictable now, you know this. But as the weeks turn into a month, and then two, and the radio remains silent, both you and Frankie start losing hope. It’s like the Boston radio station has ceased to exist and all you can do is wait. And hope.

It’s not until you’re deep into winter that you come back to the radio station on one of your patrol routes, Frankie and you don’t even go on that patrol regularly anymore, and you find a message from one of the other Jackson residents.

Message from Sean in Boston: FEDRA shut down radio. W & B left approx. three months ago. Hope they have arrived. Will send new messages when possible.

“Three months ago?” you say, looking at Frankie, “they should be here by now if they managed to drive.”

“They should be here even if they walked the whole way,” Frankie says, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown, “something must’ve happened.”

You feel the lump in your stomach, anxious nerves twisting your insides, and Frankie sees the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms.

“Don’t give up hope yet, cariño,” he mumbles into your hair, “you know that if there’s anyone that can do that journey, it’s Will and Benny.”

“I almost wish we hadn’t told them,” you say into his chest, “I’m scared we’ll never hear from them again and never know what happened.”

He caresses your hair, trailing his fingers along the back of your neck, “You know, Benny will say it’s payback for what we did when we left without saying anything, I can just see his smirk as he says it, ‘Fuckin’ payback Fish!’ “

You smile through your tears, looking up at Frankie who’s doing his best to imitate Ben’s smug grin.

“There you go,” he smiles back at you, wiping your cheek clean, “don’t grieve for them yet, there’s still plenty of hope.”

…

Winter in Boston is a piece of cake compared to winter in Wyoming, as you find out, especially this close to the Rockies. The snow covers everything both inside and outside of Jackson in a thick layer. Almost every morning Frankie shovels the snow off your front porch and clears the path to the street. Then he shovels the section of the street the two of you are assigned to, everyone helping out to keep Jackson passable as the winter continues. Patrols become increasingly difficult, the snow becomes too deep even for the horses to pass through and the only upside is that if the Jackson guards can’t patrol, then no one else can either, all of Wyoming is snowed in.

But there’s plenty to do in the town and you go back to working in the kitchen, bringing Jack with you most days. He’s the only baby in the community and to say he’s spoiled rotten would be an understatement. He’s walking now, waddling around as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, but when he’s in the kitchen he spends most of his time on the hip of one of the residents who work there with you, happily watching everything that goes on around him.

Frankie takes Jack some days but he’s often outside, helping to build or fix things, slowly putting Jackson together into a working town. The stable has been joined by two chicken coops, the old medical clinic has been cleaned out and repaired as much as possible, there’s even a communal ‘shop’ of sorts where any useful clothes and shoes are stored and organized. An election has been held and Maria is now head of the community board, Jackson is slowly turning into a proper town.

As the weeks pass, the winter deepens and Maria and the board decide that it’s time for the town to have its very first holiday celebration. To be honest, no one is completely sure what day it is anymore. You lost track back in Denny’s cabin when you were trying to keep Frankie alive. In the QZ some people had made calendars to track the days but more often than not they disagreed on exactly what day it was. FEDRA in Boston claimed they had an exact calendar, but Will, who’d spent most of his life tracking everything, said it was incorrect by twenty six days, almost a month off, and you trusted Will. But in Boston, even to Will, it didn’t really matter what date it was, you were too busy just surviving.

So as the days are still growing shorter, a day is picked, a Saturday in two weeks, for the first Jackson Holiday Season celebration. The community hall is decorated with evergreens and the big room smells of juniper and pine every time you come inside. A thread bare red blanket has been cut into strips and turned into bows that are now nestled in the evergreen branches. And it seems every red item that can be found in Jackson has been brought to the hall to decorate tables, windows and every available surface.

As the day draws nearer Frankie becomes more and more secretive about what he’s up to, giving you sly grins whenever you ask where he’s off to as he tries to sneak out the door. You know he’s planning something, but you can’t figure out what. But his absence from the house gives you time to work on your own gifts for him.

There’s not much in the way of available holiday gifts though. Although Jack’s turns out to be pretty easy, the toy shop in the non-enclosed part of Jackson has an array of toys left on its shelves, not much use to anyone in the apocalypse. Frankie and you go over there one afternoon on a patrol route and pick out a colorful set of wood blocks and, of course, a toy helicopter, still in its box.

“You’ll have to explain what a helicopter is,” you say to Frankie as you watch him carefully scan the shelves to find the biggest and, in Frankie’s professional opinion, best helicopter model.

“Yeah, kinda weird knowing he’s gonna grow up never seeing a helicopter or airplane actually fly,” he replies, discarding yet another helicopter, “This model is alright, but the Viper really is better, even if most people thought the Apache Guardian was the best one. I always preferred the Viper, better maneuverability at low altitudes.”

“I think he’ll like this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red and yellow helicopter, clearly from a children's tv-show. Frankie glances at it and shakes his head immediately.

“No, I’m not giving our son a fake helicopter, he’s getting a real one.” He goes back to scanning the shelves, crouching down and moving the boxes aside. “Maybe they have some more out back,” he mutters, discarding yet another perfectly fine looking military helicopter.

“Well, when you find a ‘real’ helicopter in here, let me know. I’m going to see if I can find some crayons and drawing books for him,” you can’t help teasing him as you turn away and head towards the craft section.

You have to stop yourself from filling your bag to the brim with crayons, drawing books, beads, paint, brushes and other crafting materials, but you still stuff it pretty full. Just as you close it Frankie finally comes over, two boxes in his hands.

“I found a Viper out back, last one they had,” he says with a grin, showing you a military helicopter that, to you, looks identical to the one he discarded, “but I also got him this really cool rescue services helicopter, they use it for water bombing, it’s a S-64 Skycrane, it can hold up to three thousand gallons of water! In the army we call it the CH-54 Tarhe, but the Skycrane is the civilian name. It’s a twin engine, heavy lifting helicopter, one of the best in the world. You really need a pilot and a co-pilot to fly it but I had special training and could fly it solo in an emergency. But the really cool thing is that it could lift up to forty two thousand pounds and still do a hundred and nine knots! Isn’t that awesome, cariño?”

You’ve walked out of the shop and turned back down towards the Jackson gate while Frankie enthusiastically gushes about the toy helicopters still in his hands and when he pauses for your opinion, you just nod and smile at him. Most of what he said has just floated through your head, but Frankie tirade of facts reminds you of the first time he took you up flying, how he’d rattled off technical facts about the helicopter you were about to fly in and then apologized for boring you with all the details. As you wave to the guards and the gate slides open to let you in, you bump his shoulder with yours.

“That’s pretty cool, Frankie. Jack’s going to be very impressed too.”

“I can’t wait to show him on Christmas morning,” Frankie grins, smiling lovingly down at the two helicopters in his hands.

…

The night before what Jackson has communally decided is Christmas, or whatever holiday you want to celebrate, Frankie turns up at the door with a Christmas tree and you can’t believe your eyes. It’s not huge, a modest one, but he’s somehow found a foot for it, and now it’s standing in the living room and Jack’s eyes have never been bigger as he gazes at it. He’s almost one and you’re set on making his first Christmas as magical as possible.

“Pat, Ned and I found loads of decorations at HomeDepot, even the lights work,” Frankie says, showing you the box. “We’ve got enough decorations there to fill all of Jackson I think, I even got candy canes!”.

“You’ve got everything here,” you can’t help but giggle as you look into the box of decorations he’s dragged in after the tree, “baubles, tinsel, streamers, this is going to look amazing.” You haven’t wanted to celebrate anything for years, but now you’re filled with an urge to make the tree, and the house, look perfect for your first family Christmas. You’ve already made a wreath for the front door out of evergreen and colorful scraps of fabric but now you can add more decorations to the house. As Frankie organizes the tree decorations, you go through the house, placing tinsel and baubles wherever you can find a suitable spot.

“Should we decorate the tree now or wait until Jack’s asleep?” Frankie asks you as you come back into the living room, “My mom would always do it while we slept and then it’d be all perfect and ready on Christmas morning.”

“He’s too small for that, and I wanna sit in front of the fire with you tonight and look at our tree,” you reply, sliding your arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

“Anything for you, cariño,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

…

Christmas Day morning you wake up as Frankie slips from the bed and you mumble after him. He comes back and tucks you back in, placing a feather soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Go back to sleep, cariño, I won’t be long.”

You doze off, the light in the room still dim and there’s no noise from Jack’s room, it must be early.

Frankie gently places a tray on the bedside table a little bit later and runs his hand over your shoulder, making you blink awake.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he whispers, before he disappears again and you slowly open your eyes, confused. But then you hear Jack’s gurgling as Frankie comes back in with the baby in his arms and you wake up properly.

“First family Christmas for baby Jack,” Frankie smiles and gives you the little boy after you’ve scooted yourself up to lean against the headboard.

“First family Christmas,” you smile back, snuggling a still sleepy Jack close while Frankie picks up the tray and sets it down on the bed before crawling back in next to you. On it are two steaming mugs and you can’t believe your nose.

“Is that hot chocolate, Frankie?!” you ask, eyes wide and he nods, giving you a big grin.

“Pat and I found a big bag of cocoa powder a while back, we’ve been keeping it a secret for Christmas, he’s making brownies for everyone tonight.”

“Oh my god, I can’t wait…” you sigh, accepting the mug as Frankie passes it to you, keeping it out of reach from Jack’s grabby hands.

“Don’t worry, gordito, I’ve made you some too,” Frankie chuckles, giving Jack a sippy cup. The baby’s face transforms as he tastes the sweet drink, tilting the cup back so fast you have to grab it to stop him from drowning himself in the drink.

“I hope there’s plenty of cocoa powder because we may have found Jack’s new favorite thing,” you laugh. Frankie scoots closer and puts his arm behind your back, pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, your present is under the tree,” you say and you can feel him chuckle under you.

“So that’s what you did when you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night,” he laughs, “I was wondering what you were up to.”

“No, that was Santa Claus,” you say with a serious face, “you must’ve heard of him coming down the chimney.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Frankie chuckles again, “Santa Claus.” He puts his mug down and tilts your head up towards him, brushing his nose against your cheek, running it along the bridge of your nose until his lips find yours and he nudges them apart with his tongue. He tastes of chocolate and honey and himself as he deepens the kiss. Jack coos happily on your lap, you can feel him tugging at the t-shirt you’ve slept in while Frankie’s warm body wraps around you and Jack. He pulls back a little, leaving your lips, and smiles down at you, and then Jack, his eyes warm and soft, crinkling at the corners.

“Merry Christmas,” he says in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment and you reach up and cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scruffy beard, stroking the small patch that never fills in and you kiss him again.

The rest of the morning, after breakfast has been cleared away, is spent in the living room. The fire is going, warming the house and keeping the blistering cold Wyoming winter at bay, and the Jackson board has given everyone leave to light the Christmas lights as the dam is running like clockwork, producing much more electricity than the small community needs.

Jack happily tears into the bright paper around his presents, banging the wooden blocks against each other with glee as Frankie shows him how the helicopter flies. Frankie’s wearing your presents to him, your very first knitting projects, a woolly hat that turned out much better than you anticipated, and a pair of pretty knobbly socks that Frankie swears are the comfiest socks ever, but you’re pretty sure he only says that to make you happy.

Your own present from Frankie is already neatly placed in the book shelf next to the window, a wide selection of best selling books from the Jackson Bookshop. You hadn’t even known there was a bookshop but Frankie had lugged back over twenty heavy books, and promised to take you there to get more books when you wanted.

“I also have another present, but you’ll get that one tonight,” he smiles, giving you a mischievous wink that doesn’t fail to get you a little bit turned on. You’ve almost lost count of the years you’ve been with him now, but he still knows exactly what look to give you to make heat shoot through your body, making your thighs clench together.

As darkness falls over Jackson, almost everyone heads for the community hall. There’d been a draw and a few unlucky people were on guard duty, but they’ve been giving generous hampers of the best food and extra days off from guard duty as compensation. But you’re still very happy that neither your or Frankie’s names got pulled for duty tonight. Instead you’d wrapped Jack in warm clothes and walked down to the community hall that’s blazing with light and warmth. Now you’re leaning back in your chair, Jack on Frankie’s lap, full of food you didn’t think you’d ever eat again. Turkey and cranberries, roast potatoes, even Pat’s brownies, it had all been delicious and you think it may have been the best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had. Jack had happily tried everything that had been placed in front of him, except the brussel sprouts, but you couldn’t blame him for that. The brownie had been his favorite, smeared across most of his face to the delight of the whole Jackson community. It was as if Jack’s presence, still the only child in town, gave even more of a holiday feel to the celebration and he’d been passed around almost every lap during the evening before slumping in Frankie’s now, almost asleep.

“Do you want me to take him now, Frankie?” Maria asks as she comes over and you look up surprised but Frankie just smiles.

“That’d be great, I think it should be ready now,” he gives Jack a peck on the top of his fuzzy head and carefully hands him over to Maria, “We’ll come pick him up tomorrow morning, but not too early.”

“Don’t worry about it, take all the time you want,” Maria says and winks as Frankie stands, holding out his hand to you.

“Mi amor, time for your Christmas present,” he smiles and you take his hand.

“I want to ask where we’re going but I’m guessing you won’t tell me?” you ask and Frankie chuckles, waving goodbye to Maria and leading you out of the community center.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You walk through the quiet town, in the opposite direction from your own house and you’re thoroughly confused when Frankie leads you down a street no one lives on yet and to a house right at the end of the cul-de-sac. He pushes the gate open but instead of going up onto the porch, he leads you round the back, pushing open another gate in a tall fence, and stepping into the backyard.

You see it immediately, a large wooden hot tub, filled to the brim with steaming water, heated by a wood fired heater next to it. A big pile of firewood is next to it and by the way the snow is flattened you guess Frankie’s been here during the evening to feed the fire and heat up the water.

“Seriously?” you smile, turning to look at Frankie who’s grinning next to you, “A hot tub?”

“Yep, we knew it was here but with fire wood needed to heat the houses it was never put to use. Now that the dam is running so well, we can afford to waste a bit of wood on heating it. So, Merry Christmas, cariño.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans his head on your shoulder, the cold tip of his nose finding the warm skin of your neck and you reach up, cupping the back of his head.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, this is amazing…” you sigh, “And I guess Maria is in on this too, that’s why she took Jack?”

“She’s babysitting him tonight for us, so we have all the time that we want,” Frankie mumbles, his lips already wandering across your neck, pushing hair out of the way and reaching that spot just under your ear that he loves to nuzzle into, to nip at just a little, because he knows how you react when he does.

“C’mon, we’re skinny dipping,” he smiles into your neck, reaching for the zipper on your winter coat and sliding it down, “strip fast and get in, I’ll be right there.”

He gives your neck a final little nip, making you hum quietly under your breath, before he steps away and goes to retrieve something up on the back porch. There’s a bench next to the hot tub and you quickly take off your jacket and peel off the rest of your clothes. As you get to your bra and panties you quickly glance around and realize that the backyard has total privacy, even from the neighboring houses, so you strip down and climb into the tub. Frankie comes back just as you step into the water, the short stay in the frigid air has made you shiver and you moan as you slip into the hot water.

“Frankie, this feels amazing,” you sigh as Frankie places a couple of towels on the heater to keep them warm, and places two glasses and a bottle on the edge of the hot tub.

“You look very cozy there, cariño,” he smiles as he starts stripping down too. You can’t help but lean on the edge of the hot tub and watch him as he pulls his shirt off, followed by his pants. He’s well into his forties now but he’s still maintained his wide, muscular shoulders and broad chest that tapers down into a narrow waist and hips over strong thighs. The only thing betraying his age and the slightly softer lifestyle of Jackson is his soft little belly and more gray hairs in his patchy beard.

“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles as he spots you shamelessly scanning his body.

“Always, ever since our first date,” you smile, scooting to the side as he steps in. Your mouth waters as you take in his half hard cock hanging stiff between his legs, despite the cold air.

Frankie sinks down into the water with a groan, the warmth seeping into his muscles and bones and with a thump he drops his head back against the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes, letting a long breath escape him. You move closer to him again, pulling his arm around your shoulders as you sink into his side.

“Hmm…” he tilts his head towards yours, his hand coming up to hold your chin, moving it so that he can reach your lips, “you taste like Christmas, cariño.”

It makes you smile into his mouth, letting your tongue slip into his, tasting him, the burn of the whiskey he had before you left.

“What’s in the bottle, Frankie?” you ask, mumbling against him and now it’s his turn to smile.

“Something to make you lose your inhibitions and have sex in a hot tub in the middle of a Wyoming winter,” he chuckles.

“Sounds exactly like what we need,” you smile back at him and he pulls away far enough to grab the glasses and the bottle. The bottle is barely half full but it’s more than enough for a finger in each glass and when Frankie hands one to you, you smell the rich bourbon.

“This is the real stuff? Not Eugene’s moonshine?” you ask, your eyebrows raised but Frankie just grins and clinks his glass against yours.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he takes a sip, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief over the brim.

“Francisco Morales,” you say, trying to sound stern, and failing, “where did you get this?” You take a sip and groan. You were never a big whiskey drinker before the outbreak, and not even during the first few years of it. But while in Boston, when creature comforts became fewer and further between, real whiskey was one of the few things that could sometimes be traded for, the one indulgence that could make you all relax enough to forget the real world for a while. As the years passed it became harder to find the good stuff, mostly it was moonshine disguised as whiskey. But this was real bourbon, Jack Daniels, and not the cheap stuff.

Frankie takes another sip and leans forward, “I pulled a few strings, I am the hero of Jackson Dam after all,” he chuckles before he makes you open your mouth to his tongue again. The whiskey flavor is mellow this time, mingling with his own taste and you forget your question, moaning as he licks into your mouth. He takes the glass from you, placing it on the edge without letting his mouth leave yours and then his hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. The cold air hits your shoulders but Frankie sinks down further, water sloshing around you, and as he moves his lips from your mouth, trailing down your neck, you forget about the frigid temperature. His hands are pulling you down against his hard length as he sucks a mark into your smooth skin, making you whimper under him.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, his lips brushing down over your chest as he lifts you out of the water, watching the cold air make your nipples tighten before he wraps a hand around your breast, the warmth from his palm making you shudder, “Gonna make you come on my fingers right here, fuck you on my lap, then I’ll take you home, get you warmed up in front of the fire before I take care of you for the rest of the night, anything you want, hermosa, I’ll do to you.”

His words make you shiver more than the air, sending spasms down your spine, and Frankie moves you off his lap, setting you down next to him, the warm water coming up to your neck again.

“You can come inside me tonight, Frankie,” you say as his strong hands grip your legs, and you feel his response, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and he presses his mouth to yours, taking a long kiss, tongues slipping over each other, before he pulls back a little.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear now, as he pulls you into his side, his hand slipping up the inside of your thigh. You don’t need his words to spread open for him, but he knows you like to hear him ask for it, so he lets his breath skate across the damp skin while he tells you what to do. Hooking his leg over yours, he squeezes the soft flesh of your leg as he props you open for his hand to slip further up. You’re protesting at his slow pace, he’s just teasing you as he strokes the butter soft skin right at the top of your thigh, grazing against your core as he moves his hand to the other side. He chuckles into your ear as your hips buck, chasing his hand and he lets his other arm slip down to your hip, grabbing it tight and holding you still as he moves his hand up again.

“So impatient tonight, cariño,” he smiles before his teeth nip at your neck, his scruff tickling your skin as he moves further down. His hand is still kneading the plush flesh, pushing you open more as he slides his hand back up. When his fingertips catch at your entrance and drags upwards, you whimper, turning your head and chasing his lips with your mouth. He lets you kiss him, opening his mouth to your tongue as his fingers slide through your folds.

The slow drag makes you want to clench your thighs together but his leg is keeping them in place, keeping you open for his drawn out exploration.

“Frankie…” you moan against his lips, breathing heavily against him as he brushes around your clit yet again, “please…more…”

You can feel him smile against you as your pleading voice turns into a whine when he slowly pushes the tip of his finger inside you, only the one, much too little for what you need, and you keen in protest, grabbing his shoulder and trying to push your hips towards him.

“Sshh…hermosa, just stay still, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his voice low and promising, “gonna let you feel my fingers so deep inside this wet little pussy, just be patient…” the last words he mumbles into your ear as he leaves your lips, his hot breath making you shiver. His finger slips out and slips back in, pumping slowly as he lets his thumb touch your clit feather light, but even under those small touches, your breath catches, head thrown back against the edge of the hot tub.

Frankie’s teeth grazes your throat, just under your ear, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you shiver again and he slides his finger out, even the hot water feels cool against his skin after the heat of your pussy. When he adds a second finger and slides in, he’s rewarded by a loud moan as you turn your heads towards him again, desperately seeking him. He swallows down your noises, drowning in your pants as he starts curling his fingers back, dragging across a spot he knows makes you squeeze your eyes shut as you gasp. His thumb finds your clit again and now he lets his rough pad, made soft and wrinkled by the warm water, rub across the swollen pearl, circling, flicking, teasing until your gasps are replaced by panted whimpers into his mouth.

“Frankie…” you moan, “Frankiefrankiefrankie…”

Your cries send shock waves into his hard cock, resting heavily in the water between his spread thighs, one of his legs still hooked over yours. He feels your hand slide down over his front, wrapping around the solid length, and it’s his turn to gasp, your thumb finding the slit and caressing over it.

“Make me come, Frankie, I-I want you to fuck me h-here,” you pant, shaking under the way his fingers plunge in and out of your tight heat, “I want your cock inside me now, I don’t want to w-wait…oh fuck…”

He’s slipped out and added a third finger, pressing them deep inside you, moving his body to push you against the wall of the hot tub, your hand still gripping his hard, aching cock. His tongue invades your mouth, both of you moaning under the onslaught of pleasure rippling through your nerves. You’re further along, Frankie’s thumb teasing your clit in ever tightening circles while his fingers curl back. But it’s Frankie who breaks first, as his cock easily slips through your tight grip under the water, he curses in Spanish, pulling away from you.

“C’mere,” he growls and you gasp as his fingers slip out of you. He grabs your arms, turning you around easily and placing you on his lap, pushing your legs wide, hooking them over his knees, as you lean back against his chest. You feel the tip of his rigid cock at your entrance as he pulls you down, the slick heat of your core and the water making him slide in deep in one firm thrust. The impact, the way he hits a spot deep inside, makes you throw your head back, against his shoulder, and cry out his name. Frankie sees your hot breath steam into the cold air, mixing with the steam from the hot tub as you moan again. One hand on your hip to pull you down, he lets the other find your aching clit, teasing it with his fingers as he thrusts up into you. His cock his aching, every movement from you transplanting into every nerve ending along it, shooting up through his spine, his balls, his fucking finger tips, he swears he can feel you clenching tight around him even in his ear lobes.

His mouth is right next to your ear and he’s mumbling, slamming his hips up as much as the position lets him, “Such a tight fucking pussy, couldn’t wait another second, bebita, your hand…” he groans as another spams ripples through your body, he can feel how close you are, grinding your hips down against him with every thrust up, “fuck…you feel so fucking good,” he moans, “let me feel you come around my cock, just let me feel it, I’m so fu-fucking c-c-lose…”

You can feel his fingers dig into your hip, his mouth against your ear, his rough fingers caressing rough circles around your clit, building pressure.

“Frankie…” you whimper, your voice tight and strained, “I’m…”

Your orgasm hits you without warning, snapping every muscle in your body, Frankie feels you go rigid under his grip as you cry out his name again, it catches in your throat as he continues to grind up in to you, his fingers rubbing fast circles, pushing you forward, prolonging every waves that washes through you until you go limp. With a sob you slump back against him and he grabs your hips, pushing himself deep, once, twice, with a cry he thrusts in a third time and feels himself explode, pumping deep inside as your slowing spasms milk him dry.

You feel yourself relax in his arms, his grip tight, heart thrumming under your back as he pushes his face against the crook of your neck. You look up towards the night sky, trying to focus your eyes again, as every muscle in your body tingles with pleasure, coming down. Tendrils of steam are rising from the tub, your breath mingling with his, low pants and sloshing water the only sounds around you. You shiver as you realize most of your chest is out of the water, you’re still sitting on Frankie’s lap, but he notices and lifts you up, your body almost weightless in the water.

“C’mere, don’t get cold,” he mumbles, his voice soft and mellow, and he tucks you in under his arm, pulling you close into his side, kissing your cheek with his warm lips.

“Even before the outbreak, this would’ve been an absolutely perfect Christmas gift, Frankie,” you hum, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he draws another deep breath, his shoulders dropping, relaxing.

“Yeah, I would’ve gotten one of these for the house,” he says, lifting his hand and caressing the top of your head, his fingers trailing through your hair for a few minutes as you both let the warmth of the water soak through your muscles, relaxing you enough to slip even further down.

“I haven’t thought about life before the outbreak in a long time,” he mumbles after a while, a darker tone to his voice, “or where we would be if it hadn’t happened.”

“We’d still be together, Frankie, I know that. In our house, getting old, soaking in a hot tub.”

You see him give a small smile but his mind has turned to someone else.

“She’d be turning seventeen this spring…I wonder what she would look like,” Frankie’s fingers twitch in your hair as he tilts his head towards you, you feel the shift in his mood as clearly as if you were looking at his face.

“You know she’d be beautiful, Frankie, but more importantly, she’d be an incredible young woman with you as her dad,” you take his hand and stroke your thumb over the knuckles, a small soothing movement.

“It’s so unfair…I could've protected her, if only she’d been with me when the outbreak happened, I would’ve kept her safe,” he shifts so that he can turn himself more towards you, slipping down and leaning his head against your shoulder, his arm circling your waist to pull you even closer, “and none of all the shit I put you through would’ve happened, I would’ve been able to stay away from it with both of you alive.”

“You had to go through something no one should have to face, Frankie, you know I don’t blame you for any of it,” you whisper, letting your lips brush over his damp curls and you hear him let out a shaky breath.

“My first sponsor, back before Lucía was born, used to say that men like him and me need a focus in our lives, someone to protect or something to live for, to keep us straight. It might not be the best way, but it is what it is. And he told me I should let Lucía be my focus, and it worked.”

Frankie draws a deep breath and shrugs, “She was the reason, even before she was born, that I got clean. When I met you,” his hand wraps around yours under the water, “I knew that I didn’t need to put that burden on you, I could just be yours, be the man you deserve, and not let you deal with all my shit. She was going to keep my focus even if she didn’t even know it,” Frankie stops, and you hear the sob he tries to swallow back and you wrap your arms tighter around him as he digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer, pressing his face to your neck.

“When she…” he murmurs, and you can feel him shake his head, “I can’t…say it…”

“You don’t have to, Frankie, I know what you mean,” you press your lips against his head and he draws a deep breath, swallowing down another sob.

“After, at the cabin, I had to shift my focus to you…you were the only reason I didn’t walk into the lake. But I don’t want you to have to be the reason I stay clean, I should be able to do it anyway, it’s not your burden.”

“You know I’d do it all again, Frankie, I will happily help you carry your burden, as long as I get to have you alive and well with me, that’s all I ever want,” you sink down, cupping his face between your hands, finding his eyes with yours before you press your lips to his, “You’re my everything, Frankie,” you mumble, pulling back a little and looking at his tear filled eyes again, “You’re always my everything, you’re always going to be the most important person in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes, always,” you kiss him again, harder this time, pressing your love into him and you feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“Cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, “cariño, hermosa, eres todo para mí.” he brings his hands up to your face, his nose nudging yours as he kisses you again, “Siempre, siempre.”

He pulls you in, his mouth finding yours, soft lips pressed close, as he pulls you onto his lap again, “Always, I’m always yours.”

…

Winter seems to drag on forever, with no end in sight. You wish you had a weather channel on the useless tv that’s stored away in the garage. You’d love for a weatherman to explain to you why it’s mid-April and it’s still snowing, a thick layer on the ground.

“It’s the mountains, cariño,” Frankie explains for the fifth time as you grumble at the snow on yet another cold morning. “We’re so high up, even though we’re on the same latitude as Boston. And Boston has a coastal climate, Jackson has a continental climate, but we’re in a valley so I think, probably-”

“Frankie, I love you, but I don’t need another encyclopedic entry on why Jackson winters are so fucking long,” you sigh, shutting him up with a kiss that makes him grin at you as he tries to grab your butt.

“Fine, snow bad, sunshine good,” he chuckles, taking Jack from you. Jack’s grown a lot over the winter and totters around the house, forcing you to baby proof every low surface to prevent him from grabbing at anything within reach.

You long for warmer weather, for mild days where you can let Jack go outside without four layers of clothing, to be able to sit on the porch swing with Frankie and just rock back and forth. And, thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for your wish to come true. It’s like someone flicked a switch. Freezing nights are replaced with mild spring showers, the snow melts, turning all the unpaved streets to mud, only to dry up as the sun returns a few days later. Suddenly the white world has turned dirty yellow and gray, and then bright green breaks through. It’s like an Arctic spring, over in a week, the mountain’s are still snow capped but the meadows are coated in fresh green grass and a riot of spring flowers.

Daffodils shoot up through the sparse grass in your backyard, the originally neat rows have multiplied over the years and taken over the lawn. You realize that whoever lived here before the outbreak must’ve planted them and now they spread their bright yellow shine all over what is now your garden. You pick bunches and decorate the house, fill every container you have with them, give more to Maria and Pat, even Ned and the horses get bunches for the stable, and still you have daffodils all over your lawn.

With spring all of Jackson is busy preparing for the new season, the first two green houses have been built over the winter, glass from dilapidated houses used to create two impressive structures. Now they’re filled with neat rows of planters and almost everyone takes turns tending them, overseen by a young man called Alwin, a self taught gardener with very green thumbs.

You still work in the kitchen though, food is always needed for the growing community and together with Alwin, you and the other kitchen manager have made plans for what plants to cultivate for maximum harvest.

You leave the community center and the kitchen behind one afternoon when spring has almost moved into early summer, Jack wobbling next to you. He loves to run but his legs aren’t really stable enough so you keep your hands ready to catch him as you follow his unsteady gait towards the stable. Frankie has been working on putting up an extension to the storage building, three foals had been born this spring and next winter more feed would be needed to keep all the horses well fed.

Frankie spots you and Jack as he jumps down from the hay loft, “Hey Jack, look at you go!” he calls to the grinning boy, and Jack speeds up, trying to run to Frankie.

“Da! Da!” he gurgles excitedly as you stop him from toppling over.

“Yeah, that’s your Da,” you laugh as Jack sets off again, tilting at a precarious angle. ‘Da’ could mean dad but also ‘horse’, ‘there’, ‘food’ or any number of things that might catch Jack’s eyes. But right now there’s no mistaking who he means as Frankie catches him and sweeps him up over his head in a big swing. Jack shrieks with laughter and Frankie spins him around an extra time before setting him on his hip, one arm securely around the boy’s back, as the other catches your waist, pulling you in so that he can kiss you as you put your hand behind his neck.

“You’re early,” he mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip and demanding another kiss, before he pulls back to look at you. His sweaty curls are unruly and flopping around his ears and forehead, his cap nowhere to be seen, and the spring sunshine has given him a tan, the tip of his nose slightly pink, and you have to give it a peck.

“We were done with planning and dinner is already sorted, so I thought we’d come surprise you,” you smile at him, “You really need a haircut, remind me tonight and I’ll give you a trim.”

“Sure, and I think Jack needs a trim too, either that or a hair tie,” Jack’s blonde curls are blowing in the wind and threatening to fall into his eyes but they are so cute that you’ve been putting off cutting them. Just like with Frankie’s curls, they were irresistible for wrapping around your fingers as you caress his soft head while he falls asleep.

“How’s the new building going?” you ask and Frankie turns to point up towards the roof.

“We just finish-”

You suddenly hear running footsteps from the main street and Josie, one of the people on guard duty today, comes rushing into the stable yard. You feel Frankie stiffen next to you, cutting himself off and instinctively reaching for his rifle that’s leaned against the stable wall.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Josie pants, taking a deep breath and wiping her forehead, “You need to come quick, there’s people at the gate!”

“Are we under attack?” Frankie lets go of you and grabs the rifle but Josie shakes her head.

“No, but people,” she says, “asking for you! Come on!” She turns and starts heading back the way she came and you glance over at Frankie, hope suddenly burning in your chest and you see that he’s had the same thought. With Jack still on his arm you both hurry after Josie.

By the time you get to the gate it’s already open and you see a patrol returning, horses, men and women, coming through.

And then you both see them at the same time, two tall blonde men on horseback, and your heart leaps. Will spots you and his face splits into a wide grin, throwing his leg over the horse and jumping down.

“Fish!!” Benny yells, startling everyone around him, but he’s ignorant of it, throwing himself off his horse, sprinting towards you both. You laugh as you see Eve throw her hands in the air at being left on the horse as Benny takes off, behind him you see Will help Diana off her horse.

Benny stops short a few feet in front of Frankie, looking from him to Jack and back again, Jack’s big blue eyes are staring at Benny.

“Fish, I swore I’d fu-..” he bites his tongue, looking at Jack, “I swore I’d smack you, when we found you, but you’re holding a baby,” Benny blinks at Jack, looks over at you, and back at Frankie, “You have a baby?!”

“Come here, dumbass,” Frankie laughs, stepping over to Benny and giving him a one armed hug, “So fucking good seeing you, we were starting to get worried.”

Will grins as he reaches you and picks you up in a bear hug that makes you giggle, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

“Fuck, I missed you Will, missed you so much,” you smile, willing yourself to not start crying as he puts you back on your feet.

“Missed you too,” he grins and takes a step towards Frankie, smacking him on his shoulder, getting his attention away from Benny, who lets go of him. The two men hug, you see Frankie blink his eyes rapidly, clapping Will on the back, but then Benny grabs you, picking you up just as high as Will and shaking you back and forth in his iron grip.

“So fucking good to see you!” he laughs, squeezing you tight enough to make you tap his shoulder.

“Missed you too Benny, but jeez, let me breathe please,” you laugh, your feet a clear foot off the ground.

“Come one, give her a break,” Diana chuckles, and you find yourself being hugged by both women, your tears starting to drip, you don’t think you’ve felt this happy in a long time and Benny wraps his long arms around the three of you.

“Great place you’ve got her, but did you have to move to the other side of the fucking country?” he says, grinning down at you as you wipe at your eyes.

Will and Frankie join you and Will tucks his arm around your waist next to Diana as you all stand in a tight little group, grinning at each other, not quite believing that you’re all here.

“So who’s this little guy?” Benny asks, putting his finger out for Jack to grab.

“Long story,” Frankie says, “but we met his mother on the way here, she was dying unfortunately, so we took care of him. She told us her brother was out in Wyoming with a group of people, that’s how we met these guys,” he gestures at the patrol dispersing around them.

“And now he’s ours,” you smile down at the grinning baby, “His name’s Jack, named after his uncle, but unfortunately he died before we found him, so we felt kinda responsible for little baby Jack.”

“He’s adorable,” Diana says, smiling at Jack and getting a toothy grin back, “And being parents suits you,” she says, “you guys look happy.”

“Yeah, you do, happy and healthy,” Will says, looking at Frankie who dips his eyes to his boots, reaching out and taking hold of your hand before he looks back up.

“We are…I am, really happy, and healthy,” he smiles, glancing over at you, “I’ll tell you all about it later, but yeah, I’m doing really good, better than ever I think.”

“Good to hear, man,” Benny says with a grin, clapping Frankie on the shoulder.

Maria approaches the group with a smile, looking at the newcomers.

“I take it these are your friends from Boston?” she says, holding out her hand and introducing herself to them all.

“I’m going to guess you’ve had a pretty long and rough journey so I’ll let these two take care of you tonight,” she nods at Frankie and you with a smile, “I can imagine you have a lot of catching up to do too. I’ve assigned all of you to the house across the street from the Morales’ for now, but there’s another empty house if you’d rather live separately with your partners.”

“Thank you very much, “ Will says, “We really appreciate it, thanks for letting us come here, taking us in like this.”

“Oh, we’ll make you work for it, don’t worry,” Maria grins, giving you all a wave before she walks off.

“C’mon,” Frankie says, “Let us show you your house and then we’ll sort dinner at our house.”

“I cannot believe you have a fucking house, Fish,” Benny grins as the six of you, and baby Jack, set off down the street.

“Yeah, I’m getting used to it now but it was weird the first few months,” Frankie says, “and then we got electricity, we managed to fix the dam last year, and it started feeling like normal life again.”

“You’ve got hot water?” Eve asks, you can hear the hope in her voice and it makes you laugh, you remember the feeling of the first hot shower you had once the electricity was working again.

“We do indeed,” you say, smiling at her as she bounces on the balls of her feet, “and lots of it.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to drown myself in a hot shower….” she sighs and Benny hooks his arm around her shoulders.

“You n’ me both, babe,” he grins, “together and-”

“And maybe we really should look into that other house Maria mentioned,” Will interrupts, as you and Diana laugh, “I am not sharing a house with my baby bro again.”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, “I’ll ask Maria which one it is tomorrow. There are still plenty of empty houses around Jackson.”

“This is us,” Frankie says, as you all arrive on your street, and he points to the dark green house that’s now yours, “And you guys are in this one, for as long as you want.” He points across the street to a pale yellow wooden house with a porch similar to the one that wraps around your house.

“Nice, very nice, you guys!” Benny is already pulling Eve by the hand towards the yellow house and you all follow them inside. It’s sparsely decorated but clean, most of what the previous owner left behind is still here.

“There should be clean towels and sheets upstairs and I’ll get you soap and shampoo from the community center,” Frankie says, showing them all around as you get the fire going in the living room and turn on the heating.

“It’ll take a while for the water to heat up but the rooms should start getting warm straight away,” you say to Will as he wanders into the living room again. You stand up and put the fire guard in front of the fireplace and he comes over and puts his arm around your shoulder with a smile.

“It’s really good to see you two again,” he says, looking down at you, “seeing Frankie doing so well, he looks like a new man.”

“Will, I’m really sorry we took off without saying anything to any of you, especially right after Santi…”

“I know, I get it,” he interrupts, “If you’d come to me and told me what you planned, I would’ve stopped you, or probably gone with you. I know you did the only thing you could to save Frankie, he needed to get away from Boston, from Joel, he wasn’t strong enough to withstand it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to leave Diana behind, or bring her on a really risky venture,” you take his arm and lead him to the couch in front of the fireplace and you both sit down, “I know how loyal you and Benny are to Frankie, but I…I couldn’t risk your lives, or Diana and Eve’s, for Frankie’s problems.”

“Yeah…” Will sighs, “I understand, I would’ve done the same, if Benny had those problems, I’d do anything, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to risk their lives.” He nods, looking over at the fire that’s spreading warmth across the room, “He’s lucky to have you, what you did…” he looks over at you again and gives you a crooked smile, “you’ve saved his life more times than he even knows.”

“I know,” Frankie says and you both look up, he’s standing at the doorway, looking at you with a warm smile. “I know I owe her everything, even from before the outbreak, she was always way more than what someone like me deserves.” He comes over and sinks down onto the couch next to you and pulls you in under his arm, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

“Good, I’m glad you know it, or I would’ve had to let Benny knock some sense into you,” Will grins

“I keep telling you, you deserve a lot more than what you think, Frankie,” you say, leaning into him. His soft brown eyes look down at you and there’s a hint that maybe he’s starting to believe you, after all these years as he smiles. You can’t resist, even though Will is sitting right next to you, you reach up and press your lips to his, and you can feel him nip at your bottom lip. Will clears his throat, but chuckles as he shifts in his seat.

“Keep that shit in your own house, please.”

“Yeah, you’ve got an entire house to yourselves, please keep that out of my house,” Benny snorts as he walks into the room, baby Jack snuggled on his hip.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” you laugh as Jack happily tugs at Benny’s long hair.

“Yeah, he’s a cool little bean,” Benny grins as he carefully unfurls Jack's chubby little fingers, “and with a killer grip, ouch, little man, give me a break!”

“He used to tug at Frankie’s beard all the time,” you say, “he had to keep it short or Jack would rip all of it out.”

“And I know, I didn’t have much to start with,” Frankie says, “I’m just saying it before any of you point it out.”

His remark makes you all laugh and Jack happily joins in.

“I think the water is hot enough now, so I’m jumping in the shower,” Diana says from the doorway, “and there’s shampoo and soap and everything up stairs too.”

“I’ll come with you, honey,” Will says and pushes himself off the couch.

“We’ll let you guys get cleaned up, settle in,” Frankie looks over at you as Benny hands you Jack, “we’ll get dinner sorted so just come over whenever you’re ready, you know where we are.”

…

You glance out through your kitchen window as you chop some fresh buckram for the chicken, you can see Benny through the window of the other house, pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt as he talks to Eve. It feels surreal, but also like the most natural thing in the world, to have them here, in a normal world, finally. To have your best friends, and Frankie’s best friends, living across the street, cooking dinner for them, looking forward to a long evening of catching up.

Behind you Frankie comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, the tip of his nose pressed against your neck.

“Jack’s asleep, out like a light,” he murmurs, “too much excitement I think.”

“We should hire Benny as a nanny,” you smile, “they were great together.”

“Yeah, Benny was always great with kids, probably because he’s a big kid himself,” Frankie chuckles, “I’ll go let them in,” he says as you see the four of them leave their house, Eve gives you both a big wave as they spot you in the kitchen window.

You hear them tumble into the house, Benny is telling some story about deer and even though your back is against them you can sense Will’s exasperated eye roll at his brother.

You put the tray in the oven and clean your hands, grab the whiskey bottle Frankie has left on the kitchen table and follow the noise into the living room.

“So tell us, what took you so long to get here?” Frankie asks, pulling glasses from a cabinet, “and what happened to the radio, all we heard was that FEDRA shut it down.”

“FEDRA was listening in, like we suspected,” Will says, “They came in the next morning before Sean even got there and took everything, equipment, notes, spare parts, left nothing.” Will takes a glass of whiskey from Frankie and groans as he sips it.

“Good stuff, Fish…” he takes another sip, “And we had to run, we got a tip off from Sean’s grandkid that they were coming for us, were gonna take us for planning on leaving the QZ. We grabbed our bags and got out, didn’t plan anything, wasn’t time.”

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, “surprised you even got out of Boston like that.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy,” Will shakes his head, “we got caught just outside the wall, had to take down a couple of FEDRA soldiers and Benny was grazed by a bullet.”

“It was nothing,” Benny scoffs, “I’ve had much worse, and on the bright side, we got their guns and ammo, made things easier down the line.”

“Yeah, we ran into a bunch of raiders who tried to ambush us,” Will continues, “took them out and stole their truck, a FEDRA truck they must’ve stolen from a patrol. We made it pretty far in that but winter hit early in Nebraska, the roads were impassable and we couldn’t continue. So we decided to stay at an isolated farm we found, way off the main highway. It was untouched, full of supplies, the luckiest fucking find of my life, it saved us,” Will shakes his head, looking over at Diana, “it got pretty rough for a while there, before we found it.”

Diana nods, taking his hand in hers, “I don’t think we’d be here if Will hadn’t scouted ahead and found it. Eve and I were starving, didn’t have clothes for the cold, but Will got us through it, saved us.”

“Ironhead lived up to his nickname,” Benny grins, but he’s looking at his brother with a rare softness, “I was starting to give up on us just as he came back, middle of a fucking blizzard, barely any shelter, couldn’t light a fire in all the snow, we were all freezing. Di’s right, if Will hadn’t found that farm, we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Alright, tell us how you got here, Fish,” Will shrugs, changing the subject and taking a deeper sip of the whiskey.

Frankie gives Will a shrug in return, “It was rough, but we got here easier than you I think. We took that car we had stashed, and got pretty far in it. But we…I…” he looks over at you and you put your arm around his waist, giving him a small hug, “I had to stop, the withdrawals got too bad…she had to take care of me while I got it out of my system. After that we got half way through Nebraska, where we found Jack and his mom, and then almost all the way before we ran out of gas. Walked for two days before Maria and Pat found us.”

“I know I yelled at you over the radio,” Benny says, looking serious, “but I’m glad you guys left, even the way you did it, and I’m really fucking glad you got through it. I just wish you’d fucking told us how bad it got before it got that bad.”

Frankie nods, looking at the toes of his boots as he usually does, but then he draws a deep breath and lifts his eyes and meets Benny’s gaze, “Yeah, I should’ve told you all, right from the start, I knew you guys would have my back, but I was too ashamed, just too ashamed of admitting how bad it got,” he looks over at you, you’ve still got your arm around him and meets your eyes with a steady look, “I was afraid she’d think I was too much work, how fucked up I was, and finally give up on me,” Frankie leans forwards and presses his forehead against yours, “but now I know she’ll never give up on me.”

You smile and cup his cheek, letting your thumb stroke his scruffy beard, “Never Frankie.”

Frankie gives you a small smile before he sits up straight again and his eyes go dark, losing some of the softness they just had.

“One of us is missing,” he says, glancing around the room, “and it’s my fault. Pope should be here now too, but I failed him, I fucked up and he had to pay for it.” Frankie’s voice wavers before he draws a deep breath, you can see how he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “I think about him every day, how much I miss him, h-how good it would be to have him here.”

His voice breaks and you can feel tears filling up your eyes as you reach out and take his hand, unfurling his tight fist, smoothing it out under your fingertips.

“You know Pope would be proud of you for how far you’ve come,” Will says, “you were always his brother, and because of it, he was always the hardest on you when you fell back into it. But now, Frankie…he’d be so happy and proud of you, with your wife, and baby Jack.”

Benny suddenly stands up, pulling Eve with him, raising his glass.

“We need to make toast, to Pope,” he says, looking around at all of you as you get to your feet. Frankie puts his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, your arm around his waist, holding him tight.

“We should all say something to him,” Benny raises his glass higher, “we never got a chance to send him off back in Boston, but now we’re all here, together again, and safe, we should say something.”

“Go first then Benny,” Will says, motioning to his brother and Benny looks into the distance, gathering his thoughts before he begins.

“Pope, you could be the most annoying fucker ever, but the best wingman I’ve ever had, from the first day we met back in basic, to the very last. I miss you man, but I’ll see you again.” Benny fights to keep his voice steady and draws a deep breath before he looks over at Will.

He rubs his hand over his face before he slowly nods, “Santiago, you drove me fucking insane with your crazy plans, but somehow you always knew what you were doing and I learned to trust you and your instinct, it never failed us. My greatest failure is letting you down at the end, I hope we meet again so you can tell me how we should’ve gotten you out in time. I miss you brother,” Will looks up at the ceiling, raising his glass and you all do the same.

Frankie draws a deep breath, he doesn’t know how he’ll keep his shit together for this, but he needs to do it, with everyone here, it feels like Pope is listening.

“Hermano,” he begins, looking up at a vague spot on the wall, gathering his thoughts, before he feels tears well up in his eyes and he has to draw a deep breath, “hermano…I fucking miss you, miss you so fucking much. And…I…I have so many things I wish I’d done differently…but I did what you said the last time we talked. I got past it, with her help, and I did it for you, and for her. You said we’re family and I really wish Jack could meet his tio Santi. But I know you have a job to do, wherever you are, and I know you’re looking out for her until I’m there to see her again,” Frankie pauses, drawing a deep breath, his eyes overflowing as he looks down at his toes, “Tell her, her dad loves her. Te quiero, hermano.”

He raises his glass, taking your hand in his, holding it tight, and the others do the same, “For Santiago Garcia, the best brother anyone of us could ask for, for lost friends, for family, and for a better life.”

“For Santiago,” echoes around the room and you sip the sharp whiskey, letting it burn on the way down. You feel Frankie’s eyes on you and as you meet his eyes he leans closer, his lips finding yours, pressing warm and soft against your mouth.

“For family,” he whispers.

Epilogue

So here we are, at the end. As in most stories, the story continues, but outside the frame. There is an epilogue coming too, but this is where the story ends. I am pretty emotional about writing the very end of this, it's been with me since April and I never thought then that it would grow so much in scope, in length. I love these two fools so much and I love how much in love they are, how through it all it's what keeps the two of them together and fighting for the other one. It's very hard to say good bye to them and I'll miss them so much! But I think I'll have to update the intro to this story to help any new readers tackle it! I think I'm close to hitting 300k words… Thank you everyone for all your comments, your reblogs, your love, your encouragement and support! It's a cliche, but I never could've kept going if you all hadn't kept cheering me on, saying so many lovely things about the story and making me want to keep sharing the ideas in my head. Love you all!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales/reader

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bonkwosher · 1 year

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Ho could you do a joel x reader where maybe tess is jealous. And maybe that we get close to ellie ?

A/N: I just got caught up on the show for this... Bill & Frank- I need a hug, they are so precious. Anyways, yes, this. I'm not hung up on anything /j /lh

Pairings: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Contains: Jealous Tess (obviously), Bill & Frank (CRY ABOUT IT), family member death, implied age gap (10ish years), only one bed? lmao, reader gets injured

2009, Six years after the apocalypse started

You were in your late-20s when you wound up lost & alone. Your dad was a conspiracy theorist before the outbreak & he kept you safe. You lived in a bunker in the middle of some random forest. Everything was fine, you were as happy as one could be in a zombie-infested world. Well... you were until your dad didn't come back from hunting. After a week, you went outside. The color assortment that filled your vision had you borderline overwhelmed. While taking in the view, a guttural sound hits your ears. You turned to see your father, infected & staring at you like a starving predator.

"No," you muttered, there was no way he could've been bit, right?

Your denial was ripped from your body when he began to run at you. You screamed & sprinted off, out of the forest. As you ran, a fence slowly came into view. Safety? You beelined towards your possible safe haven, barely taking note of the tripwire on the floor. At the last second, you jumped over it & kept running. You continued running until a gunshot went off. you quickly stopped & raised your hands above your head.

"I'm not infected!" You yelled, gulping & closing your eyes.

The fact that the sounds of your assailant had stopped made you turn your head. Your father, or what was left of him, lay dead on the floor. A bullet hole on either side of his head.

"It's just a stray infected, Frank!" Bill shouted from behind you.

No sudden movements, they'll shoot, "I'm not infected! Please, I need help."

"Turn around!"

You turned slowly to face the man. He was tall, 50s maybe older, the more important detail was the large gun pointed at your head.

"That's a hunting rifle, my father loved to hunt," you tried to find common ground.

"Where is he now?"

You nodded behind you. Bill slowly leaned to the side to look past you & kept a poker face, his boyfriend did not, "You poor thing."

"How are you alive when he's...?" Bill trailed off.

"My father was a prepper, I just got home from college graduation the day that things went to shit. This is my first time seeing a color other than gray in years."

"When did you last eat?" Frank yelled from behind the fence.

"Five days ago."

"Oh my god, Bill, let them in!"

Bill seemed very upset, "Hold your horses. You, stand still & keep your arms in the air."

Bill pulled out a cordyceps scanner & held it to your head. You know you weren't bit but you still were afraid it would show red. The device beeped & Bill gave it a cursory glance before nodding towards the gate. You two walked back & into the gated town.

Frank directed you to the shower & laid you out some of their clothes for the meantime (They totally take you to the boutique later). As much as Bill wants to kick you out immediately, Frank convinces him otherwise. You eat a meal & cannot stop completing Bill's cooking. As soon as you finish, Frank asks you to sit on the couch while he talks to Bill.

"We have to let them stay, they're practically a child!" Frank whispered.

"No, absolutely not. We do not have to do anything to help them."

"Okay, Bill. We don't need to. I- I want to," Frank hesitated with his words, knowing no matter what, he'd upset his boyfriend.

"They could hurt us."

"They don't want to!"

"You don't know that!"

Frank grabbed Bill's arm & led him into the living room. You were curled up in a ball & fast asleep. Bill's eyes softened for a moment, he knew he wouldn't win this argument.

Bill was cold around you initially, but he grew to care for you. Frank, on the other hand, practically babied you. He wanted to do everything for &/or with you. He would style you, go on runs with you, teach you how to garden & paint, whatever made you happy. You quickly became something like his own child. You tried your best to learn from Bill, thinking it would allow you to be closer. Boy, were you right. When you asked him to teach you how to hunt he wanted to sign the adoption papers right there (if there were any). Although you were a full-grown adult, it became an unspoken thing that you were their child. You thought you wouldn't see another human until one day you heard your fathers fighting outside.

"Well, I've been talking to a nice woman on the radio!" Frank yelled (I'm too tired to find the exact lines).

There was a pause, "YOU WHAT?!"

Within a couple days, visitors appeared at your gate. The three of you walked up to the gate, all dressed nicely. The only thing that reminded you that you were in the apocalypse was the fact that a gun rested at your hip & another was pointed by Bill, right at the visitors.

"Please put the gun down, Bill."

"It's me, Tess! I brought my friend Joel like I said!" The woman yelled.

You became distracted by the man for a second. He was tall & dressed in a nice brown jacket & jeans, a gun holstered on his hip as well. He's smart. Frank let the two in & scanned them to keep Bill sane.

"They're healthy, Bill!" Frank turned to you, "Y/N, take Joel to get some vegetables for lunch. It'll make cooking lunch easier for your father. I'm going to show Tess around."

"Alright," you spoke quickly, desperately trying to hide the fact that hanging out with this handsome stranger excited you.

Joel gave you a soft smile as he walked towards you. Unbeknownst to you, Tess saw your cheeks flush as you looked up at her friend. She gave an unseen glare in your direction before Frank whisked her away for a tour. You lead Joel to the main garden, filled with vegetables.

"So... they're your fathers?" Joel tried to start a conversation.

"Well, you know, not biologically. They took me in last year & kind of... adopted me."

"Aren't you an adult?"

"Twenty-nine, yes. I don't care, it's nice to have a family in these times."

"I guess you're right."

You two knelt down next to the garden to pick some carrots.

"Is Tess your...?" You began, seeing if you even had a chance.

"It's complicated, I guess, no."

"Oh, I'm sorry to pry."

You both reached for the same carrot & you grabbed Joel's hand on accident. You jumped & apologized profusely.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay," hearing his deep, southern voice say your name sent chills down your spine.

"We- We should pick some lettuce or something, I don't know."

"You don't have a list?"

"No."

"Lettuce it is."

The two of you picked vegetables for a while longer & Joel offered to carry everything back for you. Arguably, a good thing for two reasons. One, you didn't have to waste your strength. Two, you ended up falling flat on your face & not one vegetable was harmed. Your leg caught on a root of an overgrown tree & you hit your head on the sidewalk. Your consciousness level was unstable at best, Joel set the vegetables down & picked you up.

"Bill! We need some bandages!"

Joel opened the door & brought you into the dining room, setting you down in a chair. Bill entered the room & saw you hurt.

"What happened?!"

"They fell while we were walking, hit their head on concrete."

Joel lightly pressed a towel to your forehead, "We're lucky, no broken skull. Can you get some bandages?"

Bill left & returned with a first aid kit & pulled out some rubbing alcohol, pouring a little onto your cut. You winced & Joel's hand darted to yours, offering you comfort through reassuring squeezes. The two men wrapped your head in some bandages & brought you random snacks.

"Feeling any better?" Joel was still holding your hand.

"Yes, thank you. I'm such a klutz sometimes."

"Well then, I think I need to come back more often to make sure you don't hurt yourself," Joel gave you a small smile before looking down at your hand.

Tess & Frank walked through the front door talking about possible trades. Tess had picked up the basket of vegetables that you two had left behind.

Frank noticed you in the kitchen & rushed to your side, holding your face with both hands, "Y/N, what happened?"

"I'm fine, I just tripped again. Joel bandaged me up & stopped the bleeding," You spoke softly & gave Joel's hand a squeeze to say 'thank you.'

"Thank you, Joel, you don't even know how much this means to me," Frank stood up & took the vegetables from Tess before heading to the kitchen, "Keep them safe, I'm going to help Bill in the kitchen."

Tess looked down at your & Joel's hands then held eye contact with Joel. She directed a glare at her friend. Joel looked at the floor & quickly pulled his hand from yours. You looked over at Joel only for him to stand up & walk towards the kitchen.

"I'm going to see if they need help in there."

With that, you were left alone with Tess. She seemed nice, but you managed to miss all her looks & just thought something was up with Joel.

"Joel & I are together," Tess finally broke the silence, crossing her arms.

Well, now you didn't want to be a home wrecker, "Good for you two."

"Get the hint, kid. It means back off."

"I'm not a kid."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Joel is at least ten years older than you. You're practically a baby."

You paused to figure out how to word this, "Look... I don't want to cause any problems. Joel told me there was nothing going on between you two. Plus, we met maybe half an hour ago, nothing was happening."

Tess dignified your response with a nod before sitting down. You two sat in silence for a moment. You heard a lot of metal clinking coming from the kitchen.

"Y/N! Come help Joel!" Frank yelled.

You entered the kitchen to see Joel on his knees picking up a pile of utensils. How did he manage this?! You knelt down beside Joel & began picking up all the utensils. Once they were collected, you handed them to Bill & Frank to wash. They, in turn, trusted you two to bring out the plates & glasses.

"Don't drop them this time, Joel," Frank teased.

The two of you walked outside & began setting the table. Tess sat on the porch & watched you.

"How'd you end up dropping everything, that looked like you emptied the whole drawer," you laughed.

"Your father, Frank, stepped away from the sink at just the right time to bump into me as I was heading outside with everything."

"Well, maybe you need me to make sure you don't hurt yourself either," you teased, giving him a light jab to the arm.

Joel looked down & smiled, "Yeah, maybe I do."

"Joel! Come over here, I need to talk to you about the trade deal we're making!" You two finally noticed Tess on the porch.

Joel gave you a soft smile, maybe saying he was sorry to leave again, & ran off toward Tess.

Joel & Tess chatted on the porch while you finished setting the table. Every time Joel would unknowingly turn his attention to you, Tess would do her best to pull his attention back. She was growing annoyed each time you'd walk by, drawing his eyes to you. Still believing the two of them were in a relationship, you resisted the urge to touch his arm or pat his head as you walked by each time, simply to remind him you were there. Not like he needed you to remind him anyways, he was doing pretty good at that by himself.

Lunch was short, Bill kept a gun pointed at Joel for a while, much to your & Frank's chagrin. Frank decided to show Tess something & left you with Joel & Bill. You continued to eat your food as the two of them spoke.

"If my," Joel paused & looked at you, "If I had a partner that did this, I'd be upset too."

You were genuinely confused & hiding it didn't even come to mind. Joel placed his hand on your arm, pulling your focus back to him.

"Something on your mind?" He chuckled.

I shouldn't bring it up, "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Frank had decided it was too late to let your visitors return home, they had to stay the night. After dinner, you took the dishes & began washing them. You could hear the conversation, even with the door closed.

"Alright, Y/N can share their bed with one person, the other can have the couch in the living room."

Joel practically jumped the gun but did his best not to sound excited, "I can share the bed with Y/N."

Tess looked shocked. Frank looked at Bill with a knowing smile.

"I-I mean, I'm too tall for that couch. It would be uncomfortable. Tess would fit, right Tess?"

"Yeah, you're right."

You walked back into the dining room & Frank asked you to show Joel to your room. You avoided eye contact with Tess & walked toward your room, the only thing implying Joel was following you was the sound of heavy footsteps. You arrived & opened the door, allowing Joel to walk in first. He silently admired your room while you hopped onto your bed. It was getting late so you were already on the verge of knocking out.

"Ready for bed?" You asked with a yawn.

"Just about," Joel spoke as he saw you bury yourself in the covers.

"It can get pretty cold in here at night, but maybe with the two of us it'll be tolerable."

Joel took off his shoes & climbed into bed next to you. Your comforters were softer than he'd felt in years.

"Oh my god, this is so much better than the QZ," Joel turned to face you & the reality of the situation hit you like a truck.

Your face was extremely red now. You were sharing a bed with this stranger you just met, who may or may not be in a relationship, & you have a huge crush on him. His face was close enough to the point where you could feel his breath.

"Are you & Tess together?" You felt like a broken record.

"You already asked that," Joel chuckled, pulling more of the blanket on top of him.

"Well, Tess said you were together."

"I guess, together in the sense that we came here together (This himbo lmao), but we aren't dating."

"Oh, she seemed upset when she saw us holding hands."

Joel let out a huff, "Alright, Tess & I... we had a thing. I don't know, but it's over now. It does feel weird trying to flirt with attractive strangers in front of her."

Joel looked up with a small smirk, as if you could become any redder.

"You- Wait, you were flirting with me?"

"Maybe a little," he teased.

"I like you, Joel."

Joel placed wrapped a hand around your waist & pulled you close, "I like you too, Y/N."

Joel looked down at your lips then back to your eyes. You seemed to finally catch on & nodded, bringing another small smile to Joel's face. He closed the gap between you two.

A/N: Not my best work but I'll edit it at some point. I forgot about the Ellie bit but I can make a part two or another one-shot. Tada!

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x male reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #bill and frank #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 22 days

Note

Herpes anon here, just following up.

Thank you for the response, and similarly thank you to your followers for theirs.

And thank you for making it clear that folks with illnesses shouldn't be treated like biohazards. That is absolutely what I believe, and I promise the internalized anxiety about infecting others is not a statement about other people's value as human beings. More a label for myself to keep myself extra cautious so I never make anyone else go through what I did. I've acquired a refillable 7-day antiviral course for outbreaks, and if it gets annoying enough or I find myself with a regular partner, I'll be talking to my doctor about getting a daily antiviral prescription. I'm also keeping a little tube of topical antiviral medicine in my pocket now. Abreva, as recommended.

I talked to the person who infected me and they are going to be a lot more careful going forward, using protection for oral sex and such. Very cool of them. They just genuinely didn't think occasionally getting cold sores was something that needed to be disclosed in general. I just wish that weren't the norm.

I regret to inform your kind follower who recommended avoiding touching the sores that basically the first thing I did during the initial outbreak, before I realized what was happening, was spread the infection around. So, uh, first hand advice from a newbie I guess: Don't touch your cold sores, and think real hard about orally servicing your dildos before fucking them.

My research suggests that, without a daily antiviral, oral herpes is statistically transmissible on any given day with about a 10% chance, even without visible sores. And please correct me if that's wrong. The person I got mine from had an outbreak the following day, so I basically had an unlucky dice roll.

I guess the thing that troubles me about the literature about the infection I find is this rhetoric about it being so common. I worry that might encourage a mentality like the stuff that was popping up around covid: “If practically everyone has it, who cares about protecting people from getting it.” I think the message is meant to make the infected feel less vile/deviant, but it also sounds a lot like it could make the infected more careless and callous, you know?

About my incredibly troubling sense of needing to have sex with people to keep them around, I promise this incident has very much cured me of that stupidity – existential crisis style. Shame it took this to do it but it could've been a whole lot worse.

Thanks again,

Trying To Manage It Without Shame

hi anon,

I'm glad you're in such a better place!

re: your concerns equating herpes with COVID-19, I guess I'd answer that the main difference is that herpes is a virus that has been with us since the early days of human evolution that is, in the grand scheme of things, virtually harmless, while COVID-19 is a very new outbreak with a tremendous global body count.

so there is a little bit of a difference there!

glad to hear you're embracing the herpes-status without shame!

#sex edventures 2024

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dmitriene · 9 months

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Heyyy, I've been reading your fanfics for a while and I just LOVE your writing, I swear. ITS JUST TOO GOOOOD----🙏🙏💘

If you want to request this request I was thinking of something like surprising our poor Leon 😭Something like surprise kisses, practically at any time (practically out of nowhere, you know?) something like that for us would be common (not that it wasn't for him, but you know he was practically deprived of it 😭) or just calling him an angel😢 I think that would be a bit soft/fluff but the poor thing is just not used to it so he values every moment when we steal a kiss from him ;) (If it doesn't bother you, you can be a female reader, but if you want, do what you can to be better) 😔😭😢💗💗

(sorry if English is bad, it's not my mother tongue😢)

꒰ hiii!!! 🫶🏻 thank you so much hun!! i noticed you and your reblog on one of my fics too, sorry that i didn't answered on it, hope you'll like how i did your cute request, thank you sm for this and don't be sorry, we're in the same boat!🤍 ࿐ ꒱

title — affection content — leon kennedy x fem reader tags — fluff, comfort, domestic established relationship, sweet kisses and hugs, basically leon being drown in your attention.

please enjoy your reading!

The dimly lit living room was bathed in a warm, cozy glow as Leon settled comfortably on the couch, his rough face softened by the gentle glow of the television screen.

It had been a long week, filled with the usual chaos of dealing with biohazard outbreaks, and all he wanted now was a moment of respite.

You, his always surprising girlfriend, had other plans.

You tiptoed into the room, smiling mischievously, and then pounced on him with the grace of a secretive predator, Leon let out a surprised «Oof!» as you landed in his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

— «Hello there, handsome» you purred, your fingers slipping into his golden locks, ruffling his hair gently.

Leon blinked, his heart pounding, he wasn't quite used to such displays of affection, he was no stranger to intimacy, but your unflappable enthusiasm still caught him off guard every time.

You leaned over, touched his ear with your lips and whispered — «You know, in this light you look like an angel, Leon, a guardian angel»

He froze, the words washed over him in a gentle wave, no one had ever said anything so tender to him before, and it made his chest clench, the soft glow of the room seemed to highlight his blond hair, creating a halo effect that only you seemed to notice.

Your lips moved from his ear to his cheek, planting a sweet kiss there — «I mean it, you're my guardian angel»

Leon's lips curled into a shy smile and he turned his head slightly, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks — «You are something else, darling» he muttered in a hoarse voice.

Your fingers continued to comb his hair, soothing and gentle — «That's what you love about me, isn't it?»

He chuckled, and this deep, warm sound echoed in your chest — «Yeah, it is»

As you continued to cuddle with him, Leon felt a wave of warmth spreading through him, a feeling he rarely experienced before you came into his life, he was used to dealing with danger, but with you it was different, you were his refuge, his haven.

Days passed and your affectionate gestures continued unabated, be it a gentle kiss when he least expected it or a tight hug that made his heart skip a beat, you made sure he knew how much he was appreciated.

One evening, as Leon stood in front of the bathroom mirror and splashed cold water on his face, you snuck up behind him and he glanced at his reflection, his hair wet and disheveled, making him look even more messy.

— «Leon» you whispered and he turned to face you, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror.

— «Yeah?» he replied, watching as you closed the distance between you.

You reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, a smile playing on your lips — «You're my favorite mess, you know that?»

Leon couldn't contain his laughter, chuckling and muttering — «I aim to please»

Your lips met his neck, leaving light kisses along his jawline — «You do more than that, you make me happy, Leon»

The sincerity of your voice melted his heart, he turned to face you, his hands finding their way to your waist — «You make me happy too» he admitted, looking at you with his blue eyes.

A gentle blush spread across your cheeks as Leon leaned down and captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, it was a confirmation of the affection he felt for you but couldn’t always express in words.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as you sighed contentedly into the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you held each other, lost in the warmth of the moment, Leon learning to appreciate the tenderness you brought into his life and cherishing every kiss, every hug and every whispered sweet word.

The weeks turned into months as your relationship continued to progress, one lazy evening you found yourself on the couch, Leon's arms wrapped securely around you as you sat on his lap facing him.

Your fingers lazily drew patterns on his chest and his chin rested on your shoulder, inhaling your sweet scent.

Leon's voice was barely above a whisper when he finally found the courage to speak — «You know, i… i never really had all this before, the hugs, the kisses, the compliments»

You turned your head and looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and concern in your eyes — «What do you mean, Leon?»

He hesitated for a moment, a faint blush filling his cheeks — «I mean, i've been in relationships before, but it's never been like this.. you… you surprise me every day with your affection, and i… i remember every kiss, every hug»

Your heart filled with love as you looked into his eyes — «Leon, i want you to feel loved, to know how special you are to me»

He turned his head, his lips touched your shoulder and he snuggled closer — «You make me feel more than special, you make me feel… cherished»

A warm smile touched your lips and you couldn't help but pepper him with soft kisses all over his face, his cheeks turning red and he shyly turned away, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

In that quiet moment, you realized that you had brought something beautiful into Leon’s life — love filled with tenderness.

It was a love he cherished the same way he cherished you, and as you continued to hold each other closer, the love between you deepened, growing stronger with every stolen kiss and every heartfelt hug.

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uselesssomebody · 1 year

Note

thinking about joel obviously and i just

joel caught up in the moment, probably drunk (actually off alcohol or pu$$y Ima) and letting a fantasy of his slip out where he wants a MMF 3some just to fill reader up…... but denies it later when she brings it up..... but she tries to arrange it with some dude and they get pretty far into the process - - like meet up at a bar and hang out with plans on all going home together..... but jealous!joel changes his mind (shocker!) and keeps reader all to himself, probably fucking in the car before they make it home Imao

specific yes but.

you're a good writer. you can do it. please.

𝕚 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 - 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕨 - joel miller x reader

complete masterlist | joel miller masterlist

words || 𝟟.𝟜𝕜

summary || in which the reader and joel do some experimenting?? (just look at the ask)

a/n || i am such a waffler man this was supposed to be a quick and easy response and now it's over 7k?? ➵ hey nonnie hope you enjoy i know it's long. i actually adored the request so much and it made me blush when i first read it on the bus. also, i realized like halfway through that you had likely wanted pre-outbreak but it is, in fact, post-outbreak and set in jackson. ➵ no ellie in this one though, guys, but there is like a male oc who the reader is kinda with for a bit - just look at the ask, honestly ➵ poe and thomas from tmr requests in my asks - i see you and you will be answered so soon! ➵ evidently i am now also a whore for oscar isaac so sen over lil moon knight, santiago or poe requests if you have 'em. planning on writing for leto from dune too - just too much of dilf to ignore, unfortunately. ➵ like very 18+/MDNI content, and heed warnings cuz by god is this one of the sluttiest, smuttiest things i've ever written ➵ not edited (yet) ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut/smidge of angst ➵ unprotected p.i.v. ➵ sex after alcohol consumption (fully consensual though)➵ finger sucking + gagging➵ lotta threesome mentions and fantasizing➵ bitty bit of spit play➵ semi-public sex + exhibitionism➵ mirror sex➵ oral (m receiving) ➵ cum swallowing ➵ cum ig (tell me if i miss anything)

"are you feeling alright?" she blinked up at the man in front of her, broken out of her daydream.

"huh? yeah, yeah - i'm fine. why'dya ask?" he shrugs.

"looked like you'd fallen asleep over there. actually, you've got a little bit of drool-" all grogginess evaporates from her as she brings her sleeve up to wipe the corner of her mouth that he'd gestured to. he laughed at her bugged-out reaction, keeling over, when she realizes he'd been joking - and she hadn't, in fact, been drooling.

"fuck off, man." he wheezes through his laughs.

"you should have seen your face!"

they were the last two sat at the kitchen, serving dinner to the last few residents of jackson who had come in for a late meal. it'd been a long day for her, as she attempted to pick up shifts to help with the town's current shortage of workers - too many out with the flu at the moment.

it was a bit absurd, honestly, having so many afflicted by the common cold when there was a whole apocalyptic fungus about.

nevertheless, she'd finished cooking a few hours ago, and now, her and her coworker were finishing portioning the meals and wrapping the sliver of leftovers for the next day. with only a few people sat around the makeshift cafeteria, the both of them were sat in the cleaned kitchen, trying not to fall asleep.

she'd known him - jake - since she'd been in jackson: her first superior when she'd joined the food industry in the small town. he was nice and welcoming at first, but as they were put on more shifts together and had more silent hours to kill, she'd realized how dumb he was.

affectionately, of course.

he loved to make stupid jokes and laugh at stupid things. he liked to believe stupid things, and say even more stupid things to her.

she sat through them, laughing at his antics or willing away her annoyance at his childishness. nevertheless, he was one of her close friends, and - as much as she thought he was dumb - he was there enough of the time for her to accustom to him.

they're snapped out of their banter by the bell at the door ringing, signalling someone had walked in. they both walk out, ready to serve the very late townsman, until she realizes who it is as they near.

she slips out from behind the booth to greet him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek as he grips her side in a half-bear hug.

"hey, joel."

"how're ya, baby?" she nods, detaching.

"i'm - i'm okay."

"long day, ain't it?" she nods meekly at his assessment, smiling when his large hand presses over her shoulder, subtly massaging the tense muscles there as she turns back to jake.

"'lright, i should get back, joel -" she starts, but is cut off by her colleague's disagreement.

"no, you guys head home. i'll finish up here." she hesitates, immediately disagreeing.

"no - i shouldn't-"

"don't worry about it." jake's words hold a finality, and she salutes him as he laughs.

"alright - i'll see you tomorrow. okay?" he nods, waving them off as joel guides her out. he's moving a little fast - a little urgent - and it makes her laugh.

"are we in a rush?" she mumbles, taking in the cold of the night air as she sucks in a breath.

"hmm?" joel's voice is gruff, and, only when she glances at him under the streetlight does she notice the flush on his face.

"are - are you drunk?" he stays quiet, and she snakes her arm around him, smiling at the warmth he provided, "okay, how about 'how much have you had to drink'?" his lips don the ghost of a smile as they approach her place.

"just enough to remind me how much i miss you." he mumbles, crowding her back as she opens the door, quick to take her bag, and then her shoes, and then her jacket, and then her sweater off of her, leaving her goosebumped in the aftermath of the cold wind hitting her on her near bare front.

she was quick to realize that it was one of those nights - and she sure wasn't complaining, wrapping her fingers around joel's hair as his head dips to meet her neck, sighing contently at the action. his hands clasp - almost desperately - on her hips, pulling her straight into her bedroom, as he continued leaving a trail of wet kisses along her neck.

she grips at the collar of his flannel, tracing her hands over the top of it until she reaches the buttons at the front, eagerly slipping them off, and his deft fingers perform the same action over her jeans, the button almost as eager as she was, slipping undone swiftly.

she grips his cheeks, pushing his lips to connect with her own, wanting to taste the 'just enough' whiskey or beer he'd had while waiting for her.

and, fuck, did it taste good - a harsh taste that had clung to his teeth, which she eagerly licked off. it tasted aged, and rough around the edges - but that was probably just him.

she moaned into his mouth as he pulled her jeans just low enough to gain access to her cunt, swiping his fingers over the fabric of her soft underwear - where she'd practically soaked through the garment.

"fuck, baby - all for me?" his head dips into the small space between them as he moans, his mumble being confirmed by her vigorous nodding and the jolt of her hips when he applied just a hint of pressure. she pushes his shirt off as his fingers continue to explore the extent of her arousal, before he's pushing her down into a laying position over her bed.

he pulls her jeans off the rest of the way, and she rises just enough to grasp his belt, unbuckling it - but not taking it off. when she'd looked up at him, she'd realized that tonight was a i need you - right now night, and his trousers would probably only remain unzipped and lowered enough to take his cock out.

so, she does just that, pushing them down just enough to pull his cock out, stroking him lightly as he lets out another low groan.

"you want me-" though she can see the way he's aching for her, she knows he's still - as the gentleman he is - going to ask if she wants more satisfaction beforehand.

"inside. right now." it's supposed to be a cheeky command, but the desperation in her voice breaks the illusion. it's more than enough for joel, though, gripping his cock and slipping her underwear to the side, only taking a moment to run a finger over her soaked folds and exhaling deep and low.

his tip nudges against his clit, making her hips buck, catching him on her entrance, and allowing him to push inside her.

"oh, fuck-" it falls from his mouth - practically without permission - and his sentiment is shared by her, breaths shallow as he fills her.

"oh - god - that's so good, joel - 't's'good-" her words her garbled nonsense, and the desperate nature of them spur him on, letting out a gruff moan as he bottoms out.

he can feel her clenching around him - obviously trying to adjust to the size of him - and it's doing all sorts of things to his head. he allows her breath to even just slightly, before he pulls back and pushes inside her, watching her mouth fall open at the sharp action.

she was so fucking pretty - her eyes glazed over as she felt him repeat the action, his thrusts determined and rough, her mouth hung open, mind seemingly blank, as not even a word escapes her.

he slows down for a moment, and sees the moment of annoyance fall over her features, her brows scrunching as she goes to question his actions. he removes one of his hands from their grip on her waist, bringing it up to cup the side of her face. his thumb strokes her cheek for a second, making her relent and smile at the soft action, before he takes her by surprise, speeding up, and bringing his hand closer to her chin, his thumb ghosting her open lips.

"oh - oh, my god-" her moans are quiet, a whimper pressed under his finger, and as her mouth falls open again, he rests his thumb against her tongue, watching her features flash in confusion, before she succumbs, almost instinctively wrapping her lips over his thick finger.

it's a pretty sight - in a fucked way - and it makes his thrusts quicken, her eyes squeezing shut and her mouth humming around his thumb at the sensation. his eyes watch the hollow of her cheeks as she suckles him, the flick of her tongue against his nail, the slight rock of her head up and down. her moans sound garbled and mumbled against him, and that makes them sound more desperate - as though she was trying so hard to let him know how good he felt, but couldn't get it across while her mouth was occupied.

he pressed up closer against her, removing his thumb and replacing it with his index and middle fingers. it wasn't a challenge for her mouth, but she could feel herself gag when he pushed them down - and he found the sound fucking hot.

"christ - gonna have to fill you up like this every time." so distracted by his cock and his fingers, she nods without paying too much attention, until his next sentence: "want me to get someone else to do it? watch someone fill your mouth while i fuck you like this?" her eyes widen at the notion, but she knows that he can feel the way she clenches around him at the thought, and a grunt escapes him, his hips stuttering at the sensation, "fuck, you like that, don't you? so greedy, pretty baby, ain't i enough?" he can see the way her eyes widen at his words, as she was totally not saying that. he's sure her small movements around his fingers are the shake of her head, and it makes him laugh, "that's okay, baby, i wanna see it too. wanna see you get filled up-" his words swim in her head, and he's still talking, but she can't hear him anymore, her stomach clenching at the feeling of her orgasm.

she's sure she squeals around him or something, because his thrusts speed up just slightly: his hands are a bit rougher on her body, and his movements are a bit more intentioned.

"that's it, baby, d'ya wanna cum for me?" she nods, and he smiles, pulling his fingers out of her mouth, and trailing his spit slicked digits over her cunt, ghosting over her clit, making her moan come out loudly, "i didn't hear you, pretty girl," she looks up at him, gripping one of his biceps and the hand on her waist.

"please - please, joel, lemme cum - please?" it seemed to be the only word in her vocabulary, the way she was pleading, and he relented, nodding his head.

"go 'head, baby - cum, cum f'r'me." his accent becomes more pronounced as his own words become mumbled, his thrusts growing sloppy and less calculated. it's more than enough for her to oblige, feeling the growing knot in her stomach snap so hard her legs begin to shake, squealing at the sensation. his continued movements inside her are spurred by the clench of her cunt as he feels his own orgasm close, thrusting in a few more times, before pulling out and finishing over her.

they're both breathing deeply, trying to catch their breaths, and she's still twitching. he pulls off of her, allowing her some space to recover, before he walks into the bathroom of her place to clean up and find something for her.

when he comes back out, she already looks close to sleep, so he avoids saying all too much, focusing instead on slowly and gently cleaning her, pressing soft kisses to her crown or her fingertips. she lays down as he returns to the bathroom, seeing her practically passed out, her body curled against the side of the bed, and leaving a him-shaped spot by him.

he slides in beside her, feeling the warmth of her bare skin against his own, and lulling into an exhausted sleep of his own.

she woke up earlier than him the next day, knowing he preferred to sleep in late, especially since being in jackson. she rose to make herself - and him, when he decided to wake up - some breakfast, keeping her stove on low heat so that the sizzle of her eggs wouldn't cause too much noise.

she's in her own thoughts all morning, first adamant in getting ready so that she can go to work - before she remembers what he said last night.

'want me to get someone else to do it? watch someone fill your mouth while i fuck you like this?'

she didn't have a moment to process his words in her wrecked state last night, but her ability to mull over them this morning left her very confused.

sure, she didn't mind the idea of the fantasy - but that's under the precedent that she'd never thought about it before. joel had never said anything like that to her before - in fact, if anything, she thought joel hated the idea of her with someone else, always ready to pull her into him or grip her with purpose in the presence of other people who looked at her with too much interest.

so, his admission the previous night wasn't something she'd dismiss - but something she'd have to speak with him about after he'd woken up.

which, to her surprise, happened sooner than later, when she felt his arms wrap around her as she absentmindedly stirred her scrambled eggs, too focused on other things. she jolts against him, squeaking, but he takes the majority of the impact, still holding onto her tightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"jesus, joel - you scared the hell outta me." she catches her breath, tipping her head back onto his own shoulder, and smiling lightly at her reaction.

"good mornin' to ya too, sweetheart." he mumbles, good-naturedly. she laughs at his slightly monotone, unafflicted tone, before brushing him off and nudging him in the direction of the table, which he reluctantly obliges. she plates up their simple breakfast of toast and eggs, placing them on the table as he runs two glasses of water for them.

when they're both sat down and eating, she clears her throat.

"late today." it's a mumble, reminding him she'd be home late again, having been placed on another long shift.

"again?" he's curious - she'd pulled a lot of them recently, "if they're overworkin' ya, i'll talk to tommy-" she smiles, shaking her head at the suggestion.

"no, joel - everyone's sick, it's just temporary." he looks like he wants to argue, but he nods, shrugging. she smiles, trying to cheer him up, "you can put me to bed like you did yesterday, yeah?" she says it as she reaches for the fingers splayed beside him on his outstretched arm as he ate, ghosting her own over them. she can see the hint of a smile ghost over his face, not looking her in the eyes - as she knows the memory of the previous night is at the front of his mind.

"'f ya want that, i'll give it to ya, baby." it's a promise, and she smiles, feeling her own face redden at his casual tongue. then, her face falls for a moment, realizing what she still has to ask him.

"joel - actually, i need to ask you something." he looks up at her with questioning eyes. his mouth's full, but she knows he's gonna answer her, so she asks away: "were you being serious last night?" his expression turns more confused, his chews slowing as he processes her words. she continues, "you know, about bringing someone else in?" he chokes at her words, swallowing harshly and coughing before taking a sip of water.

she's a bit shocked by the reaction, but waits as he recuperates, before he answers.

"what? i dunno wha' yer talkin' about, sweetheart." his accent is heavy as he goes to sip his water again. her eyes widen at the response, unbelieving that, across the many ways he could have answered her, he chose to lie. and, she knows he's lying, because his cheeks and neck have reddened, and he's not looking her in the eyes. she shakes her head, mouth agape.

"i'm not - i'm not freaked out or anything, it's just something i thought we should talk about-" he shakes his head, picking up his now-empty plate, and placing it away without looking at her.

"there's nothin' to talk about." it's dismissive, and, frankly rude. she goes to say something, but, seeing his back still to her, she bites her tongue and rolls her eyes. having lost her appetite, she eat the rest of her meal with gritted teeth, leaving for work after with a noticeable frigidness.

at work, jake's quick to mention her heightened annoyance. first, he pokes a bit of fun at it, before he realizes the extent of it. he goes to ask what's wrong - but decides that she needs a good laugh more than a shoulder to cry on, so he does just that for the next few hours.

he watches as her shell cracks - first from her cracking just a hint of a smile at something stupidly funny he'd done, then accidentally letting out a chuckle and, finally, essentially belly laughing, to the point where he had to hold her up to make sure didn't fall into the large pot of chilli that she was making.

her mood positively lifted by her coworker, she walks around with just a slightly bigger pep in her step. jake had done a good job, he thinks.

by the end of the day, though, she's thinking about joel - and what he'd said last night, again. she can't help the thought of including another person proliferating her mind, especially not today, as she realized not only how damn sweet coworker, funny guy, friend jake is, but also how his smile's a bit toothy, but nice to look at, or how his hair actually looks really good when it's a bit fucked up from his hands running through it when he took a break, or had to push it away from his face.

it was fucking unholy, was what it was, thinking about the poor guy who was just trying to br a friend to her - especially right after an argument with her boyfriend that morning. jake seemed to notice her faraway stares again tonight, poking fun at it, without realizing that he was part of the reason for them.

by the last end of her night shift, she was sure he had realized the slight distance she was trying to put between them, but the man didn't mind, knowing she had a lot to think about from her behavior that morning.

he thinks he knows the reason for it, when he sees her boyfriend walk inside more timidly than he'd ever done, and the lack of a kiss that she'd usually immediately plant on him. in fact, he sits on a table in near them instead of saying hello to her - a distinct difference.

he ushers her out a little early once again, and she smiles, earnestly thanking him as she steps out of the kitchen - with promises of making it up to him sometime. he shrugged her off, waving her away, asking her not to worry about it.

she notices joel as soon as she leaves, watching him raise as she nears him.

"are you coming to mine?" she mumbles, not really looking at him as he opens to the door to let them both out.

"d'ya want me too?" she pauses for a moment, before smiling, as she can hear the hint of a plea in his voice. joel hated when they got like this, not liking the notion of making her unhappy, but knowing that he was uncharacteristically stubborn. she slides her hand into his own warm one, and sees the way his face lights up - well, to the extent that it can.

"you gonna keep your promise?" for a moment, he's confused, before realization dawns on him.

"f'course, sweetheart."

the previous night had left her just as satisfied and passed out as the last time. joel had fucked her with a purpose: letting her know how sorry he was for dismissing her out of embarrassment. nevertheless, he doesn't mention the idea he'd proposed two nights ago. she can tell it still intrigued him, though, as his fingers still exploratively entered her mouth, still hooked by the look of her trying to pleasure him in two different ways.

that morning, she felt more determined in surprising her boyfriend by fulfilling his fantasy. there wasn't too much opportunity to have these sexy surprises between each other in the advent of the apocalypse, so she figured this would at least be a memorable experience for the both of them.

and she knew just who the third would be.

that day, when she got to work, jake felt as though she was walking on eggshells around him. it always seemed as though a question was on the tip of her tongue, and she had this apprehensive, curious, and something-else look in her eyes whenever she'd catch his, and it was driving him mad. if there was one thing the man hated, it was not knowing.

finally, he corners her after the dinner rush.

"what's up with you, huh?" her eyes widen at his direct question.

"what? nothing, why do you ask?" he rolls his eyes, holding his head in his hands.

"you've been acting weird all day. did i do something?" she's quick to shake her head.

"no! no, not at all..." he immediately disspells his worried act, becoming annoyed.

"well, then, what is it?" she goes to argue, but he holds a hand up, "spare me the dramatics and just tell me, please. i've waited all day."

she opens her mouth. then closes it again. then repeats the action a few times. every time, it piques jake's interest. finally he can't take anymore, and lets out a frustrated sigh, causing her to finally blurt it out.

"joel wants a threesome!" as soon as it exits her mouth, she realizes how crude it is. jake's mouth falls open, before his shocked expression morphs into a laugh. she's shocked by the reaction.

"yeah? and you're worried? who's the lucky girl?" realizing his misunderstanding, she shakes her head.

"no, no - we kinda wanna introduce a guy." jake sobers up immediately, real confusion falling over his face.

"okay..." it's a slow response, and he suddenly feels as though the space between them is too small. seeing his expression, she panics.

"i'm - god, i'm stupid, sorry, i shouldn't have jumped out-" she's rambling in her panic, and he reaches to calm her.

"no, no, no, it's okay." they go silent for a moment, as he lets go of her hand, "you thought of someone else?" he finally asks. she swallows harshly.

"well - there's only one other guy i really trust in this town." it was true - everyone else was nice, but she didn't know anyone else, viable or not. he looks almost expectant in an answer, but when she looks up at him with a very suggestive glance, he realizes what she means.

"me?" he's shocked, as she slowly nods.

"only if you want to - i mean i totally get it if you don't..." realizing she'd start rambling again if she spoke, she bit her tongue, stopping herself. he shakes his head, taking a deep breath.

"no - god, no, it's not that. i mean, you're pretty, and - like, we're friends, i like you, it's just..." she watches his mouth expectantly, wanting his answer, "joel's scary" she wants to take him seriously, but she can't help but crack into a smile, causing his face to morph to indignance, "c'mon, i'm being serious." she nods.

"yeah, of course, of course. but he's not gonna do anything - he wants this." he looks contemplative, jaw clenching and unclenching.

"this is a stupid idea." her face falls a little, as she swallows, "but, i'll do it." shocked by the turn around, her breaks into a smile, reaching to give him a hug.

"seriously?" she mumbles into his shoulder.

"yeah, what the hell." she laughs at his casual nature, when the both of them hear the door open, knowing it could only be one person so late into the night.

she peeks out, smiling giddily at joel, and he follows her, waving at the man as well. joel's a bit confised - not having interacted much with jack? - jacob? - before, but he nods a hello to him as he hugs her.

she waves jake a quick goodbye, and he smiles at the couple, watching them walk away. as the door closes, he exhales deeply, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.

over the next few days, her conversations with jake had this air of just slight awkwardness to them, and she was trying her best to subtly remind joel of his fantasy. she'd taken to sticking his own fingers in her mouth and mumbling about how she wanted to be filled up during their nights together.

she'd decided that the upcoming weekend maybe the best time for this experiment, and her and jake were about to be exempt from their duties for a well-deserved break, as some of the other kitchen staff had begun feeling better. she'd proposed the time to the man, and could practically see the heat that reached his ears.

"uh - yeah, shit - yeah. saturday?" she nods slowly, deciding it might be best to warm joel up to the surprise throughout the day, before the reveal at night.

on that friday, she walks out with a distinct pep in her step, excited to be doing this for her boyfriend. she had wrapped her friend in a quick hug - a thank you for his commitment to the idea - before returning to joel.

on that saturday, they practically woke up that morning fucking. she knew he'd never say no to sex before breakfast, so, as she goes down on him, she mumbles about the surprise she had for him later. thrown out of his pleasure by the surprise, he grips her hair, pulling her off of him and looking at her expectantly for elaboration.

"what - fuck-" her hand hadn't gotten the memo to pause, "what surprise?" she laughs against him.

"'f i tell you, it's not a surprise."

he doesn't bring it up again until after breakfast, though, once he does, he doesn't stop. he practically pesters her all day - on her off-day, no less - for an explanation, until, by about the evening, she relents.

"joel, alright." he finally stops, watching as she plops onto the couch next to him, finding a comfortable position as he watches her movements, an expectant expression on his face, "remember what you said a few days ago." his face suddenly hardens - immediately understanding, but not acknowledging her, "i know you were worried about what i thought, but i - i don't hate it." his mouth parts at her admission, and she averts her eyes, a shy smile creeping on her face, "go ahead, call me greedy again."

finally, his expression breaks, and a small laugh - more of an exhale - comes from him, remembering his reaction that night as well.

"i'm - i'm not gonna do that, sweetheart. but - i don't wanna pressure ya 'r anythin', 'lright?" she looks up at him earnestly and nods.

"you're not - i swear. i - well, it can't hurt to try, right?" he leans further back into the soft cushions, half shrugging, before his eyes narrow.

"what's yer su'prise then, baby?" she hesitates for a moment, unsure how to mention it.

"well, since you - y'know, we - wanted to, i thought i'd find a guy and arrange something..." she trails off, realizing the shock on joel's face. there's definitely an intrigue in his eyes, but something else - a little darker - hidden deeper in his gaze. she searches his face desperately, looking for disgust, or apprehension in his eyes.

"ya -" he swallows, lips parting again, tongue darting out to moisten them, going silent for a moment, "who'd ya find?" is the question he eventually settles on, averting his gaze from her for a moment.

"i - you know the guy i work with? jake?" joel immediately realizes - the man that always let his girl leave with him a little early. the guy who seemed decent enough, respectful enough. it made him swallow harshly, not sure how to process the thought, but being unable to ignore the slow, interested churn in his stomach, "did - should i have found someone else?" he can hear the light edge of panic in her voice, and he's quick to shake his head.

"no - no, darlin'. that's the surprise, then? we meetin' him tonight?" she nods slowly, still unsure of his reaction. he places an arm around her, pulling her close to him, and burying his nose in her hair. "re ya excited?" she stills for a moment, before nodding, a little sheepish.

"yup." his response is immediate.

"greedy girl."

the bar has a quiet lull to it, though it's a saturday. there are a few patrons milling about - in the booths, or by the bar. they step into the warm atmosphere after the cold of the night, and she can feel goosebumps rise - due to the weather change or the anticipation, she doesn't know.

joel's warm - as always - against her back, so close to her that she feels like she can scarcely breathe. his gripping her tightly by the waist, fingers tapping on her shirt - almost contemplatively. she sees jake by the bar, and he makes eye-contact with her over the rim of his glass of beer. she waves a hello, before guiding her boyfriend towards him.

she slides into the stool beside him, tentatively giving him a hug in greeting. she doesn't usually do it in front of joel, but she figured, by the end of the night, he'd be used to much, much more, so who cared? jake mumbles a quick hi to her, before leaning back.

"hey, joel." he also speaks hesitantly, nodding at the other man. she turns to watch his reaction, and sees that the stern expression that he always kept on his face hadn't exactly left. she watched him swallow, shuffling on his feet.

"yeah. hey." it's a gruff response, but it's, at least, a response. she rolls her shoulders, a small smile growing on her lips.

"well, i think it'd be best we have a little to drink?" it's not a question, but it's got the intonation of one, as she looks for support for the idea from her two companions. joel nods, and jake calls the bartender over, requesting 3 drinks.

she only planned on them staying about half or three-quarters of the hous, before heading back. now, it had progressed to be a few minutes past an hour and a half, and it didn't look like anyone was particularly ready. jake had been maintaining a respectful distance, talking to her, and trying to engage joel in conversation, but the other man was dismissive at best and just silent at worst.

thus, she'd been engaged in conversation with jake instead - boring stuff, such as the town's gossip, about work, or about something newly stupid the man had done. she'd laughed - in fact, she'd keeled over laughing at his story, a hand at the bar and the other at the man's arm to steady herself.

though, she felt herself lose that touch quickly, as joel's hands grip her waist to keep her grounded - maybe a little tighter than his normal hold.

nonetheless, through the conversation, she had tried to listen along to jake's stories, and include joel in their conversation, but it didn't seem to be working - and, after the third beer, her confidence was supremely dwindling.

when jake had been recognized by someone else that he knew, moving just a meter or two from the couple to greet the other person, joel had pulled her flush against him, his torso warm against hers as his mouth adjusted to be at her ear-level.

"i dunno 'bout this, sweetheart." he whispers it into her cheek, and it makes her features contort into confusion, but she doesn't turn to him.

"why not?" she whispers back, a bit confused by the change of pace from the afternoon. after a moment passed, and he hadn't answered, she turned to face him. there's a distinct discomfort on his face: a sour expression, his frown deeper than usual. he wasn't looking at her, though; his eyes instead trailed jake's quiet conversation with his friend. she felt a heaviness overcome her, along with realization, "if you don't want to - we can go..." she trails off, giving him space to respond, and she can feel his sharp inhale against her skin, contemplating the idea.

"baby, i you want to - i can, but-" she immediately shakes her head.

"'t's 'lright, we can go. i don't really mind." she gives him a small, almost reassuring smile, and, after another second, he nods. he pushes both of their empty drinks so that they're not teetering on the edge of the bar, and she quickly walks over to jake. he immediately takes notice of her.

"hey, you ready-" he begins, but, seeing the other person who was still speaking with jake, her eyes widen, quick to cut him off and turn him to face her, indicating a more private conversation.

"no! i mean - i dunno, jake - he's not up for it, i think." she tries to be as discreet as possible, but jake's worried expression as he glances over at her boyfriend forces her to suppress an eye-roll at his blatantness.

"i - is he alright, i mean - i'm-?" he's stammering a bit, and she smiles, knowing what he's actually stressed about.

"he's not gonna do anything, i swear." jake's eyes flickered over to joel's ever stern face, not really reassured. nevertheless, he nods.

"okay - you guys going, then?"

"yeah - early night, but whatever. i'll see you monday?" he's quick to agree, waving her off as she returned to joel, "'lright, we heading home?" joel's still looking at the other man, and she lightly presses against his forearm to get his attention. he finally switches his attention to her, a contemplative glaze in his eyes. he hums lightly, and she's about to repeat the question, before he's shaking his head.

"no. not yet, baby." she's a little confused, until he takes her hand in his own warm, large one, gently guiding her to him, "i've got an idea. d'ya trust me?" her eyes follow his movements: the slight fire in his eyes, the hidden smirk on his lips, the impatient tapping of his fingers on the back of her palm, and she's suddenly very intrigued. she nods slowly - of course she trusted him - and the smirk seems to grow.

they duck away from the crowd, towards the back of the bar, and into the bathrooms. now, she's even more confused, as she surveys the hints of the old jackson on the walls as joel ushers her inside - closing and locking the door behind her. there's scribbles on the walls - marker, pen, paint, nail marks - and she finds it a bit difficult to move too much between the space that her and her boyfriend were occupying in the small bathroom. it was quite bare-bones, but it was at least clean - she remembered thinking, distracted enough by the setting to not notice joel's wandering hands making their way to the front of her jeans.

when she does, she lets out a gasp, gripping them before they reach her button, stilling his movements.

"what're you doing?" it'd have been more shocked and indignant if they weren't still in decent earshot of some of the tables - she could hear music and people decently through the wooden door of the bathroom.

"i need you - right now, baby. you gonna let me make you feel good?" he mumbles it into her neck, not letting her confusing defer him as his lips trace over the side of her throat. she feels her hands grow a bit shakier, realizing why this sudden urge had overcome him, but that didn't stop her hesitance.

"i - joel, there're people outside - what if someone hears us?" he's pecking away at her resolve, though, as his hands travel up her body, pulling up the sweater she's wearing along with them.

"let 'em baby, let him hear how good i'm making ya feel." alright, this was a bit out of character for him - obviously spurred on by recent events - but the way he was moving definitely indicated his desperation. finally, she secedes, rolling her eyes as she tells him to be quiet nonetheless. cheekily, he responds, "remind yourself, sweetheart." he grasps the button of her jeans, taking it off with ease, as her own hands go to grip the edge of the sink in front of them, desperately trying not to see her own flushed appearance in the mirror, and focusing instead on the movements of his hands.

he's pulling her trousers down before she can even focus all that much, just far enough to rest under her ass, allowing his hand to snake around and find her cloth-covered clit, rubbing harshly before she has a chance to realize. it causes a squeak to emit from her, making her throw a hand over her mouth, forcing herself to bite down on her finger to avoid alerting the populace of the bar to the unsavory acts occurring.

her other hand reaches desperately to slow the wake of his hand's force, grasping uselessly against his forearm as his fingers continue their assault, feeling her hips involuntarily buck against his ministrations, her thighs hitting against the sink whenever she did. his other hand pulls her underwear down to join her jeans, his hand only relenting for half a moment before it immediately reconnected with her slit, collecting the evidence of her arousal on the tips of his fingers, before bringing the thick digits to his mouth. she follows the movement of his tongue across the slick on his fingers through the mirror, having to avert her gaze for fear of letting out a loud noise at the lewd action.

her bare ass begins rubbing against his clothed cock, begging for some renewed friction and - due to his kindness, or his own desperation - he obliges her immediately, unbuckling, unbuttoning and unwearing his trousers in swift, measured movements. even through her impatience, she can appreciate the speed with which she could feel the head of his cock against her cunt, pressing against her with a striking warmth, as she bit her tongue to little success - a small moan still slipping out from her teeth.

he places a hand to each of her own, placing them in an almost bracing position against the sides of the sink, before gripping her hip, and guiding his cock into her with the other. she can see her face change as she feels the movement inside her - and, better yet, she can see his: a pretty, flushed expression as he struggled to contain his own strength, as indicated by the grit of his teeth and the twitch of his fingers as they all come to rest on her waist.

she bites her lip, feeling his hips make contact with her ass - the feeling of fullness overtaking her senses as she desperately attempted to focus on not screaming.

though, when he began moving, she could feel that resolve crumbling: a large gasp escaping on the first thrust, then a small whimper on the second and - soon enough, full blown moans, echoing over the small room, accompanied by his own grunts and groans.

he lets out a sharp exhale, a ghost of a laugh, pulling her back to rest closer to him as his pace maintained - pushing and pulling inside her with a determination and dexterity.

"what happened, baby? though ya wanted to be quiet?" it takes a moment for her brain to even comprehend what he was saying, and only a garbled noise awaited him in response. she can see his smile against her skin - right next to her completely debauched face, which he also seems to notice, "look'it ya, yer so pretty, baby girl, my pretty girl, ain't ya?" she can hear how his own words are sloppy but unrelenting, as he gets lost in the feel of her. she immediately nods along, knowing that her stream of half-muffled moans didn't suffice an answer.

"joel - i - too loud-" through her mess, he could make out a hint of worry still present in her fucked-out nature, worried about the knowledge of their actions occurring to those outside the room. he finally relents - though he loves the idea of others hearing her noises for him, and only him.

"'lright, pretty, you just can't be quiet, huh?" there's a light hint of degradation in his tone, but not an actual lie in his words, and the events of the evening made it so she wasn't exactly shameful in that moment, so she simply nods. he obliges her untold request, taking a hand off her waist and pushing it over her mouth, muffling her moans to a much more effective degree. the action forces her head back a little, closer to him, and her back to arch. she glances into the mirror, and sees a smirk appear over joel's panting face.

suddenly, his thrusts are faster, harder, causing her eyes to widen as her fingers scramble to better hold onto the sink. he follows the actions in the mirror, smiling as he sees her reaction, trying to hold it together after his seeming measure of good-will, and subsequent surprise. he watches her eyes roll back into the back of her head, and chest heaving as she desperately tries to reduce her moans, feeling the consequence of her open mouth as her spit falls over his hand.

"that's it baby, take it for me, jus' like that, pretty. ya only get like this for me, don't ya, baby girl, jus' fer me." his pace is unrelenting, spearing into her like it was his last time, while all she could do was nod, mumbling yes's that all got captured in his hand. she can feel her impending orgasm, and she attempts to say something. she doesn't need to though - as he can feel it in the violent flutter of her cunt around him. thus, he doesn't allow his pace to falter, pushing into her that much harder and that much deeper, intently watching her expression in the mirror as all her muscles tense and still: her eyes rolling back, her inhale harsh against the top of his hand, the clench of her around him, the quiet sound that finally emits from her as she feels the orgasm wash over her intensely.

her body fully slumps against him, before she practically falls to her knees, hitting the tile of the bathroom as she grasps his cock and takes him in her mouth, lapping at his underside until her also releases in her mouth with a content groan. she swallows in a heartbeat, the musky taste washing over her tongue as she rises again, gripping the sink behind her to stabilize herself. joel's hands are on her jeans and underwear, helping her pull them up over her ass, before she buttons his jeans and buckles his belt as he checks their appearances, head dipping down to kiss her on the cheek as she caught her breath.

"did so good for me, baby. how're ya feelin'?" she deeply inhales, opening her eyes to look up at him.

"good - good, really good." a smile ghosts over his lips, before he opens the door of the bathroom, ushering her in front of him.

she can feel the eyes on them, and - though joel is a little less abashed - she keeps her gaze glued to the floor as they exit.

the one time she looks up is when joel cheerily waves goodbye to someone, and as she looks at the lucky recipient, she makes eye-contact with jake, who had a bit of a shocked, amused expression on his face. her face whips forwards once more, cheeks burning.

monday's gonna be fun.

#joel miller #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #i need you - right now

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