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tabootoji · 5 months

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"KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US..."

LET'S DESCEND TO THE BOTTOM TOGETHER - PART 1 OF SELFISH DESIRES pt. 2 →

✰ - SYNOPSIS: suguru doesn't care whats going on around him when he's with you (or) you have to deal with suguru's high sex drive even when people are around. (ft. manami suda) ✰ - WC: 6.0k (got a lil excited, next parts might not be as long) ✰ - TAGS: reader is female, short, black and curvy, tongue kissing, nipple play, v. fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, praise, pet names, teasing, semi public, obsession/possessive, finger sucking, f. orgasm, impact play, size diff., groping, spitting (mentions of thigh riding, manhandling, dacryphilia, v. intercourse, cockwarming) no use of (y/n), all lower case ✰ - A/N: planning on making this 4 parts. this is my first fan fiction, so i hope you all enjoy :)

“you may enter.”

you hear the tall buddhist priest next to you beckon in another wavering soul into the ‘restoration’ room of his monastery, where he helps those who cannot see the cursed spirits that torment them due to negative human emotion. geto suguru. with the low base of his soothing voice, he asks the human what troubles them, already gripping his hand out to extract the grotesque mass curled around their body like it's second nature to him, feigning interest in what the human has to say.

your sitting in a soft assortment of colorful patterned meditation cushions besides suguru, who lazily leans his muscular arm to rest his head on the tall bejeweled throne he sits on, long legs overstretch against the other arm of the royal seat. he turns the spirit into a small glinting black orb, flashing a beautiful smile on his angled face, giving the mortal the same teachings he gives all the others who come to his temple seeking help through his ‘rituals'. his smile doesn't quite reach his dark eyes, you notice. you're all too familiar with seeing the many facial expressions suguru fakes to the public eye, and the alluring ones he graces only you with.

sugeru geto is a very busy man. throughout the day his schedule consists of leading worships, performing healing ceremonies, and ensuring that those occupying or taking care of his temple for his group were performing their roles dutifully. his soft spot for you is eminent - his heart can't bear being away from you for too long. so when he can, he integrates his pretty princess into his program. even if it means just having you sit with him during these dreary cleanses of monkeys that flock to the boat load into his home, he knew he could endure tending to whatever role he had to fulfill with you by his side.

as he took out his disinfecting deodorant to sanitize himself after the mortal exited the room, he snuck a glance at the ethereal being beside him.

you sat cross legged on the arrangement of cushions on the floor alongside his throne. your kasaya and yukata robe that was similar in color to his hugged your round and curvy figure in a way that was so hypnotizing. you two are the only ones to wear these colors in the entire temple – a clear message to all on who you were and what you meant to him. your thick, tight curled strands of hair that usually cascaded the sides of your face down to your back were currently pulled into a slick and refined bun held together by an embellished hair comb clip. he admired this hairstyle on you – he had a better view of your illuminating melanated skin, your full lips, your cute button nose, and overall your captivating beauty.

his narrow eyes landed on your sweet wide ones, a slight blush cascading the canvas of your round cheeks. he smirks knowingly, realizing that both of you caught each other staring at one another. “are you doin’ alright little one? hope you're not too bored. are you comfortable?” he asks you.

“y-yes, i’m f-fine.” you stutter out. “please do not worry about me geto-sama.” you shift your gaze to the side, still slightly embarrassed at the fact he caught you eyeing him. but you can't help yourself. you have almost no choice but to gawk at the dashing man before you. the man that saved your life all those years ago.

you took note of the way his head laid on his hand, his long, luscious black hair covering his back. one strand that seemed to slip out of his top bun framed his handsome face. because of his height, his form draped completely across his seat. you are but in awe of his beauty, no wonder anyone who was blessed by his presence describes the man as charismatic, charming, godly

suguru rolled his eyes, the thought of how he could try to make you gasp call out his given name briefly went through his mind before he chuckled lowly. “stubborn girl. how many times do i have to tell you – 's no need for honorifics between us. come, sit with me.” he holds his hand for you to take. you eye him hesitantly before placing your small hand in his large one, and he pulls you to him.

he guides your short frame to sit on his lap and you let out a shaky sigh, feeling his arms wrap around the swell of your hips, holding you closer to him as your thick thighs take perch onto his pelvis. he always initially asks you to sit on him when you stay during his sessions, and your bashful nature allows you to refuse him at first, giving him some minuscule excuse along the lines of not wanting to tire him out by carrying your heavy weight for too long. but you knew too well that you could not deny him of anything for too long.

“i apologize s-suguru…” you turn to say to him. you notice his large ears with protruding piercings perk up at your melodious voice slipping his name through your lips. the all consuming need he has for you courses through him yet again at the mere sound of your voice. he folds his hands together on your round stomach, leaning his head into the crook of your neck, feeling your nape get hotter to the touch as you continue, already making a mental note of his request. “...i always feel inclined to. after all, you are my savior.”

suguru presses his lips to your shoulder, pecking it as he hums, thinking of that time all those years ago that he was blessed to have met you. in the first beginning years of his guise as a priest, you graced his presence by bowing at your feet, begging him to take you into his group. you had nowhere else to go - a rather weak sorcerer who spent your whole life abused by the mortals who raised you because of your divine gift of sight. you found a way to escape from your brutal environment and followed the rumors of a cleric who provided housing and leadership to those that can ‘see’ things others can't, while relinquishing those plagued by the manifestations of their own despair.

poor little one, suguru had thought when he first laid his eyes on you. you had presented battered and broken at the front of his door steps. it’s not your fault you were raised by dim witted monkeys. when you raised your head and bore your watery eyes from the ground to his, he looked deep into them and saw your potential. he saw the pain and turmoil you faced from your upbringing by those unlike you, and he could relate, having mortal parents himself. the dangerous path you took reminded him of why he himself broke away from jujutsu high.

not only was he inspired by your gull, he was entranced by your delicate beauty that shined through your frayed outward appearance. he was overcome with the need to save you, shape you into the heavenly form of yourself he knew you could be, and in the back of his mind hoped he’d be lucky enough to one day call you a lifelong companion.

suguru took to you instantly, informing everyone in the monastery of their new member, and that all should treat you as they would treat him – or they would face his wrath. he had you reside in a room compounded with his, and while all others in the temple had clear and thorough roles to fulfill every day, the only thing suguru asked of you was to do whatever filled your heart with contentment and happiness.

and how else could you possibly do that without the kind and striking curse user who took you in with no questions asked, the first person in your life to ever show you such kindness, the man you practically fell in love with the first time meeting him, by your side as much as possible?

after all this time you're still incredibly grateful that suguru not only allows you to cling to him, but that he still always seems pleased every time you're in his presence. little did you know, suguru was thrilled at the idea that you may feel the same way he does. the idea that the reason you're so attached to him was because you're as fond of him as he is of you made his heart skip.

as more and more time passed, the both of you felt yourselves spiral into a never ending pool of emotions filled with passion, exhilaration, and most of all, desire.

at first, suguru intended to respect your boundaries, never attempting to cross any dangerous lines when it came to you. but after some time, gentle and friendly gestures between companions became sensual and air stiffening tension between two budding lovers anytime you both were within close proximity of each other – which was almost all the time. hugs and cuddles turned into intimate embraces if you both clung to each other for too long. soft kisses on the hands and face turned intense when they lingered on the most sensitive spots of your bodies that only you two know of.

you both grew so close to one another, you eventually began asking suguru if you could stay in his room with him during the nights, which pretty much ended up with the both of you permanently living together in the same room. you both continued to muddle the borderlines of your relationship until the flooded gates opened that allowed both of you to indulge in each other to your hearts' content without having to feel guilty about it.

that's all you can think about now when suguru begins trailing wet puckered kisses from your collarbone to your neck, stopping at the sweet spot below your earlobe and focusing his attention there, making you involuntarily squirm in his arms. suguru manages to pull you even closer to his hard lean body.

“sometimes i wonder if you're the one who saved me, little one.” he whispers in your ear, before leaning down, blowing a puff of cold air from his mouth down the slight trail of saliva his lips left on your neck, causing you to shiver and turn your head to face him.

suguru’s smile grows wider as he looks into your warmly rich colored eyes staring intently into him. “‘s there something you need from me, princess?” he asks teasingly, watching you glance down to his full sultry lips before quickly making eye contact again with his brown luminous ones again, swallowing harshly.

suguru is the highly esteemed leader of the sanctuary you call home, so you try to hold yourself to a respectful and reverent standard that should be held by anybody who could even think of being by his side. but it's as if your body betrays you when you're with him - especially this close.

your heart begins beating so fast it feels like it's banging against your chest. the temperature of your body increases till you feel like you're on fire. all the muscles in your body tighten up, your breathing quickens, and you're unable to ignore the pool of wetness that forms in between your legs that compels you to rub your thighs together for relief.

you get so caught up in your body going into overdrive that you almost forget that suguru had asked you a question. you blink once to remember, before scrunching your eyebrows together in a pout, too sheepish to express your feelings of lust out loud.

fortunately, suguru decides to have mercy on you - he knows how coy his girl can be - lifting one of the hands that gripped your waist and using it to cradle the side of your face, slotting his fingers to the back of your head to gently hold you in place.

“hm. it’s ok darling. know exactly what you need. stick your tongue out f’ me. need your lips. need to taste your mouth.”

the words that roll off his tongue in his ravishing voice makes you audibly gasp out. suguru was never the type to beat around the bush, but him directing such inappropriate words to you with such ease always made your entire body tingle.

you listen obediently, slowly sticking out the wet mass in your mouth for him, closing your eyes as you feel your face heat up in anticipation.

suguru smiles down at you. his docile, precious girl. his eyes darken with desire as you comply for him without question. always ready for me to make a mess of her. so cute. he thought, before sliding his own tongue out of his mouth to rub against yours, dancing and twirling them together, exchanging saliva with one another, making you moan out with your sweet voice while holding on to his robe for stability. he grips the back of your head tighter and pulls your face closer to his to deepen the kiss, sucking on your moist tongue and swallowing the rest of your pleasant noises into his mouth.

for suguru, this is heaven on earth for him. having your bodies pressed against one another, groping at each other until one or both of you becomes undone in each other's arms. he’s almost embarrassed to admit that he’s already sporting a straining erection underneath his garments from just kissing you alone.

you both continue to explore each other's mouths with your tongues, sucking and biting where you can as you continue to share the same breath for some time. suguru begins to untie the string holding your yukata together, feverish to see if your body was expressing excitement just as much as his was.

suguru releases your lips with a parting ‘mwah’, admiring the strings of saliva connecting your lips to his. he takes his thumb and swipes the bottom of your now swollen bottom lip, the result of his oh so greedy suckles during your mouth watering make out session. he takes note of how fast you’ve already turned putty in his hands from just fucking your mouth with his tongue.

he continues to undress you, pulling your attire enough for him to peer down at your stubby, erotic figure. your busty ample breasts bigger than the grips of his hands could hold were perky and well rounded. your taut brown nipples stood at attention the minute they were exposed to the cool air in the room, waiting for him to tweak at. your voluptuous stomach hung out, and suguru couldn't help but to salivate at your contours and rolls. his eyes finally wandered down to your puffy folds and thighs that glistened, already covered in your essence of messy slick.

suguru barely considered the possibility that another monkey may knock at the door anytime now to request for another one of his healings. because in his eyes you were a delicious dessert handed to him on a silver plate.

and right now, he had every intention to completely consume you. interruptions or not.

“s-suguru, someone might come in…” you voice out exasperatedly. it was almost frightening how you felt like prey that had finally been caught under his gaze, but it also sparked something inside of you. regardless, you tried your best to think logically. what would a mortal, a member of the group, or hell – even the maids or various service workers that constantly roamed and checked on every nook and cranny of the temple – think if they came into the room and saw you both like this?

their superior, their god, roaming his fingertips against the arms of a half exposed, weakly curse user that squirmed in his lap with his every touch?

your concerns slowly begin to fade the more lost you got in his persistent touches, feeling his mouth press against your ear as the pads of his fingers brush against your pebbled nipples, getting ready to tease and twist them till you jerk in his lap so much you leave a puddle of your own cum on his lap. only suguru was able to pull this primal urge from deep within you, making you lose all sense of reason from his caresses alone.

“oh honey, don't think i’ll be able to stop myself anyway.” he murmured in your ear before licking up and down your earlobe, stopping at the lower spot behind it, and starting to swirl there with his hot wet tongue while he flicks his digits in swift movements against your erect nipples, proceeding to grope at your mounds while tightening the grip on his digits to rub and pull tightly at your responsive areola's that elicited the most adorable sobs of pleasure from you.

if suguru were being honest, he didn't care who or what was around him anytime he craved a taste of you. every time he got a look at your divine figure, blinding heat took over and before he knew it, he seemed to always have a bothersome hard on with you in his sights. distracting erections would refuse to go away even after he tried to relieve himself (multiple times), but to his surprise, you were all too willing to help him by not only giving your appetizing body, but your tender heart as well. of course for suguru it wasn't just all about the sex, even if he did choose to use it to express his devotion to you, alot. suguru derives the greatest pleasure from showing off your relationship to all.

so what if a useless monkey came in?

who cares if any of the staff members came to check on them and saw their leader's overbearing stature unraveling his pretty girl with only his calloused hands?

all the better for him. anyone could and should see with their own eyes how infatuated he was with you and only you.

suguru chuckles as he watches you whine and try not to buck your hips while he continues to fondle your stiff nubs. fussy girl. “s’ ok love. you don't have to hold yourself back. know how much you need this. oh … and you're not even wearing any panties. you can be so bad when you wanna be.” he teases you, letting go of your large tits to finally give attention to your increasingly soaking pussy.

he would have liked to have picked you up and turn you to face him, soothing his needy girl by letting you grind your twitching clit against his big thigh till you came, leaving a trail of your wetness on him as he slurps and tongues at your dark colored nipples. but with the way your glazed eyes looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together, lips parted, a bit of drool spilling out and sliding down the side of your jaw, he could tell you were getting desperate. shit – so was he.

he’ll give you exactly what you need – he’ll stuff his perfect girl's dripping cunt with his fingers till you explode all over him.

you flush at his accusation, quick to remind him that it was his suggestion for you not to wear underwear under your robe around the temple anymore so he could have “easier access to your sweetest spot wherever he wanted.” “s-suguru!” you exclaim. “t-that's because...you told me not to –!” you jump in sugurus lap at the end of your sentence when he gently pinches the bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“i know sweet girl. ’s just so fun teasing you~” he practically purrs to you. suguru could be so mean sometimes! but you love him, even when he pokes fun at you.

you look up at him briefly to give him a small smile, before putting your attention to his fingers pulling apart your smooth lips that were already sticky with your arousal to get a better look at your pretty pink pussy. suguru can't help but whistle at the sight of your delicate flower. “look at her. isn't she just lovely?” hearing him refer to your cunt in the third person had you biting your lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip out, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

suguru drags a single one of his thick digits up and down the entrance of your drooling hole, picking up his pace a bit, enjoying the squelching noises your pussy makes as he strokes it. collecting enough of your juices on his finger, he slides it inside your rigged, tight walls and wiggles it deep inside you as his big palm kneads at your aching clit. “ always so fucking tight..” his voice rumbles out, and your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. you arch your back while he continues to prod and poke inside of you.

suguru busies his unoccupied hand by pushing away any part of your robe that touched his lap, then unties his own yukata to reveal his painfully stiff lower half. he had also decided to stop wearing underwear beneath his robe, thankful for his idea now as his angrily red cock begged for some kind of stimulation. he slits it upward in between your plump bottom, so now every time you pushed against him, your thick round ass cheeks would give his now full hard on some much needed friction.

he slightly bends you forward briefly to admire the sight before him – his two toned, veiny, and ridiculously thick cock was enveloped in the cellulite of your fleshy rear end that involuntarily jiggled about with any slight movement. the obscene view made him let out a staggering groan. he lands a crisp ‘slap!’ down one of your big cheeks that makes you yelp in surprise. your eyes widened as the sting from the impact began mixing with your pleasure.

unbeknownst to you, suguru was in awe, watching the swell of your curved ass moving in ruptures that imitated moving water from the ‘thwack’ he gave it, enjoying the vibrating sensations to his aching length. he shudders, feeling himself twitch against your soft skin, his bulbous tip releasing a drop of precum out of his slit.

suguru had to seriously control himself before he threw you up in the air and fucked into you right then and there with his lengthy girth ruthlessly. he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in your wet cunt that was grasping his beefy finger so tightly. he wanted to see your twinkling eyes quiver as fat tears fell from them while you cried out on his cock. he could practically picture you bouncing on his lap, desperately trying to meet his thrusts like the good girl you were.

get ahold of yourself suguru, he muses, shaking his head, gritting his teeth and sucking in a harsh breathe. he needed to focus on stretching out your tense little hole first so you could take all of him properly. above all, he wanted to make sure you'd enjoy yourself just as much as he would.

he pulls you back to his chest, holding the side of your hip with one hand as he begins a steady pace with the finger inside of you. “tsk, naughty girl. already sooo wet for me. was it ‘cause of our kiss? or have you been like this the whole time?” you moan out his name once he’s finished, indirectly answering his question.

“aww, my poor baby. 's my fault, i’ve spoiled you rotten. now when my pretty princess goes too long without me payin’ attention to her, she gets so needy, hm?” you open your big thighs wider to accommodate his rapidly moving hand, confirming his claims as his digits pump in and out of you. you feel his rough finger trace every inch of the ridges inside the slippery walls of your cunt.

your panting now as suguru continues to play with your body – the feeling quickly becoming an addiction you have come to crave at an unhealthy rate.

“oh! oh y-yes! m’ sorry suguru, p-please, need you…to pay attention to me!” you squeal out, feeling him add another one of his fingers inside of you, because how could he refuse his baby's delightful request? he guides the hand on your wide hip to rock against him, and you move them in juicy circular movements as his fingertips continuously graze against your g spot, causing your pussy to gush all over his hand.

you can feel drops of his warm sticky precum dribble in between your ass, and suguru uses it as a lubricant while he humps behind you, grunting heavily in your ear. as he increases the speed his fingers surge into you, he matches it with the grinding of your bodies.

“i know princess, i know.” suguru gasps out. “my little doll jus’ needed me to take care of her desperate pussy.” he pants. suguru just loved to watch his kind, quiet girl spasm out in ecstasy in front of him, because of him. he achieves so much satisfaction from knowing that he’s tinkered with your body so much, he’s practically trained your cunt to be his personal cock sleeve. you can't go mere moments around him without your pussy leaking down your legs.

“‘d-desperate…only for you, my love …” you breathe out in your angelically soft voice, causing suguru to moan at the dirty words you whispered to him. you both extract the same feelings of greed and unadulterated lust out of each other. you can dive into each other's darkest desires without any shame.

“are you feeling good, little one? talk to me gorgeous.” suguru hums, wanting to hear more of your seductive words and noises in your sultry voice.

“ah...a-ah! oh god! mph…! feels so good sugu-suguru ! love it so much..” you cry out, thrashing around as an entertained suguru smiles at your words of affirmation, pressing a wet smooch on the side of your face.

your moans and pants now begin to increase in volume unapologetically. suguru is so happy when you let loose like this, it’s when you're the most confident in yourself. just looking at how exquisite you look as he fingers you, he pledges to find new ways to crack into your hard shelled exterior so he can see you like this more often.

maybe he could find out what extracurricular activities you're passionate about to keep yourself busy during the day. but suguru knows in his selfish heart that he wants you to spend all your time with only him, as you both continue to taint each other while you lose yourselves completely to your urges. right now, he’s determined to help you let go of the last strings of sanity you're clinging onto to keep yourself from descending to madness from the enthralling level of pleasure you're experiencing. he wants to hear you scream his name out so loud, the entire temple will know what he's doing to you.

so he adds another finger into you, now pushing three of his digits into your soppy cunt. the strong grip he has on your hip is bound to leave ghosts of his touch on your skin the next day as he helps you grind down on his lengthy fingers while you fuck yourself on them, babbling out broken sentences that get interrupted by your cries and hiccups. he’s pumping into your burning heat so fast now, that every thrust makes your huge breasts bounce around erotically. you are such a sight to behold in suguru’s eyes. he looks at your pupils practically glow with hearts as you turn into a puddle of mush.

you're close – he can tell by the way your pulsating hole quivers around his digits, sucking them in so much he can barely pull them out, leaving his hand covered in your tasty fluids. the room is filled with the symphony of obnoxiously pornographic squelches your poor cunt makes.

surguru leans his head over your shoulder and spits a fat glob of his warm spit onto your clit, presses his thumb against it, and rubs tight juicy circles into your love nub, making you start to see white. he grasps one of your small hands in his large ones and holds it against your squishy chest, pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipple again while he turns his face to you to lick up the drool still spilling out of your pink lips.

“my sweet, sweet girl. you're so damn beautiful, so gorgeous. ‘gonna come on my fingers? don't be shy, let yourself go. wanna hear my pretty bird sing. come for me, little one.” hearing his sweltering voice whisper such vulgar words to you was all it took for you to release the balloon threatening to burst inside of you. your orgasm hits you hard, disorienting you as your vision blurs. your fluttering cunt sprays down sugurus arm and lap, drenching them in your juices. your hips finally give out, suguru having to support your body as you fall back on to him, letting out a final loud moan.

you sit against him in exhaustion, your chest heaving as you try to catch the breath that was ripped out of your lungs. suguru pulls his fingers out of your gummy walls, watching in amazement as strings of your slick stay attached to his digits. he holds his hand soaked with your cum up as the bright light beaming in the room catches it, a sheeny glow that reflects all over his palm leaves him starving for your taste.

he begins licking his hand clean, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he shudders at the rich taste of you on his tongue. not wanting to waste a single drop, he laps up your essence that's all over his palm. once he's finished, he looks down at your tired out face and laughs to himself. already fucked out, n’ i havent even put my cock in you yet. suguru wasn't complaining though. he enjoyed seeing your mind and body so blown from pleasure you can barely move or form coherent sentences.

he leans his forehead against yours and presses your cheeks with his hand to pucker your lips for a kiss, entangling his tongue with yours yet again to swirl the taste of yourself in your mouths. suguru sucks on the fat of your bottom lip, nibbling on it softly before pulling away slightly to give you a dazzling smile.

“how’re feeling now, little one? all better?” you somehow find the strength to nod your head, closing your eyes as he peppers your face with more kisses. “yes…i feel…m-much better. thank you…suguru…” you murmur, still reeling from your powerful climax.

“‘s good my love, i'm glad. because now… 'm gonna make you feel even better.” his smile quickly turns into a mischievous smirk as he gently pushes you forward so you could feel his long shaft throb against your backside.

suguru was just about to put his hands under your arms to lift you up and raise you down onto his pelvis, when there was a sudden knock at the entrance door of the room. you quickly sit yourself up on suguru's lap, wrapping your robe around your still exposed front, and tried to look as presentable as possible before the door slid open. suguru pouted. he was just about to fuck you silly on his dick.

it was suguru's secretary, manami suda. she bowed her head briefly before strolling to the center of the room. the way she swished her hips as she walked showed off the fit her sleeveless dress had on her body. she turned her full attention to suguru as if you weren't even in the room and spoke. “geto-sama, you have one more healing ritual before the day ends. afterwards, there's a meeting you must attend with all the members…” manami trails off and raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you suddenly stiffen in the middle of her talking.

due to the placement of both of your robes and you hiding sugurus bottom half as you sat on him, manami was unaware of the movements of the jujutsu sorcerer she spoke to and how they were affecting you. during her drabbles about his upcoming schedule, suguru busied himself with grabbing your hips and grounding his stiff rod against your supple heat, your leftover cum assisting him with his desperate humping. while you tried (and failed) to keep as still as possible, suguru gave out a thoughtless, automatic response to his secretary. “thank you, manami. go ahead ‘n let the last one enter then.”

manami nods and gives a final bow, sashaying away and flipping her salmon colored hair to give you a skeptical glance before she exits the room. when the sliding doors slammed shut, you hide your now reddened face in your hands, suddenly feeling self conscious. you now realize that you must have been so loud before. what if manami, who already seems to detest you, or someone else in the temple had heard you? how would you be able to face them, you thought.

clueless to the internal conflict you were facing with yourself, suguru wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head with a satisfied hum, before sitting both of you up properly on his pedestal while the two of you wait for the last pitiful mortal to come in.

“let’s get through the day as quickly as possible, hm? can't wait till we’re back inside our room.” he whispers seductively to you, contributing to the warmth rising in your cheeks. honestly if it were up to suguru, he’d still fuck you senseless infront of whatever monkey was coming in to complain about their problems. he’d have even continued what he wanted to initially do to you before manami came in, uncaring if anyone walked in on him filling his girl up.

if others didn't get that he constantly needed intimate time with his woman, he had no problem satisfying their curiosity by showing them all the dirty things he does to you. the thought only manages to spur suguru on, and he decides that he wants to see you melt even more for him. however, suguru takes into consideration how modest you thrive to be in public settings with him, and decides to have some ‘pity’ on you.

so while suguru continues to play his role as a kind hearted cleric during his final healing ritual of the day, he periodically raises his hips up to grind himself between your puffy folds, no barrier separating the two of you now, embracing you securely so you're constantly reminded of his longing for you.

surguru gets so worked up from this, he changes his mind on being nice and asks you to at least cockwarm him, feeling his hard cock involuntarily twitch against you from the need to feel your cunt swallow him greedily. excuses for your refusal fall on deaf ears as you try to reason with him. after grumbling, suguru eventually realizes you may have been right after visualizing the risky idea:

the crown of suguru’s fat sensitive cockhead bumping against the squishy spot deep inside of you that pushes you over the edge, a spot only he can reach. unable to move, both of you falling to pieces at the guaranteed snug hold your pussy would have on his engorged length. his poor dick would have no choice but to release hot beads of his precum inside you that would only add to the mess of your sloppy pussy as you clenched, feeling your heartbeat from within.

suguru almost thought he’d cum on the spot from just his filthy imagination alone, and you would no doubt follow suit as he feels your cunt spill more slick on him every time his bulb-shaped tip repeatedly catched on your abused clit, stimulating it with his agonizing thrusts. suguru will give you both what you need later, when he pounds into you mercilessly for hours in your shared bed, fucking you within an inch of your life. he can't wait to feel your pussy leave a mess down his heavy cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

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cuubism · 27 days

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A continuation of this, wherein Hob told Dream about one of his secret 1689-era fantasies and Dream invited him to the Dreaming to make it real. Dom Dream, very nsfw.

Hob has been to Dream's palace in the Dreaming a few times before, but never has it felt like this.

Normally, those dreams feel particularly lucid, particularly clear. And he remembers them better than he remembers any others. Now, he still knows he's dreaming, knows where he is, but it has a gauzy feeling to it. The vaulted space, the cold marble floor, the darkness spilling in through the high stained glass windows, it has him dizzy, spinning with vertigo.

Then, Dream's hand low on his bare back. The silk slip of his robe as he wraps his arm around Hob to lead him along. It's all disjointed pieces: the vision of Dream's throne at the far end of the room, Dream's voice in his ear, come along, my Hob, you will be good, won't you? the brush of his lips, his fine fingers trailing up the back of Hob's neck, into his hair, as-- oh, they've reached the throne, gone up the stairs somehow, and Dream folds himself into the seat like he's made of silk himself, pulls Hob down by his hair so Hob kneels on the floor before him.

Dream's thighs frame his shoulders. His robe is thin enough that Hob can just about see his skin through it, can imagine how smooth it would be to the touch. God, Dream is so beautiful.

Hob looks up at him, and Dream takes his face between his hands, stroking his thumbs over Hob's cheeks, a fond and proprietary motion. "You are lovely," he says.

Hob has to bite back a whine. To hear that from Dream... and in the Dreaming, too, where everything Dream says has a ring of truth, where Hob yearns for him so deeply.

“It wounded me to see you in such a state,” Dream continues, voice low and soothing. “I trust you are feeling better now.”

Hob is much the same in this dream as he was in 1689, only he’s bathed, and his hair is clean and tied back, his trousers new and unstained, and he isn’t starving, he’s eaten recently, though he doesn’t remember what. His lord has taken such good care of him, Hob wants for nothing now.

His lord.

The thought rips an involuntary shudder from him. Yes. Dream is his lord. His lord who saved him.

“My Lord Dream,” he murmurs, and Dream’s eyes flash. Pleased. “You have treated me well. I feel much restored.”

“Good. For I have need of you.”

His hand slips back into Hob’s hair, grip firm but kind. For a moment, in the familiarity of Dream’s touch, Hob truly remembers where he is, what year he’s in. It’s like he shifts back and forth: one moment he is then, the next he is now, so they exist overlapping each other, both at once. He is in the dream of that time, he feels it, he believes it, but he never quite forgets that it is, in fact, a dream.

“I must host some unsavory visitors,” his lord says, holding Hob’s head lightly in one hand, untying his robe with the other. “Pay them no mind. Focus only on me.”

It’s not hard for Hob to focus on him. Especially when Dream lets his robe fall open just so, parting only over his thighs so that he is bared to Hob but still covered elsewhere. Properly dressed as a king entertaining petitioners must be. In a sense.

His prick lies soft against his thigh. Hob stares, and wants. Long has he wanted his stranger. His king. His would-be, could-be lover of a future lifetime.

“What would you have from me, my lord?” he asks, voice rough. “I would please you. With whatever I can give.”

“I want your mouth,” Dream says. Each word is distinct, sure, and demanding. “Warm me, soothe me, while I conduct these unfortunate affairs.”

“Please,” Hob breathes. Dream needn’t demand it. Hob wants to. More than anything. He needs to.

“Look at me, Hob,” Dream orders. When Hob tips his head back to meet his gaze, he finds that Dream’s expression is warm. Fond. He pets Hob’s hair. Thumbs at the corner of his mouth. “Open your mouth,” he says, and Hob does, and Dream lays his soft cock on Hob’s tongue.

Hob thinks, distantly, that he doesn’t usually remember tasting anything in dreams, but Dream now tastes as he does when they’re together in the waking world, whatever affectation of humanity he puts on there, sweat and musk and that cold clean taste that always lies on his skin, like nighttime air. He smells that way, too, crisp and alluring, and the very fact that Hob smells anything at all here makes the dream sharpen around him, grounds him with his knees on the marble and Dream’s diaphanous robe brushing his shoulders, the familiar weight of him on his tongue.

“Good,” Dream praises him. “That’s all you need do. Be still. I will conduct my business.”

Hob can be still. He wants to be still for him, to be an anchor for Dream, and Dream for him. Hob can do this for him, after all his lord has done for him. He lets his eyes fall shut.

Footsteps sound behind him. Hob doesn’t hear whatever doorway Dream must have created open, or hear it close, only that there are now two people—beings—standing behind him in Dream’s throne room. The back of his neck prickles, and he shifts uncomfortably on his knees. He can’t help it, he grew up in dangerous times, he lived most of his life in dangerous times, having someone at his back always puts him a little on edge. Especially someone he knows isn’t a friend. But Dream pets him soothingly. He doesn’t speak, or look at him, just combs Hob’s hair back from his forehead. And Hob knows he has to trust Dream to keep the situation in hand. He’ll be rewarded for his trust.

“Emissaries of Hell,” Dream says, not quite so courteous as a greeting. “I trust the Lightbringer has good reason for requesting this audience.”

The two demons don’t seem to take note of Hob’s presence. Hob’s not sure if they’re used to this sort of thing or if they’re just too afraid of angering Dream to step out of line. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased to see them in the first place.

“Lucifer does not behave frivolously,” growls one of the demons. Dream huffs under his breath at that, loud enough for Hob to hear but not the demons. Some time, Hob wants to hear the story behind that. “We bring an important matter.”

“Convey it, then, that you might leave my realm quickly.”

The demons start talking, but Hob rapidly stops paying attention. At any other time, he’d likely find this all fascinating, but now he’s more focused on Dream, blissed out with the weight of Dream in his mouth. He doesn’t have to pay attention to what’s being said. That’s not his job. He’s here only to pleasure Dream.

He drifts. The stone floor digs into his knees, Dream’s fingers scratch lightly in his hair. Hob’s jaw starts to ache, but he doesn’t move from Dream’s cock. He doesn’t want to let him down, but more than that, it’s pleasant kneeling here, it’s peaceful, serving him, even when it starts to hurt.

He doesn’t know exactly how much time passes, kneeling there and warming Dream’s cock, Dream’s soothing voice rumbling above him, before a pause in the discussion has one of the demons remarking on Hob’s presence for the first time. “You have an obedient pet there, Lord of Dreams. Perhaps you ought to share. In the name of diplomacy.”

Unease shivers up Hob’s spine. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch him. Only Dream.

He almost pulls off to say so, but Dream's grip tightens in his hair in a way that’s anything but casual. “Perilously rude even to suggest it,” he says, voice the smooth crack of obsidian, and Hob can envision the way his eyes flash. “Perhaps you take poor care of your things in Hell, but I do not. Step—” it’s only then that Hob realizes they must have come closer— “back.”

If Dream’s voice is powerful in the Waking world, in the Dreaming it is something else entirely. It vibrates in the air with a power that suggests the very floor itself will throw them back if they do not obey.

In the Dreaming, Dream’s will shapes the world.

His will is the world.

Hob whimpers at the thought.

“Okay, okay,” says the demon, a trill of nerves in his voice. Hob can’t help but feel satisfied at the sound of it. “Don’t— don’t get worked up. Was just a thought is all.”

Dream doesn’t speak aloud, but his voice curls through Hob’s mind like a daydream. Worry not, dear one. I will not let anyone touch you. It settles him. Dream has this all in hand. Of course he does.

“You need not share your thoughts,” Dream says with derision. “In fact, I believe our business is concluded.”

With the quick flash of an opening door, the demons are gone, and they’re alone in the throne room again. Hob is still shivering with the power of Dream in that moment. He loves experiencing Dream in his element, on his throne.

“I grow tired of these games that Hell plays,” Dream says, half to Hob, half to himself. “Something more may have to be done.”

A hint of true irritation creeps into his tone, and Hob curls his tongue over the head of his cock, a soothing reminder that he can take what comfort he wishes. Dream’s grip in his hair softens. He gently pulls Hob back, his cock, just beginning to grow hard, slipping free, a line of spit trailing to Hob’s lips.

Dream frames his face in his hands, massaging the hinge of his jaw where it’s grown sore with his thumbs. Hob finally opens his eyes, meeting Dream’s heated, satisfied gaze. He’s been growing steadily harder as he services Dream, but that look sends arousal rushing through him. Oh, he’d do anything for that look, give anything to make his lord so proud of him. He lets out a low whine, and Dream shushes him, fingertips brushing over Hob’s wet lower lip.

“You have been very good, my pet,” Dream praises. “Very patient, and soothing to me. Tell me. Were you afraid?”

“No,” Hob whispers, throat too tight, too sore for full words. “No. I knew you would protect me. As you have before. My lord.”

Dream looks pleased. “And tell me,” he continues, “what do you dream of now?”

Hob dreams of a bed. Dream’s bed, in his palace chambers. Would his lord deign to have Hob there? To bring him into his private space, lay Hob out on his sheets, soothe his frustrations through Hob’s body, reward Hob for his service? He has brought Hob into his home, given him succor, but would he allow Hob in the space he holds most sacred?

He dreams of silk sheets, comfort so foreign to his current station in life, and Dream fucking him on them, pressing Hob’s body down, hands entwined, his teeth on the back of Hob’s neck. It wouldn’t be hard. Hob had prepared himself in his rooms beforehand; he had wanted to be ready to give his Lord Dream anything he wanted, for his lord takes such good care of him. Dream rescued him, brought him up from destitution, took him home and fed and clothed him, treated and touched him kindly, how could Hob not want to give himself to him, to let Dream have him? He had not known what his lord needed him for this evening but he had made himself wet and open and ready. Just in case. Now they ought to fulfill it. Hob wants to feel Dream inside him.

This is what you dream? Dream’s low voice sounds in his head, all around him. His teeth graze Hob’s ear, his hands are strong where he holds Hob’s down to the sheets, which slip like water under Hob’s body.

“Yes,” Hob whispers.

Very well then.

Dream pushes into him, ripping a gasp from Hob’s throat. He doesn’t linger, he moves quick and hard—Hob stoked his arousal with his mouth and now he will chase it. The power of him rolls over Hob in waves, flashes of feeling in a storm, his lips on Hob’s throat, the force of his hips pushing Hob up the bed, the slick sound of their skin meeting. Dream is all-encompassing in the Dreaming, around Hob and in him, so powerful Hob can do nothing but cave under him. Not that he wants to do differently. The hot length of him inside Hob is bliss, and oh, how he’s selfishly, weakly wanted someone to take over for him these past wretched years. Let his lord decide for him and use him. He takes better care of him than Hob does for himself.

Dream pulls him up onto his knees as his thrusts grow harder, faster. Hob bows his head to the sheets, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead. It’s so good, God it’s so good. He feels hot all over and liable to snap, but he can’t, he doesn’t want to until Dream comes in him first.

“Please,” he begs, and Dream understands him, nails scratching over Hob’s back and digging into his hips as he holds him firm. He thrusts in deep, once, twice, then comes with sharp snap of his rhythm and a rumbling growl in his throat that Hob feels more than hears as warmth floods through him.

Dream pulls out then, and, quick as a snake, turns onto his back and slides between Hob’s spread legs, takes Hob’s cock in his mouth. Hob shouts and comes, mind whiting out with pleasure. Dream sucks on him until he’s dry, past the point where Hob’s squirming from overstimulation, whimpering for how Dream’s mouth is so good but too much.

Dream releases him, and Hob collapses onto his chest, Dream moving up the bed just in time to catch him. Hob mashes his face into Dream’s throat, panting for breath, and Dream makes a low, soothing purring noise that vibrates through Hob’s ribcage. He tangles his fingers into Dream’s hair, holding tight, trying to hang on to the nebulous reality of the Dreaming.

“Very good, my Hob,” Dream praises. “Are you well?”

His voice slides over and around Hob’s body like the silk of his sheets. Hob’s not entirely sure he knows where he is—is he really in the bed of his untouchable stranger, lifted from destitution by those fine hands? No, it’s only Dream—such that there is only Dream—only Dream playing with him. He thinks. Either way he feels good.

“I think we ought take this elsewhere,” Dream says, and Hob realizes belatedly that he never actually responded to him, too caught up in the music of the fantasy. It’s too confusing to open his mouth and do so now, everything is too fractured and dreamlike, he doesn’t know what’s real or not, though he’s struggling to care enough to determine it.

Dream’s sheer robe falls over his shoulders, soft as moths’ wings and heavier than it looks, drawing him under. He slides into warm water, hair floating up around his face, limbs going limp, closing his eyes. Floats, then surfaces again with the release of a held breath. Cool air tickles his skin, water streams down his cheeks, but the water he’s in remains warm, swirling in eddies around his chest, and the arms wrapped around him.

Dream. Pressed up against his back as they sit in the bath. The bath… in Hob’s bathroom. He thinks. Though it’s dark, only a single candle flickering where it sits on the counter, casting rings of warm light over the water—so it’s a bit hard to tell for sure. Besides, he was just dreaming, and now he isn’t. Probably. Gradually his mind starts clarifying the world around him.

“Going to start losing track of what’s dreams and what’s real with you,” he murmurs, and Dream hums, tucking his nose in against Hob’s shoulder.

“The distinction is not so firm as you think.” His voice bounces on the surface of the bathwater like the flickering candlelight. His hand winds through Hob’s hair, tugging lightly. “Nevertheless, I will remind you.”

“Not sure you’ve got the best grasp on it, love.”

Dream nips the side of his neck, an admonishment, then lays his tongue over the spot. Then says, “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” He leans his head back further against Dream’s shoulder with a sigh that takes all the tension from his body. What little remained after Dream was through with him. “Really good.”

“Mmm. I am pleased, then.”

Pleased. Even here, the thought of Dream being pleased with him is a pleasant one. Light and satisfying. He feels right.

“My lord,” he says, trying the words in the waking and finding he likes the taste. It’s partly a tease, but partly not, and the way Dream’s arms tighten around him suggests the not. “Did I do well?”

“You did very well,” Dream says. “My Hob. You are a great comfort to me.”

“Helped you scare away those nasty demons?”

“Pay them no mind. They are but weak, simpering drones of their master.” He combs Hob’s wet hair back from his forehead tenderly. “But convenient pawns in our game.”

Hob laughs. “You usually use your magical statecraft as a backdrop for sexual role-play?”

“Only sometimes. If it makes for a good story.”

Hob turns to kiss his jaw. Like that, he can just make out Dream’s regal profile, blurred by proximity, and the glint of his eye in its starry, Dreaming darkness. God, but he is the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen.

“In any case,” Dream continues, leaning into the brush of his lips, “I do find the matter unpleasant. But far more pleasant with you kneeling so patiently between my legs. You were exquisite like that. You took me so well. Perhaps I really should have taken you back to the Dreaming with me, after our meeting that year.”

“I wouldn’t have complained.”

Dream noses at Hob’s ear, breath tickling. Hob reaches up to run his fingers through Dream’s hair, holding him close.

“Each time you take me so well,” Dream rumbles. “Like you were waiting for me.”

“I think I was,” Hob murmurs. The low light and the fall into waking and Dream against him are all very dreamy, he still feels kind of delirious. It feels good. “I think I was waiting for you my whole life. Could’ve had me the day we met if you only stayed a moment longer.”

Hob was his the moment he saw him. His heart was Dream’s. He’d known it then and he still knows it. Hob then was brash and fierce and grasping and wouldn’t have wholly known what that feeling was that made him want to let his stranger push him to his knees. He’d have bucked against Dream’s grip, fought that sublime touch. But in the end, Dream could have done anything he wanted to him. Hob might have choked on it at first, but when Dream kept pushing he’d have swallowed it whole.

“Could I?” says Dream.

He thinks Dream might have enjoyed showing him exactly what he thought of Hob’s attitude. He had the glint of it in his eyes even in their brief encounter.

“Could,” Hob says, caught up in the thought of it. “God, you would have been so firm with me. I’d have pretended to hate it but really I’d have loved it.”

Dream’s hand winds into his hair and tugs lightly. “Yes, I believe you would have enjoyed a firm hand then. And I’d have enjoyed showing you that.”

“Yeah, you would,” Hob teases, and gets a nip to his ear for his trouble, then Dream’s tongue soothing over it in apology.

“Don’t miss any more opportunities,” Hob tells him.

It’s more than just that. Hob would have Dream forgo hesitance and wade into him fully. Capitulate. Give over everything that he wants. Hob gets the sense there is a vast and deep well of wanting he’s only barely taken a mouthful of. How delicious to drink so deeply of it that one almost drowns.

He wants that for Dream, almost-but-not-quite-drowning.

“Mind your words, young mercenary,” Dream warns, teasing, “for it is one of the Endless to whom you speak so insolently.”

“Oh, it would have been that easy to get a name out of you? Just had to nip at your heels for it?”

Dream growls a warning into his throat, but Hob only laughs.

“Still haven’t told me one of your fantasies, you know,” he points out.

Dream’s grip tightens around him. Hob’s mind fills with scattered visions, flashes of thought and moment and feeling. Dream wants. Hob knew he did.

He remembers gazing up at a beautiful lord in a smoky tavern and feeling his heart flip. That damnable smirk on Dream’s face. God, they could have done so much then. Missed opportunities.

Dream’s lips press to his throat, a light graze of teeth over his pulse. “I may have a few ideas,” he says.

#in my dom dream era #dreamling #my writing #nsft #dom/sub

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laterosal · 20 days

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♤ Your Flower | Seishiro Nagi x Reader

▽ featuring: seishiro nagi x reader … no repost on any platforms © laterosal 2024 … what started off as an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers to love blossoming in the winter … word count: 1.9k

📌 AO3 | one-shot

His first visit to the flower shop startled the florist: “Give me the least annoying one,” then marveling over a pet cactus for company. Of course, you didn’t mind customers requesting a plant company with the description of the least annoying one—although you did think that walking into a flower shop full of delicate and bright flowers just for that request was odd.

You could remember his light hair and tall stature stepping into the flower shop, his eyes half lidded as if exhaustion had hit him early in the day. You could not forget his soothing voice, the way he mumbled his request as you blinked in confusion.

Early one morning, you walked into the flower shop and opened the blinds of the windows, basking in the sunlight for a second. You spun the closed blackboard sign to the opposite side, the bolded letters written in chalk of “We’re Open!” slightly smudged. As you stood near the counter, peering over in the buckets of flowers to see some wilted leaves. You frowned, before carefully getting to work to restore the beauty of the white roses.

Minutes passed as you finally finished your work of tending to the white flower, before moving to several other flowers around the shop that needed some care. Then, a quiet jingle from the door rang as a customer stepped into the flower shop. The ambrosial fragrance of the colorful flowers blasted towards the customer’s way, before you cheerily welcomed them in.

“Welcome! Is there anything I can help with?” Still preoccupied with your work, you carefully cut the flower’s stem.

“Is there a bouquet of flowers I can give to someone?” You swiveled around, familiar with the quiet voice. He wore a hoodie with the word “Mendokusai,” his hair disheveled.

“Oh—Welcome back! How’s your cactus?” you asked as you scurried over to the counter, flipping open your notebook to scribble the silver-haired boy’s request. Although you have had many customers over the last few weeks, you could never forget him. He stood out radiantly in your memory, like the beauty of pure innocence that blinded you. You stared into his gray eyes intently as they sparkled slightly.

“Choki? Fine, I guess.. At least Choki’s not a hassle to deal with…” he muttered to himself as you tried leaning forward to hear him.

“Huh? Choki? Okay.” You paused slightly, wondering if that was his cactus’ name. “What’s up for today?” You grinned at him, ready to write the customer’s request on your trusty notebook.

“Flowers for… someone.”

“Hm. Okay. What’s your relationship with them? Or is this a certain occasion for getting a bouquet of flowers? Or do you want a flower to keep you company? Although you may think it’s a hassle, I can assure you it’s definitely worth it. Or do you have a favorite flower yourself?”

“... favorite flower for someone… confess…” He murmured.

“Like my opinion for getting a flower to confess to someone?” You looked surprised at his question.

He shook his head, pointing at you as he lazily corrected: “My favorite flower is y— Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.”

“Ooh. Uh. That’s difficult to say, really. I—”

“Make that a bouquet. Please.” He gazed at you gently as you nodded at his request. Those very eyes entranced you, as if a simple refusal would dim the light in his eyes.

“Consider it done, then. Give me a few minutes for preparation.” You hurried over to the buckets of flowers, staring at the white roses you had trimmed earlier. Slowly assembling the bouquet of flowers consisting of the light-colored daisies and white roses, you removed the leaves and trimmed the stems with sharp scissors all while wearing thick gloves. Although having accidentally cut your skin on your arm, you ignored the sting from the cut made from the scissors and carefully adjusted the shape of the bouquet of flowers, wrapping the beauty in wrapping paper and twine.

“Here it is!” You presented the bouquet to him with both hands as you printed a receipt for him after he pushed the paper money onto the counter. “Have a good day!”

He stared at the flowers and ran his fingers through the petal, before lifting his eyes toward you. Then noticing a cut on your arm, he put the bouquet of flowers down and instinctively reached for your arm.

“Cut.” He reached from his backpack a small bandage, peeling off the paper and covering the wounded area. You stared in amazement at how such a person—a stranger—could captivate you with his actions and his eyes.

“Oh. Thank you.” You gently pushed his hand away, smiling smally at him. Moments like these made your heart flutter, his gentle hands against your skin. He picked up the bouquet of flowers and cradled it, retreating to the outside with a lingering bell jingle from within the shop.

You leaned against the counter touching the bandage on your arm. The sparkle in his eyes and calming voice made you wonder whether he was this gentle towards others, or whether it was just to you.

Though you would have to admit that the pure white flowers were not your favorite, you wondered to yourself why the delicate blankness of the beauty was handpicked by you, given to this stranger.

Your favorite flower to receive from someone if they confess to you.

You had much preferred a lush bouquet of fresh red roses, the ones displayed by the window of the flower shop. Yet seeing his mesmerizing, gentle eyes and soft hair, he reminded you of a pure entity, hence these light-colored flowers.

The week after his visit and the following one, he would pop in and request for the same bouquet of flowers. Near the end of his visit, you would see him open his mouth, hesitate, before retreating to the exit. You did believe that whomever was receiving these bouquets of flowers was a lucky person, although feeling your heart throbbing as you realized that he was taken. He seemed impossible to reach, like an angel from faraway lands. Every second your mind wandered to him, you simply frowned, further slashing boundaries between your customer and you.

As his early morning stops at the beginning of every week became a routine, you often prepared the bouquets beforehand with extra care, perfecting the bouquet every time he slowly walked in, sliding the money on the counter, before reaching for the bouquet gently. One day, he never showed up.

And then the next.

And the next.

For multiple weeks, you kept the bouquet of fresh flowers by your side, before the week ended and the once bright flowers wilted.

Perhaps he had broken up with the person he bought flowers for. Perhaps something had happened to him.

You weren’t sure of the situation, although despite him never returning for the next few months, you continued to assemble the bouquet of daisies and white roses, hoping for him to return one day. For you to hope to see him, one last time, before he disappeared and never able to reach again.

Even in early autumn when the white roses bloomed best, he never returned. Week after week with no connection, you laid the flowers in front of you on the counter, having no desire to continue reassembling the bouquet of flowers, for foolish hope for him to return no more.

Winter rolled around, with heavy snowfall every morning you woke up. You hurried to work by foot, hoping that you were able to open on time. Although you were only a few minutes late while running in the snow, you found a familiar figure in front of the flower shop. His scarf covered his face as his ears were flushed from the cold, his hands in his hoodie with the word “Mendokusai” in small print. You paused, before moving towards him to speak.

“Oh-hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” You chuckled to yourself as you unlocked the door, turning on the lights to the flower shop. The lights flickered slightly, before brightly showering the flower shop with illuminating golden light. “Your usual?” You could barely breathe, seeing him near you, his aura slowly lulling you.

“Yes.” The boy, around your age, nodded slightly as he slipped his hands out of his pocket, thin gloves perfectly fitted on his hands. “Please.” You gazed at him, the words tumbling out of his mouth sounding desperate than ever.

You reached for the flowers in the buckets, memorizing the routine of assembling this bouquet for him. Then quickly wrapped around the bouquet was paper and twine, before you left it on the counter for him to pick up gently.

“May I ask why you haven’t stopped by for some time?” you carefully asked, stopping him by the door.

“... was hoping you asked.” he mumbled. “‘s nothing much. Soccer.” He shrugged, pulling his scarf loosely.

“I see. Have a good day, yeah?” you whispered to him as he turned to leave the flower shop, the ringing of the bell echoing in your mind. Leave, but please come back. He was the reason your heart ached, the reason you could barely breathe when he was around you. You longed to see him again, rather than leaving for a long time, not knowing what had happened to him. You did not just want him to leave your life as quick as he came into your life—

“... too.”

“Hm?”

He paused, before turning his head to face you.

“Have you been making these bouquets even after I didn’t return?”

His question took you by surprise, although you gave him a vague answer with: “Not really.”

“Sorry.”

You frowned and walked around the counter, closing the gap between you two.

“What are you apologizing for?” You tip-toed to attempt to look into his eyes at the same level, although his tall stature made it challenging.

“It took you a lot less time to make the bouquet. Like you knew exactly where the flowers were placed.” he whispered.

You froze—Was he always this observational?

“I—Yeah. I do.” you admitted to him, his gray eyes sparkling at you. “Who did you give those bouquets to?”

You waited for his response, bracing for a curt reply that would drive a knife into your heart. From the moment you had met him, he captured your attention and heart, even if he had someone else he loved.

“I never gave them to anyone.”

“What?”

“They were— They were meant… to be for you.”

You choked back a cry and hesitated to answer. He had kept the bouquets to himself, the very flowers you had handpicked that reminded you of him. The flowers that you had deemed to be the ones you wished to receive if one had ever confessed to you.

“Were you waiting for me this whole time?”

“Yes.” You buried your head into your hands as he reached his hand forward and caressed your hands gently.

“You waited for a long time, then.”

“I miss you.” Your muffled words were barely heard by the person whose name was never even revealed to you. “Even if I didn’t know you all that well.”

He gently grabbed your hands, placing the bouquet of flowers on yours, whispering his name in your ears, followed by words that made your heart race.

“My name is Seishiro Nagi. … Of all the flowers here I would pick, it would be you.”

#laterosal: scripts #fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock #fanfic #oneshot #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #bllk nagi #blue lock nagi #bllk #reader insert #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you

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tightjeansjavi · 10 months

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Slow Hands | Chapter 9

“when the monsters creep into your house”

A/N: so, before we get into this chapter, I just wanted to say that I am still on a break, but I wanted to share this with y’all because I’m so incredibly proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This story has truly become such an importance to me, and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to share it with you. This break has been everything I hoped it would be and with that, I have restored my love for writing. This is also my longest chapter that I have ever written. 15k to be exact! Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well and thank you for the endless support. In due time I’ll be ready to re-immerse myself into the community, but for now I am content. 🤍 happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate, and free Palestine 🇵🇸 call for a ceasefire now. Also, a big shout out to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for betaing for me! I appreciate you so much 🥹🤍

~word count: 15k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after spending the night at Joel’s, the fragmented pieces of your past before Jackson begin to fall into place.

warnings: angst, PTSD, trauma, intense flashbacks, nightmares, child loss, implied SA (not by Joel) heavy heavy topics, hurt, comfort, foreshadowing, implied animal abuse (not done by Joel) soft flirting, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans), +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

Joel Miller’s POV

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay. He was nervous. Nervous about how you would react to his request. While he had many moments of raw vulnerability with you, this was by far the most vulnerable admittance. It showed that he felt a deep level of trust towards you considering the only other person who knew of Ellie’s immunity was Tommy. Admittedly, if you said no to his request to spend the night, it would sting, but he’d accept it and give you the time that you needed. That didn’t erase the fact that he was waiting with a bated breath.

“Of course I’ll spend the night with you, Joel. Under one condition, you don’t snore, right?” Your tone was playful, teasing as you gently scratched his scalp with the blunt ends of your nails.

Oh, geez. How was it that one single person could read the room so well? There was something that was so purely natural to you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe one day he’d have the answer. He was relieved.

“Well, I don’t usually snore, but I won’t make any promises. Is that a deal breaker for ya, darlin?’” She’s spending the night. Here. with me.

He nearly could have purred like a damn cat from how soothing it felt to have you scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. Oh, he had it bad alright.

“No, just means that I might have to smother you with a pillow if you do start snoring, honey.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He threatened teasingly as his fingers attempted to lightly tickle your sides, but you were quicker than that. Exchanging pet names felt easy and natural between the two of you. The banter dissolved the tension from the emotionally charged conversation that just took place

“Oh, but I would.”

Your fingers interlaced with his, thumbs brushing across the outside of his hand. He was looking directly into your eyes with a slight tilt of his head. He shamelessly thought about kissing you again now that there seemingly would be no other interruptions. His eyes flitted down to your lips. Soft. Kissable. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Tess’s passing. Even then, they didn’t share many romantic moments leading up to her death. Oh how he wishes he could have just kissed her one last time. You have to let go of the past, remember? Tess is gone. She’s never coming back, Joel. But Beanie? She’s here. She’s sitting right next to you, and she’s breathing. Her heart has a beat and there's blood pumping in her veins.

“If we keep this up, the pizza is gonna go cold, darlin.’” He tilted his head to the side with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You swore that you saw a dimple peek through.

“Can’t have that happening.”

“Would be a shame..” He drawled thoughtfully.

Your eyes met, soft gazes melded together, brows raised before you broke out into a fit of contagious giggles. You couldn’t even depict the cause of your laughter, but he was short to follow, and man, did it feel good. Perhaps there need not be a reason. Perhaps it just felt natural to burst into giggles after such a heavy topic of discussion. You thoughtfully watched the way his eyes crinkled, and his hand grasped his belly under the worn-down fabric of his shirt. The cadence of your combined laughter echoed weightlessly through the expanse of the kitchen like a feather drifting along a gentle breeze. Ask her now. You can do it, Joel. Let your heart feel, for god sakes.

“Well, now I’m real fuckin’ hungry, darlin.’” He drawled warmly as he reached for your hands.

“Felt good though, didn’t it?”

He smiled knowingly as he nodded, “Felt damn good.” His hands grasped yours firmly before he gently released them and slowly stood up.

Your mouth watered the second he removed the pizza from the oven with a well-loved oven mitt that had little hearts stitched artfully through the fabric. He set the tray carefully along the countertop to cool. “It’s gonna be a few minutes for the pizza to cool. Don’t wanna go and burn our tongues off.” He chortled softly as he slowly descended back down to your level.

His palms were growing clammy by the second as he watched your discreet body language under the soft glow of the overhanging kitchen light. He watched the way you moved in closer to him, as if you were both magnets being drawn together by an invisible force that was slowly reeling you in. He watched your eyes, and how they never seemed to leave his own. He watched the way your lips parted open, soft and sweet like two glistening peach halves. Dew kissed rose petals being warmed by the sun's rays. Joel Miller would never consider himself to be a hopeless romantic, but you’d beg to disagree.

“Fuck it.” he whispered under his breath, nearly undetectable to your ears.

“What?”

He breathed in slow and deep as his lips parted like the narrow sea. “Beanie,” He breathed out. “Can I please kiss you?”

A moment to breathe passed before you slowly nodded in consent, “Yes, Joel. Please kiss me.”

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose gently brushing against your own as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. His hands gently rose to caress either side of your face. He held you like delicate fine china in his palms. Those very same hands could take away a life with a snap and twisting of his wrists. You held no fear because you knew this man. You knew Joel Miller as if he had been in your life forever. In some way, he had. Inconspicuously he had touched your life before the outbreak, and now you were finding one another in a new light.

The gap between your lips was tortuously closing at a slow pace. He was taking his time with you, but only if you knew that internally, he was wishing that he could take your breath away with a swift kiss. Time felt like it ceased to exist the moment his lips molded against your own. Although they were slightly chapped, Joel Miller’s lips were like two soft pillows, and he’d describe yours as candy floss. The sweet, sugary kind that used to be consumed in carnivals and fairs. He sighed into your mouth as his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. Your lips moved together in sync, but he could taste your hesitation lingering on your tongue.

“Joel..” You murmured against his lips.

“S’okay,” He spoke with utter reassurance. “You’re safe here with me.”

That’s all it took for you to let yourself go as your arms wrapped around his neck with ease, pressing your lips further into his.

His heart felt ignited with a newfound feeling that had laid dormant for so long. Fuck the pizza, he thought to himself. Nothing can ever come close to this moment.

The kiss was short lived, and lasted all of 30 seconds, but it was only because he could taste the salt from your tears along his tongue as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A tiny sliver of saliva kept you connected, until that dissipated too.

Why is she crying?

Oh, god. What have I done?

I knew this was foolish of me.

He didn’t even realize that his own tears began to free-fall from the corner of his eyes. He was too hyper focused on you.

“Beanie, what’s wrong? Darlin’ is it somethin’ I’ve done? I’m so sorry my dear, I–”

You cut him off with a surprised urgency as your hands dropped to his face and his strong jaw. You nearly threw yourself into his lap from how fervently you kissed him. On instinct, his hands found your waist to hold you steady as he kissed you back with the same amount of passion that you held for him. Your breaths synced harmoniously before you parted ways and pressed your forehead into the fabric of his shirt. An overflowing tide of emotions swept through the two of you as he cradled your head protectively to his chest. His head came to rest upon the lower cabinet as his eyes fluttered shut.

I’m here.

I’ll keep you safe.

No harm will come your way.

My girl. My girl. My beautiful sweet girl.

The pizza had significantly cooled off by the time yours and Joel’s emotions calmed down and he had wiped away every last tear that had dripped down your beautiful soft-spoken eyes. He left your side only to grab two plates and divvy the slices between the two of you. You sat side by side on the floor, as you ate in a comfortable silence.

I should check in and see how she’s doing. Maybe asking her to spend the night was too much.

Maybe this moved too fast?

Maybe I should just shut up and stop overthinking every single little fuckin’ detail.

“How’s it tastin?’” He finally asked as he set his plate off to the side.

“Tastes just as good as I remember it to be. Might even be better.” You responded with a small smile of gratitude.

“You ain’t gotta say that jus’ to be polite, darlin.’ Y’can be honest with me.”

“Joel, it’s seriously delicious. You’re a good cook.”

“And you make a fabulous sous chef.” He murmured with a grin between his teeth as he turned his head to look over at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you rested your plate on your lap.

“Like what?” He asked softly.

“Like I am the only girl in the room.”

His brow raised as he pondered your response. You were literally the only girl in the room, but he was able to pick up on the silent signals, and read the context clues to your words.

“Darlin’, you don’t have to be afraid of me, or this, okay? Look, I understand if me askin’ you to spend the night might have been too much, and if that is the case, I’ve got no problem walking you home. But, if you do still want to spend the night with me, I promise we don’t have to..y’know, do anythin.’” He cleared his throat nervously as his eyes silently searched your own.

“Joel, I’m not afraid of you. I promise that it’s not that. I just—it’s been so long since..I’ve liked someone this much. The last guy I had romantic feelings for, was shortly before outbreak day. We actually had a date planned on the night of the outbreak. He canceled because he said his mom was sick and he needed to go and check on her. I never heard from him after that.” You murmured somberly as your hand slowly came to rest upon his cheek, stroking your thumb gently across the patches in his silver speckled beard.

“Baby, s’alright. I understand. S’been awhile for me as well, as you know. I’m sorry that you never heard from him again. Was he uh—your boyfriend? Or just someone you had met?” He leaned into your soft caress as his hand slowly came to rest upon your knee, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric.

He liked that you both shared a liking towards physical touch. He always wanted to be touching those he loved in some shape or form.

“No, he wasn’t my boyfriend. It was actually going to be our second date, and I was truly excited about it. We met in line at the local grocers, and my clumsy ass nearly dropped an entire carton of milk. He was..really sweet. Sometimes I wonder if he survived outbreak day, and if he did, would we find each other again.” Your thumb gently brushed across his lower lip before you were leaning in and kissing him sweetly as his lashes fluttered shut.

“Oh, darlin.’ I’m so sorry. I jus’ hope that if he didn’t make it, he went out painless. Sometimes I often forget that so many people lost something that night. Friends. Family. Lovers. It’s so easy to get caught up in your own grief and forget everyone else’s.” He mumbled against your lips as he squeezed your knee tenderly.

“It’s okay, Joel. Really, it’s okay. I got over it as soon as I realized that I had a decent chance at survival. Had to push my own grief far into the depths. Tess helped a lot. When we found each other I just had this feeling that it was meant to be. I wouldn’t have made it very far without her.” You slowly pulled away from the kiss as your forehead gently lowered to rest against his. “If I’m gonna spend the night, I sure hope you have a good pair of pj’s for me, Miller.” You teased softly as you gently twirled a strand of his salt and peppered hair between your fingers.

“She’s a good horse. Y’all have a special bond that I doubt could ever be broken. Darlin’ , you can wear any pj’s of mine that you’d like. Y’can keep ‘em too. But, before we head upstairs, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you. Would that be alright?”

“What do you want to show me, Joel?”

“You’ll see, darlin.’ Y’trust me, right?”

“Always.”

Joel offered you his arm like the true southern gentleman he was. He softly told you to leave the plates for now, and he would take care of that later. You took his arm graciously with a gentle grasp as he led you outside.

“Jus’ so ya know, the only two people who have seen my little wood workin’ shed, as I would call it, is Tommy and Ellie. But, you’re awfully special to me, Beanie. And I wanna share this piece of myself with you.”

“Joel, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I am absolutely honored that you want to share this part of yourself with me.” You murmured in a honeyed tone as your fingers gently flexed along his forearm.

He turned towards you, pausing in a moment of thought before he smiled. A real genuine smile that showed the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes that came with the process of aging. How precious a moment for you to see Joel Miller with his guard down. Even in the lowlight, you could see the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at you with tenderness.

“Best get used to it, darlin.’ Cus’ one day, I’m gonna share everything with you.”

His words were taken as a promise. An oath that you were not just a stepping stone in his path towards healing and living a peaceful domestic life. You mattered, and he made you feel like the sun was something that he crafted just for you with his bare hands in his toolshed. And the millions of stars that painted the night sky in twinkling light, were his secrets, and all he had to do was reach up and pluck one from the string it hung upon and bring it down to you. The stardust would bloom like a rose in your palm as if by magic. All in due time he’d bring a star down to you. All in due time.

At least in this lifetime, you’d finally understand what all the fairytales and romance novels were talking about.

His lips brushed your forehead in a velvety kiss before he nudged the shed door open with his shoulder and flicked on the light directly to the left of his head.

Remnants of sawdust coated the air as you followed him inside. His work station was fairly tidy sans a few stray tools that didn’t quite find their home, yet. You could feel his presence lingering behind you as you admired the wood carved fawn that was nearing its completed stages.

“This is darling. Did you make it for someone?” You asked softly as he pulled up the stool next to you and made himself comfortable.

“Made that one for Ellie. After I gifted her that felt fawn from your trinket bowl, I felt inspired to make her a wooden version. Got a rocket ship I'm workin’ on as well, but animal anatomy is far easier to work with than machine parts.” He mused as he rested his palm along his chin comfortably.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, Joel.”

“Hopin’ so. Got somethin’ I’m workin’ on for you as well.” He murmured with a gesture towards the figure covered with a white sheet to keep it a surprise.

You turned your head to the side, catching his gaze before you smiled. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Fraid not, my dear. Ain’t finished with it, yet. And I wanna keep it a surprise for now. Think you can be patient?” His brow raised as his lips curved up into a small grin.

“Oh, alright. I suppose I can be patient, for now.”

“Are ya sure you’re actually capable of being patient, darlin?’ He asked teasingly, his eyes flickered with unbridled mischief like two high-hanging mirror balls.

You leaned in with the same mischief dancing in your irises. It felt good to flirt, real good. He could easily say the same thing.

“I think the real question is, are you capable of being patient, Miller?”

A challenge. And a good one at that.

Joel had felt like a horny, love-sick teenage boy all over again.

He reveled in it.

Before he could answer, you slipped off the other stool with ease as you gingerly picked up one of the wood chisels that was laying around nearby. You twirled the handle in your palm with glee as you danced around the workbench, feeling his eyes never leaving you.

“So, what’s this one called?” You knew it was a wood chisel, but playing dumb for a moment felt fun and carefree.

“It’s a wood chisel. S’what I use when I'm carving out details and such. Got a whole set of ‘em. They’re quite handy.” He was already up from his stool as well as he followed you around the corner of the workbench.

“Fascinating.” You responded with a playful grin as you placed the chisel down where you found it before picking up a small screwdriver. “And this?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. “That would be a screwdriver, princess.”

Something unreadable flashed in your eyes. It was there, and gone as fast as it came.

“I totally knew that.” Your tone was an octave higher than usual, but you masked it well by tossing the screwdriver to the side before reaching for his hands.

“I know you did, honey.” He drawled smoothly as he found himself stepping between your legs where you were casually leaned up against the bench.

You were locked onto one another like two magnets as he slowly brought your interlocked hands above your head. He studied your expression for a moment as he silently waited for your consent, and once it was given, his lips were pressed to yours once more as your back naturally began to descend against the saw dust covered surface.

The tension in the air rose and thickened the atmosphere. The only sounds that could be detected were your lips moving in a passionate filled embrace, and the crickets chirping just outside the door.

He was the one to break the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “Seems like you and I are turnin’ into a couple of horny teens, huh?”

You liked the way his cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses.

“Indeed we are. I feel so alive. Do you?”

“Yes. The most alive I have felt in years, Beanie.” He murmured as he gently pulled you back up into a sitting position. His hands departed from your own and proceeded to brush away any sawdust that had stubbornly clung to your clothing. “Let's head in, yeah? I’ll make us some tea before bed. Chamomile?”

“Sounds delightful.” You pecked his cheek sweetly, and his cheeks reddened once more.

Joel left you to your own devices as he tidied up the kitchen. When you softly protested to help with the dishes, he shook his head and gently nudged you towards the staircase followed by a short peck to your lips. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly, darlin’.’”

“Joel, are you sure you want me to go up there alone? I mean, it’s your private space and–”

“Beanie,” He breathed softly against your lips. “S’okay. I trust you, remember?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want any help down here?”

He shook his head once more as he nudged you up a few steps. “No. I’ll be alright. Go on now.” He pressed softly.

Your reluctance was noted, but Joel trusted you, and that was a fact. So, what did you really have to fear?

Your soft-padded footsteps led you further up the stairs before your body disappeared from his view. His bedroom was down the hall from Ellie’s. Like a classic teenager, her door had a sign in bold red lettering that said “KEEP OUT”. Oh to be a teenager again.

Joel’s bedroom was exactly how you pictured it to be; homey. His bed was neatly made with both sets of pillows fluffed to perfection. On his nightstand contained a book titled, “Idiot's Guide to Space” and on top of the book were his old man reading glasses.

Cute.

You didn’t want to appear as if you were snooping around, but it was hard not to when two seemingly photographs caught your attention. You padded over to the dresser with a genuine curiosity. Upon closer inspection, the first photograph encased a younger Joel with his arm around who you presumed to be his daughter. Sarah truly was the apple of his eye.

“Winning that game was a big moment for her.” Joel’s warm tone lingered in the open doorway.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.” You murmured in response as you gently set the frame down.

“She was.” He solemnly corrected you as he made his way into the room.

You could feel the heaviness weighing in his heart as his footsteps approached. You hated to think that right now he was picturing his baby girl laying in her shallow grave. She was far too young.

“Joel, please. Don’t go to that place. Sarah is beautiful, and I wish I could have had the opportunity of knowing her.”

“She woulda loved you. I’m almost sure of it. The two of you woulda been as thick as thieves.” He was standing alongside you now with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn out jeans.

Your gaze softened as it landed upon the second photograph. Joel and Ellie side by side, looking into Shimmer’s stall.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, Beanie?” His question startled your current thoughts as you slowly met his gaze.

“You mean when I said that Ellie would forgive you eventually, and she just needs time to heal, and so do you?”

“Yes. Y’meant that, right? You actually believe that Ellie can forgive me? That her and I will be okay again?”

“Joel, I believe that everyone can be forgiven to an extent. What you did is what any parent would do for their child. In due time she might understand, and forgive you. But, you need to start believing that yourself. Feel it in your heart that you and her will be alright. These things are delicate, and they take time, Joel.”

You could feel his muscles clench as he inhaled deeply. Sometimes hearing the truth hurt, but it was necessary.

“I guess I don’t know how to be patient at all.” He murmured with a slight shrug.

“No, that’s not true at all, Joel. You miss her, and that is completely understandable.”

“I’d do it all over again. If I was given the chance to make up for it, there ain’t a damn thing I woulda done differently.” His nostrils flared from his admittance. As if he was a once dormant volcano that was becoming active again.

“I know, Joel. I know.” You talked him down.

He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts before his shoulders finally returned to a relaxed position. “Let me get you some pj’s so you can change, and then i’ll go make our tea.”

You nodded silently as he pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants and plain t-shirt. He placed them gently into your arms. “I think there might be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers in the bathroom. I’ll uh–give ya some privacy.” He backed off like a dog with its tail between his legs. He could already feel the shame begin to creep up every vertebrae in his spine as he slipped past the open doorway. He just wanted to be normal. To not feel this constant weight on his shoulders, or grief in his heart. He wished for happiness. To smile more. To laugh. To enjoy the life he had left to live. To love without the fear of losing.

You wished that for him too.

When he returned with two steaming mugs of herbal tea, he found you already safely tucked under the covers. ‘The Idiot’s Guide to Space’ book in your grasp. His heart swelled as he set his owl mug down along the nightstand as he offered you the other mug. A moose grazing in a snowy field was illustrated along the outside of the mug. You looked up, pausing in the paragraph you were reading, before grasping the mug gently from him. “I hope you don’t mind me reading it. The title intrigued me.” You murmured.

“Don’t mind at all. It’s got some fascinating stuff in’t.” He responded warmly before he pulled the covers back and climbed underneath them. His shoulder brushed yours as he made himself comfortable.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” Your suggestion was soft and thoughtful as his eyes met yours.

“I’d love that, Beanie.”

You naturally found yourself scooting in towards his side of the bed. You wanted to be closer to him. To feel that intimate connection that had sent a new fire scorching through your veins. His arm slowly came to rest along your shoulders while the back of your head found its home against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breaths soft as your words soothed him like a lullaby soothes a child. It wasn’t long before he was nodding off, struggling to keep his eyes open, but he soon gave into sleep and you followed shortly

“Joel! Help me, please! Joel!” Ellie’s screams were anguished. Frightened.

The steps leading to the basement seemed never ending as Joel raced down them. Adrenaline pumped fiercely in his veins. “Ellie!” He screamed, voice raw and cracking. His fists pounded on the door as he desperately tried to break it down. Her terrified screams rattled his skull as the thin skin of his knuckles tore and bled. “Baby girl!” He cried.

Ellie’s screams for help dissipated and turned into a harsh ringing in his ears. The never ending staircase and basement door ceased to exist.

“Joel! Joel! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Your tone was urgent, frightened as you grasped his shoulders firmly to shake him free of his nightmare.

His screams sent a wave of nausea rushing through you . “Joel, you’re safe! It's just a nightmare! It's not real, Joel!”

His eyes snapped open as he took in a lungful of air. His arms encircled around your waist as he looked around the room wildly. His shirt was soaked all the way through. “Ellie! She–she. I–I couldn’t reach her! I couldn’t save her!” He wailed profusely as you tried every attempt to calm him down.

“Joel. Listen to me, baby. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Ellie is safe. She’s safe!” Your hands came to gently rest upon his cheeks as if your fingertips alone could wipe away the fear leaking from his eyes. You kissed away his tears as he trembled in your embrace. He wept as you consoled him.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you began to hum a tune of the past as one last final attempt to bring him back down to earth. Your humming transformed into words as his heart beat steadied its rhythm.

“And you will keep me safe.” You whispered.

“And you will keep me warm.” He croaked.

“And rain.”

“And rain.” He followed with a soft painful whimper.

“Will make the flowers.”

“Will make the flowers grow.” You wept in unison.

Joel awoke the following morning, rising with the sun that was beginning to peek through the beige curtains in his cozy bedroom. He was careful not to disturb you in your peaceful slumber as he detangled his legs from your own before swinging them over the side of the bed with a soft grunt. Despite the familiar ache in his back, he urged himself to stand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his footsteps as he padded off to his connected bathroom. Despite the nightmare he endured just a few hours ago, he felt moderately well rested. He splashed a bit of luke-warm water onto his face before he proceeded to brush his teeth.

He returned to his side of the bed shortly after as he quietly dressed for the day before he scribbled down a note for you to awake to. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was leaving in a hurry, or feeling like the events that took place last night were a mistake. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. His handwriting was chicken scratch compared to your gentle strokes of the pen, but was legible at least.

Good morning, darlin.’ I'm headed down to the stables to build a pen for Honey. Help yourself to some coffee, and whatever else you’d like. I’ll be back in time to take you to breakfast.

-Your Joel.

So what if he was a bit of a sap, you were, after all, the first person he showed vulnerability to since Tess. This was as big a deal for him as it was for you, but it felt natural. As natural as breathing, as putting one foot in front of the other.

He found Honey still curled up in the corner of the couch as he stopped to give the fawn a gentle pat on her furry little head. He couldn’t help but think of the horrors that would have been unleashed on her if he didn’t rescue her in the woods. Surely, she would have been ripped to shreds.

Vile.

With one final delicate pat to her head, he reached for the blanket that was wrapped around the tiny creature, and gently tucked the corners in so she was a nice snug bug in a rug. he shuffled away to tug on his working boots before he grabbed his every-day use tool box from the closet. A ghost of a smile was tugging on his lips as he swung the metal loop of his house keys between his fingers. He was so lucky to know that just up the stairs, you lay beneath his sheets.

Even in the early morning hours, Joel could taste humidity on his tongue. July was already proving to be a sweltering one. He was too caught up in his saccharine thoughts of you back in his cozy home, to hear footsteps approaching behind him. Well, it also didn’t help that he was partially deaf in his right ear.

When he pushed open the stable doors, he was greeted with a few friendly nickers as he made his way down the stall aisle. He had developed a particular soft spot for your mare, Tess, for obvious reasons. She was sweet, gentle, kind-hearted just like you. And as silly as it may sound, he saw his Tess in your mare’s eyes.

Tex’s sleek black neck was already craning over his stall door as he pressed his velvet soft muzzle into Joel’s flannel pocket affectionately.

“Ah, I see. Am I jus’ a treat dispenser to ya now, Tex? Knew that Beanie was gonna give ya a sweet tooth.” He murmured with a deep chuckle as he set his tool box down alongside the outside of Tex’s stall. “I think your lady deserves a sugar cube first, dontcha think?”

Tex pawed the loose hay in his stall with a soft snort as Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sugarcubes to give to Tess. She didn’t like most men in Jackson, but she already adored your Joel.

The tender felt moment between beast and man was cut short from the sound of the stable doors creaking open once more. There was a sudden edge to the docile air as Lucas strode in casually.

Joel’s jaw clenched harshly under the dust filled light rays that trickled in through the cracks in the stables roof. Golden light flooded through the spaces between the wood as his eyes narrowed downwards between his boots. He was not in the mood for conversation of any kind this early in the morning, and especially not from an individual he already believed to be suspicious.

“Miller?” Lucas asked as he approached with his arms swaying at his sides. “What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“Could ask you the same,” The older man muttered under his breath.

Lucas heard him, but pretended he didn’t. “What was that?”

Joel kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his boot as he straightened himself up so that he could appear more intimidating. “I think you heard exactly what I said.”

Lucas raised a brow with an amused grin as he stopped in front of Tess’s stall. “You really can’t fuckin’ stand me, huh?” Before Joel could answer, Lucas waved him off as if they were friends having a minor disagreement.

Tess immediately took a few nervous steps back from where Lucas was leaning against the side of her stall door. Her sudden erratic behavior set Tex off immediately as he pawed the ground fiercely, and flattened his ears to the back of his skull. A territorial display that sent hairs standing up on the back of Joel’s neck almost immediately.

Joel knew that horses had a tendency to be sensitive towards certain people, but he had never seen Tess respond in this manner. It was..odd.

Lucas paid no mind to the mare's behavior as he focused his attention back on the older man. “So, who does this beauty belong to anyway?”

Joel started to stiffen before he relaxed his shoulders with a slow roll. “She’s Beanie’s.” he muttered flatly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few more sugar cubes and held them outstretched in his palm towards Tess.

Your mare took a few timid steps forwards, before she gently ate the treats right from Joel’s palm. However, as soon as Lucas reached his hand upwards to stroke her snow white neck, she shied away from his touch as the whites of her eyes shone like two pale ghosts as Tex proceeded to send his hoof colliding loudly into the side of his stall; don’t mess with his lady.

Lucas oddly didn’t seem fazed by the mare’s bizarre behavior as he shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated casualness, “mares have never been a fan of me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Was Joel’s gruff response as he turned his back to pick up his toolbox once more. He proceeded to ignore the ‘intruder’ as he set to work on building a pen for Honey right next to Tex’s stall. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

The only problem was that Lucas had a godawful time at reading the fucking room, or he was doing this to get a rise out of Joel on purpose.

“Speaking of you and Beanie, what’s goin’ on between the two of you anyway? Hearin’ whisperin’s here and there that you and her are like an item.” He drawled smoothly.

“Ain’t think that’s much of your concern, or business to have, Lucas.” Joel’s tone was muffled as he spoke into the fabric of his flannel along his shoulder.

“Ah, I hear ya there, brother. Gotta be careful with a woman like that. They can be real heartbreakers if ya ain’t careful.”

He’s baiting you, Joel. Don’t fall for it.

“Yeah? How would you know the type of woman she is, and isn’t?” Joel delivered his response with ease as he pulled out a tape measure.

“Not sayin’ that I do, jus’ that I've been around enough women like her to know what I'm talkin’ about. And a woman like that can’t be held down. They’re flighty and callus. One second you think you’re special to them, and the next—”

“Well, who said anythin’ about me wantin’ to hold her down? She’s her own person, Lucas. I don’t own her.” Joel gritted through his teeth.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Joel could hear the younger, cockier man smirking through his teeth. “So, she’s not your girl then is what you’re sayin?’ Huh. I surely thought you two were an item.”

The sound of the tape measurer clanking into the toolbox with a loud thud was all Lucas needed to know that he won. Joel straightened his back as he stood up and whipped around, fully ready to go toe to toe to get this gnat out of his face.

“Y’know what you remind me of? A snake.” Joel seethed as his fists trembled at his sides. “A snake in the tall weeds just waiting to strike. What’s your angle, Lucas?” his eyes narrowed as Lucas watched in pure amusement to watch the brave and unmovable Joel Miller slowly losing his composure.

“A snake, huh? Think more like a wolf. And you’re the boneheaded moose thinkin’ you’re unbreakable. Look at you now, Joel Miller. Trembling with rage from just my words. You know what I think?” He leaned in close enough just in case the older man couldn’t clearly hear him. “Even the strongest moose can be taken down by a pack.” He sneered.

Something inside of Joel snapped like a coil being pulled tight and he saw red as his hands grasped the lapels of the younger man's shirt with a furious rage.’ “Y’want me to go ahead and fuckin’ break the other wrist, huh?! Cus’ I can do that. Right here. Right now if you wanna keep makin’ these threats. We can have a real fuckin—”

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN’ ON HERE?” It was Tommy, and Joel had never felt so relieved to see his brother in that moment as he released Lucas from his death-grip grasp.

Lucas looked like a deer in headlights as he was not expecting Tommy’s sudden arrival. Yet, he held his composure as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Your brother here was jus’ threatening to break my other wrist jus’ now.”

“Yeah, I heard that bit, right after you threatened him first. Get lost, now. Before I change my mind and report this directly to Maria. The hell you thinkin’ rilin’ my brother up like that?!”

Lucas was dumbfounded and ego-wounded. Most importantly, he was and always would be a coward. His eyes locked on Joel’s, and then Tommy’s before he slunk away in a wolf-like fashion through the stable doors.

Neither Miller brother spoke for a while as it appeared they were processing what had happened. Joel opted to slowly sink down between Tex’s and Tess’s stall with his hands resting between his knees as he worked on steadying his heartbeat to normal.

“Hey, Tommy?” Joel started, “How much of a’that did ya hear?”

“Enough to know that Lucas was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.” Tommy responded as he walked over to Timber’s stall and tightly shook his head.

Joel breathed out an immediate sigh of relief as he slumped back against the stall doors. “Tommy? Did Lucas show up to Jackson before, or after you and Maria found Beanie?”

Both brothers slowly met one another's gaze as Tommy gently stroked Timber’s neck with a steady palm. “After,” he confirmed Joel’s immediate suspicions.

Joel watched in silence as his brother walked over to him before he bent down and offered Joel his hand to help him up.

“Tommy, how come I didn’t hear ya come in?” Joel mumbled as he firmly grasped his brother’s hand before pulling himself up to his feet with a grunt.

Tommy could feel his heart begin to slowly sink into the pit of his stomach. Just like the way that the sun would gradually dip behind the horizon at the end of each day. He gave his brother a mournful look as he gently placed his hand along the right side of Joel’s head, and brushed his thumb across the scar. Right against the spot where the bullet missed. “Y’know why, brother.” He murmured softly with a heavy heart.

Joel knew, it was there, written into his skin. He swallowed his tears that were beginning to brew as he wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him tightly. “Tommy, somethin’ ain’t right here. I’m gettin’ that sick feelin’ in my stomach. Were you here to see the way Tess acted towards Lucas?”

“Somethin’ definitely ain’t right. I told ya that I’d have your back, big brother. Remember? I arrived a bit too late. Musta missed that bit.”

Joel nodded as he slowly dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, she flipped out. I’m talkin’ like a complete 180 as soon as Lucas tried to touch her, Tommy. Pissed Tex the hell off as well. Somethin’ about it was...odd. Almost like she recognized his face or, she jus’ could sense that he ain’t a good person.”

“Well, horses are pretty sensitive creatures, so it is possible that maybe...”

Joel’s jaw inwardly clenched as his brain was replaying the events that just took place. There were numerous red flags that went ablazing. Tess’s fear towards Lucas. Lucas prying for information… And what the hell was the whole thing about him referring to himself as a wolf, and Joel as the boneheaded moose?

“I think we oughta start keepin’ a watchful eye on him. For all we know, he could be plannin’ somethin’ right under our noses. Tommy, the last thing you and I or Maria want is for someone to turn up missing. What about Ellie and Dina? The rest of the women around here? The sooner we–”

“Joel,” Tommy started with a heavy sigh, “I hear ya, but we need evidence. Cold. Hard. Evidence. I’d start by documenting what happened just now. Write it down in full detail. I’ll write up my own report on it as well. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on his whereabouts, alright?”

Joel let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, cus’ that’s the only way Maria would ever believe us.”

“We need to have shit to back up our accusations.” “Hey, while you’re here, mind helpin’ me build this pen for Honey? I gotta get back home in time to take Beanie to breakfast. I left her a note, but I don’t want her thinkin’ that I ditched her or somethin’.” Joel casually stated. Once he realized what he said, it was too late, and Tommy already had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hold on a second now. Did you n’Beanie have a sleepover last night? As in she slept in your bed? Woo doggy, it’s about damn time!” Tommy nearly hollered as he went to give his brother a proper slap on his back.

Joel’s entire face turned beet red as he coughed into the sleeve of his flannel to hopefully hide his obvious blushing. “Uhh–yeah. You can call it a sleepover, I guess? Look, I don’t need ya goin’ and makin’ a big deal outta this. We kissed, and then I asked her if she would spend the night. That’s all that happened.” Well, we kissed a few times actually.

“Y’all kissed?! Joel, this is a big deal! Are ya kiddin’ me? Big brother, this is amazing news! Look at you bein’ the romantic!”

Joel let out a frustrated groan when he realized he wasn’t gonna get out of this one that easily. “Yeah. Yeah. We kissed, and I really like her, Tommy. So, can we just keep this between the two of us? I don’t want Maria, or anyone else for that matter gossipin’ about my private life.”

“Riiiight. Cus’ I’m jus’ gonna go and shout it from the rooftops that my big brother finally grew a pair and kissed the girl. Thank fuck. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” The younger Miller brother was genuinely happy for his older counterpart. Everyone deserved that someone in their life, but Joel especially.

“I was jus’ buying myself time. Last thing I'd ever wanna do is unintentionally offend or hurt her. Now, will ya do some work for once in your life and hand me those wooden boards o’there?” he gestured to the planks of wood that were resting along one of the empty stalls. “All I will say is that woman is amazing. Not to sound like a total cliché, but she’s a breath of fresh air. Sunlight after a raging storm. She’s–”

“Made of stardust and coffee beans.” Tommy chimed in with a playful grin. “Well, you got it bad, Joel. S’alright. Happens to the best of us.” He shot his brother a knowing wink before he retrieved the wooden boards with ease.

Joel couldn’t help but allow a tiny glimpse of a smile tug on his lips from Tommy’s words. A moment of peace and blissful thoughts was better than dwelling on the elephant in the room. Something was unquestionably off about Lucas, and his rather alarming behavior.

*end Joel’s POV*

In the safety and familiar warmth of Joel’s sheets, your mind was free to wander and romp. Your brain's natural defenses to block out painful memories and terrifying events, crumbled as you subconsciously breathed in the comforting scent of Joel, your Joel. Unbeknownst to you, he was your ticket to peace. Your shining beacon of light through a pitch black formidable darkness.

As a gentle breeze swayed through the curtains in his bedroom, you were subconsciously reliving your time before Jackson. Before Maria, Tommy, and Joel. Memories that were once fragmented and jagged, were being pieced together behind softly closed lashes.

dead of the winter; post outbreak. Date unspecified. 50 miles from Jackson.

Tess was gradually growing weaker with each step she took through the billowing snow. Your horse was strong-footed and able bodied, but even she had her limits. You were beginning to feel numbness engulf your body. It felt like a thousand shards of ice impaling your skin. Your lungs ached and burned from the sub-zero temperatures. Your fingers and toes were growing stiff as you urged your mare onwards.

“Just a bit further, please, Tess. We—we can’t stop now.” You murmured through chattering teeth as the wind whipped wildly and howled in your ears.

All hope seemed to disintegrate through your frozen lashes as you could feel your body begin to shut down. It was giving up, but you weren’t ready for death's cold grasp.

You were a survivor, after all.

Smoke. Fire. Warmth.

A miracle, or a hallucination created by your deteriorating body. The fact of the matter was that you were not going to die tonight. Tess seemed to sense your desperation and urgency as she forced herself to continue forward towards the looming evergreens. The distinguishable smell of ash wafted through your nostrils the closer you drew to the campsite. You knew that fire also meant danger, but your brain had gone into survival mode and could give less of a fuck about that.

The campsite you and Tess stumbled upon seemed to be unoccupied. It should have raised your suspicions, but when you collapsed from your saddle and landed on the snowy ground with a soft thud, you convinced yourself it was a miracle. You dragged yourself closer to the fire with whatever strength you had left and rubbed your frozen gloved hands together to create some friction.

Tess’s velvet soft muzzle nudged at your back as she checked to make sure that you were okay. Her ears perked and flicked in the direction of a familiar nicker as she lifted her head quickly to observe her surroundings. Four horses were seen happily munching away on a heap of hay. Your poor mare hadn’t eaten in what felt like weeks, and her own survival instincts kicked in as she approached the other horses with timid curiosity.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hunched over in relief. You didn’t believe in God, but if you did, then this fire must have been brought to you by a goddamn angel.

Your relief turned to dread the moment you felt the cooling sensation of metal kissing the back of your neck.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” The voice commanded as you slowly raised your arms above your head to show that you were no immediate threat.

“I’m—sorry. I assumed no one was here—I’m freezing.” Your teeth were still audibly chattering as you craned your neck to look up at the person the voice belonged to.

A man.

“Are you alone?” He had not removed the barrel of his gun from your neck as he proceeded to pat you down with his freehand.

“Yes, I am alone.”

He paused momentarily as he pondered on what should be done with you, the intruder.

“Where are you headed to?” He asked firmly.

“Nowhere. Just got caught up in this storm, and seeking shelter.”

“I see..and you’re not lyin’ when you said that you’re alone?”

“I swear on my life, I am alone. It’s just my horse Tess and I.” You pleaded softly as you took a shaky inhale through your nose.

“I believe you.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped in relief as you released the breath you were holding.

The man slowly retracted his gun into his holster before he offered you his hand. The first thing you noticed was his tattooed skin on the inside of his wrist. The fabric of his jacket had lifted just enough for you to make out the design. A wolf head with beady red eyes that appeared to be staring right into your soul.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair by the morning. I just need to warm up a bit if that’s alright?” You grasped his outstretched hand as he gently hoisted you to your feet.

“Nonsense. You’re freezin’, and probably starvin’, right? C’mon, let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

You were beyond starving, but he didn’t need to know that. You were slightly weary of this stranger's sudden hospitality, but that didn’t deter you from making the choice that would haunt you forever.

“I suppose..I could eat something.” You mumbled under your breath.

He smiled, it appeared genuine on the surface, but it masked unspeakable evil beneath white teeth, and kind eyes.

He told you his name, and you told him yours as he led you to his nearby tent. Your body shamelessly relaxed as he offered you safety and food in your belly. If only you knew what was to come.

You didn’t leave the following morning. Or the morning after . Nor the morning after that. You stuck around because the truth was, you weren’t going to survive on your own for much longer, and here was an opportunity that your brain was screaming at you to not pass up on. Endure and survive, and survive you did. Even if it meant joining a raiders camp.

It didn’t happen overnight, as trust takes time to be built and nurtured, but when it did happen, the lines were gradually blurred. Was this a genuine feeling from your heart that hadn’t been touched by another soul since before the outbreak, or was this simply your brain concocting a plan to keep your heart beating, and your blood pumping. The fact of the matter was that you firmly believed your body was incapable of dipping back into the shredded remnants of intimacy that you left behind in Austin. One thing was for certain, this man offered you protection, warmth, and steady nutrients, and you’d be damned if you let that go.

In your eyes, you consensually engaged in a physical relationship with this man. Make him want you. Make him need you so much that you’ll never live in fear again. Because once you make him believe that he is important, he’ll protect you till your last dying breath.

If only it were that easy. If only you knew that the monsters weren’t the cordyceps, but instead they were shaped as a man that you willingly shared a tent with.

You thought you had played him like a fiddle, but he was onto you without you realizing it. He had your little game all figured out, and when you did, it was too late.

Those same kind eyes, and bright smile was the last thing you remember seeing before everything went black as your body slumped into his lap. The tea mug that was in your hands now clattered to the ground, shattering upon impact. Your arm fell limp at your side as your breath stilled. Unbeknownst to you, the tea he gave you was laced, and now you were at his mercy.

When you awoke the following morning, your mind was groggy and laden with confusion as you tried to piece together the missing fragments of last night’s events . The ground was cold beneath you as your eyes fluttered open. The coolness of metal bit fiercely at your bare skin giving you goosebumps You were encaged; literally. Surrounded by steel bars as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, but it felt like your body weighed a ton of bricks. You tried to scream, but your vocal chords felt shot as your voice fell silent.

You shook the bars with a new instilled fear as tears flooded your cheeks like a rushing river. Your eyes frantically looked around as a heavy pair of boots slowly approached.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, princess.” The familiar voice cooed unpleasantly and bile rose up your throat.

“You—you did this to me! Why?!” Your voice cracked. Your brain was scrambling to piece your broken memory together. One moment you were drinking tea, and the next—

“You played me for a fuckin’ fool. Thought you could just use me for your own survival, huh? Well, baby, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.”

“What—what are you talking about?! What did you do to me?! Where are my clothes?!”

He crouched down as his cruel gaze met your frightened one. His hand grasped your chin harshly as he yanked your face against the bars that encaged you. “I put you in your fucking place. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch onto your little game? You think you’re so fuckin’ smart, huh? You thought you had me all figured out. That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Oh so wrong. You’re the fuckin’ fool.”

“Please, I’m sorry! I wasn’t—you’ve got it all wrong! I swear!” You pleaded desperately as he dug the blunt end of his fingernails into your chin.

“Oh, my dear sweet, naive creature, you walked right into the wolves fuckin’ den without even realizing it. You’re the fool for trusting me, and now you’re gonna pay for it until I decide to put you out of your misery. Save your tears, princess. You’re gonna need them.”

You woke up in a thick pool of sweat. The sheets clung to your skin like glue, and it felt like you were trapped. Joel’s bedroom sickly transformed into steel bars. Cold, and biting at your raw skin. You blinked, hoping this was all a hallucination. Your mind just playing a twisted trick on your fragile state. You called for Joel. You called for anyone who could possibly hear your pleas. The more you struggled, the more the bars seemed to close in on you. Suffocating. Stripping your lungs of all oxygen as your hands clawed at your throat.

Where was Joel?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight to the point where it felt painful. Seconds ticked before you finally threw the covers from your body with a strangled gasp. Your eyes shot open as you surveyed your surroundings. The steel bars were gone. The tattoo—

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

You chanted these three phrases under your breath like a woman gone mad. Your skin was clammy to the touch as you stumbled away from the bed.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

Write this down.

Your eyes frantically locked in on the note that was left along the nightstand. You snatched it up in a fury. Your vision darted across every word on the page as if it held some hidden clue between the lines.

You continued to recite the three phrases as you tucked the note into the pocket of the flannel pajama bottoms you were wearing. Your ears picked up on the familiar sound of the front door being unlocked. Your feet seemed to carry you faster than your brain could process as you stumbled out of Joel’s bedroom.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

“Joel!” You yelled urgently from the top of the stairs

“Beanie!” He answered back with the same level of urgency. He met you at the halfway point of the staircase before you collapsed into his arms.

“Beanie?! What’s wrong? Darlin’ what’s happened?” His arms remained anchored around your waist as you grasped his forearms tightly, he surely would have indents in his skin from your death grip.

“Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady red eyes.” You mumbled with your forehead pressed deeply into his chest.

“Beanie, what are you goin’ on about? What tattoo? Darlin’, this ain’t makin’ any sense at all! Please, tell me what’s going on?!” He tried his hardest not to yell, but after what happened in the stables, he was in fact freaking out.

“He—he has a tattoo! A tattoo on his wrist, Joel!” You spoke in a frantic, excitable tone.

“Beanie, who has a tattoo?” His tone was hushed, and far less frantic than your own.

You knew his name. You heard it in your nightmare. Five letters. You could say it. You could say it right now and it would all be over!

“The man. He—he has a tattoo. Right wrist, Joel! He has a tattoo. A wolf head! Beady red eyes! It’s on his wrist! I know it is—you have to believe me!”

“Beanie, darlin’, I believe you. Is this the man that?—“

it was as if everything came crashing down around you so suddenly. You stilled in his grasp. Your voice ran silent as you slowly lifted your head from his chest. Your eyes were glazed over as if you were dead inside. Perhaps you were. Perhaps your body was shutting down. Were you breathing? Was your heart pumping blood? Everything was sounding so fuzzy. So far away. The cage. The steel bars. No. No. No. please! You—you have it all wrong! I swear!

You couldn’t hear Joel screaming your name. You couldn’t feel his hands around your body. You couldn’t see him. You were reaching out for him and touching nothing but thin air.

“Beanie, what’s happening?! You’re scarin’ me!” He watched in horror as your eyes rolled back into your skull before you went limp in his arms.

“Doc, I don’t fucking understand. What the hell happened to her?! She was muttering under her breath. Something about a tattoo on a man’s wrist! Next thing I know, she’s talking as if I ain’t even there! Like she was reliving somethin?!’ Then her eyes roll back—and I fuckin’ thought she was dead!”

“Joel, I need you to calm down. She had an extremely intense PTSD episode. I’m not even sure if I have the qualifications to explain it. It was a panic attack that led to her body to shut down ...” The doctor spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea what that was like to witness it?! I didn’t even fucking know how to help her, doc!” Joel was gripping his hair so tightly between his fists, it was shocking that he didn’t accidentally tear any strands out.

“Joel, I’m gonna need you to calm down, or you’re gonna get escorted out. Do I make myself clear? Not to mention, you’re gonna fucking hyperventilate if you keep this shit up! I need you to take some deep breaths and pull yourself together!” Doc sounded exasperated as he struggled to keep his own cool.

“Joel?! Hey, hey! C’mon, let’s go take a breather, okay? Ellie and Dina are in there with her. She’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go take a walk.” Tommy had shown up at just the right time as Joel was thinking of all the ways he could ring up the doc.

Tommy whispered something in his brother's ear as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder before nearly having to drag the older Miller brother down the hall through the doors of the med ward.

“Beanie?” A familiar feminine voice asked softly from your bedside.

Ellie and Dina were seated next to the hospital bed that you currently laid in.

Your lashes fluttered open as you squinted up at the annoying bright buzzing fluorescent lights. Your head turned to the side of the scratchy pillow as your brain began to process who the voice belonged to.

“Ellie? Dina? Where—am I?” You whispered with uncertainty as the two teens slowly looked over at one another before returning their focus back onto you.

“Beanie,” Dina started, “you..had a panic attack.” Ellie murmured.

“What? I don’t remember any of it—who brought me here?”

“Joel did. He came rushing out of the house with you limp in his arms. He was yelling for help and we heard the commotion. Beanie, we thought you were dead.”

“When—did this happen?” You asked just nearly above a whisper as you began to cycle through your memories. Unfortunately, a huge chunk was missing and you could feel the frustration tears begin to brew along your waterline.

“This morning. Right before the breakfast bell.” Dina confirmed. She let go of Ellie’s hand as she reached for the box of tissues for you.

“What time is it now? How long have I been here?”

“An hour after the dinner bell went off. You’ve been unconscious all day, Beanie.” Ellie stood up from the chair and approached your bedside slowly sinking down along the edge of the worn mattress. “Can we get you anything? You must be starving.”

Your body sunk further into the mattress as the weight of Ellie’s words made their mark. It felt like it had only been minutes, when it had in fact been hours. “Some water, and—bread with honey? If the mess hall is still open.” You were feeling quite parched.

“Of course. C’mon, Dee. We might have to bribe Angie to whip something up. We’ll be right back. Okay, Beanie?” Ellie gently patted your covered knee before she stood up from the edge of the bedside and offered her hand to Dina.

“Okay.” You weakly responded.

Shortly after the girls left, the door opened once more. Your mind had already hoped it was Joel, but instead you were met with a different pair of brown eyes; Tommy’s.

“Hey, how are we feelin?’” The younger Miller brother softly asked as he sank down into one of the chairs.

“Where’s Joel, Tommy?”

“He’s outside takin’ a breather. Got pretty mouthy with doc, so I stepped in before things coulda gotten ugly. He’ll be alright though. Jus’ need him to blow off some steam first. He’s a bit too excitable to be in here right now.”

You could faintly taste copper along your tongue as you slowly sat up. The right side of your mouth felt swollen and tender, and when you reached your hand up to touch the outside of your cheek, Tommy gently grabbed your wrist and lowered it back down to your side.

“Y’tore your mouth up pretty good. Doc said it’ll heal on its own, but to try and not chew on the right side. Don’t wanna go and irritate it.”

“Tommy, I don’t remember what happened. None of it.”

“Beanie, it’s okay. It was a panic attack. The Doc believes you to have PTSD. You’re gonna be alright. Joel told me that before you passed out, you were muttering about a tattoo on a man’s wrist? Beanie, I know how adamant my brother is about protecting you, but I am too. So, if there’s anything you remember outside of the tattoo, I need you to tell me, okay?” Tommy was a good person. You knew this since him and Maria saved you all those years ago. He never treated you differently. You could trust him just as much as you could trust Joel.

Five letters. Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady eyes.

Tommy wrote everything down.

Ellie and Dina came back with water, bread with honey plus a bit of chili from the mess hall. When Angie heard the news, she wasted no time to whip something up for you. She was such a giving person.

Doc didn’t have any helpful information to relay back to you. He basically just told you to take it easy, and to let your mouth heal. He had no answers to your questions, psychiatry isn’t his field after all. And this made you feel like you truly were just a nutty coffee woman. Maybe even a lost cause. It wasn’t until deep into the night when your Joel finally made an appearance.

You were half asleep when you heard the sound of one of the chairs scrape across the flooring. The sound nearly had you shooting up from the covers before two strong, yet gentle pair of hands eased you back down.

“Shh. It’s okay, Beanie. It’s just me. It’s just Joel.” He reassured you as he slowly sank down into the chair as he removed his hands from your shoulders and rested them between his knees.

Your eyes zoned in on the gauze wrapped around his bicep as he cleared his throat softly.

“Joel, what happened to you?” You timidly asked.

“S’just a scratch, darlin.’ You were holding onto me pretty dang tight. Broke the skin a little, but I’m okay.”

“Joel, I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I don’t even remember grabbing onto you like that. Where were we when it happened?”

“Beanie, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, Angel. You were havin’ a panic attack in the middle of the staircase. I came home from the stables, and you came rushing down, and we met halfway. It all happened so fast.”

“Joel, I did hurt you. You’re fucking injured because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Look what you’ve done.

He’s really going to think that you're just a nutty coffee woman now.

“Beanie, I need you to believe me when I tell you it’s okay. You didn’t have any control of your actions, and I’d never hold that against you, okay? Y’just, you had me so freaked out. You stopped breathing. I couldn’t find your pulse, and I thought you were dead. Thought you had a heart attack or somethin’. Scared me so bad. I’m just so happy that you’re okay.” He was reaching for your hand now as his fingers loosely interlocked with your own.

“I stopped..breathing? Oh god, Joel. I—I don’t even know what to say. Doc didn’t even have much of an explanation for me. Just told me to take it easy and to be gentle with my mouth.”

“He’s fuckin’ useless. I wish he had the answers for you, Beanie. I really wish he did. But, the good news is that I can take ya home whenever you’d like, okay? We can stop by your place, and then head back to mine.”

“Joel, what are you talking about? Why can’t I go back to my home?” He saw the confused frown appear on your lips as he let out a heavy sigh. His thumb gently stroked the outside of your hand as his eyes met yours.

“Beanie, I know you ain’t gonna agree to this, but I think it’s best that for the time being you stay at my place. I want to make sure that you have the time to recover, and the girls would love to spend some more time with you. It’ll only be for a little while. I promise.”

“Joel, I appreciate your offer, but I just want to go home. Can I please go home?”

“Honey, I know you do, but this will only be for a few days tops. I would never force you to agree to this. I’m just suggestin’ it for your own well-being, okay? Jus’ need ya to trust me to trust you. Y’remember that day, dontcha baby?”

Even your stubbornness had its limits. Despite not initially agreeing, you could tell just from Joel’s eyes alone, that he just wanted to take care of you. Perhaps his initial reasoning was a little selfish, but it undoubtedly felt good knowing that someone in this world cared about you so much, that your well-being was important to them.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.” You squeezed his hand firmly as he gave you a reassuring nod.

Joel gave you all the time that you needed to gather up your belongings from home. He assured you that this would only be temporary, and he just wanted to make sure that you would heal. You were too exhausted to put up a fight as you zipped your backpack up with a sigh.

You loosely held hands the entire short walk back to his home. You could faintly hear girlish giggles coming from the otherside of the front door as he unlocked it.

“Tommy sent Ellie and Dina over to keep an eye on Honey. We finished buildin’ her pen next to Tex earlier this morning.” He murmured softly as he pushed the handle down and nudged it open with his shoulder.

A smile began to slowly creep over your tired features as Ellie, Dina, and a very playful Honey were seen in your peripheral. Dina was laying between Ellie’s arms on the couch while she was holding the baby bottle at Honey’s level. The young fawn was happily drinking her fill from the bottle, her fluffy white tail wagging happily.

Joel brushed past you with ease before he cleared his throat. “Hey, if you want, y’girls can take Honey up to Ellie’s for the night?”

Ellie briefly made eye contact with Joel before she returned her gaze to the sweet giggles coming from Dina. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

“Positive. S’late , and Beanie oughta be gettin’ some sleep.” Joel replied.

“Alright. We’ll get out of your hair then, Joel. C’mon, Dee, let’s go to bed.” She gave Dina’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

Joel watched silently as the two girls departed from the couch. Dina was protectively holding Honey in her arms now as if she was a small child. The two girls nodded in your direction before they headed upstairs to Ellie’s room.

He didn’t sleep a wink. Last night’s nightmare a long forgotten memory. He wanted to make sure you were okay. So, he stayed up for the rest of the night thinking about you and Ellie.

Two days had passed since your panic attack. Joel would be with you in the early mornings before he’d be whisked off on patrol, and he’d be with you in the evenings. When he wasn’t around during the day, you were graced by both Dina and Ellie’s presence. You weren’t aware of it yet, but both girls cared for you deeply. Girlhood was alive and well in Jackson.

You spent the afternoon in the stables with Ellie and Dina Spending time with the horses and Honey. The young fawn was settling into her new home under the watchful eye of both Tex and Tess.

In the evening, shortly after dinner, you suggested to the girls that it would be fun to have a proper girls night. Face masks, movies, snacks, and of course some crafting. You showed them how to make paint paste from crushing down flower petals and adding a bit of water to turn the powder into a workable paste. A dash of olive oil helped lessen the grainy texture. You promised them that at a later date, you’d show them how to spin the clay wheel, just as you promised Joel.

The record player was crackling softly when the front door squeaked open and closed. Joel hung his rifle along the side of the door before he sunk down onto the bench with a soft grunt. His back hurt ten times more than usual today. He and Tommy patrolled for miles under the sweltering sun. And his frustrations were apparent as he unlaced his boots with a huff, and threw them to the side.

Ellie and Dina were seated at the kitchen table, focused on their paintings as you were making a plate of sandwiches to share. Despite being focused on the task at hand, you faintly heard the sound of the front door opening. You knew Joel was home, finally.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face when he heard your footsteps before you sat down along the wooden bench beside him.

“Hey.” He mumbled tiredly as he dropped his hands to his knees. “What’s goin’ on in there?” He questioned as he turned his body to face you, wincing from the strain it put on his back.

“Girls night. You wanna join? I just made some sandwiches.” You placed your hand gently across his own with a soft smile.

“Kind of you to offer, but I ain’t a girl. I don’t wanna spoil y’alls fun. I will, however, have a sandwich if there’s any to spare for me?” He forced a smile through his pain, clenching his jaw slightly.

“Joel, there’s plenty of sandwiches to go around. I’ll fix you a plate, alright?” You squeezed his hand soothingly.

“Thank you, doll. I’ll probably be out in the shed so y’girls have the house to yourselves.” He added.

“How was patrol?” You asked with genuine concern when you zoned in on the red, blistered patch spreading across the bridge of his nose. “You want some lotion for that? Sun must have been brutal out there.”

He scoffed under his breath as he leaned back against the wall. “It was shit.” He wanted to tell you more, but it was too risky. Too much was currently at stake, and he didn’t want to cause you unnecessary stress. You had been through too much. “Yeah, sun was brutal. Spent a lot of time out in the open plains. Ain’t much cover out there.” He drawled.

“I’m sorry, honey. ” You murmured as you reached your hand up and gently raked your fingers through his hair in a hope to bring him some form of comfort.

“S’okay, darlin.’ How are you doin?’” He asked softly as he leaned into your caress. His mind may have been a warzone, but his words masked it well enough.

“Pretty good. Honey is settling into her new home. I showed Ellie and Dina how to make their own paints from crushed up flower petals. We’re gonna do face masks soon and then watch a movie. Are ya sure you don’t want to join?” You leaned in, letting your fingers slowly drop from his hair, and brush across his weathered cheekbone.

“I’m glad to hear it. Face masks and a movie sound tempting, but I don’t wanna intrude and spoil y’alls fun.” He reassured you as he went in for a kiss. You must have sensed that he needed it as soon as his lips brushed yours, and your lashes fluttered shut. The sweet moment passed as he gently squeezed your knee before he pushed himself up from the bench. You watched as he shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With a sigh you gathered up his discarded boots and placed them neatly on the doormat next to your own before returning to the kitchen. “Are you girls ready for some sandwiches and face masks?” You asked with a genuine smile as you clasped your hands together.

Both girls nodded and offered to help clean up the table first while you grabbed a plate and placed a couple sandwiches on it before making your way outside to Joel’s shed. You found him sitting in silence with his notebook open on a blank page, sans the title in the top right corner; To Bill and Frank. You set the plate down quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before heading back inside the house.

Dina was in the family room with her own plate while Ellie was still putzing around the kitchen. It appeared as if she had been waiting for you to return based on the way she was nervously ringing her hands together.

“Hey, Beanie?” The teen asked as she eyed her drying painting.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She took a deep breath before exhaling. “How’s um–how’s Joel doin’ lately?” She asked just above a whisper.

“He’s doing okay. Well, at least I think he is? I think Patrol is weighing on him lately. Y’know, I'm sure he’d love it if you asked him yourself.”

A pained expression crossed Ellie’s face as she brought her arms across her chest in a protective motion, shaking her head tightly at your suggestion. “I can’t do that, Beanie.”

“Ellie, look, I know that you and Joel aren’t on good terms right now, but–”

“What do you know of it?” She questioned.

Your eyes flickered to where Dina was sitting on the couch, and then back to Ellie as your shoulders slumped inwards. “Let's go upstairs for a minute to talk, okay? You can help me grab the skincare stuff.”

Ellie glanced back towards Dina before she nodded in agreement and followed you up the staircase.

“Beanie,” She started timidly, “Did Joel–did he tell you about me?” Ellie was a smart enough kid to know the answer, but she wanted to hear it directly from you.

“He did, a few days ago. The same night that you came home and found us in the kitchen. After you left, he told me about what he did to save you and that you’re distant from him because of it.”

Ellie fought the urge to laugh as she leaned against the bathroom sink with her arms crossed. You could see her fingers begin to tremble. “Yeah? Did he also fail to mention that he fuckin’ killed an entire hospital of Fireflies? And he took the choice of making my life matter away from me?” Her tone was bitter as she gnawed fiercely on her lower lip.

“Ellie, he told me everything, and the reason why he did it.” You reasoned with her as you set the jars of homemade clay masks down on the counter. “Before you jump to conclusions, I understand why you’re upset with him, Ellie.”

She looked surprised as she briefly made eye contact before staring at a chipped patch of paint on the wall. “So, you don’t agree with him then? Is that what you’re telling me? He took my choice away, Beanie. My life could have mattered, and he fuckin’ took that from me.” She whispered grimly as stubborn tears began to trickle down her cheekbones.

“Ellie, your feelings are completely valid. But, your life does matter. You are so important. I know it feels like everything has been ripped from you, but you mean so much to him, Tommy, Dina,myself. I know it’s hard, I know it is, kid. He did what every parent would do for their child, biological or not. He’ll always believe that what he did was right, and that will never change.” You reached your hand up and gently placed it along her shoulder as more tears began to fall.

“I just wish he had given me that choice, Beanie. After everything he and I went through? For what? For my immunity to just be fuckin’ wasted? What if there was a chance? What if this cure–” She clenched her fists tightly as she tucked her chin against her shoulder to try and block out the tears.

“Ellie, the journey that you and Joel took together was not wasted. You survived together. You helped him in more ways than you and I can even begin to imagine. You saved him just as much as he saved you. Ellie, he loves you. He loves you so goddamn much. The world is filled with cruel people. People who take advantage of others weaknesses. People who were born with hate in their hearts, and people who learned to hate. To be cruel. To hurt those around them. Do you know what you’ve done for him, Ellie? You taught that man how to unlearn his hatred for the world. You did that, kiddo.”

Ellie’s sniffles echoed against the faded tiles as she wiped her tears on her sleeve. Her perspective of her purpose in life, and her immunity had been skewed for so many years. Marlene told her she could change the world. She could save everyone. She was manipulated into believing that there could be a cure, and as soon as her assumed purpose was ripped away from her, she felt useless.

“There never was going to be a cure, was there? I was..going to die for nothing?” She questioned somberly as her glassy eyes met your empathy filled ones.

“I don’t have that answer for you, kiddo. I’m sorry. Look, I won’t tell you what you should do, but if you find it in your heart to forgive him, start by talking to him, okay? Whenever you feel ready.” You squeezed her shoulder with a reassuring nod.

“And from there?” She asked in hope that somehow you would have all the answers.

“You both get to live in peace as father and daughter.” You concluded.

Ellie was throwing her arms around your neck in an instant, hugging you tightly as she buried her face into your shoulder, sobbing softly.

You let your own arms drape loosely around the teen’s frame as you hugged. You whispered to her that everything would be alright in the end.

“He’s so lucky to have you, Beanie. You’re one in a million, and I'm happy that he has someone. He’s been through so much.” She murmured against your shirt, using the fabric as the vessel to catch her free falling tears.

“You’re one in a million too, kiddo.” You whispered softly, eyes glistening as you rubbed soothing circles into her back.

Joel was sitting out on the back porch. Seated with his guitar comfortably laying across his lap as he plucked a few strings. After writing the letter to Bill and Frank, he needed to take an emotional break from his current feelings. Music always helped, and music connected him to Sarah and Tommy. He was grateful for the fact that he could enjoy something as simple as playing a few strings on a guitar.

Ellie didn’t approach at first. She was nervous, evidently. After her heartfelt discussion with you, she made the conscious decision to finally take the first step in forgiving Joel for what he had taken from her.

Her boots creaked along the wood as his head slowly lifted. His lips parted, eyes glimmering in pure surprise as he set his guitar down to the side.

“Hey, kiddo.” He murmured in acknowledgement of her presence.

Ellie didn’t respond as she walked towards the railing along the porch and placed her hands against the ledge. Her shoulders were tense and stiff as he approached alongside her, owl mug clasped between his palms as his safety net.

“What’re you drinkin?’” She asked while looking down at faded wood on the railing.

“Coffee.” He responded softly while resting his arms over the ledge. “Shouldn’t y’be in there for girls night?” He brought the rim of the mug up to his lips before taking an inaudible sip.

“I just wanted to come out here for a bit of fresh air.” Ellie mumbled her little white lie.

“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t wanna go disturbin’ your fresh air.” He went to walk away, but Ellie stopped him.

“Joel, that’s not what I meant. Look, I just. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” She whispered under her breath.

“Kiddo, you’re not stupid. I jus–” He was cut off by her words slicing through the balmy air like a sharpened blade.

“I was supposed to die in that hospital, Joel. That was my purpose. And my life would have fuckin’ mattered, but you took that from me. I know you were just doin’ what you believed to be the right thing, Joel. I know you were just tryin’ to save me, but I can’t just let that go. I still lay awake at night thinking about what would have happened if I had died in that hospital. If the doctors extracted the cordyceps from my brain and created a cure, maybe the world would be a different place than it is now. I guess we’ll never know because there is zero chance of ever creating the vaccine.” She fought through fresh tears. In truth, she wanted to yell. To scream and pound her fists into his chest, but she knew this was for the better.

“Ellie, if I was ever given the chance, I’d do it all over again.” His eyes locked on hers. “I know I took that choice from you, but Marlene did as well. Why else do you think we were ambushed? Marlene knew that I wouldn’t let you go through with it had I known that you would have to die. I trusted Marlene , and she wouldn’t even let us say goodbye. To talk to you one last time. I asked and she took you to surgery while I was out cold.. I know it was selfish of me. I know it was, but losing the world felt unbearable and I had to save it.” He was visibly showing discomfort by the way his fingers flexed and trembled against the outside of the mug. His words fell heavy as he awaited Ellie’s response.

“Joel, you didn’t save the world. You took the last shred of hope that humanity had and fuckin’ crushed it! I could have made a difference! I could have saved the world, Joel!” Her voice cracked as her words were lodged in her throat from the oncoming wave of tears.

“I did save the world. I saved my world, Ellie. I lost a daughter once, and I wasn’t about to lose another. Not when you and I endured so much together. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you’re my daughter, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” His own tears began to prick the corner of his eyes at his confession. His heart clenched and twisted like a fist. “I couldn’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Ellie.” He croaked.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Joel. But I would like to try.” There it was. That sliver of hope that you told Joel to hold onto, and Ellie the same. The extension of an olive branch. A father and daughter making up.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek and clinked softly against the rim of his mug. His lower lip wobbled as he sniffled softly.

“I’d like that.”

Ellie released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding as her body relaxed. She gradually found herself gravitating towards him as their shoulders brushed gently.

A moment’s silence passed before Joel spoke again. “Ellie, I need to tell ya somethin’ that only uncle Tommy and I know about, okay?”

“What is it that you need to tell me, Joel?” Her cheek slowly came to rest between the dip in his shoulder as his posture relaxed.

“Tommy and I have been gatherin’ up evidence and writing up reports to turn in to Maria. We’re under the suspicion that Lucas, one of the guys on patrol, has ulterior motives inside the community. I need you and Dina to stay sharp, okay? You see anythin’ suspicious, you alert Tommy and I immediately, okay, baby girl?”

“How long have you been suspecting him, Joel?”

“Since that night at the Tipsy Bison. When I confronted Seth for calling you and Dina a homophobic slur. The same night that Lucas ‘innocently’ grabbed Beanie’s arm outside the ladies room.“ He confirmed.

“Y’don’t think he has anythin’ to do with those charred bodies that you and Tommy found in the woods last winter, do you?” Ellie asked with uncertainty.

Joel sighed deeply as he tightened his grip around the mug. His deep brown pools met hers in a stern, serious look. “I think he has everythin’ to do with those poor women that we found in the woods.”

______________

*Ambiguous POV*

Raider camp. Approximately five miles south of Jackson

“And what if she’s not in her home, what do we do then?” The man asked.

“She’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And in the case she’s not? Don’t you fuckin’ bother showin’ up empty handed. Haven’t you been lookin’ for the opportunity to prove yourself to me? Well, here’s your chance. Don’t disappoint me.” The other man warned his counterpart with a deadly look as he twirled his favorite blade in his hand.

The peaceful utopian community of Jackson would never see this coming.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel tlou #protective joel #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller series

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ivsanbernardusa · 7 months

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Pets Skin Therapy: Restoring Healthy Skin for Your Beloved Pets

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Bathe your pet using gentle shampoos and conditioners suitable for their skin and coat type.

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altarrot · 2 years

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BOUND TO RABIDITY.

ao3 issue.

synopsis: loved raw and confined in hostage, you're stuck in a situation beyond nightmares - but it's more dreamlike than anything. author's note: thank you guys for so much love on the first part??? i just had to give y'all another part

[ ♡ ] pairing: killer!simon "ghost" riley + fem!reader

[ ♡ ] genre: smut, dark content

[ ♡ ] warnings: (very tamed) stockholm syndrome-ish, slight emotional manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, hostage situation, touch-starved reader, age difference, mild comfort, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet-names, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex.

PART 2/2 | PART 1

You were on the brink of hysteria. A confined hysteria with complications of dream-like and strayed. It was complex; the whole situation easy to be taken advantage off and revolved in the right ways. Though, you were unsure on why you had let that man in the balaclava dispossess your virginity, and afterwards let him lift you in his arms, only for your eyes to give out on themselves and descend into a slumber of exhaustion — only to be restored to a whole, new surrounding that built-up around you.

Settled on bared mattress with a sting at your collar — and the larger, warmth of a body resting before your eyes, a frailness is received in your limbs once again. You were afraid of him, obviously, but couldn't help but sought solace in the man. Even in slumber, he still refuses to strip himself of the mask, the only discernible difference was the two closed slits of his eyes — blonde lashes based onto his pale skin of faint black. The only thing you were able to do is stare at his drowsing condition, remarking his features still caked of brown, dried blood while the stench of vague cigarette smoke and some iron flooded at your nose.

Tucking your arm under your laid head on the teared pillowcase, you shift yourself, now fully facing him with dozens of inquiries consuming at your head. Why would he make the conscious decision of taking you away, laying you like on his supposed bed like a lover rather than locking you in some rusting basement? (That's what you had always assumed what happened when a person was taken hostage.) But it was nothing of those imaginations, those violent and inhuman imaginations were more decent — lenient and civilized.

Examining him, there was some beauty found between his brutal nature. Blonde lashes, athletic physique, and a sight of tattoos that peered under his tactical jacket that were slightly bunched up to the forearm. It seemed almost insane to envision a serial killer like this, as if he were some sort of saint, some heroic figure to you, but it was almost impractical not to.

In the midst of observing him, his eyelids flicker open, ditches of dark-brown impaling into your stare. There's some guilt situated in those ditches, but a mass of it was just some tedious; monotone and somber. You both were only able to bring yourselves to stare at each other, liable and imprecise to how either brought themselves to this situation. (Even though a majority of it was at his fault.)

You rid of your parched throat. "Ghost, you know... I really do like you," you said, "...I think you're the sweetest guy in the whole world."

He stiffens. "But why me?"

"You've given me the affection a guy has never given me before."

"I'm a lowlife murderer, honey." he mutters, "Nothing special about me."

"I know that, but — I can't help but bring myself to love you."

With all honesty, your confession seems non-genuine; too much of a mock since you've only become acquainted with him since the hours of last night. But it comes out as pure, raw truth — that you really do love that man, you love a man with murderous intent on the run. He's drained in your presence, at a loss of words and unable to dispense you with a convenient response. Even in the former times in serving in the military as a lieutenant before he evolved into a loathsome cutthroat, remnant sensations of love were futile to him.

Nausea overburdens you out of the blue. Possibly from the aftereffects of your plain confession, leaving you to feel flustered at the fervent words.

He lifts a stiff arm up from his side and props it on your cheek, fingers fondling your face in tenderness. A low rasp of a sigh heaves from his clad face. Your eyes close, indulging in his comforting touch, familiar with his circular motions he presses your skin in with. You're disoriented off reality; closed-off and limited to only him, like he was your savior, only hope in a lifetime at this point.

It was thought to be a one-time thing. Latent emotions that preceded into intercourse, but never into a full-time-sort-of relationship resulting in finding sanctuary in a run-down home — his run-down home, or perhaps some kind of affordable one-night motel. Nonetheless, it wasn't as bad as expected, just perplexing and coming to you in overwhelming waves.

"You're just putting yourself in danger, love," he remarks, "You know that I love you too, but, it's a hazard to be involved with me."

Your doe eyes gaze down at him. "So be it, I don't care." you said, sitting up and leaning up the headboard, "I like being involved with you."

Ghost makes the decision to just give into you; your stubbornness and refusal to his objections not dissolving anytime soon. Even so, you were so obedient to him, so willing to comply with his bloodthirsty motives — so what would be so bad about having you as an advocate at his side, like a partner or a wife that acts in company with her psychotic husband.

"Fuck, okay, that's my girl," he said with a small doubt, "You going to stay by my side forever?"

"Anything for you, I'm yours forever."

He slopes upwards to give you a kiss. "I know you will, so good, huh?"

You nod, a smile tainting your lips.

"That's right," he fully sits up alongside you, but steps off the mattress onto two stable feet, "I'll be in the bathroom, just doll yourself up whenever, okay?"

And that's when he abandons you. Abandons you on the now-known singular motel bed, curtains crowding the panels of the window, bulbs of lamps at each side the only source of light given in the room. The sound of the bathroom's lock clicks, following the running water of the shower slamming against the floor. You sit in the atmosphere for a few minutes, aimlessly watching the box of a television run through some talk-show, arms linked around your legs that were bent and met with your chest.

The skin of your cheek presses to your knee, eyes lingering at the ceiling which was lined with bumps. You didn't entirely hate your new lifestyle with Ghost, even though you deserted your parents as a whole, leaving them worried to your whereabouts; you just needed a break off everything. Your parents, your regular life, the continual reminders of the serial killer situation. (Even though you were practically in love with the man behind it all, running away with him essentially.)

Unless you were naive and only stuck to him like a case of Stockholm Syndrome, then that would make more sense; but it really didn't feel like that was the case, there was a genuine, conscious love that you deepened in your heart for him. You thought of yourself as nothing to him, just some stress-reliever he comes across and fucks in the middle of the woods, predicting for him to brutally murder you afterwards and leave your rotting corpse right at the very stump he took you on.

But marking his own words of you being special, all those illusions and predictions were slipped from your mind. Knowing that you were special, his special girl, you couldn't help but tolerate yourself to fall for him. With the affection he gave you that night, whether a fraud or not, it's the most another person has ever given you; a deep consolation was discovered in him after that.

The lock of the bathroom sounds a noise to be opened, door swaying open as Ghost came out with only a towel at his waist — mask naked to your two eyes that readjusted to him. His hair was no different than the shade of his lashes, dirty blonde, and short while his two eyes were given structure; a moderately sharpened jaw with a few scars littering his skin, a light stubble coating at the edges of his face. His chest was sturdy with a prominent lines of bulging abs and a v-line lined with a trail of hair, biceps hefty with the left one nearly covered with ink.

Your pupils dilate at the sight, wandering over his displaying form, finding him as equally handsome with the balaclava on. He comes over to you and settles on the foot of the bed, sinewy back muscles facing you. You take the chance to crawl across the mattress; positioning yourself at his side as you rest your head at his shoulder with your arms clung around his torso. He smells of a masculine scent; some cologne and shampoo used to freshen up from the reek of cigarette smoke and metallic crimson.

He eases up at your touch, his own head tilting to rest against yours. For the first time, you feel in love. You worship him like a lover, supply him off the affection he once gave you, touch him with intentions of a good heart.

"How long do we stay here?" you ask, against his head, "Unless you only paid for a one night stay."

"I can pay off for a couple more days, rest here, we don't really have anywhere to go."

"Sounds good."

One of your arms unhinges itself from around him to trace at the muscles of his back, a spread palm smoothing over and a finger often prodding at the flesh.

You bite your lip. "Is there a first-aid kid in here?"

"Saw one near the sink, why? You hurt?"

"Well," you point a finger to the fresh wound at your collarbone, not that fresh, but still to the limit of being a red tint, "From last night, and I feel a little nauseous."

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, turning in place and lifting you in his arms, treading back to the bathroom where he sat you on the lid of the toilet, "Stay still."

Ghost searches through a cabinet, gathering the small box of white and a red cross, unlatching it. He searches for a bandage patch and antiseptic, placing the two items of the counter. Leaning down, still half-naked and draped in only a towel around his waist, he dabs at the wound he caused with a cotton ball — antiseptic stinging with the exposed tissue. Your jaw clenches and teeth gnash against each other until the cotton is drawn away from you."

"Sorry, honey, I know it hurts," he reassures, "I just need to wrap it."

"Okay." you said.

His slender, thick fingers are like touches of tranquility — calming yourself from the persistent sting established in the wound caused of his own blade. You peer at him while he assists you, a strain of focus on his face, handsome even with the faint scars painting his face; his teeth bites at his lower lip in a focus, eyes widened yet squinting from time-to-time.

The bandage patch sews up your wound and he draws himself away by a few inches. He cocks his head for a second before it straightens back up on the base of his neck.

"There, all better?"

"Much better. Thank you."

He chuckles, shaping his lips into yours for a brief kiss.

"Ghost." you mumble his name.

"What?"

"Can we do it again?"

At first, he's completely oblivious to what you're referring to, but figures it out within a few reruns of what you could mean.

"You want to have sex again?"

Your fingers clutch at the edges of the toilet lid with a tiny pressure. "Yes, I was just wondering... since you made my first time feel like heaven." you said, "But it's okay if you don't want to."

"Oh, angel," he shifts himself back in his leaning, standing in front of you, "How could I say no to such a pretty girl like you?"

Without another word, he has your lips shaping into his for much longer, with tongue and sloppy flows. You capture his face in both of your palms, pulling him closer into you, whines escaping and devouring into his mouth. His face feels so much better to hold without cloth separating you from it, fingertips swiping over most of the scars. Large hands rest at your waist and squeeze, brain already numb and foggy at only his mouth and hands.

You slide from the seat of the lid to the floor, upper-half resting at the wall of the bathtub as he's given more easy access to move up your body. His body sculpted like a marble statue situates between your thighs that automatically spread for him on command, the cold of the bathroom floor tiles making you shiver as it nudges at the backs of your bare legs.

Your hands cling to his chest and feel up his abs, his lips still devouring you.

"Ghost, wait."

He parts from you. "What's wrong?"

"Can we try something different?" you ask, "I want to give you pleasure this time."

"You want to suck me off?"

"Yes."

His eyes scrutinize you before he obliges, switching positions with you; him sat up at the wall of the bathtub while you sat on your heels between his muscular legs.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You really don't have to." he said, hesitant.

You offer him only silence as you tear the towel at his waist off of him, inclining yourself down with an arched back, lips pursing around the blunt head of his cock. He grunts and drops his head back, teeth bared with a flat palm at the top of your head. You struggle to take his entire size and girth down your throat within the first few supports of your mouth, competent to only the first few inches, but you eventually reach the base of his cock — swallowing and taking in him whole.

For the first time of sucking someone off, you're pretty proficient at it, being able to satisfy him with his full cock down your throat — tip bulging a little at the back. His noises each time you slide your mouth down him are a type of nirvana; raspy groans right into your ear or a deep grunt originating from the depths of his chest. Tears edge at your waterlines in a suffocation.

"You're doing so good, sweetie," he breathes, "Taking me like the good slut you are."

A muffled moan around his size is earned from his praising words.

"You going to let me cum down your pretty, little throat?"

"Please, yes." you said, gagged around him.

With your tongue running up each protruding vein that collects at his cock and your movements growing increasingly faster, a knot in his stomach begins to form, a sensitivity at his cock heightening.

Your hands find purchase at his thighs, body arching impossibly farther upwards as you press your thighs together with a pulse starting up at your cunt. The cotton of your newly-put-on panties were moist, already stained much like last night when he had a knife threatened to your throat. Noises of gagging and more often grunts were deluging the bathroom, dragging down the thin walls and right back to you.

The hand in your hair is tight, his head fully thrown back with eyelids screwed shut, and his mouth is expanded out. His chest hauls with every heavy breath he takes, sweat sheeting over his skin; a gloss glistens off his skin, reflecting with the lights of the bathroom overhead.

Ghost curses aloud while his hips stutter, pausing to stay in the profound stance where his seed floods into your mouth and down your throat. His supporting hand serves as a way to keep you right where he wants you to be; cock wholly down your throat and forcing you to swallow the spurts of white — which you gratefully swallowed. You retreat back and rest your head on his one of his thighs, attempting to catch your breath, as his right hand rests at your head and pats your hair down.

"You did so good, doll," he pants out, head bowed down where you rested on his thigh, "And for your first time too."

A dazed smile is given to him across your lips, soiled with a few marks of his cum.

"Are you sure you still want to continue?" he asks, concerned about your exhaustion.

You nod slowly. "I want to feel you again, you make me feel so loved."

A short break is given from sucking him off, enabling more stamina to build up. He no longer scents of masculine cologne; but also sweat, sticky sweat that combined with your own, even through the dress you were still clothed in from the previous night. With enough rest taken, Ghost shifts positions back with you; you're back against the bathtub while he spreads your thighs for you, perching between them.

His fingers flow up your thighs; the callous skin tickling your softer flesh as he flips the skirt of your dress up, lifting it over your head. He then rips the fabric of your bra and panties off from your sticking skin, leaving you as bare as he was. A whine draws from you at the sudden frigid temperatures.

Immense hands rest around your legs, placing them at his shoulders. You're laid on the bathroom floor instead of against the bathtub, giving more flexibility and access to him. The head of his cock finds itself resting at your sopping entrance, a low whimper falling from your lips. A heat in your face rises; heartbeat through your chest and going to impossible speeds.

"You want this again, lambie?" he asks through his teeth, "You want to be fucked by a murderer? Have your needy pussy filled?"

"Please!" you said of desperation, "I need you so bad, love you inside of me."

Self-restraint was impractical, which is why he was unable to hold back, sheathing himself up inside of you. Your limbs bring themselves to twitch at the first thrust, an audible whimper brought from your throat. His hips initially snap slowly against yours; ultimately hastening once he accommodated to your usual tightness. The heat of his body warms your own, cold and naked in contact with the tiles of the floor.

Your extended legs at his shoulders lose balance, collapsing to his waist, instead enclosing on his waist. Fingers grope at any available portion of your delicate anatomy, skin fondled in and caressed. Through languorous visions, the man's head appears to tilt half-way, the bottom of his jaw visible in a clamped built, his sweat-radiance chest stuttering with non-consistent breaths. You writhe underneath him — your cunt progressing to a fragile condition, producing perceptible noises in addition to his cock ramming up your inner-walls.

Specifically like Ghost, your head is left to be thrown back; not against the ventilation air of the room, but at a hardened ceramic that bumps the back of your head each time. You're fucked-out, lightheaded within the very couple of aggressive thrusts he gives your cunt. The blunt head of his cock pounds at your cervix with some compounded vigor; torn moans and whimpers bleeding without shame from your mouth, benefitting him. Forging him as more carnal, rabid.

"Ghost," you sob, "Fuck me harder."

He dips his head to you. "You want me harder, baby?"

"Anything, please — harder, faster, anything..."

He uses his already-dipped head to kiss at your scalp, posture adjusting, spine rigid. His stance of composure results in more hostile rams into your cunt, pounding you with your back arched off the tiles of the ground. At this pace, you almost forget whose fucking you; causing you to go brain-dead, to give into so much bliss. You almost forget you're desiring for a serial killer to fuck you, painting him the picture of a perfect man — a man of innocence and instead uses his skill of vigilance picked up from his position in the military.

You're impossibly tight at his cock, compact and compressing that earns a low grunt from his breath. He's giving you a few more last thrusts of aggression, harmonies of whimpers and grunts, the atmosphere of sex fogging up the mirror above the sink, the porcelain of the tub and metals of the faucets. Nails dig into both his forearms, tugging at his tattoos and unadorned muscle.

The sense of thick liquid splatters at your walls, a sweltering heat generating a feeling to squirm in the arrangement which he held you in, brawny hips motionless at yours. Ghost slumps above you and remains in you, plugging him inside of you to sustain his seed. You bend upwards to where his face hung; lips pressing kisses of fondness to his nose, to his scarred cheeks, and to his lips. His breaths are felt at the flesh of your own face — hot, and scented of cigarette smoke and a minty taste.

You swallow. "I'll love you forever, Ghost," you said, arms looped at him in an embrace, "I mean it. I really do. My heart is yours."

"And I'll make sure you're mine forever," he whispers against your scalp, "Nothing will separate us."

Forwarding to the sedate dusk, mid-dusk where the sky brushed with shades of nights and sunlight, you were still bound to that familiar motel room. Ghost was on the foot of the mattress, caked with blood once again, combat boots rested at the carpet of the room. He was hunched over, silent, staring at the running late-afternoon television. You sat in a nightgown obtained from the motel's laundry room, stolen, and similar to the dress you wore with your first encounter with him — lace, white, and dangling to the limits of your thighs. Observing Ghost, he was no longer gentle.

His appearance of blood, black, and masked was returned what he really was; a murderer, a monster. It made you feel nauseous again. A hand trails over your clothed stomach of lace, lowering onto the aching region. You wanted to tell him, but didn't want to cause a riot, so you only manage to impose yourself to shove off the bed, steadying on two legs with your hand still over your stomach. He takes notice of the bed sinking, then un-sinking when you're seen to be standing near the bedside table.

"What's wrong with you?"

His voice is gruff, raspy — but attempting a soft and tender approach when gazing over at you.

"I feel sick," you said, "Headache and my stomach hurts."

"You need help?"

"Maybe," you bite your tongue,"Yes."

He throws the bloodied switchblade he toyed with between his hands on the mattress, standing up, and treading to over where you were; using his customary procedure of hoisting you into his arms and supporting you in a bridal pose. It's more comfortable this way anyways, with the pain in your stomach becoming moderate, using him as a prop to rest on.

You're sat on the edge of the tub, him on the toilet seat lid.

You breathe, preparing to respond with the one thing you wish is fabricated, false — but there is no denying that it could be the one thing that's making you feel this way.

"Do you think I'm pregnant?"

Ghost stares. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah, I mean, we had unprotected sex two times," you stutter on your breaths, "No condoms, no birth control."

"Fuck."

"It could be worse. Could've been some sexual-related disease. Herpes."

Whirling himself around in place, he rummages through the nearest cabinet, tossing a few hand-towels and sanitary items aside, sometime finding a rectangular box in design of a pregnancy test. He faces back to you, holding the box in a fist, eyes sincere and perturbing.

"You take one of these, I'll be right outside."

The box is fixed in your own fist as he stands, exiting the bathroom with the door shut behind him. It's apparent that he's only right outside the door; heavy breaths and frequent thumps of his body against the wall. You swipe your tongue across your lips before biting at your lower one. As a majority of everything was going along great with him, one of your worst fears was at a near-possibility of coming to a factual reality.

Taking a couple of minutes to understand the instructions, taking it out off the box, utilizing it as you struggle with the ache at the pit of your stomach. For the duration of wait-time, you sit with your lip bit, rocking back and forth on the edge as your eyes fixed on the plastic object.

Waiting time took minutes, almost felt like months, years; a nerve struck in you.

And when it concluded, you swear you felt your heart drop to your stomach, veins running of blood — a cold sweat escaping at your forehead.

A whine inside of your mouth imploded. A hand over your mouth, head spiraling in circles. Your hand free of the test is at your forehead, a palm splayed over. Tears stop dead at your lower lids, eyes only glossy and glistening under the light, droplets reflecting of the worst possibility that was held in your hand. You can only manage a distinct whimper of his name, turning your head towards the door, watching as it slowly opens; Ghost bursts himself inside and rushes on his two legs when he perceives the physical emotion of distress on your face.

His arms come to wrap at your head, swaddling you, dragging you to the floor with him. Breaths of hyperventilation are decorated into his chest while he holds you close to him — one hand into your hair, the other holding up at your back. His head is held to yours, feeling his masked chin rest at your forehead, hand in your hair stroking in comforting motions. You're laying at his chest.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." you said, voice trembled.

"Honey, look at me," he said, both his hands clinging to your face, forcing to look up at him, "Right here."

You stare him in his mask holes of eyes.

"What are we — I —going to do?"

"Well, there's two of us, right?"

"...Yeah."

"So, we can both work together for the child," he suggests, "Like how we work together right now. Partners in crime, you know?"

"But, I don't know if I want it..."

"Think of it as a reminder. A reminder to how much you love me, you want to stay with me forever, just like you said."

"I guess you're right." you muttered, comforted and easily swayed by his words.

"Of course I am," he said into your scalp, "I did say nothing would separate us, after all."

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #female reader

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

water in your hands

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)

word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)

summary:

You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…

Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish

author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3

PART II HERE

dividers from @saradika

Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.

Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.

Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him.

A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.

The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.

Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.

“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like --

Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”

A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.

“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”

“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.

“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.

Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”

Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.

“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.

Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy.

“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”

Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.

The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.

He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:

You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..

The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).

It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.

“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm.

He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”

Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.

“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”

He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.

“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”

“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”

That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.

“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”

“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.

Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.

Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.

So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.

You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.

The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.

But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?

You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.

Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.

Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.

Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.

“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”

“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”

“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”

Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”

He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.

“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”

You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”

The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.

“Any spot in particular?”

As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.

Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”

Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”

“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”

He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.

“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”

“Astrology?”

“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”

Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.

Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”

Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”

“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”

“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”

You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.

Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”

Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”

His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.

Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.

His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.

His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.

Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.

You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.

His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.

Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”

He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.

“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”

Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.

His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.

There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.

His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.

“Joel, please…”

His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.

“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.

Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.

“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”

With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.

His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.

He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.

“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”

“I know, baby. Let it happen.”

His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.

Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.

“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”

You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.

“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.

Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch.

He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”

His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.

“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”

“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”

Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.

They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.

Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.

He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.

“You okay?”

Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”

His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.

He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.

Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.

So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.

He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.

He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.

A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.

Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.

He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.

Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.

The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.

“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.

He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.

“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.

“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”

The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”

You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”

“Do you regret it?”

He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.

“No. I could never regret it.”

“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”

He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”

After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.

“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”

All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.

He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.

He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.

Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.

All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.

Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”

You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.

It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.

“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”

Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”

“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.

Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.

When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.

“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.

He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.

He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”

“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.

That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.

Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.

“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.

“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”

“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.

You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”

He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.

Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.

Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.

You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.

Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:

Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl

You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.

Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.

You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.

Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.

But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.

And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.

Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.

It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.

Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.

Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.

“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.

You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.

His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.

He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.

“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”

“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.

His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”

He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.

“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”

His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.

“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”

“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.

Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.

“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”

A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.

You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.

He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.

The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”

The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.

“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.

“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.

“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.”

Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.

Joel.

He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.

At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.

Tommy asked him to wait outside.

Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”

He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.

Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.

Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.

“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”

Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.

“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.

He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”

That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.

His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”

Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.

He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.

“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.

“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”

He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.

Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.

“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.

You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”

You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.”

You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.

As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”

if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.

taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)

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