#wrist action jackson

[spilladabalia]

Blaggers ITA

live circa 1990-91, 2 songs

[moonalumi]

riding sub!top jackson ellie

[nsfw 18+]

warnings- sub!top ellie, riding (r receiving) strap on sex (r receiving), handcuffs (e receiving), face sitting (r receiving) boob sucking ( e & r receiving), ellie begging, light face slapping, argument mentioned

————

oh poor ellie. she’s been waiting, rather impatiently, for you to come home and hold her. to calm her nerves she resorts to drawing in her journal, but finds her mind draws back to you.

hours before you and ellie got into a mild argument which lead to her storming out at her little garage home and going god knows where. you’re left stranded in her empty home so a few minutes later you left as well and don’t come back until hours.

which leaves ellie to her current predicament. she misses you like hell. she feels guilty now that her anger subsided and all she wants to do is make it up to you. but of course! ellie too stubborn to go look for you herself so she sits and waits.

you know how ellie can be. you know how stubborn she is. so you make her wait hours, almost the whole day until you knock on her door.

she answers almost immediately and steps back so you can come in. you almost feel bad for her cause she looks so guilty, but you remember her earlier actions.

“hey” ellie says avoiding eye contact with you and staring straight at the ground.

you ignore her and take off your jacket and shoes and sit on her bed, ushering her to come here. she hesitantly follows, sinks down on the bed next to you and apologizes start spilling out of her pretty lips.

you shut her up with your lips, kissing her so softly while she hesitates, then kisses you with so much need and passion, it’s like she’s trying to make it all up to you with one kiss.

you notice the need in her kiss. her pulling of your bottom lip, and you begin straddling her hips. pushing her further on the bed and once her back hits the headboard she whimpers. you pull away from the kiss; a string of saliva connecting you together.

“i want you to listen to me okay, can you listen?” you ask the girl under you, watching her pupils get bigger and her chest heave once she realizes where this is going.

she nods and shakily puts her hands on your hips to which you grab ahold of both of them and pin them beside her head. “i want you to get your strap for me and then lay back down like this, can you do that for me?” you whisper while kissing her jaw and neck, hearing her breaths get heavier and heavier.

ellie shakily blurts out a ‘yes’ and once you get off her she’s immediately digging around her drawers for her strap.

“and take everything off except this” you say pulling her grey wife beater back and letting it fling back onto her skin. ellie pathetically nods, following your every command. quickly taking everything off in front you and putting her strap on and laying back down on the bed just like you told her to.

you smile at her obedience, taking everything except your bra off and straddling her again. positioning her cock so you sit right on top of it. “your being so good ellie you wanna touch me?” you ask her, purely because you can see her hands fidgeting around, fingers barely grazing your thighs. ellie looks up at you, her big eyes telling you the answer to your question, but oh poor ellie. right when you nod, giving her permission, you grab ahold of her wrists and handcuff them to the headboard.

ellie eyes widen and she fights with the cuffs, pulling on them with furrowed eyebrows while you laugh at her attempts.

“babe…please…” ellie whines with her raspy voice, looking back up at you with those big needy eyes again.

“this is what you get for storming off on me, baby you thought i could forget about that and just accept all your apologies?”

ellie furrows her eyebrows and fights the handcuffs once again “b-but you know i have to touch you…you know i- i love having my hands all over you”

you ignore her pleads and lift up her tank top just enough so her abs and v-line are visible and you run your hands up and down them, caressing her waist in the process. “love having my fun with you like this, you know that?” you say tilting your head slightly and running your hands up to her toy with her nipples through her shirt.

ellie immediately squirms and bucks her hips up causing you to grind down on her strap. “you’re so needy” you whisper to her and lift her tank top up to kiss her tits and suck.

“mmm p-please i’m so sorry let me touch you please! i’ve been waiting all day” ellie rambles on already out of breath.

you feel a tinge of guilt cause, she has been waiting all day but nontheless you continue teasing her. pulling away and lifting your hips up, “i’m so wet for you ellie i bet you wanna taste it huh?”

ellie quickly nods, her tongue darts out to lick her lips as she eyes your soaked pussy.

“words” you command and leave a light slap to her cheek.

“y-yes please…i’ll do anything” ellie breaths out.

you smile and crawl on top of ellie, positioning right on top of her lips as you hold on top the headboard and sink down. before you know it ellie’s tongue is all over your pussy, messily sucking and slurping. flicking and licking all around you.

“oh f-fuck ellieee” you moan out and intertwine you and ellie’s hands together as she keeps pulling on her handcuffs, desperate to hold your hips and plant you straight down on her face.

ellie thrusts her tongue inside of you and tongue fucks you so relentlessly. poor ellie really needed to taste you. your hips jolt as her nose rubs against your clit. you look down at her squeezed eyelids and feel the vibrations of her moans deep inside you.

“just like that baby you��re so good to me” you breathlessly moan out and when you feel one harsh thrust of her tongue, combined with her nose hitting the right spot; you feel your orgasm hit you and without warning you start cumming all over her tongue.

you squeeze ellie’s hand and tug on her hair which causing her to let out another moan inside of you and to her disappointment you lift your hips up and watch as strings of cum land on ellie’s lips and chin. the whole lower half of her face glistening with your cum and wetness and she’s just loving it. you can tell by that pussydrunk, toothy smile she gives you with her eyes, low and half lidded.

“you’re such a pussy slut” you tease as you straddle her hips again and right before she comments you plop yourself down to sit right on top of her strap which causes ellie’s hips to jerk up and a moan to slip out.

“you liked that?” you ask and do it again, the base of her strap bumping her clit just right.

“ohhh mhm please keep-“ the sound of your moan and another slam back down cuts her off as her eyes roll back, watching you bounce of her strap.

“mhmpt fuck ellie you’re so deep” you whimper out bouncing yourself up and down. the sound of your pussy gushing all over her fills the room. one hand holds onto ellie’s abs for leverage, nails digging into them. your other hand pulls and tugs on the back of ellie’s hair making her mouth fall agape.

ellie’s groans and whimpers grow louder, but you hear her still fighting with the handcuffs. the metal jingling distracting you from the pleasure so you grab ahold of her jaw, “stop it or i’ll make sure you don’t cum”

ellies eyes widen and she shakes her head frantically, “no no please please i wanna cum please i just wanna-“

you follow ellie’s eyes and see she’s staring dead at your tits, which are bouncing everytime you thrust yourself down on her strap. you take off your bra and arch your back into ellie’s mouth as she latches onto your tits and starts sucking on them like her life depended on it.

you moan and wrap your arms around her. completely engulfed in the pleasure of ellie’s mouth and now her hips jerking up making her strap go deeper into every time you slam back down.

“m’close” ellie whimpers into your tits, and with one thrust back up into you, her head falls back and you watch her cum while fucking herself into you as deep as she can. seconds later you hips stutter and lose rhythm so you lift your hips up letting ellie take control, thrusting in and out of you through your orgasm. you moan and grip her shoulders, leaving nail scratch marks all over it and once your high fades away you slump back down ontop of ellie. your pussy still throbbing gently around the strap you have yet taken out of you.

ellie whines and tugs on the handcuffs, seemingly to remind you to take them off. and you giggle, pry yourself off her, reaching for the keys and unlocking the cuffs.

ellie groans and holds her wrist as you sigh and massage the soreness out of her other wrist and kiss it. “m’sorry ellie their so red, are you okay?” you ask her with worry in your tone.

ellie nods and pull you in for a slow sloppy kiss. when you both pull away only cause you’re out of breath, she sleepily smiles at you, “been wanting to do that the whole time.”

you kiss her cheek and look down at where her strap is still inside you. “i’m gonna get up okay?” you say and hold onto her shoulders, sighing at the empty feeling you get and helping her take off the strap. hiding your smile when you see the mess she made of herself but shaking that thought off and laying back down on her chest.

her arms wrap around you and before she falls asleep she asks, “do you forgive me?”

you furrow your eyebrows and look up at her, “for what?” you ask puzzled.

ellie scoffs, “babe, our argument?”

“ohhhhh i forgot about that, yeah i forgive you”

“how did you forget you practically just tortured me cause of it” ellie jokes.

you gasp and hit her arm, “no i did not! you liked it and i know that cause you literally came all over the b-“

you’re shushed by ellie’s hand over your mouth and a kiss to your forehead. god you really love this silly girl <333

an- GOD i love subtop ellie and jackson ellie so much this is literally my heaven i had to write this EXCEPT MORE

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tear You Apart Part 1: You’re Mine✨

Series Masterlist

My first dark! Joel fic and I think I’m obsessed. I plunged into this head on and got major inspiration from the vampire scene in Saltburn and Little Red Riding Hood. This is filthy and I absolutely love it! There might be a part 2 for this! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. I would love to hear your thoughts 🖤

“The wolves prey upon the lambs in the darkness of the night, but the blood stains remain upon the stones in the valley until the dawn comes, and the sun reveals the crime to all.” - Kahlil Gibran

- Summary: Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you in the forest?

- Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

- Word Count: 9,718

- Tags: Dark themes, Little red riding hood references, dark! Joel, Joel is a menace, oral, fingering, choking, unprotected P in V, cream pie, filthy smut, degrading actions, not really violent but lots of dark themes, manipulation, rough sex, dirty talk, Joel calls reader little lamb, possessive Joel, feral! Joel, post outbreak! Joel, controlling Joel, dom! Joel, submissive reader, Joel x fem! reader, Joel is in his late 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Songs: “Change” and “Rosemary” by Deftones

The wind tears through the frigid night of Jackson, banging its haunted whispers against the side of the little wooden house. It screams in warning beware, beware. He’s coming. A glaring caution sign from the ghosts of the forest. They scream your name, shrieking and bellowing from the soil below as they make their way above the cold, vacant dirt, floating their way to your doorstep. Clawing, knocking, warning you that he’s close. Get out, leave. He’s near, he’s near. Run.

You want to run, want to sprint out of bed and run as far as you can, but you can’t. He’ll find you, stalk you till he hunts down your scent and discovers you hiding. You pray that he won’t, but he will. He always finds you. And when he does he takes and takes until you have nothing left, feeding his anger and bitter soul, using your body to escape whatever hell he had been through in the past.

You know he’s lost something special, something close to him. You can see it in the wrinkles that encase his forehead. See it in the dark brown flecks of his tired eyes. See it in the way he carries himself, worn and tattered like the old leather boots on his feet. Can feel it when he crowds your body as he lays over you in the middle of the night. Can feel it on his calloused fingers as he bleeds you dry from the inside, hollowing you out and sucking your lifeless soul and taking it as his own.

You never know what he’s lost, can never figure out what it was that was stolen from him. He doesn’t talk about it, will never let you in even though you beg him to. But you can feel the pain, the absolute agony that holds close to his cold heart. It’s whatever he’s lost that drives his rage, his desire for retribution. And it’s that loss that feeds his desire to take, destroy everything in his winding path. That’s why he comes, always at night, always at the dead blackness of night. He comes crawling to you, needing a way to soothe his scorching temper, needing a way to bury the agony of it all.

He’s broken, just like the shattered black military watch he wears on his left wrist. You try to ask him about it, try to graze your fingers over the broken glass, but he growls at you. Gnashing his sharp teeth as he releases the caged up wolf inside him. You know better, but you push back. Let me in, let me in, you scream. But he never does. That just pushes him further, bringing out the beast from within.

He’s coming closer. Almost here, almost here, the ghosts whisper in warning. You can feel him, as if he was already there at your doorstep, as if he was already clawing his fingers into your fragile skin. Tearing you apart piece by piece just the way he likes it.

Your body starts sweating, you toss and turn against the cold sheets that cling to your damp skin. He’s coming, they call. And it’s then that you can feel him as if he’s standing right outside. You can feel the weight of his steps on the cold, snowy ground. You can hear his shaky, quivering breaths as he trudges through the patches of white snow, can feel the warm breath as he blows it out, can reach your shaky fingers out as his breath kisses the sky. You can feel it, can almost taste it as it whips through the wind, landing up against your fogged up bedroom window.

Run. Hide. He’s here, he’s here, the voices warn. But you don’t listen, can’t listen. Joel’s deep voice washes the voices out, makes them flee from your mind. Mine, mine, he screams in your head as he claims you over and over again with his hands. Those big, rough hands that you so desperately want wrapped around you.

You shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t desire it, but you crave him like you’ve never craved anything in your life. He’s like a disease. Festering and invading your body, making you sick with want, with need. Pulling at your insides so much that you can’t ignore it. Can’t ignore the deep ache in between your thighs as you yearn for his touch, for his entire being. And you’re certain that you’re just as fucked in the head as him now.

He makes you sick. Sick with need, with desire. You shouldn’t crave him, shouldn’t want this. Most days he’s unkind, barely speaking, barely able to tolerate his own self. But he gives as much as he takes, and you crave the way he gives. And now you’re just as bad as him, just as selfish and needing as him. Mine, mine, you call in your mind. He’s yours just as much as you are his.

Your eyes open wide as you look at the small clock that hangs on the wall, the hand ticking and ticking as it reaches 1:00am, the time he usually comes after his late night watch shift. Your body quakes from the anticipation of him. You can hear him now. He’s here.

You feel the weight of his heavy feet against the wooden floorboards as he opens the front door, hearing it shriek as it closes behind him with a soft shutter as it knocks against the glass window. He’s coming, he’s coming.

You hear the narrow stairs creak as he climbs up the steep steps. He’s coming for you, coming to claim you, to devour you. He’s like a wolf in the night as he stalks his prey. His dark eyes search for you, your scent hanging in the air as he comes for it, chases it, wanting to taste it. Wanting to rip you to shreds under the weight of his body as he claws and pounces on you. Claiming you as his one and only as he dominates you. But you fully oblige, always surrendering yourself to him completely.

You’re little red riding hood, and he’s the big bad wolf that wants to eat you alive as you spill yourself for him, letting him mark his paws all over you until you can only see the blacks of his eyes as he claims you. My, what large eyes you have. But he’s talking to you as he’s in between your legs, lapping up your flavor as he looks up at you with those dark pits and smiles with his sharp canines glistening in the night. And God, you’re already wet thinking about it, already trembling in the sheets as you wait for him, waiting for him to completely ravage you and destroy you until you’re no more.

You want to touch yourself, want to put an end to that aching throb in your center as slick pools inside you, fighting hard to hold back the urge. He’ll be mad if you don’t wait for him. If he sees you fingering yourself before he gets to you, he’ll be furious. He’s selfish, always so fucking selfish with you. He wants to be the one that makes you feel good, under his conditions. He’s dominating, controlling, wanting your orgasms to come from him and him alone. He’s greedy, but he always gives, feeding into your sweet desires as he revels in your body, in your arousal, in your taste.

You hear the rusty doorknob twist and turn under his grasp, hear the door start to creak open as his dark form clouds against the darkness of the hallway. Take me, take me, you beg in your mind. And you swear he can hear you as he stalks towards you with his massive form.

He’s tired, you can see it in his weathered stare as his dark eyes search for you under the silky sheets. He throws off his tan, heavy coat and tosses it to the side of the room. As he makes his way to you, he pushes up his plaid, green sleeves slowly, exposing thick veins that spiral down his arms, ending in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight, taking in the way his arms flex against his sleeves. They pull and tug so tight that they’re bound to rip at any moment as his bulging muscles encase your nimble body.

He stops at the end of the bed, pulling back the clean sheets as he takes in the sheer nightgown you’re in. His eyes trail over your body as his deep scowl turns into something primal, dominant. “Get up,” he demands as he yanks you up by the wrist and pulls you to a standing position. There’s never such a thing as a hello or hi, beautiful. Only ever demands and commands as he comes for one thing, your body.

He pulls up the wooden chair that sits in the corner of the dark room and places it in the middle of the floor. He looks up at you with the darks of his eyes and curls his index finger, coaxing you to sit in the chair. Your body is hypnotized as you dance your way over to him under a waning spell that puts you at ease.

“Sit,” he says firmly as he pushes you down gently, your back hitting the hard wood as you sit up straighter, preparing yourself to give yourself to him. Your hands fall flat against your thighs as the sheer nightgown barely reaches the tips of your knees. You can feel the cold wind as it blows hard outside your window, can almost taste the white snowflakes that linger on his leather boots.

Your breathing goes ragged as he circles the chair. Circling and circling as he trails a calloused finger over your bare shoulders as he takes you in with his chocolate eyes, inspecting you as he drinks in your features. Your throat goes dry as you watch him stalk around you. He’s a hungry wolf and he’s starving for you.

“Tell me, have you been a good girl today?” His words drag against his teeth as he snarls the words out. He continues to circle, making you audibly gulp at the words that leave his mouth.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, your nails digging into the flesh of your aching skin.

“Have you touched yourself today?” he asks as he circles you again, peeling his hands over your arm as you shiver from his rough fingers.

“N-no,” you stutter out, falling over your words. Except you had. You did earlier in the shower, thinking of Joel’s hands, pretending his fingers were yours as you made yourself feel good, spilling yourself all over the tiled floor as you called his name. Joel, Joel.

“You filthy little liar. I know you did. I can smell your arousal all over your fingers.” He grabs your hand tight and pulls it up to his nose as he inhales deeply, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent. When he opens his eyes up, he takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks slowly, watching you with cold, heavy eyes. Your eyes go wide as you watch him slurp your taste up. A wave of slick runs down the seam of your lacy underwear, and you have to squeeze your legs shut at the growing throb that’s now aching to be touched.

He releases your fingers slowly as you watch him pool his saliva all over you, watching it slide over your hand as he drops it back to your knees with a slapping sound that echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He makes a slow, steady circle around you as he halts right next to you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as he bends and places his hands on his knees, slowly curving his spine as he eyes you with a hard line strewn across his lips. You gulp and sit up straight. You’re in trouble, you know it too.

“I, I didn’t mean to…” you squeak out carefully.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he growls. You automatically go quiet, afraid to interrupt him again. “The next time I find out you pleasured yourself without me, I’m gonna make you fuck yourself on my fingers while I watch, you got that?” he hisses.

Your mouth drops open at the mention of you fucking his fingers yourself, and you have to gulp down a moan at the thought of it. “Mhm,” you hum.

“Repeat it!” he yells, anger seething up in him.

“Yes, I understand,” you say with your eyes low, looking down at your shaking hands.

“Good.”

He skates around and stops in front of you, bending down as he places his rough hands on your knees. “Now, what are we gonna do with you, huh? You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks as he moves your hands away and places his own on the end of your sheer nightgown.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky as he inches your nightgown higher, grazing his calloused fingers over your thighs, feeling that low tingling sensation start in the back of your spine.

“Good. That’s good,” he groans as he pushes your nightgown up higher and higher, climbing up your thighs until no more material is touching your legs. The only thing left is your white lacy underwear that are ruined from how drenched you are.

“Now, tell me. What were ya thinkin’ about in the shower?” he asks as he slowly pushes your thighs apart, trailing his fingers up nice and slow as he teases you, getting you all worked up for him.

“You, I was thinking about you,” you gasp as he pushes your legs even further, causing more slick to build up from the action of his rugged hands.

“Were ya thinkin’ of these fingers curling up inside you as I make you cum? Or maybe my tongue swirling around that pretty pink clit of yours?” he purrs as he glides his fingers against the edges of your lace, almost touching you where you need him as he ghosts over your center.

“Y-yes, both. Please, Joel,” you beg as he teases you again, ghosting over you without so much as a light touch to your aching center.

“Please what?” he asks with his brown eyes growing darker, the edges of his pupils expanding into dark coal.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, licking your lower lip in anticipation. He sees you slide your tongue over your lip and you see his eyes grow sharper, arousal swirling all around his black pupils.

“Well, since you asked nicely.” He glides his fingers through your clothed folds, and you gasp at the feeling of your budding arousal. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” he groans as his chest rises and falls in waves, pulling his fingers away again as you huff in frustration.

He loves to tease you, loves to torture you as he builds you up and then makes you beg for it. He wants to hear it, wants you down on your knees as you plead and moan for him, calling his name as you beg again and again. Touch me, taste me, fuck me.

“Joelllll,” you beg again, dragging the last syllable out as you call his name, needing his fingers on you, needing his tongue, his cock, his everything.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he teases, trailing his fingers over your seams again as he slowly unhooks the material from your hips. He slides the wet material down your legs and disposes of them on the ground, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

He pushes your thighs apart and smooths a thumb over your center as he slides it all the way up, collecting slick as he goes along. You shudder under him as you feel yourself drip on the wooden chair, so turned on that you feel like you could orgasm right at this moment. “Goddamn, you're drenched,” he groans as he takes his thumb in his mouth, sucking all the slick off as he stares into your eyes intensely. And fuck, it’s hot.

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and show me exactly what you were doing in the shower. Go on,” he nods at you. “Show me how you touched yourself.” He stands back against the wall and leans on it, crossing his arms and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration, watching as his flexed muscles pull at his plaid shirt. “Any day now,” he says sternly. “Touch yourself. Now,” he growls. You automatically obey and nod up at him.

You gulp saliva down your throat and slowly bring your right hand over your center, gently pressing your fingers to your throbbing clit as you circle yourself, leaning back into the chair as a quiet moan escapes your mouth as you feel the pressure building fast. You’re so close, already so close.

“Eyes on me,” he commands as the low, guttural sound emits around the room.

You pull your head up and lock eyes with him as you focus on your breathy moans, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again. You hear the pulsing blood rush through your ears, feel your body tense as you close in on your orgasm. Almost there, almost.

“Place a finger inside you,” he commands, his voice vibrating through your bones. You obey and slide your middle finger inside as you feel the drenched, tight walls cave around your finger. “Another,” he demands as his eyes go pitch black watching you play with yourself. You slide a second one in and curl them up, hitting the spongy walls that threaten to make you cum.

You let out a loud, aching moan as you curl your fingers again and again while your thumb circles your clit in meticulous circles. Your mouth shapes into an O position as you feel your walls clench around you. You pull out a deep rising orgasm that starts low in your spine and spreads over your heated cunt as you climb higher and higher into bliss.

“Good girl,” he growls as he watches your orgasm wash over you. White, hot heat spreading through your entire body as you ride out your first orgasm, throwing your head back as your eyes roll back into your skull, feeling the wooden chair become soaked with your slick.

You take a moment to come back down to earth, back to where you can breathe again. Feeling your ragged breaths become even as you open your eyes and focus on Joel as he stands in the corner brooding and revelling in your pleasure. He’s breathing fast as his broad chest moves up and down, can practically hear him as his breaths come out choked and fast. He’s turned on, you can see the bulge in the outline of his dark jeans as he takes you in with his eyes, trailing over your center again.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks with a deep voice rasping in the back of his throat.

“Yes, so good,” you breath out tensely. “Want you to make me feel good though,” you beg as you open up your legs for him, feeling his eyes scrape over your soaked outline.

“Oh? Think you learned your lesson?” he asks curiously with a raised brow.

“Yes, promise,” you confirm, already biting your lip at the anticipation of his fingers on you.

“Mmm, alright. Since you did what I asked, I guess you earned a reward.” He stalks toward you, bending down before you as he gets on his knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders, slowly trailing his fingers up your inner thighs as he works you up again, getting you ready for your second orgasm.

“Look at this pretty pussy, all soppin’ and drippin’ for me. Want me to make you wetter? Want me to make you see stars?” he purrs as he blows on your center, making you buck your hips up at the breezy feeling as it tickles your most sensitive areas.

“Fuck, yes,” you squirm, begging for his touch.

“Mmm patience, little lamb. Gonna take ya nice and slow. You gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?” he groans as a deep growl escapes his chest.

“Yes, fuck. I’ll be the best girl, your best girl,” you whine out.

“Mmm that’s what I like to hear,” he praises. Before you can respond, he licks a long, slow stripe up your center as you moan out his name.

“What’s that, little lamb? Couldn’t hear you over your moans,” he teases.

He pulls you lower in the chair as the wood scrapes along your back, feeling his rough hands wrap around your thighs tight. He inhales deeply and then spits on your cunt in a degrading, ravishing way. He takes his thumb and spreads the warm spit over your folds as you writhe under his touch.

“Hold still,” he warns as he presses his other hand on your thigh. You nod up at him and let him continue stroking his thumb up and down you, spreading your wet folds as he gently presses slow circles around your bundle of nerves. You let out a low, drawn out moan as he slips two fingers inside you and flicks his tongue back and forth in slow, lapping circles, so close to bringing you to the heavens again, so close to orgasm already.

One more thrust inside of you and then he’s pulling his fingers out, leaving your clit as he takes his mouth off you and backs up, dropping your legs from his shoulders as he stays straddling in between your legs. Why did he stop? Why did he fucking stop?

“Joel, I need to…I need to…” you whine out. He hushes you with the swipe of his finger to your lips, and you quietly pout as your eyebrows furrow together. Need to cum, need to cum.

“Think you deserve it?” he asks as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue, building you up even more as you beg to cum.

“Yes,” you cry out, your clit throbbing with need, your body sick with desperation to let go.

He chuckles a low laugh and smirks up at you, his dark eyes honing in as the black pits expand around him. He’s cruel, wicked, a devil in disguise as he torments you. He knows what he’s doing, he knows.

Filthy trickster, vicious teaser. Cruel, cruel, cruel, the voices whisper in your mind, filling you with regret and longing as you dig your nails into the wooden chair, feeling your body screaming at you. Let go, let go. Need to cum, need to cum. Joel sees the torment in your needing eyes, sees the way you’re scraping your nails into the wood as you beg him to release you with your watering eyes.

“You know, the female orgasm is a complex thing. I can feel you screaming inside to let go, can see the way you ache for release.” He grunts as he pushes a wet, hot finger inside your mouth, slowly pushing a second in as he slides his fingers further up, feeling your saliva cake around him.

“Suck,” he commands. You do as he says and suck his fingers, feeling your sweet arousal slide down the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he praises, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps his fingers inside your panting mouth.

“It’s just so hot to watch you suck my fingers with your dripping slick all over them,” he says as he bites his lip, sending his fingers further down your throat as you gag and choke on them, seeing his eyes become full black pits as he watches with pleasure. “Such a good girl, choking on my fingers. Wanna see you choke on something else,” he growls as his sharp incisors beam up at you in a smirk as he slowly releases his fingers from your mouth, pulling saliva with him.

You groan at the sight of his disheveled, tousled curls, at the grey patchy beard that encases his face, at the smoldering stare he’s giving you, at that devilish smirk that’s taunting and teasing you in the most torturous way.

“Your mouth. God, your mouth looks so inviting, and your teeth. They’d feel so good closed around my neck,” you whine as you beg him to finish you off, let you cum in peace.

“Mhmm. The better to eat you with, my dear,” he smirks. The little red riding hood quote takes you for a ride as you feel your cunt clench up around nothing, needing a release.

He smirks up at you once more and winks before he dives back into you, his fingers curling up inside as they jab up into your spongy spot, his mouth pulling and sucking your clit into his mouth. You feel the bubbling sensation, feel the waves crashing around you as they pull you under, drowning you in a wave of bliss and white heat as it explodes around you. You scream his name loud and desperate as you feel yourself let go. You clench around his fingers and then release, spilling your slick all over him. But what takes you by surprise is that’s not all.

You feel another orgasm take over as your body crumbles underneath him as he continues licking up your slick, working his fingers up and down you as he draws out more, spilling all of you, taking all of you for himself. Selfish, so selfish. But he builds you up so good that this is the best release you’ve ever experienced, like you’re walking on cloud nine as you feel a squirting sensation take over. Feeling yourself inject him with your slick as it sprays all over the front of his plaid shirt.

“Goddamn!” he yells as he pumps his fingers inside you, slowing his rhythm as he works it all out of you. You feel your legs shake and shutter around him as he holds your thighs open, not letting you close until he’s gotten every last drop out of you. After a few seconds of total bliss, you feel your body relax as there’s no more. That was the most intense orgasm of your life, and you wanted more. Needed him to continue to do that for however long this would go on.

“See what happens when I make you wait, when I tease you,” he smirks. “Makes you feel that much better,” he smiles, a devilish grin taking form on his face.

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller,” you respond out of breath, your eyes glazed over as you look over his aroused face.

“A menace, huh? Is that what I am?” he laughs.

“Yes,” you say carefully.

“Better watch your mouth,” he warns, slowly sliding his hands over your pale skin as he drags over your thighs, ending at your knees.

“What if I don’t?” you mock, wanting to test the waters, wanting to feed his anger. Keep quiet, keep quiet, the voices whisper. But you don’t listen. You never listen, always pushing them aside.

He stays quiet for a moment, but you see his features turning from day to night. He’s furious, his anger fuming inside him as you challenge him. Back down, back down, run, the ghosts scream. But you don’t. You stand your ground, let him rip into you as he takes control. You want him to, you need him to. He’s ruined you like the dead soil that lies in the snowed over dirt outside. He fucking ruined you.

You watch as his eyes turn frigid, his blood running cold as his eyebrows furrow up, his rage conforming to every bone in his hollow body. He’s on you in the next second, his hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes just slightly, not enough to hurt you. He’s warning you, declaring his dominance over you. Telling you that he owns you, controls you.

He hovers in front of your face as his hot breath blows over you, smelling a hint of coffee and whiskey as it surrounds you like a cloud. You could get drunk off his scent, drunk off him. “Don’t you dare talk back to me, little lamb. You know what happens when you open that pretty fuckin’ mouth of yours.” He narrows his eyes as they stare into you like sharp daggers.

He squeezes your neck tighter and you try to open your mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s not to the point of pain. He never goes too far, only gets you close. It feels good, so good the way he’s squeezing, the veins in your neck begging him to put more pressure into it. You’re sick, infected with his poison with the way he mind fucks you into doing anything he says. You're a puppet, and he’s pulling all the strings.

Get out, get out, they scream. He comes to take, he comes to destroy, they warn. But you don’t care. Let him destroy. You want him to, need him to destroy your body. You let him take, let him consume you as he throws you to the wolves. Except he is the wolf, and he is the one that tears you apart piece by fucking piece. A lamb to a wolf’s slaughter.

He ghosts his lips against your ear, slowly biting down on your earlobe as he pulls down sharply. You wince and he lets go slowly. His rough tongue glides up your jawline as he squeezes lightly around your throat, building that sweet pool of arousal up again as he twists your emotions. You can barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. He’s been so rough with you, has done so many demoralizing things as he takes and takes from you, feeding his hatred and anger from the ghosts of his past. But he makes you feel so good, so fucking good. You can never deny him, can never run from him. You want it, you want it. So you’ll have it, you’ll have him.

“I could just eat you right up,” he purrs as he bites at your lower lip, pulling it back and releasing as it slaps back into place. You feel the sting of his teeth mark your throbbing lip, but it feels so good. So good.

“So do it. Take me,” you beg, choking out the words with his strong hand wrapped around you.

His eyes go black as he smirks up at you, his eyes smoldering into yours. “You asked for it, little lamb. Now c’mere.” He growls as he releases his death grip on your neck and yanks you out of the chair, slamming you into the white wall as he pins your arms above you and shoves the sheer nightgown up your body. He rips it over your head and tosses it to the floor in a heap.

You feel the cold air across your bare skin as his body crowds you, his lips sinking deep into your neck as he bites at the thin flesh. He pulls and tugs and sucks in a needy, aggressive way. You release breathy moans as the pain turns to pleasure, as you fall deep into the wolf’s trap as he claws at you. Taking, taking, taking. He’s rough, insensitive, always taking what he wants, what he craves. But you let him, you always let him.

He rolls your nipples with the pads of his rough thumbs, gathering your breasts as he kneads them together, making you pebble underneath him as he bites at them, leaving marks all over you. He claims, he takes with no regard for you. It’s what he needs, but you need it just as bad now. He’s brought you to ruin again and again, and he’ll continue to take advantage. You’ll let him, you’ll let him.

He glides his tongue back up to the crook of your neck and bites hard as you scream in both pleasure and pain. It’s too much, too much. But you take it, allowing him to have his way with you. He needs it, he needs it.

You feel the edge of his bulge against your leg as his hips dig into you, feel the shape as your body shakes around you. You want it, you need his cock. Your hands are still held against your will above you, so you lift your leg up slowly, skimming the base of him as you feel his large length through his denim. He grabs your leg fast and shoves it down as he grabs your chin and brings your eyes to his level.

“Did I say you could fucking touch me?” he snarls as his jagged teeth shine in the moonlight.

“No…” you whisper scarcely.

“No is right,” he snarls with bared teeth. “You do as I say when I say it. Got it?” he asks as he shoves you up against the wall, keeping his hand planted firmly against your jaw.

“Yes, sir,” you respond with a shaky breath.

“Good girl,” he smirks. “Now, let me teach you a little lesson on how to fucking do as you’re told,” he growls. “Stay,” he commands as he leaves you clinging to the thin wall. He saunters over to the wooden chair and takes a seat as he spreads his legs, palming himself slowly as one hand unlatches his leather belt and drops it to the floor with a clank.

“Get on all fours, now,” he commands as he swiftly unzips his jeans, slowly yanking them to the ground as he kicks off his leather boots and pushes the jeans to the floor, leaving him bare from the waist down. You gawk at the size of him, of that massive twitching erection as it plants firmly against his tight stomach, a bead of precum glistening on the swollen tip of him. He’s so fucking pretty sitting there, about to palm himself as he watches you. Something about that brings out the sultry, unruly side of you. You want to taste him, need to feel him inside you.

You’re on all fours, waiting for his commanding call as he allows you to come to him. You need to feel him, need to taste him, need to smell him as his hot arousal encases the air, taking over every logical sense of your brain as he calls to you in your mind. Come out, come out wherever you are, little lamb. Time to come play with the big, bad wolf.

“Crawl,” he growls from the middle of the room, glaring his dark black pits into your soul. You generously oblige as you scrape your nails over the wooden floor, feeling your knees drag behind you as you make your way to him slowly and steadily. You feel your eyes gloss over with pure lust as you stare up at him, watching him pump his hand up and down his large cock, spreading precum all over himself. You gulp at the sight, at the massive length he has on him.

God, he’s so big. So big that when he takes you, he stretches you to your limits. Splitting you in two as he drives into you over and over again. It’s never vanilla, it’s always rough. So very rough. But you like it. Like the way he feels inside you as he claims you, dominates you. You’re mine, all mine, he grits through his teeth as he takes you, digging his nails into your skin as he rips at you, shredding you to pieces.

Take me, take me, you beg through your mind. And you swear he hears you by the way he sits up straighter at full attention and smirks down at you with eyes full of pure lust. And he’s telling you now with his smirk, with his eyes. You’re mine, he growls. And you know it, you know it. His to take.

You grovel over to him, batting your long eyelashes up at him as if that’ll stir the desire in him. You bite your lower lip and flick your tongue across the edge seductively as you smolder for him. Take me, take me, you scream.

The anger builds in him as he snarls down at you and hisses as he continues to pump his large length. The thick veins cascade around his thick cock as shots of precum drip down around him, ending in his coarse, wiry hair. You want to taste him, need to taste him. You’ve never craved anyone like this in your entire life.

He wrapped his twisting vines around your wrists and pulled until he had a forceful hold on you. He dragged you through the pitch black forest and devoured your body, claiming you as his own in the first week he met you. And you were hooked ever since, never being able to say no to him. You could even hear the forest shrieking its warning calls. Run away, leave, get away from the wolf with dark eyes. But you didn’t listen, only hypnotized by the dark, dominant beast of the night.

When you finally reach him and work your way in between his legs, he grabs your jaw with his rough hand and forces you to open as he squeezes you tight. “Tongue out,” he presses and you fully oblige.

You stick your wet tongue out, and he brings the tip of his cock to you as you slowly lap at the end with your tongue. “Fuck,” he groans from deep in his chest as he stares down at you with a snarl. You slowly draw sensual circles with your tongue along his most sensitive spots and lap up precum into your mouth as you generously swallow the salty flavor of him. You smirk up at him as you lap at his tip, giving him your best smoldering eyes that you can.

You watch his eyes turn coal black as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls your eyes up to his. You wince at the pain simmering through your skull as he holds you tight, unable to move an inch from him. “Quit fuckin’ teasin’ me,” he growls as his piercing eyes sear through you like a knife. He pulls your hair tighter and you cry out in pain. “You gonna be a good girl and behave?” he asks with a twinge of anger in his deep voice.

“Mhm,” you nod as he stares his hard eyes into you.

“Better be.” He bares his teeth as he lets his grip drop from you, and you catch yourself on his knees. “Now be a good little lamb and show me how good your mouth fucks,” he growls as he sits back in the wooden chair and scoots his hips up, waiting to be pleasured by you.

You’re quick to appease him. You wrap a hand around his thick cock and slide your hand up and down, spreading precum all around his length, and then you take him in your mouth. You work him nice and slow as you bob up and down, up and down, gathering spit all over his cock. He moans a deep, sated sound out of his throat as he watches you with hollowed out black eyes.

You continue flicking your tongue and sucking his thick, substantial length as you work up and down to please him. You can tell he’s right on the edge of release by the way he’s clenching his jaw and breathing out ragged, concentrated moans. But he won’t end there, not tonight. He’ll push your boundaries, he always does.

As you pull back to his tip, he reaches down and grabs your hair hard and thrusts up into your mouth. He brings your head forward and forces you down as his large length hits the back of your throat, making your eyes start to water from the action. He doesn’t let up, he just keeps thrusting harder and faster as he mouth fucks you forcefully.

You choke and gag on him as he hits the back of your throat over and over again. Your mouth is a swimming pool of saliva as it drips down your chin, caking his cock with slick drool. You feel like you're drowning and can’t breathe underneath him, but he keeps going. He’s almost there, almost there. Need to breathe, need to breathe. Your eyes water as tears spill down your crimson cheeks and fall to the cold floor. He’s pushing you, always pushing you to your limits as he pushes past them. He loves when you choke on him, loves to hear the gargled, gagging sounds as your throat constricts around him. And when you look into his black eyes and see the way he bares his sharp teeth down at you, you know you made him feel good.

“You look so goddamn pretty choking on me, little lamb. Feels so fucking good when you deep throat me, when I fuck your mouth with my cock,” he moans as he pushes you deeper, nearly suffocating you under the weight of his massive cock that’s coated in drool. “Now you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow for me,” he commands as he thrusts inside you.

You can’t take much more. You’re out of breath and you’re digging into his thighs as you continue to take him, barely able to hold on anymore. You see him clench his jaw again, his breath speeding up as he groans curses out of his mouth. He’s there, he’s there. His dark eyes roll back as he holds your head in place and releases his load all through the back of your throat. You feel the white, hot liquid slide down your throat as you swallow the salty taste of him.

“Good girl. That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls as he finishes releasing himself in you. You watch his body go slack against the back of the chair as he breathes hot, whimpered moans from deep within his chest. He drops his hand from the back of your head, and you pull back, finally able to breathe again. You catch your breath and cough as you choke on more saliva and cum. You brace your hands on the cool floor and sink your nails into the wood, getting a grip on reality again as your body comes back to earth. Your voice is so shaky, so raspy as you wipe the drool from your chin and swipe the tears from your eyes.

He takes, he takes, the voices whisper. But you let him take, you let him ravage you as much as he wants. Don’t give in, don’t listen to the beast. But you do, you always do. The beast has claimed you as his, and little lambs always listen to their master.

The shrieking wind blows against your window, warning you of the beast that lies inside. Warning you that there’s danger near, and it’s lurking. That danger sits in your wooden chair, revitalizing himself before he crowds your body over the bed. He’s not done with you just yet. He needs to feed, needs to devour the entirety of you. He needs to destroy every last part of you as he claims you for himself over and over again.

He slowly pushes himself out of the wooden chair and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the cold floor as he grasps you tight. “On the bed,” he commands as he bares his teeth and pulls you over to the queen sized bed. He pushes you down as you fall on your back into the cool, satiny sheets.

He slowly unbuttons his plaid shirt as he stalks toward you with dark eyes that look like they want to devour you whole. When he gets to the last button, he pulls off the shirt and drops it to the floor, leaving him completely bare. He’s so goddamn handsome that it hurts to even stare for too long.

His broad shoulders and thick arms make it hard to breathe. His bulging veins that spider down his arms and cover his massive hands makes you want to whine in need. His tousled curls and brown flecked eyes make you want to come undone just from one look. They’re hypnotizing, spellbinding. And if you look close enough, you swear you can see the flash of yellow in his eyes as he stalks toward you, ready to pounce as he comes in for the kill.

Run, go now before it’s too late, the voices warn. The wolf comes to steal, the wolf comes to kill, they shriek. Let him, you whisper to the voices. You’re his to take. You want him to take. Take me, take me, you beg. And he will, he always does.

You feel the mattress shift underneath you as he drags his body over the edge of the bed, slowly crawling on top of you as his massive form hangs over you. His eyes are black pits as they stare at you, tempting you to come into the darkness as he drags you down again and again. Your eyes go wide and your pulse races in your neck as you stare up at the man made of nightmares.

“What’s the matter, little lamb? Scared of the big bad wolf?” he asks as he smirks down at you, his eyes pooled with darkness.

“No, I’m not scared,” you whisper out as you gulp down your fears.

“Then why can I smell the fear on you?” he smiles, his teeth like white, jagged razors.

“I’m not scared of you. No. I’m scared you’ll run off into the night and never come back.” Your voice comes out meek, breathy. Why the fuck did you just say that? His smile drops from his face and his eyebrows knit together. You can’t tell what he’s feeling, can’t tell what he’ll do. Don’t go, don’t go, you whisper. You need him. You need him.

His jaw flexes and relaxes as you see his waning features in the moonlight. He grazes his calloused fingers over your jaw slowly and comes to cup your chin as he pulls your eyes up to his. “You don’t have to worry about that, little lamb. Even if I run, I always come back. You’re mine and mine alone. Tell me who you belong to,” he growls possessively, making you desperate for his touch. You need him, you need him.

“You. I belong to you. I’m yours,” you gasp out, not able to hold on much longer. Touch me, taste me, devour me.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises.

Before you can comprehend what happens, he crashes his lips down to yours and devours you. Sucking, biting, kissing your throbbing lips as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and glides his rough tongue against yours. He swirls and swirls, filling up your senses with the taste of him. He tastes so fucking good, you could get lost in his whiskey taste, needing to drown in it until it fills up your lungs completely.

When he releases from your mouth, he cages his arms around your shoulders and crowds your body with his. “Little lamb, little lamb. What pretty eyes you have,” he purrs as he slowly pushes your legs apart with his knees, spreading you wide open for him to take. You bite your lip at the gentle praise and feel yourself become wet with arousal at the sight of him spreading you.

He lowers his head to your neck and licks a stripe up the side, right in the sensitive crevice of your neck. “And you taste so fucking good, I just love eating you up,” he groans as he bites down on your most sensitive nerve ending in your neck. You moan at the sharp, hot sensation as a wave of slick runs down your inner thigh.

He trails his hand slowly down your center, starting at your chin, gliding down your sternum, sliding over your abdomen, and ending at your wet, hot center. He spreads your soft folds and draws tight, slow circles around your clit as you hear the sloshing noises from your arousal.

“Joel,” you moan out, whining as it takes you under a sea of hypnotic pleasure. “Take me. Please, take me,” you beg.

“That’s right, little lamb. Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” he praises through your thick cloud of pleasure. “Gonna fuck you now, little lamb. Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he says with bared teeth.

“Please,” you beg as he takes his thumb off your clit and pulls you down further in the bed, angling your hips up as he wraps your legs tight around his back.

“You’re mine, little lamb. Mine,” he growls as he plunges his thick cock in you, spreading you wide and splitting you in two as you moan out in pleasure.

He keeps his strides steady and slow, quickly picking up the pace as he fucks up into you over and over again. Driving your moans out of you as he bottoms out inside you, pounding over and over again against your tight walls. He throws your legs over his shoulders and digs his nails into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, repeatedly hitting the soft, spongy area inside you over and over again. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much. You whine out as you moan his name over and over again. So good, it feels so good. You can feel the pressure building, feel your orgasm about to take form as your walls flutter against his cock.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, little lamb. Feels so fuckin’ good. Let go for me, want you to come for me. Tell me who fuckin’ makes you feel good. Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to,” he growls as he fucks inside you harder, pressing the pad of his calloused thumb against your throbbing bundle of nerves as he circles and circles, drawing that sweet orgasm out of you.

You feel the tingling sensation wash over your head, down your spine, and ending at your aching cunt as your toes curl around him. You keep your eyes trained on him as you’re barely able to keep them open. You feel your mouth drop open wide as you let out a loud moan that’s meant for Joel.

“You. I belong to you, Joel.” You scream out his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling your walls clench up around him and then release white slick all over his cock as he continues to thrust up inside you, as he continues to circle your pulsing clit. White, hot heat spills through you as you completely lose yourself to him. Your body feels staticky as your mind goes fuzzy and your brain fogs over, only thinking of the man with dark eyes that takes you over completely.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he growls as he leans over your body and hovers over you, driving his thick cock in and out, in and out. Bottoming out so many times that you see stars. He’s there, he’s almost there, he’s about to cum. Four more thrusts and his body tenses up, his black pupils expanding as he throws his head back and clenches his jaw. He spills his seed inside of you as you feel the sticky cum coat your walls. He claims you, he claims you, and you love it, can never get enough. Mine, mine, mine, he growls possessively. And you’re his, you’re all his.

He slowly pulls out of you as you feel his seed drip down your inner thighs. “Did so good for me, little lamb. So good,” he praises as he cleans the mess from your thighs, wiping away the evidence that he had been there. He collapses next to you in bed and pulls you to him as he wraps his strong arms around you, crushing you to his chest. It feels good, this feels good.

He always leaves right after he finishes, never stays to comfort or hold you. He’s selfish, mean, but tonight he holds you. He holds you. He stays. You don’t say anything about it, don’t ask him why he stays because he’ll just get up and leave, leaving you empty and alone.

You feel the heavy weight he holds close to him, feel the heartbreak he carries with him day after day, can feel the cold glass of the broken watch grazing against your back. But you don’t ask, don’t chance it. You feel the loss cover him, feel his anger seething somewhere underneath his calm demeanor. It’s there just waiting to pounce, waiting to lash out at whatever stands in front of him.

He’s the wolf that stalks Jackson, the wolf that terrorizes the forest, the wolf that haunts the whispering ghosts that lie buried in the cold, dead ground. He goes around destroying, rampaging, slaughtering in the thick of the night. He’s a menace that looks for anything he can sink his teeth into and bleed dry. He’s a looming threat over every area he enters, threatening to destroy and kill. He takes, he takes. Again and again. But that’s what wolves do. They hunt and they take and they dominate while their prey cower before them, just waiting for the kill.

Joel is a wolf. A reckless, vengeful, powerful wolf. He loves to devour, loves to control, loves to dominate you. But he also gives, never letting you go starving for his touch. He always comes at the dead of night, always pulls you from your deep sleep to tumble around with the wolf in the sheets.

He’s like a melodic, captivating melody that hypnotizes you, calling you into the forest night after night with his deep howl. You always go, never ignoring the call that’s meant for you and you alone. And when you go, the ghosts reach for you from under the dirt and try to pull you away, warning you of what you’re about to face. But you ignore them, stepping over their graves as if they were never there. You go, you always go. Never betraying the lonely wolf with the sad, dark eyes.

It’s now while he holds you tight in his arms that you realize maybe you were meant to find him. He’s broken, a lone wolf that walks the hollow streets of Jackson just trying to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting. And when you showed up a few months ago, it's like a little light turned on inside him when it was all around black before you came.

You see him now for what he really is. He’s not all bad, not all teeth and claws. He yearns to break free from his wolf form, begging to run free with the rest of the pack instead of being cast out like he is. You see it in his wrinkled forehead, in his jaw that repeatedly clenches and relaxes, in his dark brown eyes that hollow out when you stare into them.

He’s so close, so close that you smell his mahogany forest scent that clings to him as it pulls you in, intoxicating you into a relaxed state. He stares at you with those dark eyes, his chest breathing in and out in shallow waves. You try something new, feeling brave all of a sudden. You slowly reach out your hand and brush it through his tousled curls, gently moving away a dark piece that falls against the side of his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t lash out at you like a wild animal. He stays calm, just staring at you with a soft expression. His eyes change to a chocolate brown instead of the deep black pits he usually has. And then he surprises you by reaching his hand up slowly to your face, hesitating at the gentleness of himself. He trails his calloused fingers over your cheek, as light as a feather as he takes in your tranquil features.

He changes, he changes, the voices call. No more teeth, no more slaughter, they chant louder. A quiet victory to the ghosts that haunt the forest.

And just like that, you have tamed the wolf, controlling all his pent up rage, giving him the restitution he needed all along. You can see it in his big brown eyes, how he looks at you as if you saw him for the first time when no one else did. When no one else could give him what he needed. He needed someone that could understand all the hurt and loss he had been through. You’ve lost, you’ve died a thousand times through grief, but you found your way again through him. The hungry wolf that you were searching for all along.

And so the lost, scared lamb found herself in the face of the big, bad wolf. He came to destroy, to take, and to use. But you found a way to tame the claws, to tame the gnashing teeth. Somehow you controlled the beast, showing him that he truly wasn’t alone. Never leave, never leave, you call to him in your mind. And it’s like he can hear your thoughts because he drags his thumb lightly down your jawline and responds.

“I’ll stay, little lamb. I’ll stay,” he whispers. And he does, he does.

Maybe not all wolves are out to steal, kill, and destroy. Maybe there are wolves that are just lonely, broken, needing to know that someone understands them. Needing to know that they’re truly not alone. Joel is that wolf. He just needed to find you. He needed to find the lamb that wouldn’t run and cower in his presence. He needed a lamb that would stay by his side, that would show him the way out of the dark and into the light. He needed restitution. He needed you. He needed you.

And so he stays, he stays. The lonely, bleeding, broken wolf finding resolve and contentment with the quiet, gentle lamb. He stays.

Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @iamasaddie @ashleymsnodgrass @tuquoquebrute @whxtedreams @fanfictilltheend @burntheedges @cinnamongorll @studioghibelli @pedrostories @blueseastorm @trea-bae

[pedgito]

summary | a story of how things began, where they ended up, and where they might go. a collection of patrols over the course of several months is forcing you closer to joel than you ever imagined, tense circumstances leading to hasty decisions and one bad choice after the next. [17k+]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, set post s1 (but not specifically stated), lots of characters from the game (but not significant if you're unaware) grumpy!joel, friends (?) with benefits, sex under stress as a means for distraction (consensual), graphic depicition of an attack of raiders (it's brief, easy to skim over), a litany of sexual escapades (oral, unprotected, ect) semi-public sex (no one's around), orgasm denial, repressed emotions

author’s note | um, yeah. i had this idea back in february and had an outline that finally came to fruition over the past month. this was a serious labor of love and purely self-indulgence. if you make it through the entire thing, thank you! if this has typos please ignore. i proofread this like 4 times and i will cry

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Patrolling with Joel was always something. Miserable when Joel was having a bad day, mildly enjoyable on the days where he managed to have enough coffee that morning when you weren't on the rotation for the shitty patrols that took hours to trek through in this weather, the snow halfway up your shins nearly everywhere.

It’s been a few months now and Joel is still who you favor going with over anyone else—he’s thoughtful, methodical, always watching over his shoulder for danger. And Joel does warm up to you eventually, but the reluctance in his eyes is always there. He’s seasoned in the art of surviving, avoiding connection when at all possible. He doesn’t talk to you for the first month out of simple answers or orders, helping you get accustomed to a route you haven’t run before, but small talk? It’s nonexistent.

Maybe that was for the best. 

Because the first time you find yourself pinned under his gaze, fingers clenched around your wrists in warning, the unseemly thoughts invade your brain.

He doesn’t sleep often during patrols, either. So, it’s a little intimidating when you find him curled up on top of his sleeping bag when he swore he was taking a quick break, resting the ache in his back that quickly melted into a deep slumber. You can’t dare to wake him up so soon after, seeing how peaceful he looked when he slept, almost at ease but still carrying that deep scowl, permanently on his features. It was a part of him.

Tommy and Jesse had arrived to rotate and relieve you guys back to Jackson, something that wasn’t out of the norm, but you find yourself battling with leaning over him, shaking him awake and disturbing his slumber. And on a dime, the moment your hand connects with his shoulder, Joel is awake—very awake and subduing you with little resistance, your leg forced hastily between his own, eyes dark and pensive from where he held himself above you.

“Joel, Joel—it’s just me,” You spit out in a panic, “Tommy and Jesse, they’re outside.”

You’re not sure what breaks his stupor, be it the panic in your voice or the terrified look on your face, he relents quickly, apologizing half-heartedly under his breath.

You release a tight breath when he finally lets go, rising up slowly as he does, grabbing your pack without a word, as does he, watching as he rolled up his sleeping bag, something you’ve seen him do a million times before, but he feels you watching him, almost hesitant to speak now.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks lowly, the thickness of sleep in his voice.

“No, um—“ You shake your head, rubbing the skin of your wrist absently, “I guess I should’ve been more careful, but you fell asleep and I figured you needed it.”

He looks even more apologetic, more so for his actions but for also leaving you up alone, not that it really mattered to you. It was an easy patrol spot in the watchtower— it never caused trouble, so falling asleep was the least of your worries. 

You shrug when his eyes glance over your slightly hunched frame, shivering from the cold but an arm clutching around your middle. It’s defensive, a subconscious movement that Joel doesn’t even think you realize you’re doing.

He shouldn’t feel shitty about it, but he does. Still, he won’t admit that out loud.

“Next time I’ll keep six feet and poke you with a stick,” You joke, “kinda like waking a bear.”

You smile when Joel huffs reluctantly, a subtle motion of his chest as he chuckles. It’s faint, but you see the involuntary quirk at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his sleeping bag into his pack and rose to his feet.

“Hey, you’ve still got decent reflexes,” You shrug, passing him by with the soft scuffle of your feet, shoulders rubbing against each other awkwardly as you turn toward him over your left shoulder, his body too close for his own comfort, “for an old guy.”

He scoffs at the implication, though any maliciousness in his expression is void, “Old?”

He knows it’s the truth, he just hates the implication. He’s weaker, but not any less that man he was than that he is now. He watches your face scrunch up in amusement, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. 

“Joel, I’m fucking with you,” You tell him, the tense in his brow relaxing slightly, “it’s gonna be a long ride back, isn’t it?”

“Ah, don’t know—think you can handle travelin’ with the old guy for a few hours?”

Joel doesn’t divert to humor often, but when he does, it’s a sweet sight, that rough exterior cracking under your gaze more often. 

“Please,” You puff your lips out in a quick huff, yanking your back over your shoulder, “I can handle you just fine.”

Once you got to know him, it was actually quite easy.

Joel nods his chin forward silently, ignoring your teasing for the time being, a long ride ahead of you and not nearly enough patience on his end to deal with your antics.

And you try to ignore how intensely his touch lingered on your skin, rubbing the tender spot on your wrist during the long ride back to Jackson. 

Joel keeps his distance behind you, but he sees it—the subtle look over your shoulder every now and then, your eyes lingering with him when he forces eye contact.

It’s only the start of what was to come, something neither of you were prepared for.

*

The rotation is adequately simple over the first few months, keeping the pairings fair by filtering them out evenly—Ellie is fun to be around, a lot more relaxed and less jaded by everything. She keeps things light, always bringing along her comics for extra entertainment or spending her time drawing you or whatever she could find, something to keep her busy when things get boring. And she talks, freely, to you—something Joel never did. Besides, Ellie kept up to date on the town drama, so in turn, so did you. 

And Tommy is, well, Tommy. He’s efficient, likes to do his rounds, sign the patrol sheet, scope the area, then spend the rest of the night or day relaxing away when things aren't going awry. He talks about before—his job, how people lived in Austin, the summer cookouts in the neighborhoods that you were never privy to. Tommy’s nice, you’ve always liked him. It was Joel who proved to be the difficult one, something Tommy would wholeheartedly agree with.

Eventually you find yourself paired up with Joel more often than you’re used to, now Ellie would stick to patrols with Dina when she could, occasionally Jesse. She always complains when she has to ride with Joel, something about:

“We live together, but we’re not attached at the fuckin’ hip.”

Joel doesn’t complain, his hesitancy toward letting Ellie take more responsibility waning by the day when he realizes how well she holds her own.

You take the patrol further west, a lodge that he and Tommy cleared out some months prior when you were still new—you’ve only ran into infected there once, end of the summer, but Joel cleared them out no problem. 

It seemed like an easy patrol. It was. Joel even seems a little more cheerful than usual, making comments to some of the information you were relaying to him that Ellie told you, some pointless gossip to fill the lull.

“It’s why I mind my business,” Joel speaks over the soft trollop as you ride alongside him, “nothin’ good comes from stickin’ your nose where you shouldn’t,” his head turns, eyes glancing over your frame briefly, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to loosen them, “it only breeds more problems.”

“I’m just the messenger,” You shrug, “I keep to myself—you know that.”

He does. He finds the shyness endearing in a way, a contrast from how exuberant Ellie could be when he spent patrols with her. It’s why things worked so well with you—you respected his space, he respected yours. 

“Remind me to check that guitar place for those strings Ellie’s been buggin’ about,” Joel tells you, “I’ll hit it before we leave.”

“She’s improved a lot,” You compliment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “props to her teacher, I suppose.”

Joel shakes his head, emitting a bit of fondness every time he talks about Ellie, “That kid is determined. I don’t think she would’ve needed my help either way.”

“You know,” Your tone bleeds something teasing, putting Joel on edge as he tilts his head your way, looking expectantly, “she said you’re a pretty good singer.”

Joel opens his mouth for a beat before snapping it shut, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to sing,” You promise, “but—I don’t know, just didn’t pin you as the type.”

“I’ve got a type about me?” Joel seems dully interested, a soft smirk on his face as he yields the reins to a stop, leading you to follow suit as you both guide the horses to the makeshift stable tucked away on the side of the building, gathering your things before you make your way inside.

You leave Joel in a curious silence until you’re able to relax, closing the doors behind you with a heavy shove once Joel has done his quick walk-through, the fireplace setting unlit in the middle of the room looking all too appealing right now. 

“Look, I’ll just keep askin’,” Joel says, clapping his hands together deftly to grab your attention, throwing the lighter stuffed into your coat pocket at his waiting hands, cupped as he catches it with ease, setting up a fire that crackles to life instantly, “first I’m an old man, now you’re judgin’ me, doesn’t really seem fair now does it?”

It’s the most he’s talked to you before, suddenly invested in getting an answer out of you. It’s playful, his intention, and you can’t help but find it a little enjoyable to watch him squirm. You take a seat around the circular fire pit, feet propped up against the brick surrounding it, hands laying flat over you stomach, jacket unzipped but still snug on your body.

“You’re a big grump all the time,” You tell him honestly, his face morphing into something indecipherable, “—Ellie’s words, not mine.”

You hold a finger up, pointing in his direction.

“But, she’s not wrong.” It earns a subtle shrug, Joel’s arms stalling over the back of the couch that wrapped around the fire pit, a few feet away from you still. “I’m just saying, most of the people in town who enjoy that stuff—you know, music and all that. They’re loud about it, a little showboaty if you ask me.”

“What? I’m not loud enough for you?” 

He was loud when he needed to be. Directive and strong, aggressive to anyone who may cause him harm or anyone he cares about—you’ve seen it a few times, but never on the side of it being just you and him. Part of you is thankful for that, but you can’t help the wanted to feel that type of fierce protection aimed toward you.

You snort softly, “Forget it, Joel. It’s a nice surprise, I bet you have a great voice.” It’s free of any teasing or ill-intent of riling him up. A true compliment, one that cracks Joel’s surface, just barely.

Joel hits you softly in the chest with a bag of jerky a while later, chewing on a piece quietly as he rests, neck hung against the back of the couch, eyes closed. The heat creeps in slowly, forcing you to strip down a few layers—jacket first, then your sweater, down to just your jeans and shirt, wiggling your feet out of your snow boots in hopes that they’ll dry by the fire quicker. 

And truthfully, your bored out of your mind. It was hard to stay dormant like this, holed up in a place for an extended period of time with nothing to do but entertain yourself—and because Joel was about as entertaining as watching wet paint dry, you took the initiative into your own hands.

“Have you ever played pool?” Your voice slices through the thick silence, one of Joel’s eyes peeking open curiously, head still reclined back. “I’ve been dying to try this out since Tommy found those balls a few months ago.”

“It’s been years,” He mumbles lowly, tapping his fingers against the back of his right palm, “—what about you?”

“Not a chance, Joel,” You reply, voice oozing with a flippant vagrancy, “I was fifteen when the outbreak happened, I’ve never even stepped foot into a bar, let alone some place like this.”

Even now, twenty years into a world that had crumbled to the ground, the lodge still held up nice.

Normally you would expect Joel to make up some excuse, roll over on his side or lay down and pretend he was asleep or keep watch by the door, his demeanor never faltering for more than a second, clipped answers to your question. But, that was Joel wasn’t here now.

He’s warmed up to you, partially—but you could tell there was still a long way to go. He still keeps his distance, less of a chance to bump into your or accidentally brush shoulders. It makes you feel forlorn, like maybe you had scared him by how you reacted, eyes wide and terrified underneath him. 

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t want to scare you again. He couldn’t handle it. Not with how reluctantly fond he’s grown of you, something he kept close to his chest and didn’t dare tell a soul. He’s got his own justifications for it. 

“We can play a game,” Joel suggests, “it’ll kill some time, I guess.”

Joel didn’t need to know how easy it would be for you to play him under the table, having spent most of your time around the guys at the bar who like to hustle bets for pool. They never stood a chance. And Joel never frequented The Tipsy Bison outside of parties thrown for the community as a group (and that was still rare), always dragged along by Ellie or Tommy. They were insufferable to attend. 

You could share the sentiment. 

“Any bets?” You tease, stripping the pool cues off the wall and handing it to him as he approaches, strip down to a similar state as well, tanned skinned under a navy blue shirt, wearing the jeans he seemed to never take off and boots that were barely holding on. 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Joel decides, “I’ve got nothin’ in mind anyways.”

“God, you’re no fun,” You pout, pulling an eye roll from Joel, his eyes flicking toward the ground briefly as he reconsidered, “come on—anything.”

“Jesus—uh, I don’t know,” He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, “huh, how about the loser just owes the other a favor?”

You blow a raspberry with your tongue, “Lame,” You tease further, but his quick switch to defeat has his arm slumping at his side forcing you to reassess, “—fine, fine. A favor is fair, I’m running low on those anyways.”

It’s a small hint at your competitive nature, something Joel is clueless to pick up on, guiding you through the basics of the game with ease—you listen intently despite how badly you were going to destroy him, the stakes surprisingly high.

A favor. For anything. 

The small crack of a smile on Joel’s face is enough of a reward as he watches you attempt to break the set, barely tapping the center as it rolls back slowly, your face scrunching up in annoyance. 

“Oh, fuck you,” You scoff playfully, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Joel shakes his head in a blatant attempt at lying, heaving his cue up to show you his stance, “Keep your dominant hand on the end and your other near the type, you’ve just gotta guide it through with some force.”

You feign innocence, switching the cue to your dominant side, though still looking visibly uncomfortable and rigid. 

Joel thinks it over in his hand, rehashing his decision making a million times over until he’s resting the pool cue aside and joining your side, hesitant as he brings his hands to your elbows from behind, keeping a careful distance.

“Keep your arm a little further back,” He pulls at your dominant arm, thick fingers wrapping around your bicep, his body leaned forward slightly to adjust the other when he can’t reach, spreading your fingers to wrap around the other end, tucking your thumb under the cue gently at wrapping your index over the top, “it’s almost like you’re holding a pencil, if that helps. Sort of.”

You nod slightly, his touch lingering lightly as he leaned over you, pointing toward the center of the table, “Just use that hand as a guide, don’t grip it too tight and let the cue follow through. Here, try it.”

He crowds you in slowly, aiding you in the force of your cue as he guides it back and through with a sharpness, hitting the ball dead center and the rest of them scattering as a result.

“Just like that.” He praises, a softness to him that wasn’t there before when speaks over your shoulder. You roll your shoulders insignificantly, nodding at his response.

He notes how unbothered you are this way, in this situation compared to the latter, his touch guiding and soft compared to rough, suffocating, the force he only used in situations where his opponent wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Joel parts without so much as a word, shifting into his typical stance, favoring his right leg as it bends slightly, using the cue for support as he leaned into it. “Got it?”

You nod silently, feeling warm all over, too warm. It’s your own fault, really—not a soul to blame but yourself. To be fair, you didn’t think Joel would bother to take the bait. But he did, almost too eagerly. It was enough to mentally knock you on your ass, leaving you to play the rest of the game with a cloudy mind filled with how warm his touch felt against your bare skin, craving a touch you haven’t felt in months. It’s pathetic, but you can’t help it. 

Joel sinks the last ball with finality, slapping his hand against the felt table in triumph, a surprising show of emotion for someone so sullen as him. He was full of surprises you were quickly finding out.

“M’sorry, darlin’.” He tells you, sounding authentically apologetic, “I don’t expect you to owe me any favors.”

“Screw that,” You shake your head stubbornly, annoyed at how easily you let him get the better of you, “one more.”

“I’m not sure if that’s—“

“One. More.” You tell him adamantly, reracking the balls without an answer, nodding pointedly toward the table, “Pick a pocket.”

Joel’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion, “You want to play one-pocket? How the hell do you even know about—I thought you said you’ve never played.”

“Joel, pick a damn pocket.” 

You don’t choke this time, letting him take the first hit, watch the ball sink, and the next one he misses. 

You don’t miss, one turn after the other passing him up as you sink them in succession.

He stares at you with wide eyes, nose flared like he’s going to laugh, mouth spread into a subtle smile, his teeth peeking through.

“You’re a fuckin’ pool shark, aren’t you?” Joel questions, tossing the pool cue aside. “That was goddamn impressive, I’ll give you that.”

“How do you think I score the steak sandwiches for our routes over the tuna and cheese?” You ask redundantly, “I’ve played Tommy under the table enough times that he won’t even play for fun anymore.”

“Well,” Joel shrugs, “guess we both owe each other favors, don’t we?”

You could care less about the favors now, battling with the conflicting feelings as you stared at the man ahead of you, seeming like a completely different person to you now. He's acting nothing like the sulky man you walk by every day in Jackson.

“Shit—one more,” Joel insists, “no holdin’ back on each other. No bets, just braggin’ rights.”

Joel never hears the end of it that night, falling asleep to the faint giggle of victory.

Another few weeks later and things are even more different. 

You spot Joel from a mile away, tucked against the corner of the bar with wistful eyes downturned toward his drink, the ice in the glass swashing alongside the dark whiskey. The squeal of a couple kids and their scattering feet as they ram into you and pull your attention away, guiding them away to safety and out of the crowd with a gentle hand, a pair of apologetic parents waiting off to the side.

He must’ve seen the interaction halfway through, smirking with amusement as you approach, though still eerily silent. 

Your friendship since the pool game has blossomed slowly, he jokes with you more often, shares his food when he hears your stomach growl, no matter how much you refuse. He even talks about his hobbies, things he enjoys, and it feels like he’s less of an enigma now. Real, tangible, someone you can make a connection with.

He still keeps his distance, mostly—the pool game was a fluke, a split second decision he hadn’t thought through and fully regretted after the fact. He’s gone from tackling you to the ground in fear to feeling you up for a good shot and that just doesn’t sit right with him, but he never apologizes. He can’t find it in him to embarrass himself further, figuring that by getting his ass kicked at pool was already punishment enough.

But, it doesn’t help that he always finds himself in situations that end up with him closer than he intended—he can’t tell if you’re being intentional about it anymore, but tonight, it’s all you.

“Damn, who dragged you out of the house?” You ask, a huff of a laugh muffled by the glass that tips to his lips, your fingers drumming silently against the bar as you asked for a beer, smiling at a familiar face. “Wait, let me guess—Ellie?”

Joel shakes his head honestly.

“Shit—Tommy?”

“No.”

“Maria forced Tommy to force you to show up?” Joel actually has a laugh at that, the idea not that far-fetched, but it’s another wrong answer.

“Joel Miller—“ Your finger wags in his face, landing on the center of his chest as you sip from your own drink with your opposite hand, “did you actually wander out of your house on your own free will?”

Guilty as charged. Joel would never make decisions like this, but he knew you would be there—and goddamnit, he couldn’t help it. He’s dressed incredibly suave too, a clean, slick dress shirt that works well on him, a nice change from his usual thick coats and plaid button ups. 

“Hey, brother,” Tommy claps a hand down on Joel’s shoulder warmly, flashing you his trademark grin, teeth and all, “ma’am.”

You grimace at the word, “God, Tommy—you gotta stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, habit.” He chuckles before glancing over at Joel briefly, eyes connecting with yours in question, “So, what are we thinkin’—hell finally freeze over?”

“Seems that way.” 

You play along, teasing Joel with no reluctance, enjoying the pinched look on his face as he downs the whiskey.

“Well, sorry Joel, but I came to steal her away for a dance,” He informs Joel, jabbing his thumb in your direction, “it is tradition, after all.”

Joel didn’t know that, of course. How could he?

Tommy always takes a minute or two to dance with you, one of his favorite songs being played by the band of townspeople—Maria doesn’t enjoy dancing as much either, spending most of her time mingling and helping out where it was needed, it’s an easy compromise. 

It’s an upbeat song, something country that you can’t be bothered to memorize the words of, but it’s all big twists and twirls, dancing with little precision and more for pure enjoyment than anything else.

Joel tries not to stare, he does. But, it’s nearly impossible. It starts at your face, lingering as he savored that huge smile plastered across it, arm flying above your head as Tommy spun you, squealing in joy. Eventually it travels elsewhere, lower and lower, until Joel can’t help but keep his gaze stuck on the curve of your jeans, the way the denim cups your ass perfectly. 

And it feels wrong, almost demeaning, but you don’t seem to have a care in the world, turning on your heels and to Joel suddenly, who’s already straightened up by then and shoving his glass away, poised to make his excuse to leave until you’re bounding toward him, hand outstretched as Tommy watches from the side, hands settled on his hips. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

“Come on, Joel.” You try to persuade, using a grabby motion with your hands as you approach him closer, bordering on shoving yourself between the bar top and his legs, “Just one dance.”

“Darlin’ I don’t—“ His refusal is imminent, obvious in your eyes. But, you’ve got a trick up your sleeve that he’d never hear the end of if he denied you. 

“My favor,” You play your cards, “I’m cashing’ in.”

You cock your head to the side, awaiting his answer with a pointed look, satisfied smile creeping onto your face as he sighs, letting you take his hand in reluctance as you pull him to your feet.

Joel’s at least thankful the tempo of the song is slower, but that leads to a minacious closeness he wasn’t prepared for, your delicate set of fingers resting over his shoulder, the other slack in his hand. He settles one against your waist, touching cautiously light and his other hand enveloping your own.

“This is a waste of a favor, you know.” Joel comments off-handedly, his eyes dragging toward the floor as he swayed to the gentleness of the music, dancing with an ease that still stuck with him, even after all these years.

“I don’t think so,” You shrug, “I get a dance, you’re no longer in debt to me, seems like a win win.”

Joel shakes his head with a fondness, eyes flicking up toward you briefly as he bows his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he seems to relax, realizing that the only eyes on him were you now, Tommy having gone off to search for Maria.

“All these other guys and you want to dance with the old man,” Joel starts, “how’d you come to that decision?”

“You’re never letting that go,” You roll your eyes half-heartedly, pulling him in closer on a whim, trading your current position for one where your arms rest of his shoulders, fingers interlocking behind his neck loosely, his own hands adjusting against your hip more casually, fingers dancing over the sliver of bare skin from where your shirt had started to rise, “can I tell you a secret, Joel?”

“It’s not a secret if you tell me,” He counters slyly, “besides, I’m terrible at keeping ‘em.”

And blame it on the lingering remnants of his second whiskey, but you can feel his fingers drag against your skin, finding home under the fabric of your shirt, his expression never changing—but it feels like a test, like he’s waiting for you to have a reaction. There’s not a word traded during the subtle interaction, ignoring his actions as you spoke.

“I’d choose you over any of those guys,” You say, a rawness that bleeds truth, Joel doesn’t have to second guess you, he sees it, “and Seth is way older than you and a prick, give yourself some fuckin’ credit, Joel.”

Joel settles quietly, shaking his head at your soft outburst. It shouldn’t surprise him, your shared devotion having grown over the past few weeks, small moments that made Joel second guess everything he’s taught himself to be.

Distant, hard, cold. But with you, it just wasn’t possible anymore. At least, not lately. 

“And,” You sing, wiggling excitedly under his grip, “I may have saved your ass for patrol tomorrow.”

Joel looks at you expectantly, pulling you in closer when a quick pass of two rowdy kids has you stumbling forward. 

You laugh at the sudden change in motion, hands slapping against his chest to keep you steady. He doesn’t try and move you away, which is surprising. But, you don’t try to move either, enjoying the slow guide of your chest against his as you sway to the music.

“Tommy’s takin’ coverage with Eugene,” You tell him, “I know how much you hate patrolling with him.”

Joel huffs out a laugh, “I don’t hate him, he’s just—“

“Talkative? A little too cheery for you?” You ask, leaning your head back an inch to examine his face fully, “Damn, I guess I’m not much of an improvement, either.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Joel responds defensively, though his face is still relaxed.

“Then?” You tease.

“Let me ask you,” Joel switches things around, “You’d rather patrol with Tommy over me?”

You shrug before thinking about it for a moment, actually thinking—and no, you wouldn’t. “No, guess not.”

“Why?” He questions, putting you on the spot.

“You’re prettier to look at,” You say with a nonchalance, “and Tommy really likes to reminisce, like…a lot.”

Joel snorts a quiet laugh at that.

“So, you see my issue with Eugene then.” Joel brings the conversation to a head, watching as a smirk appears on your face, realizing his mistake in real time.

“Hold on— that’s why you enjoy our patrols so much?” You turn your head into your shoulder to hide your laugh, quickly gathering yourself to tease him further, “Because, I’m prettier to look at and I keep my mouth shut?”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, ignoring your question. “You do realize where we’re going tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Of course, we’re stationed out at the dam.” You respond casually, “It’s not that bad, Joel.”

It’s the one place you and Joel haven’t had the opportunity to patrol together, always paired up with someone else—it’s a cramped spot, loud, and uncomfortably cold at this time of year no matter how many fires you set. Plus, it’s a lot of leg work to check the dam, making sure it’s still in good working condition. It’s what powered Jackson, without it, you wouldn’t be dancing with Joel right now, let alone even allowed the luxury of having a weekend to unwind and enjoy the party. 

Joel looks hesitant.

“What?” You pry, “Don’t like the idea of being stuck in a tiny room with me for that long, one bed, nowhere to sulk off into a corner?”

If anyone else had approached him like this, it would’ve ended in a broken jaw—his own internalized anger getting the best of him. But, it’s you. And he knows you’re right. 

You squeeze in closer, leaving barely any room between you now that the center of the hall was filled with other dancing bodies, shifting Joel’s hands down over your ass, the tips of his fingers adjusting over the curve and leaving little to imagination as he can feel every ridge and curve of your body, his solid chest against your own. 

Your heart clenches at the idea that he might pull away, something akin to a bad sting and finally give up on his attempt at being sociable—he doesn’t move an inch.

Doesn’t say a word.

In fact, his gaze is even more intense now than it was before, edged with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’ll sulk wherever I feel like it.” Joel retorts, falling into his usual scowl. “It’s probably about time we turn in for the night, don’t you think?”

You blink slowly, gaze never faltering. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something still undiscovered. You nod blanky, but secretly acquiesce what he’s about to say.

“Long day tomorrow,” You agree, the shift in the air evident to the both of you, an innocent attempt at pulling some enjoyment out of Joel devolving into something dangerous and uncharted, “I’ll see you bright and early, yeah?”

“I’ll walk you back,” Joel insists, “maybe my sulkin’ will scare those boys who’ve been eyeing you all night.”

“I can handle myself, Joel.” He knows it—doesn’t make his offer any less tempting, though. He was a protector, you liked being protected. It was a devious offer that would find you in trouble soon, but you relent, accepting his help. He doesn’t make the first move, leaving you to take that step.

Joel doesn’t realize how badly he’s craved to touch you until he was, the second he laid his hands on you it was over for him—and he hates himself for letting you in, letting you wear him down. Joel’s close behind as you turn, navigating your way through the crowd quietly.

“Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat.

There’s a hammering in your chest that doesn’t calm the entire way back toward your house, a small street near the edge of the town, a few houses away from the one he shared with Ellie.

You clear your throat awkwardly, a thickness there that crept up on you, watching as Joel shoved his hands into his front pockets, leaning on his better leg, always favoring the left.

“I can ask Tommy to switch things back if you’re really bothered,” You remind him gently, wondering if that was why he seemed so bothered now, his face brooding and flat, “I won’t get my feelings hurt, I promise.”

But inside Joel’s head, his mind is filtering through a thousand bad decisions to make, every one of them involving you. 

“No,” He tells you surely, “You’re doing me a favor—shit, so I guess that means you don’t owe me anymore, actually.”

You shrug slightly, “Keep it, this one’s free.”

Joel has an inclination that you wouldn’t do that for just anyone, watching your face morph into a tired smile.

“Careful,” He teases, “you’re goin’ soft on me.”

You snort softly, ignoring the still burning tingle that lingered on your skin long after Joel’s touch disappeared. It was the same ache you felt the first time he touched you, tackled you to the ground and kept you pinned under his grip. He hasn’t gotten much better, still jerking awake in most situations, but you’ve learned to keep your distance. 

“Sorry,” You slip your hands into your back pockets, your thick jumper pulling tight over your chest, “didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, still lingering on your doorstep despite himself. Old Joel would hightail it home, old Joel wouldn’t have even offered to walk you back to begin with—but, here he was. 

“I should turn in.” You tell him, his subtle nod in response.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Joel agrees, “long day ahead of us.”

The clipped responses are feeding a tension you don’t realize until you’re both still standing there, unmoving, swaying with the gentle breeze and somehow feeling warm all over while still surrounded by the bitter cold.

And there’s a quick flash that invades your mind, even while stone cold sober, that has you twitching under his gaze. He sees it, clocks it with his eyes. 

There’s no indication that he’s attempting to get a reaction out of you, just lingering in wait, waiting for you.

You never make a move to open your door or walk inside and that’s what he’s waiting for, to see you home safe. It’s the whole reason he walked you back, wasn’t it?

Joel says your name quietly, a beckon to bring your attention back to the surface, drowning in your own thoughts but your gaze never faltering, stuck on him. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks.

It’s a question that has too many answers. And it’s a test too, wondering if you’ll slip up and speak on what you’re trying so hard to hold back.

Too much—is what you should say.

You—is what you want to say.

But instead, you act. That itching feeling overflowing and forcing you to make haste decisions, tired of hearing his voice in the back of your mind, how easily it drove you crazy. The endearing twang that echoed in your head all day long, even when he was miles away. 

And you find that Joel is almost expecting it, his hand cupping your face gently, warming the skin as you press in to kiss him cautiously, top lip slotting over his bottom and relaxing, your opposite hand mirroring his own. 

It feels too tender, like suddenly Joel is just as breakable as you—it’s terrifying. You pull away suddenly, coming to your senses, wide eyes staring him down. He looks calm.

You hate it.

It feels embarrassing.

He expected it, or at least anticipated it. You can see it on his face.

“Goodnight.” He tells you tenderly, sounding upset with himself but avoiding the choice to make things weird and you’re forever grateful.

You release a soft breath, nodding absently.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and enter your house, finally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change Tommy’s mind.

It was.

Joel was already waiting by the gates by the time you arrived, food and supplies secured in your bag for the road, two rifles slung securely over his shoulders as he held the reins to the horses, both of them neighing impatiently. 

“All good?” Joel asks, avoiding the obvious air of unspoken instances surrounding you two. 

You nod confidently, taking the reins away silently.

“All set,” You assure him, guiding your foot through the saddle and mounting the horse, settling yourself as he followed suit, “you?”

Joel echoes your response.

You sigh internally, a deep annoyance settling into your bones. Annoyed with yourself, annoyed with Joel. Just annoyed, wholly and plainly. 

Joel didn’t need to admit that he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night prior—he already had enough trouble sleeping on a normal night, but you in his head? That didn’t help.

And it flooded into the morning, still, Joel watching your body sway and rock slowly from the motion of the horse, head tucked away slightly to counter the breeze that prickled your cheeks. 

When you finally make it to the dam he breaks the silence, slipping the reins from your hand and nodding toward the front entrance, “I’ll tie ‘em up if you want to settle and sign us in, you can get a fire going?”

He’s asking, not telling. You nod, hopping down carefully and unhooking your bag from the saddle.

“I’ll scream if I need help.” It’s a joke in poor taste.

Joel doesn’t take it too lightly, scowling in response.

“Sorry,” You apologize lamely, “bad joke.”

“Be careful,” Joel stresses, face softening, “keep your gun out until you’ve done a once over of the place.”

*

It feels like fate is fucking with you, most days. Dangling your life in front of its prey and savoring the outcome, because even with your gun poised carefully at your hip, knife tucked into the strap at your thigh, it doesn’t prepare you for what’s waiting on the other side of that door.

There’s a split second where you think you can talk things down, buy you some time so Joel could get here and settle their nerves, but they’re already on high alert, as are you, and there’s no time to think.

Plus, they don’t seem to be keen on listening.

“Grab her,” The burly man says, blunt weapon held tight in his grip as he goes for your arm, the other man forcing you to the ground with a harsh gasp escaping your chest as your back hits the concrete floor, “just gut her—fuckin’ do it.”

Your brain shuts off, realizing that your strength isn’t nearly matched with theirs, your shrill scream cutting through the commotion.

“Joel!” You tell, hoping he’ll hear, dodging the hand that comes your way to muffle your yells, barking out an even more broken, “Jooooel!”

Your gun is long gone, tossed away in a corner with your hand pinned under someone’s knees, eyes squeezed shut as you struggle for the knife around your thigh blindly. They didn’t have the wits or common sense to strip you properly before they were attacking you, the younger one hesitating at the other’s words.

“I thought you said we were just tyin’ her up.” He responds, sounding panicked. 

You grab the knife successfully and pierce it through the young one’s gut with a sickening squish, a garbled groan ripping from his throat—and a rush of a shadow overhead as Joel wrested the other down, coming in from the door on the opposite side of the room, fists connecting with the attackers face with a sickening crunch.

The rage overtakes quickly, adrenaline flooding your body as you shove the man away, pulling the knife out to sink back in once, twice, until the blood fills his mouth and spills over, lifeless eyes staring back.

Your chest heaves with a breath, adjusted your clothes from where they had been pushed aside in the tackle, tossing your knife aside and putting enough distance between your body and the one who’s your killed, watching as Joel sunk the tip of his own knife through the throat of the larger man, draining the life from him in an instant. 

Joel has a ferocity in his eyes when they land on you, tossing his knife to the side momentarily as he rises, towering over the body beneath him. He can't be angry with you—he can't.

“Grab your gun,” He tells you, ignoring how easily the rage would have overtaken his body in most situations, buring it away for the moment when he sees how badly you’re shaken up (it wasn't fear, not even close—more like rage), moving around rigidly to grab your gun off the floor, “knife too—then sit down.”

“But the—the bodies, Joel,” Joel can hear the uncertainty in your voice, shaking his head insistently, “we’ve gotta go back—tell Tommy, let them know.”

Joel shakes out his muscles, adjusting his thick leather jacket around his frame and steps over the dead body, moving to stand in front of you, touching you for the first time since last night. It’s not soft or gentle, more leading in an effort to get your attention and pull you out of your gaze, his fingers cupping your jaw, chin falling in the curve where his thumb and pointer finger connect. 

You wonder how many times he's done this before—how he'd come to learn to calm people down through his intense eye contact and grounding voice. He could mask his emotions for the sake of others, even when they were threatening to boil over.

“I’ve got it, I’ll take care of this—” His eyes never left yours, eyebrows raising in question as he awaited your acknowledgment, a small nod coming from you, “go wash the blood off and come straight back, okay?”

You nod again, deftly, eyes empty and void of emotion.

“Hey,” Joel calls out, pulling your attention back, “I need you with me—you with me?”

“Yeah—yes,” You mumble weakly, ignoring how tenderly his thumb rubbed the junction of your jaw at the admittance, something you’re sure he wasn’t even aware he was doing, “I’m with you.” 

“Go.” He instructs, releasing his hold on you.

His face morphs into resentment as you leave.

He should've stuck by your side. But, then he thinks back to the joke you made in passing and it fuels the anger more.

*

Joel’s taken care of the bodies by the time you returned, shrugging off his own jacket as he yanked the door closed, barricading it closed with the vacant table stuff in the corner of the room, letting his own paranoia get the better of him. It wasn’t a crime to be too safe, not anymore.

“If they’ve got a group they’ll come here looking for ‘em,” Joel tells you, “but somethin’ tells me we won’t have to worry about that.”

“So, no fire then?” 

Joel shakes his head, nodding toward the few camping lateens left haphazardly on a desk, “We’ll use those tonight, better to be safe.”

He would have to explain this to Tommy when he saw him, put the town back on high alert for a while and go to sleep every night worrying that someone was going to snatch his family away again—snatch Ellie away, snatch you away. It was another problem, another stressor, but none of that was new to him. 

“I’m gonna do a walkthrough,” He tells you, cocking his gun loudly, a little unnecessarily in your opinion, but his anger is still there, radiating off of him, “keep your gun out and shoot at anything you see that isn’t me.”

He doesn’t want you letting your guard down, which is why his apprehension to relax is valid. You nod quietly, sinking in on yourself as you take a seat on the old, torn up couch.

He’s gone for an hour or two, the sun nearly nonexistent outside now, lamps scattered around the room and bathing you in a low light, gun still clutched in your hand on your lap, safety off.

Joel knocks on the door shortly after, startling you to near death. You hated being jumpy like this, nothing to calm your nerves. You’d always prided yourself for being able to handle yourself in situations like that and you couldn’t explain why you froze—but deep down, you knew.

It was Joel. Worry for him when he wasn’t there, what threat might be awaiting him if they could get the jump so easily on you. You stumble to your feet and pull the door open, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the mattress in Joel’s grip.

“Tommy must’ve moved it last time—he doesn’t like sleepin’ when he’s on watch down here.”

You open the door wider, letting him inside and taking the opposite end to help with the weight, settling the mattress up against the edge of the couch and shifting the folded blankets down onto the surface, crouching down onto your knees with a soft sigh as you spread out the blankets.

You don’t realize Joel is watching you until you chance a glance up his way, wondering if this was the moment he’d let you have and berate you until he was blue in the face. 

You’ve witnessed it once, with Jesse. He’d nearly risked Ellie’s life on a patrol that should’ve been easy—he still seems a little jumpy in Joel’s presence, rightfully so.

“Look at me,” Joel beckons, adding your name in a demand to grab your attention, “you with me?”

And it breaks you, what little patience you have left in your body.

“Yes, Joel. I am right fucking here.” You snip back at him, throwing the blankets down and standing to full height. You’re tired of his act, hidden behind his pathetic excuse of a kind guise, wanting him to say what he really felt. When he looked at you earlier, hovering over that man’s body, all you could see was contempt. He was upset with you—upset that you allowed yourself to be in danger, ignoring his lectures time and time again, that you weren’t mindful of your surroundings, upset with himself that he wasn’t there from the beginning. 

Joel looks offended, like maybe you wounded his ego or something similar, his hand held up defensively.

“You’re the one over there shakin’ like a leaf,” Joel accuses, “I told you to keep your damn gun out, told you to be careful—don’t you try and take that anger out on me.”

“Jesus, Joel,” You cry out in desperation, “careful? Two against one and you’re telling me I wasn’t careful? Fuck you.”

You toss your gun and knife sheath aside for good measure, stripping out of your coat and extra winter layers, his hardened gaze stuck on you. 

“I’ll take first watch.” You tell him flatly, reaching for the lantern on the table beside the door that led to the rest of the plant, a maze of halls and room. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Joel knows that if he lets you leave, there is no repairing what little relationship you had—it would return to a tolerance rather than anything else. His hand wraps around your closed fist, forcing the latent back down as he moves to stand in front of you, head tilted your way.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, though it feels unsympathetic coming from him, and he’s blaming it on his tone, “okay?”

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You tell him adamantly. “You said it, it’s done. I’ll let Tommy know you don’t think I can handle myself anymore and you can keep running patrols without me. That’s what you want, right?”

Joel scoffs.

Say no, please say no. 

“What are you getting at?” Joel challenges.

“The first time I make a mistake—one that almost kills me and all you can think to do is shift the blame on me? That somehow I’m responsible for not handling it myself?”

He shifts slightly, jaw clenching as he moves his outstretched hand to rest against the doorframe, blocking you from the exit. 

“You never let me go alone,” You remind him, “why all the sudden today?”

Joel doesn’t answer. He knows why. He trusted you, trusted that you could handle it. Joel knows you’re not the one to blame, but he can’t battle with his internal guilt of putting you in that position, letting it come out in bursts of wrath.

You lean in slightly, his eyes mindful of your body language, shoving a finger into his chest roughly.

“Why isn’t it your fault, huh?” You ask, baiting a reaction out of him before you can’t stand the look on his face, mouth shut tight as he his eyes trace your movements, the soft brown irises now an encroaching darkness.

You scoff, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” It’s a snide comment that has you feeling a surge of confidence that you’ve finally rendered him speechless.  “Don’t act like you haven’t been bothered being around me all day—if the kiss bothered you that much you should’ve just told Tommy to switch out. Now, move.”

Joel doesn’t budge.

Now your patience is wearing then, reaching to shove his forearm out of the way, but he’s as solid as steel and doesn’t take too lightly to your touch, gripping your wrist and pulling it back in a harsh grip, one that has your face grimacing in pain.

“Say that again.” Joel demands, his voice shaking you to your core, the sickeningly dark turn it’s taken. 

You double down, “Move, Joel.” You say through clenched teeth, yanking your arm back to no avail.

You hadn’t realized how wound up you both were until now, the shared frustration and pique boiling over the edge.

You yank away again, forcing a quick change of position as Joel retaliates, shoving you against the table by the door, your legs buckling from the force of it as he towers over you.

“I apologized,” He glared at you through hooded eyes, chin tilting down slightly, “it’s your turn.”

You scoff softly, never making a move to push him away, his legs crowding between yours as they spread involuntarily, the only thing keeping you upright being the grip he had on your arm, leaving you hanging by a thread. If he let go, you’d surely collapse.

“Why don’t you tell me why you really switched patrols?” Joel suggests, tilting his head in interest. “Don’t lie to me—I’ll know.”

There was a side of you that couldn’t stand being around him, his proximity driving you crazy. But, there’s a bigger part that yearned to be around him, by his side—it was never like this at first, but you found yourself unable to escape him lately. 

You want to blame him for letting you in, letting his guard down—but you can’t. It wasn’t just his fault. It wasn’t just yours. 

You craved each other. Plain and simple.

“You tell me,” You counter, “I’m not the one keeping you from leaving.”

It snaps Joel—that feeling he’s been burying away all day. He’s nearly insatiable over it. 

He trades his grip on your wrist for your face, too quick to counter before he’s gripping your chin again like earlier, but under completely different pretenses, your mouth lolling open at the force and pulling a soft grunt from your lips, eyes narrow in defiance. 

“You are so goddamn stubborn,” He complains, eyes scanning over your face slowly, “—and you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You laugh bitterly, a choked gasp. 

He's never touched you like this, but intensity is all too familiar.

His grip was tight, your mind flashing back to the first time he held you, though involuntarily. There was intention now, meaning—and you needed him to give in to it. 

You blink once, slow, eyes staying shut for a moment longer than needed. There’s a soft sigh that leaves your nose, ghosts over Joel’s outstretched palm. When you open your eyes, there’s little left of the Joel you’ve become accustomed to.

“We’ve got all night, Joel.” His nostrils flare in warning, “Go on—do it.”

He won’t. Joel wouldn’t let himself. You’re waiting for the moment he lets you go, shuffles away and tucks himself into a corner for the rest of the night. But, it never comes.

Instead he’s surging forward, tilting your chin up roughly and forcing his lips against your own, nothing like the delicate kiss shared the night prior. There’s no gradual increase, no soft sighs and hesitant touches. He doesn’t want that and neither do you. 

You open your mouth in an airy gasp of breath and Joel jumps on the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, pressing against your own until you finally, finally return his touch. He feels the heat, the weight of your hand where it rests against the seam of his jeans, fingers resting over his belt and your knuckles pressing into the firmness of his stomach, his breathing steady despite his eagerness to ravish you. He greedily pulls your bottom lip between his own, sucking lewdly until his teeth drag against the skin, pulling back with untamed eyes.

You narrow your eyes with intrigue, mouth quipping up into a smirk at his final break of self control, allowing himself what he wanted. There was no turning back now. 

He grips your hands, yanking you upright and forcing you to turn until your hip bones are hitting the blunt edge of the table, his movements haste but pointed, his palms rubbing over the soft curve of your hips, pressing underneath the material of your shirt and squeezing the skin. 

“Joel—“ You sing softly, your tone mocking.

“Keep quiet,” He warns, pulling you back suddenly and against his front, the heaviness of his cock pressing into your backside, strained through his jeans and craving a selfish need for release—it’s been too long for him and he’s bursting at the seams, “don’t wanna hear your smartass remarks.”

And you can hear the restraint in his voice, drowning in his thoughts—he wanted to ravish and pull you apart, not thinking about how he would put you back together and make you whole again. You shift back against him, a greedy rut of your ass against the stiff denim and he’s grunting under the weight of it.

“Get ‘em down,” He instructs, yanking at your jeans briefly before his touch is gone, hands working swiftly at his own.

The rustle of his belt is deafening, metal clanging against something solid, the quick shuffle of his zipper and the shifting off fabric. You rise without hesitation, unbuttoning your jeans and wiggling them far enough down your hips until they hit your knees, underwear following roughly as Joel shoved them down impatiently, bunching your shirt higher up your back as he rubs his fingers over your cunt sleazily. 

He’s waiting a beat, eyes examining you from behind and looking for any sign that you didn’t want this—it never comes. In fact, the subtle push back into his fingers is enough, two thick digits sinking inside slowly.

You gasp ruggedly, feeling the immediate difference in fullness to your own, the touch of someone else that you haven’t felt in so long. Joel is desperate, but so are you. 

You turn your face to the side, cheek pressed against the hard surface, fingers gripping either side of the table and you let yourself melt into his touch, his fingers working you over steadily, his other hand squeezing at the soft globes of your ass, following the insistent and impatient wiggle of your hips as you seek more friction, more fullness until Joel can’t stand it anymore, palm coming down in a rough slap to your backside to still you, a warning.

“You treat all the ladies like this?” 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t give yourself over this easy, his stifled chuckle coming from behind, low and dark, until he’s quickly switching back to menacing, his fingers increasing with speed and intensity, dragging a third finger along your center and pressing it in smoothly, forcing a lewd moan from your lips as you grip the edges of the table harder, willing to strain your neck for a look his way, a glimpse at his face to see how this was affecting him. You could only imagine, his groans stifled behind heavy puffs of air forced through his nose when you forced yourself back against his cock, inadvertently rubbing yourself against the length of his shaft.

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.”

The loss of fingers is sudden, fingers fisting into your hair with a sudden fierceness as he pulls you upright, your hands grasping for purchase. He tilts your head back, allowing you the smallest glimpse of his face as he looks forward, talking to you but never allowing you the eye contact you desperately craved. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart.”

You shake your head in disbelief, lifting your hand up to wind into his own overgrown hair, curling wildly. You pull taut, reveling in the grunt that slips past his lips.

“You don’t scare me, Joel.” 

He never could. You’ve seen all sides of him, the good and the bad—there was nowhere left for him to hide.

But, he should, he thinks. You should be terrified. 

“I don’t remember sayin’ I wanted to hear your voice,” Joel reprimands, “can’t fuckin’ listen today, can you?”

He turns his head toward you slightly, catching the playful glint in your eyes, the type that was asking to be pushed. Begging for it.

“Depends,” You smile, releasing the rough grip on his hair to slide between your bodies, cupping his cock from where he’s tucked it over his briefs, also pushed haphazardly down his hips, “are you going to fuck me, Joel?”

His name shouldn’t sound like that, falling from your lips in such a circumstance, but it drags a rabidness out of him he’s never felt before. 

“Say it again.” Joel demands—and you already know.

“Joel,” Your voice is sultry, dangerous, adding a squeeze of your hand to his length, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock, smoothing the slick of precum over the slit, “you started this, too afraid to finish it?”

Joel smirks at that, a smug expression crossing his face as releases the grip on your hair, shoving your hand away and gripping himself at the base, removing his fingers from inside you and replacing them with a slow press of his cock, watching your expression fall lax, mouth hung open in a silent release of pleasure. 

“You underestimate me,” He shakes his head in amusement, his own brow furrowing at your snug hold on him, walls clenching around him involuntarily, “Now, why don’t we teach you a lesson?”

You nod numbly, gasping loudly at the sudden change in pace, body shifting to lean forward and Joel’s hands slotting against your body, one secured firmly on your hip, the other guiding you back with a steady pressure against your shoulder, immediately blanking your mind, whatever rude quip you had poised was failing you.

“So — goddamn — stubborn,” He echoes from earlier, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, no restraint, divulging in the pleasure both of you have been seeking for a while, “don’t fuckin’ listen, always testin’ me.”

You release a soft cry, reaching an arm behind you to squeeze at his side, tightening with every sharp thrust, the head of his cock nudging something deep inside of you, the feeling coiling in your gut despite yourself. It’s a dull ache, mewling desperately when he forgoes his hold on your hip to keep your arm stuck, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold you steady, eyes shifting to watch you sink onto him with an unrestrained eagerness.

“Nothin’ to say now?” Joel pesters you, thumb rubbing the tender spot at the base of your neck, the start of your spine between your shoulder blades—your silence lingers, at least in words, your pathetic noises keeping you busy.

He feels like he’s finally got the upper hand with you, he just never realized this was what it would take. 

“Fuck—fuck, Joel.” You say through a stuttered sigh.

Joel grimaces from behind you, that longing feeling of release creeping on him, too long without it and he feels pathetic for it, but you—the sounds, the view.

Oh, the view. It’s your neediness for it that sucks him in, how eager your cunt is to take hold, the wet squelch growing louder, your slick soaking the base of his cock.

“Why’d you kiss me, huh?” Joel questions firmly, trying to draw the truth out in the heat of the moment, your movements growing desperate as you orgasm creeped in, blunt nails digging into his skin. He hissed, pulling you in tight, trading the hand on your shoulder for a squeeze to your chest, palm the mound of your breast through your shirt—still enough contact to drive you insane. 

“Wanted to—wanted to see how you would react.” You admit, but there was also that selfish need. You kissed him because you wanted to—and you knew he did too.

Joel huffs in response, not fully believing you. 

“Try again,” Joel assesses the way your body tenses when his hand shifts down, pressing over his fingers over your clit and driving you over the edge in an instant, your body arching into his touch as you come, a broken moan falling from your lips, “why?”

“Doesn’t matter—you kissed me back,” You argue tiredly, “You wanted it just as much as I did. Clearly.”

And in a way, it’s all the confession he needs. 

Joel growls lowly, pulling out abruptly to grip himself, squeezing himself at the head to delay his orgasm until it fades, face scrunching up tightly in anguish. 

“What—what are you doing?” 

Joel is already tucking himself back into his pants by the time you turn around, his expression stiff and avoiding your gaze. 

There it was again, the avoidance. 

You don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does.

“I’ll take the first watch,” He says, shuffling backwards slightly, “get dressed.”

You stare back blanky, at a loss for words.

“Did you hear me?” He asks bluntly, brow now permanently furrowed in frustration.

“But—you didn’t—“ 

The silence lingers, your head tilting in question. Your expression softens suddenly, pulling weakly at your jeans to secure them back over your hips.

“Get some sleep, we’ll head out early tomorrow.”

You still had to send a bigger team to scout the place thoroughly, a distant memory now.

You’re so fucking confused. A few minutes prior he was lost in the moment, though still wound up and tense—but it was the biggest break in demeanor he’s ever given you, the most he’s allowed himself to touch you, be close to you. 

Joel didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to convince himself it was a mistake, that this was a fluke. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, hesitating for a brief moment as his hand hovers over the doorknob before he’s leaving you alone. Again. 

Joel handles himself later that night, long after you’ve gone asleep, a permanent frown on your face when he peeks his head in before he’s traveling down the hall to a separate room, cupping himself in his palm eagerly, groaning out your name as he comes.

Somehow, it makes him feel even worse.

The week that follows is tumultuous. 

Tommy swears you and Joel off of patrol for a while, tells you that as soon as he has you two alone, gathering the full story of the attack, but somehow—Joel always weasels his way out. 

He’s gone most of the daylight, leaving you to fill your days around Jackson, helping wherever it was needed. And when it wasn’t, you were stuck inside your home, watching the snow melt from the ground, only to be covered with a new blanket of it the next day.

Joel always comes home late, heavy feet scuffling down the sidewalk after dark and entering his house, Ellie having already turned in for the night. His bedroom light comes on a few minutes later and it never shuts off, his shadow crossing the window every now and then. 

He can’t sleep, but neither can you.

At first you blamed it on the bodies—but none of that was new to you. You’ve killed before, animals, infected, raiders, even a few bystanders in a situation long ago, nothing they’ve done to end up the way they did. 

You followed a bad group for too long, but eventually you found Jackson—things were different here. Joel’s told you about the horrible things he’s done to survive, assures you it wasn’t anything you could blame yourself for.

This world made people rabid. It made people afraid.

There were people, much like Joel, that used to terrify you. But this Joel, he was lost and worn down, weathered by the world and by age. He’s afraid to let himself indulge, enjoy—you saw it that night, his hesitancy to look at you afterwards. 

And that ache that lingered for a few days, it made you realize that you were missing something you couldn’t have. It was clear on Joel’s face that he’d made a mistake. With you. 

Joel looks bitter the week that follows, you having convinced Tommy to let you back out, assuring him that nothing was wrong. He’s hesitant, rightfully so, but you’re too convincing. 

You even offer to run patrol with him, or Jesse—literally anyone but Joel, who seemed obviously disgruntled by your presence that morning.

Tommy clocks it immediately, swiping a finger between you both, “You know what—I’m sending you two out together.” It’s dreadful. “Take the lodge again,” and Tommy waits for everyone to part ways, except for Joel and you, before he’s eyeing you both down, “work out whatever argument you both have going—or you’re both coming off patrols until I feel like putting you back on.”

Joel grumbles at that, adjusting the thick gloves over his hand and shaking his head with a look down. Tommy seems slightly apologetic when you lock eyes, but it’s necessary. You were too scared to admit it to yourself, but it’s exactly what you needed.

*

You can’t be bothered to stay still, wandering around the lodge aimlessly, picking up some scattered trash, sifting through the small library that had accumulated over time, worn and slightly rained over books, the pages stiff and discolored. 

Joel’s cheeks are still tinged pink from his last watch, arms crossed over his stomach as he glares at the small fire burning in the fire pit, crackling softly in the silence.

He’s being insistently stubborn, somehow managing to avoid any exchange of words in the past eight hours, not giving you his usual orders, whether delivered in a clipped tone or a kind one—it’s just nothing.

And considering how talkative he was last time you ran patrol with him, you found it to be bullshit.

You grab a random book, large and bulky and make your way toward him—he sees you coming but he ignores it, the book hitting solid against his chest as you force it there, making a snide comment to rattle him.

“To entertain yourself, since you’re so miserable,” Your eyes drag over his face, his eyes lilting up your way, the fire melting them into a warm, honey brown, “and you won’t even have to worry about finishing.”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, thinking that he might pull you toward him, but he tosses it away, throwing the book to the side too. You sigh through your nose, frustrated.

“What’s it gonna take, Joel?” 

There’s an ire of defeat in your voice, a willingness to do just about anything to put this to rest. 

“Do I need to leave Jackson, is that it?”

That gets his attention, his gaze narrowing fiercely.

“Don’t say that shit,” He bites, “you got a death wish or something?”

“Well, you clearly don’t want me around, so who cares?”

Joel bites at the inside of his cheek—he didn’t agree with that. 

“Give me something, Joel. Anything.” You plead, hand accidentally brushing his thigh as you fall into the spot beside him, imitating the closeness he craved but couldn’t bring himself to ask for, not again. 

He tenses under your touch, fist curling at his side, noticing how you pointedly keep your grip there. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning.

But, it’s the biggest sign he’s given you. There was still a fondness there, lingering behind wall after wall that he’s built up.

He doesn’t move your hand either, your fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh, along the seam and stopping where his jeans creased at his groin, palm settling over the curve of his thigh.

“So, do we work things out or not?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper, talking like you might scare him away. 

And, yeah—Joel wasn’t big on hashing things out, confessing his thoughts or emotions and conveying them into words, that was never a surprise to you. But, you needed equal ground. 

You weren’t looking for a confession or some dramatic change in pace with your relationship—whatever you could classify it as. A partnership, maybe?

You need something mutually beneficial, something that was give and take on both ends. 

You squeeze at the junction of his thigh, taut muscle giving way as Joel shows little signs of being affected. His eyes follow though, acutely aware of your intention.

This was you returning the favor. 

This was you cornering him, like he had you—if he didn’t want it he would’ve pushed you away ages ago, but he does want it. He needs it. 

His jaw flexes under the weight of your grip, watching you move slowly to sink to the ground, thankful that this floor wasn’t nearly as dirty as most places. Joel shifts slightly to accommodate you, thighs spreading open to box you in, hands coming to rest down at his side, flat against the cushion.

You push at his coat lightly, forcing it away from his chest until he gets the idea, stripping himself the rest of the way, his unbuttoned flannel falling open.

You work quietly, eyes flicking up toward him occasionally to check in, make sure he was still with you. He’s mesmerized now, despite himself. Locked in.

He doesn’t stop your hands when they reach for the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning and loosening them in one fluid motion, tugging at his jeans until, again, he catches on, forcing them down just enough.

It’s surprising how in tune he is with you despite how hard he tried to keep his distance, hoping that one big mistake would fade away—but frankly, it hadn’t left either of your minds since then. 

“Touch yourself.” You command softly, an amused aspect to your voice.

Joel balks slightly, his bewilderment something to enjoy.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Is that too personal? Sorry–I should’ve considered that when I let you fuck me over a table.”

His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he listens. Thank god. He slips his fingers under the band of his underwear, palming himself lightly under the fabric, leaving you to lean back onto your heels, enjoying the lazy show he put on for you.

He had nothing to be ashamed of.

His fingers roll against the taut skin of his sack, drifting upwards over his shaft until he finally has the courage to shift his underwear to sit snug under his balls, watching your eyes drift from his cock to his face. Joel’s mouth parted briefly, rubbing his thumb over the head, glistening with a sheen of precum, your hands itching to touch him. 

He knows it will lead to nothing but bad outcomes, but he’s indulging in it. Allowing it.

“Come here,” He’s using his free hand to beckon you forward, leaving his palm extending for you to lean into, resting your chin there gently, “open your mouth.”

You obliges, sweetening the deal by sticking your tongue out, earning a gruff laugh in response, softening your gaze on him. There were plenty of other ways to resolve things, but this was so much easier.

He slides the head over your tongue in a deft slap, slipping it past your lips slowly before he’s pulling back and repeating the process again, watching as you eagerly follow his movements until you’re bordering on impatience.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand here, sweetheart.” Joel says, eyebrow quirking up in amusement at your annoyed expression. “You want it?”

You tilt your head at him, eyes narrowing. “You want me to beg for it?”

Joel chuckles at the thought, shaking his head. “I didn’t pin you as the type.”

Cheeky Joel was something to admire, rolling your eyes and shoving his hands away, allowing yourself to take over fully and leaving him with nothing to do but watch, rolling your tongue around the head and through the slit, mouth enveloping the heady taste of him. 

Joel was always good at keeping his composure, even now–but you were looking to break him down, nothing but a mumbling, begging mess of himself, even for a brief moment.

You take him in slowly, soft and parted lips pressing down the length of him, the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your tongue, cheeks, until he’s nudging the back of your throat and you swallow out of reflex.

His knuckles flex, turning white as he curls them inwards and digs into the cheap cushion, the stitching protesting under his grip.

There he is. 

You make a small noise, a soft bubble of laughter out of pure enjoyment, pulling back with a showy drag of your tongue up his shaft until you’re sinking down again, burying your nose in the short, trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his cock, ignoring that telltale feeling to let up, breathing deep through your nose. 

“Goddamnit,” He curses, the hand not gripping the cushion rising slightly before slamming back down in a fist, the material taking most of the blow, “you gotta ease up on me.”

He doesn’t add the please, but you can see it’s implied.

You smile sweetly when you pull away, a thin line of spit connecting your lips to the wet head of his cock, stroking him languidly to keep busy, running your thumb along the thick vein that traced along the underside. 

“Don’t think so,” It’s sickening, tone laced in sugar and daring him—for what, you weren’t sure, “—more?”

Joel nods quickly, widening his stance as he sunk further into the couch, your hands bracing against his stomach as he filtered his fingers through your hair, framing it away from your face as you continued, driving him to near insanity with how easily you would take him down over and over again, stopping to tease your tongue over the head of his cock, realizing just how sensitive that part of him was.

He grunts on a particular rough pass, yanking your hair back and allowing a centimeter of reprice as your lips barely brush the aching tip, “You can stop, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

It feels like a punishment, not allowing himself to seek that relief—he sees it as a barrier, that by not allowing it, things won’t ever reach a point of no return. Not that this wasn’t already dangerous enough—it’s a ridiculous rule, but Joel follows it. He’d give you as much pleasure as you asked and then some, if that’s what you wanted.

And it clicks in your head slowly, his cock pulsing dully in your hands, begging for it. 

No. He wasn’t doing that again.

“No,” You echo your thoughts, “Give me your hand.”

“Darlin’—“

“Joel, shut up.” You demand, gripping his open palm and replacing it with your own, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Joel looks conflicted, eyebrow pinching in a mix of pleasure and regret, his mind blanking the moment you press a gentle kiss to the head, pressing your tongue flat again and moving his hand in tandem until he starts to give in, his breaths becoming shorter, more strangled.

“That’s it,” You mumble a praise through his haziness—he doesn’t know how to take it, the feeling so foreign to him, “take control, Joel.”

His eyes fall shut briefly, forcing focused breaths through his nose as his free hand grips your face, keeping you still as he strokes himself roughly, that last string of self control breaking under your gaze when he tilts his head down to look at you, soft gaze staring back at him and he’s coming over your tongue and into your mouth with a warm rush, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he squeezes up to the tip, milking every last bit of himself into your mouth before he’s pulling away and gently guiding your mouth closed.

“Shit—“ He groans quietly, cupping himself tenderly as he pulls away, watching you swallow and tracing a trace of him at the corner of your lip back into your mouth with your thumb, staring him down intently, “you’re fuckin’ greedy, you know that?”

You shrug proudly, rising to your feet slowly, the ache from sitting crouched so long singing a protest from your joints.

“Add it to the list,” You snark at him, taking a casual seat beside him as he tucks himself away, your hands working carefully to roll up your jacket and tuck it under your head as you recline, laying down on your side, “right?”

Joel scoots away to accommodate you, looking perplexed at how quickly you’ve changed your demeanor, yawning until your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Stop staring and get some sleep, Joel.” You gripe, reaching blindly to ball his coat up and toss it at his chest, “Problem solved, we’re even now.”

Joel puffs through his lips, ignoring that lingering feeling as you very quickly forced the distance between him and you—a payback to his own previous actions. It hurts, stings, and now he realizes what that meant and why that frown never left your face before, not even on the ride home or long thereafter.

He’s fucked. 

To say things escalate is an understatement.

The two of you never actually talk, avoiding all aspects of emotional vulnerability in turn for your usual interactions—small conversations, jokes, driving each other up the wall with the constant close proximity due to your assigned jobs. But, now there’s more.

There's the Joel that wants and takes, stops holding back his desires and gives you just about every possible orgasm from then on. This Joel is insatiable if he allows himself to be. He’s downright filthy and terrifying when it mattered and he found that the more you seemed to give yourself over, the easier it was for him to stop worrying so much. 

And he seems lighter nowadays, happier—though, it was still Joel. There was only so much to enjoy, his smiles few and far between. However, that smirk, laced in a smugness he carried with himself when he was alone with you—it had become a regular sight to see and something you craved when you’d finally get him alone.

It never starts off slow. Joel’s always itching by the time rotation leads you his way. You two keep it close to your chest like a secret–saving times like this strictly for patrols.

Joel doesn’t even wait sometimes, cornering you the moment the horses are tied up, bags set aside, crowding up behind you as he wrangles your jeans down, along with his, and presses himself inside you with a deep grunt, pressing you up against whatever hard surface was near–it didn’t matter, the ferocity of his thrusts clouding your mind.

It’s punishment for how well you tease him on the rides there, thighs spread wide over the saddle and always riding just a few inches ahead, leaning forward enough that you can stick out your ass, Joel’s eyes drawing toward you immediately. 

It was easy.

“You like messin’ with me, don’t you?” He chastises, palming at the inside of your thigh in desperation, pulling you wider and wider for him until it aches and you have nothing to do but take it. “Fuckin’ with my head?”

You laugh breathily, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moan wantonly, thick fingers bearing down on your throat, keeping you tight against him. “It’s not my fault–fault you can’t control it.” You reply innocently, stumbling over your words when his fingers press against your core.

And it’s often like this. Fast, hurried, no care or soft, caressing touches involved. It’s simpler that way.

But, eventually, Joel breaks down–little by little.

*

A week or two passes by and Joel seems desperate. 

“What did I just say?” He seethed, voice laced with annoyance, “Keep your eyes open.”

He’s right there, his hand, his fingers, buried deep inside your cunt. Joel’s on edge again, having ordered you to strip down naked while he remained completely clothed, the cold air prickling your skin like this, the lingering days of Winter coming to a close. It’s dark here, wet and mucky, the only barrier between you and the floor is an old blanket that Joel had stowed away in his saddle. He spent the last two weeks dealing with a copious amount of shit–killing more infected than they’re used to, dealing with mundane problems around Jackson that shouldn’t be his problems, but in being Tommy’s brother, he took a piece of the burden off of him.

You gasp sharply, feeling the force of Joel’s grip as he orders your eyes open, an impossible feat in the moment with how easily he’s able to bring you near the edge with just his fingers–something he found out fairly quickly. 

“Joel–Joel, please,” You beg–it’s new for you, something you don’t do often, “let me–fuck–”

“Hmm, sweetheart?” Joel questions, igniting a fire in your belly that won’t go out. He likes you this way, clawing at him, nearly on the brink of tears over how bad you need him. “Spit it out.”

You’re hastily shoving him away, brow pinched in determination as you shove him down, working desperately at his buckle, his pants, working them down with little care or finesse, gripping the length of him and sinking down in one quick movement. 

It punches a moan out of Joel’s chest that you’re not used to, his head slamming pack against his bag, the makeshift pillow he’s got stuffed behind his head as he grips your hips tight, eyes locked on the center where you’re both connected, grunting with the hurried bounce of your hips, losing what little patience you had left as you chase your orgasm, shoving his shirt up his chest to feel him–all soft, tanned skin under your fingertips as you brace yourself against him, using the surface for leverage.

He can’t stand to watch you this way, tits jostling with every hurried thrust, blunt nails clawing at his abdomen, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, again. He likes you facing away because he can hide his own inflections, how well you drive him wild–you’ve never cared, especially not now. 

Joel grunts raggedly, forcing out a hoarse whisper, “You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

A soft laugh bubbles in your chest, head lolling forward and eyes opening to look at him.

“Mmm, eyes on me, Joel.” You beckon, his slow gaze trailing upwards, nodding in response to his wrecked state, hair sticking up wildly, teeth grazing his bottom lip gently. “God–it feels so good, doesn’t it?

Joel nods absently, his hands slipping from your hips to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands, aware of how your touch burns a trail up toward his face, coaxing his bottom lip to freedom, grazing your thumb over the soft tissue, soothing the ache.

You ignore how easily he takes the pad of it over his tongue and lets you press the digit beyond his lips, how willing he’s being to let you take what you want.

He pulls out before he comes, spilling into his hand to contain the mess, leaving you enraptured with his expression as his face pulls up in anguish, the same expression he has when he’s bothered or annoyed but edged with something more, his breath catching.

He rolls you back over soon after, replacing his hand with his mouth, hot tongue lapping into your folds and tasting, savoring, the mix of you two tangled together and he devours until you come, hand yanking hard at his hair.

*

April comes quickly—it means longer patrols, more problems out in the field with the infected less dormant, and Jackson coming alive more often at night, everyone enjoying the weather after a bitter winter.

You find yourself at Tommy’s doorstep one night.

Maria had been planning this dinner for a few weeks, something special for Tommy’s birthday, and somehow you got roped into going.

It was Ellie.

Joel was the least bit surprised when you showed up at the front door that night, dressed up nicer than he’s had the privilege to witness. You’re smiling, a flowy dress cutting off mid-thigh, forgoing the usual sweater with the air warming up, leaving your shoulders bare. 

Joel nods in greeting when Ellie peeks around his shoulder, beaming at the sight out of you.

“Thank god,” She groans, “Those two are insufferable together,” Tommy and Joel, “—they’ve been arm wrestling each other in the backyard for the last hour.”

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at Joel. He’s got the hint of a smile on his face, looking down at Ellie before he’s shoving her away with a palm to the crown of her head, his arm flexing under the fitted cotton shirt he wore, muscle on full display. 

It’s easy to forget how strong Joel is under all those layers, but it’s even more apparent now with how often you find him stripped down underneath you, behind you, watching him become more and more comfortable around you as the weeks pass, finally giving in to whatever it was that you two were indulging in.

It was mostly sex—a means for release and often a cure for boredom and neither of you minded it much, but there was something lingering in the shadows. 

You were good at ignoring it, apparently so was Joel.

He leads you to the backyard with a silence you’ve become accustomed to, and spends most of the dinner laughing at Ellie’s terrible and poorly timed jokes. It’s such a sight, seeing how effortlessly Ellie can break that man down, and you realize just how deeply he cared for her, even if she wasn’t his daughter. 

He glances at you frequently, a silent check-in.

You were fine—a little tired, maybe? 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom with a flick of your hair behind your ear and a whine in protest from your chair as it scrapes the floor, leaving the rest of the party in the backyard while you traverse inside. 

It isn’t long before there’s a knock behind the closed door and that unsettling creak, only to be met face to face with Joel. He looks relaxed, placated, his face falling into a natural smirk.

And based on the drink in his hand, slightly inebriated. 

“Lost?” You tease, fixing yourself idly in the mirror, watching as Joel crossed the threshold and nudged the door close behind him. “Joel–”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel soothes, “Tommy thinks I’m using the one upstairs, everyone’s outside.”

You don’t need him to explain to know what he’s implying. But, for him to want you here–now? That was different. You hate how it made your heart skip, realizing how willing he was to risk this bond of secrecy because he just couldn’t get you out of his head.

His glass slides against the countertop, the soft scuff of his boots grazing the floor as he moves in behind you, causing you to pull away slightly as he raises a hand, brushing your strap down your shoulder and mouthing the skin there, “You’re drunk.” You muse, earning a subtle shake of his head.

“Not at all,” Joel denies, “can’t be in a good mood?”

You sigh at his touch, opposite hand grazing under your dress and over the skin of your stomach, pinky finger grazing the hem of your underwear.

“When are you ever?”

Joel ignores your snark, “Don’t act like you don’t want it, sweetheart.”

He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the wetness that coats his finger as he dips it under the fabric and down the center of your cunt, “Joel,” You stress, “there’s people outside, we can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” He says softly, “Ellie’s gone home, Tommy and Maria are busy with a neighbor–if you want me to stop, tell me. You don’t need to make excuses.”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

“Been needin’ this all day,” He admits, cupping your mound roughly, shifting to press the hard line of his chest against your back, pulling you taut, his idle fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, “This is cute–it’s a nice dress.”

You roll your eyes, though fondly. He can’t see it, face buried into your neck as he mouths along the skin, slipping the straps of your dress down until your tits spring free, nipples pebbling under the cool air.

“Are we talking or fucking?” You ask impatiently, pointedly rubbing your ass back against his body, earning a dark chuckle in response.

“I never said anything about fucking,” Joel points out smugly, “but since you’re askin.”

It’s the impatiences that brings you to take matters into your own hands, sliding your dress up high enough that Joel can yank your underwear down, undoing his pants with one hand and freeing himself hastily, sliding into you roughly, forcing a strained gasp from your throat. 

Joel shushes you, covering your mouth with his hand.

“Careful, these walls ain’t soundproof.” He warns, his forceful thrusts plunging you forward, eyes dragging toward the mirror image of you and him, a sight to see as he smirks from behind, admiring you openly. “Look at you.”

He grin’s devilishly, your senses overwhelmed, showing through your eyes as you squeezed them shut, only to be forced back open by Joel’s coaxing voice.

He clicks his tongue in warning, breath hot against your ear. “Open those eyes, sweetheart. Need you to see how good you’re takin’ my cock,” You whine into his hand, his brutal thrust driving you further into the countertop, ignoring the pain that spreads, overtaken by the insatiable need to come, “and how pretty you look when you come.”

Pretty. He’s never used that word before. It sends a flutter through your chest, down to your core.

It’s more intense this way, the subtle pull in Joel’s face when he drives deeper, his own orgasm on the horizon. His teeth grit hard, small peaks of it as he bares his lips back in a growl, squeezing at the soft planes of your body that he could reach, driving you over the edge with little warning, not that you needed the help. 

Seeing him this way was enough. God, was it enough.

“Fuck, fuck—“ He curses a symphony, holding himself back as he gripped at the base of his shaft and you jump at the opportunity, turning to him in a haze and sinking to your knees despite the cold floor beneath you, urging him with a silent plea as you open your mouth to him, nodding subtly.

That’s all it takes for him, a few quick strokes of his cock and he’s spilling into your mouth, head hung back at how intensely it hits him, the skin of his neck straining over the muscle, his mouth open in a soundless grunt. 

*

Luckily, Joel is the one that takes care of the goodbyes. You wouldn’t be able to face Tommy or Maria after such an instance, adjusting yourself back to a semi-presentable state in the bathroom, with some of Joel’s help as he sets your dress back over your shoulders.

It shouldn’t feel endearing, not in this context. But, it does.

“Wait for me out front,” He tells you, buckling his pants, eyes connecting with yours briefly, squinting curiously, he reaches a hand forward and wiping a mix of spit and what you can only assume is his come, away from your mouth and onto his jeans, “—you had a little…”

You both laugh at the unspoken, rubbing a tired hand over your face as you nod, shoving him away playfully.

Things are vastly different when you’re facing him on your doorstep now, his lingering presence a hint at what he didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Stay for a while?” You suggest softly, nodding toward your front door.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Joel agrees.

You never realize how much Joel likes to talk about music until he’s finally found himself relaxed, your body reclined into his open, outstretched legs as he adjusts himself sideways. It doesn’t feel intimate, no—but it feels different. Joel rests a hand over your shoulder, massaging the tight muscle with a steady grip. His voice is nice, soothing.

You fall asleep like this, but Joel is already gone by morning.

By June, things are confusing. Good, but…confusing.

Joel and you have a routine by now—off days were usually spent at your house, occasionally Joel’s (but rarely) and only when Ellie wasn’t around, the days that were spent patrolling were fairly normal, aside from the insistent touching you both allowed yourself now, always leading to something neither of you could be bothered to stop. 

Joel’s vocal about things now—what he likes, what he wants, but he’s also holding back. You can see it when things get a little too intense, hands grabbing at clothes, pulling each other in with a rabidness that neither of you could calm.

He doesn’t kiss you, not really. He likes to nip and bite and leave bruises where only he can see them, but he won’t allow his eyes to linger on your face for too long, your lips, too afraid things might be misconstrued.

Not that it mattered, Joel was already fucked beyond repair. He’s only ever felt this intensely once, before—his relationship with Sarah’s mom was a fling that turned into something more, but ultimately fizzled, crashed and burned. It gave him Sarah, but he never understood what heartbreak was until then, young and naive and wanting to make things work.

Clearly, they never did.

He feels that with you, though he’s smarter now. He can be cold and distant when he feels that pull in his chest, push away just enough that you won’t pry. But, you’re smart—you’re stubborn, so goddamn stubborn. 

And he knows eventually, things are going to implode.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this. 

You were starting to hate the lodge, finding yourself lingering to the connecting shops down the road—a guitar store that Joel and Tommy picked through often, a small coffee shop further down the way that didn’t have much left for picking, but it helped when you felt cooped up, a nice change of scenery.

But even then, the lodge wasn't a luxury to patrol anymore. Summer is practically unbearable most days there, the building always too warm, too stuffy.

Joel had other ideas this time around, stripping you down slowly by the couch nestled against the large window that overlooked the rest of the small town surrounding it.

It was quiet here.

Joel presses you into the soft velvet cushion, his own body stripped bare, a combat to the heat, he says.

You didn’t mind. In fact, it was everything you wanted. 

He’s never allowed such contact, all of you against him, the slow push of his hips inside of you has you gasping softly, fingers gripping his biceps. His place is slow, dreadful, and you both are already sweating, skin sticky and damp.

Joel doesn’t seem to mind.

He seems needier today, more willing to let the sounds slip from his mouth, his hands more curious, pulling your knee tight around his hip and gripping at the knee, head tilting up as he huffed through his nose, tense jaw, teeth clenched. He’s looking off distantly, not at you or your body, or anywhere in your vicinity really, but the torture on his face is all the same. He couldn’t hide it.

You moan softly, mumbling soft praises under your breath when he fucks into you hard enough it has you clawing at his chest, gripping tight at his shoulder, seeking whatever skin you could touch. 

Eventually, your touch lingers near his face, palm spreading over his warm cheek, thumb running along the strong hook of his nose, forcing his attention down toward you. Your fingertips graze his lips gently, other hand mirror the action as you caress his face, his eyes closing under your touch. 

The arm holding him upright nearly gives you, barely catching himself as his chest is pressed in tight against yours, changing the angle immensely.

That couldn't have been you’re doing—not a chance. But, you’re curious. You guide his face to your chest, his mouth sliding lazily against the skin as he pumps into you steadily. You meet his rough grunts with whispered praises, his breath becoming more frantic as time goes on until he’s finally chancing a look your way, eyes soft and pleading. He looks lost. You frown slightly, guiding his face toward yours and ghosting your own lips against his, never quite indulging, keeping the praises going with a soft whisper.

“God, you always fuck me so good,” You say in a breathy whisper against his lips, “so good, Joel.”

Joel squeezes you tighter, a sign of his impending orgasm. “Right there,” You sigh, “fuck—you feel that? Need this all the time, everyday.”

This. Him.

“Sweetheart—“ He warns, grunting into your open mouth, knees buckling as you slide your tongue against his teeth, grazing his top lip.

“Don’t—don't,” You panic, eyes connecting with him suddenly, “wanna feel you, all of you.”

It was something Joel could reflect on later, consider the consequences, because now was not that time—not with you looking at him so earnestly, pleading with him.

He slips a calculated hand between your joined bodies and has you both hanging over the edge in seconds, gasping into each other’s mouth in desperation as Joel does something completely selfish and unlike him.

He kisses you, no qualms or hesitation. It’s messy and wet but it’s him—his mouth soothes the ache as your orgasm overwhelms your body, his own chest rattling at the force, moaning pathetically against your mouth as he comes in hot, warm pulses inside of you, cunt clenching around him tight, like a glove. 

Joel soon slumps against your body, all energy drained from him, your hands weaving through his hair gently, caressing the soft spot behind his ear.

He doesn’t complain, letting you hold him until his cock softens, pulling out of you with a disgruntled noise before he’s resting on the cushion beside you, back pressed tight against one side to make room for the both of you, tilting himself sideways and letting his fingers drift over your naked frame, indulging in every part of you. 

“Should we talk about this?” You ask curiously, voice softened under his gaze, his fist pressed to his cheek.

There it was.

Joel looks down briefly, his touch stalling over the spot between your breasts, right over your heart.

“I’m not even sure what this is,” Joel admits, the most honest he’s ever been with anyone, “just that—I enjoy it.”

He's being honest, he's letting you in. Your heart soars.

Joel was tired of fighting it. He'd be ignorant to think you didn't see it just then or even before.

“I would classify it as fucking,” You joke lightly, “but that—that didn’t feel like fucking to me.”

Joel shakes his head, “No—it didn’t.” He agrees, grabbing for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently over your frame despite the heat, finger fingers grazing along the underside of your breasts, a teasing touch that has you giggling in response, his own laugh following.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“Or we don’t have to figure it out at all,” You suggest, realizing that trying to force something out of Joel was not the way to go, it never had been—he’d come to whatever conclusion he felt on his own, “that’s okay, too.”

“We can save it for another day,” Joel promises, his fingers tracing up toward your jaw, his palm resting to cup your cheek, a tender gesture that’s all new, “right now, I just wanna quiet that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He sees your eyes light up with intrigue, already tilting toward him eagerly.

“You want that?” He teases, earning an eager nod in response before he’s closing his mouth over yours again, kissing with a leisureliness he didn’t have before, “Answer me, sweetheart?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Joel.”

And it terrified Joel, because he’d give you anything.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[cowgurrrl]

Chosen to Deserve

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Summary: “How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her? I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin. I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.” - Margaret Atwood [3.6k]

Warnings: all the drama of coming into Jackson, sibling turmoil, talks of Sarah and Jane, arguing, reader and Joel are both kinda dicks in this one but I get it

You hear the horses hooves before Joel can. You grab Ellie's arm and turn to run in the opposite direction when another masked person on a horse comes running up. At least a dozen of them flanking you on both sides and they all have weapons pulled. You don't even try to reach for your gun, and Joel does the same, pushing Ellie and you behind him and raising his hands. You and Ellie follow suit but keep her close enough for your hands to brush against each other. Her breathing is uneven and scared. Joel and one of the men have a conversation, but you can't focus on it. All you care about is Ellie. The man Joel was talking to gestures his gun at her.

"Take five steps back."

"She's not going anywhere." You say, and Joel mumbles your name. 

"Shut the fuck up." The man spits.

"Easy," Joel jumps in. You don't know whether he's talking to you or the horseman, but you glare at him anyway. He ignores it and looks past you at Ellie, nodding at her. "You'll be okay." He says. She looks at you for confirmation, and your jaw clenches, but you nod at her scared eyes.

"Do what they say." You say gently, and she carefully takes several steps back. You turn your head to watch her, but a gun cocking turns your attention back to the people surrounding you. The man who told you to shut the fuck up is staring at you through squinted eyes, his shotgun pointed in your direction. You get the message. But she's too far away. You can't even see her in the corner of your eye. You want to grab her wrist and bring her back to you, but you don't move. The man whistles, and a dog appears out of nowhere. You can't remember the last time you saw a dog that wasn't feral. 

"Last chance for a bullet," he says. "If you've been infected, he'll smell it, and he'll rip you apart." The dog barks and thrashes against the leash, and you hear Ellie gasp in fear. Goddammit, you think as the dog slinks over to Joel, smelling his shoes. There's no way out. You're too slow, and there are too many guns. You'd barely get your hands on your weapon before they'd kill you. 

The dog jumps up on Joel and rears her head back. No one shoots. It must be her clear signal. The dog is called back before she's rereleased, this time to smell you. She repeats the action, and your shoulders drop. 

"Satisfied?" You ask, and Joel says your name again like he's scolding you. 

"One more." The man says as he rereleases the dog. She starts walking toward Ellie, and your heart beats in your face. You can hear her feet shuffling backward in the snow, and the dog growls at her. Your ears ring as you wait for the dog to knock her to the ground or worse. A bark pierces the air, and Joel jolts with the sound, but Ellie's laugh stops you from running toward her. You turn and see her giggling in the snow with the dog licking her face, completely safe. The dog is called back, and Ellie makes her way back to you. Nobody cocks a gun or yells at her to stop. 

"You just bought yourself ten more seconds," the man says. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm just lookin' for my brother," Joel says. A woman makes her horse walk forward, and you tuck Ellie behind you. 

"I'm okay." She whispers, but you don't say anything. You just watch Joel and the woman. She asks his name, and he tells her. She turns back to the man who yelled at you and says something you can't quite hear. 

"Lower your weapons!" The woman yells. No one even flinches or tries to question her. They just do it. "We're taking them back with us." 

In a few minutes, you're each given a horse and are told to follow the group. The journey "back" to wherever they're leading you takes about ten minutes, and the massive fort-like gate leaves you speechless. Joel glances back at you and Ellie and raises his eyebrows as if to say, "getta loada this shit." You shake your head and glance at Ellie, who has a ghost of a smirk on her lips. 

Once you're through the gate, a small city reveals itself. There are people. Like, lots of people. None of them show weapons or look up when you pass. You even see small kids chasing each other with pink cheeks and too-big hats. You can't look at them for too long. There are stores full of food and warm clothes, shoemakers, fucking ironsmiths. You almost think you've fallen into an alternate dimension. You and Joel seem to land on the same person as you get further into town.

He has long curly hair and a dark mustache though he has the same patches Joel has in his beard. They hold themselves the same way, you realize. Like there's too much weight on their backs, but they're doing their best to hold it anyways. He looks good. Healthy. Definitely not in whatever danger you and Joel thought he was in the whole time. Joel calls his name, and Tommy comes bounding down the scaffolding and into his older brother's arms. It's sweet and, by the looks of it, desperately needed by both of the men. 

You turn to look at Ellie and see her looking a little lost and the tiniest bit jealous as she watches the teary reunion. You nudge her with your elbow and mouth, "What a baby" to get her to smile. She gives you a small one but falls back into her pensiveness. You slide off your horse to shake Tommy's hand and introduce yourself.

"And this is Ellie," you say, gesturing to Ellie. She smiles and waves but doesn't get off her horse. 

"Y'all hungry?" Tommy asks, and that gets Ellie's attention. She finally comes down to the ground, and you all walk to the dining hall. 

It's the first hot meal you've had in months. You do your best not to scarf the food down like you want to and keep your manners around Tommy and Maria. Ellie, however, doesn't really care. Joel tries to correct her, and you give him a look. 

What? His raised eyebrows ask.

Leave her alone. You jerk your head in her direction.

Look at her. He widens his eyes.

Stop. You roll your eyes and look at Tommy with a smile.

"So, how long have you been in Jackson?" You ask, and he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, a few years now. I bounced around for a while before settlin' here." He says with a soft smile that reminds you of early mornings with Joel. You have to look away. 

"Ma'am, we're grateful for your hospitality and all, but it'd be nice to have a moment here just for family," Joel says, looking at Maria pointedly. You elbow him in the ribs, and he gives you another look. 

"What?" He hisses.

"You're being rude." You whisper. 

"You fuckin' hit me."

"Actually, uh..." Tommy says, reaching for Maria's left hand to bring the matching wedding rings to your attention for the first time. "Maria is family."

It's been a long day. You haven't seen Joel since he and Tommy disappeared into the bar this afternoon. Maria showed you and Ellie an available house you can stay in for the entirety of your time in Jackson, however long. She's been nice to Ellie, but she's made it clear she doesn't care for you or Joel. You're sure she's heard stories from Tommy about Joel and, therefore, can make assumptions about you. Still, she hasn't said anything explicit to you. You expect there to be a fight, though. There's no way there won't be one. 

After you take showers and put down your heavy packs, Maria silently takes you to watch a movie in the same place you ate lunch. About halfway through, you glance at Ellie, settled in a chair, and decide to sneak out to the general store for supplies. It takes longer than you thought it would, but you find a new hat and gloves for Ellie. It'll be worth it for when you have to get back on the road. You’re excited to show her but she’s locked in her room when you returned to the house. You try getting her to talk to you, but she doesn’t even open the door. She just yells at you to ask Joel.

"Do you wanna tell me why Ellie is sulking in her room?" You ask as you turn the corner and walk into what used to be the primary bedroom. You find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

"We got in a fight," he grumbles, pulling his head out of his hands to look at you. "Doesn't matter. Tommy's takin’ her to the Fireflies in the morning."

"What?" You ask. What the fuck did they talk about while they were alone? 

"She'll be safer with him. Tommy knows Jackson better than anybody. It's better this way."

"I'm sure his pregnant wife would disagree with you."

"Don't start with that."

"This isn't Tommy's fight, and you know that. He doesn't even know about her and-"

"I told him," he says. You blink at him as you try to wrap your brain around what he just said. Anger rolls through you. It wasn't his place to tell Tommy without consulting you first. He can't keep making decisions about her without talking to you. "I told him everythin’, and he agreed to do it. Said it would take him a few days, but he would be fine."

"You're serious." It's meant to be a question, but it sounds more like a statement. His eyes are heavy as he nods. 

"We were gonna go our separate ways soon enough."

"You promised Tess."

"I said a lot of shit I didn't mean," he snaps. "You should go with 'em if you think it's so unsafe. I'm sure they could use the extra hands."

"And what're you gonna do?"

"Go back to Boston and forget this ever happened." He says without hesitation. The implication that you would be on his list of things to forget hits somewhere deep in your chest. You start pacing, unsure of what to do with the buzzing behind your molars.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, really? You got into a fight with a fourteen-year-old, and now you're gonna hightail it back to Boston? Just like that?" You scoff, and he stands from his place on the bed, getting in your face. You square your shoulders in a silent dare. 

"She brought up Sarah." 

"And Jane," you say. "And Tess. And Bill and Frank. And Sam and Henry. You really wanna keep going? Because I can play this game all day."

"Tommy is takin' her to the Fireflies. End of story." He tries, and you squint at him. 

"Oh, so you're abandoning her with someone else because it's more convenient for you? Sounds real familiar." 

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me? I'm not the one going back to Boston because I'm afraid of a kid." 

"It ain't about her. It's about Tommy-"

"Knowing this area better. I get it. But you know what he doesn't know? Ellie," you say. He wavers, stepping back a little, but you don't let him go that easy. "He doesn't know how to take care of her like you do. We've been traveling with her for six fucking months, and now you just want to dump her on someone else because it's hard? Because she brought up your kid? Huh?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares past your face. "She's fourteen, Joel. Her job is to push your buttons just to see what comes out. She takes her anger out on you because she trusts you to handle it. She trusts you. We both do. But I swear to God, Joel, if you do this..." You're not sure what threat you wanted to tack onto the end of that sentence, but it dies in your throat. Your chest is pressed against his, and your breathing is ragged. You step away, finally, and make for the door. 

Originally, you were going to sleep in bed with him. He even joked about it when Maria mentioned something about the house before you split off. Now, you'll sleep on the fucking couch if you have to. You're angry. You should be slamming doors and stomping down the stairs, but your hand lingers on the doorknob for some reason. You turn back to him. 

"D'you really think you're the only person who hurts when you look at her?" You ask. "She... she is everything Jane will never be. I know that. But she's not Jane. And she's not Sarah. She's Ellie, and she needs help. If you can't handle that, then fine. Go back to Boston, but don't blame a kid for something you can't face." 

Joel is gone by the time you wake up. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. He even made the bed, so there'd be absolutely no proof he was ever here. You want to fight with him again. You want to yell at each other until you figure it out or come to a place of understanding. You want him to want to figure it out with you. But the world has never been kind enough to care about what you want. So, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and push thoughts of Joel away. You have to get her to the Fireflies safely. One of you should fulfill the promise you made Tess. 

When Tommy arrives on the doorstep with a sympathetic look and a rifle slung over his shoulder, you smile softly at him before opening the door wider. He shuts the door behind him as you move to the living room and pull your boots on. He walks over and plays with the blanket swung over the back of the couch. 

"You know, there are beds upstairs." He says, and you nod. 

"Joel and I got into a fight." You say. He's married. He should know how it goes.

"Seems to be a recurring theme with him." 

"Yeah," you finish tying your bootlaces and sit back to look at him. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

"I know. I just... feel like I owe him," he shrugs, the rifle moving with his shoulders, and you sigh. "Plus, Maria's already mad at me bout it. Might as well finish it."

"Both the Miller men seem to be battin' a thousand this week." You laugh. There's movement upstairs, and you take a deep breath. Tommy reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and you let him. In the twenty-four hours you've known him, you've realized Tommy is gentler, softer than Joel is. Still, Joel told you the stories of how the hot desert sun beat down on Tommy's baby face as he held a gun bigger than him. You know he's just as dangerous as Joel. You just wish Joel bore it as well as Tommy does. 

"I should go talk to her." You mumble as you stand. He nods and wishes you good luck before walking up the stairs toward Ellie's room. 

A closed door has never been as ominous as this one. You push through the pit of dread in your stomach and knock on the wood, only opening it when you receive a response. Then, like watching fall leaves, you watch her shoulders drop in disappointment. She thought—no, hoped— you were Joel. You walk over and sit next to her on the window seat, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing affectionately. You sit like that for a moment before Ellie frowns at you.

"I really thought he would change his mind." She whispers.

"Yeah, me too." You whisper back. She purses her lips and shakes her head like she's scolding herself for getting her hopes up. You squeeze her again, but she doesn't say anything. She just gets up, throws her backpack over her shoulders, and trudges down the stairs. You sigh and look up at the ceiling, racking your brain for the best way to turn her mood around before following her. 

The walk to the stables is silent. You're each trying to settle into this new dynamic, but none of you like it. That seems to be the only thing clear about this whole situation. As you walk through the horse stalls, Tommy tells you something about the distance or the terrain or something. You lose track when you see Joel saddling up the horse you were coming to get.

"You came here to say goodbye or something?" Ellie snaps, but Joel doesn't even turn from what he's doing.

"No. I came here to steal one of these horses and go." His voice is strained, like he's been crying. Had he been crying? In the years you've known Joel Miller, you've never seen him cry. 

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy chimes in, and Joel nods.

"I know," he says, finally looking at the three of you. His eyes linger on yours before he looks down at his boots again. "Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess..." he trails off and starts walking to Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"Let's go." Ellie cuts him off, shoving her bag into his chest with enough force to make him stumble. You fight a smile as you glance between them. This, you think. This is how it's supposed to be. 

"Okay," Joel says. Ellie walks past him and to the horse, petting his nose and whispering sweet things. Tommy and Joel share a look of understanding before his eyes flick to yours. "D'you mind givin' us a minute?" He asks Tommy, and he shakes his head. He takes the horse Joel saddled up and Ellie outside before walking to the back of the barn to get another one ready. The air between you is thick as you stare at him, the dried tear marks on his cheeks catching the light, and you should be mad at him. You should curse at him and push him, but you don't. 

"You made Ellie really happy." You say instead. He nods and takes a step into you. 

"Only Ellie?" He rasps. You take a deep breath and press your tongue into your cheek, fighting the impulse to make a snarky comment. He can see the struggle and smirks devastatingly at you.

"I'm happy," you say. He takes another step closer, his chest hitting flush against yours, and you breathe in the mint toothpaste he used this morning. His lips ghost over yours, but you pull back and look at him intently before he can kiss you. "If you ever make me yell at you like that again, I will make your life a living hell, Miller."

"Promise?" He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick. I should've listened to you from the start. I'm sorry," he mumbles as he kisses you. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." He trails down your neck, whispering apologies into your skin. You tilt your head to give him a little more room, relishing in the scratch of his beard against your pulse, when you hear Ellie's voice from outside. You slap his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn't move. 

"Cool it, cowboy. There are kids around." You say, and he chuckles.

"Kid," he corrects. "And she's not payin' attention." He says, lifting his head to kiss your lips again. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a moment like this with him, probably since before Tess died. Still, he tastes familiar, and the press of his lips against yours is a comfort. You indulge in it for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"We have to go." You whisper, your voice wrecked from the effect he has on you, and he groans.

"Okay, okay." He relents, prying himself from you, but you catch his wrist before he can get far.

"I'm serious about what I said. I don't wanna feel like I did last night ever again." You say, and he presses his lips into a line before intertwining your fingers.

"I'm sorry for the fight. For bein' a dick. Everything. I'll do anything I can to never do that to you or Ellie ever again, okay?" He says. Reluctantly, you nod and decide to forgive him. You don't have time to be mad at him, and there's nothing you can do to change the past. You can only keep moving forward.

"Okay," you agree. "But Ellie deserves an apology, too." 

"Of course." He agrees easily. It's the least friction you've ever had while talking to him. You smile and kiss him one more time before you two walk out to where Ellie and Tommy are waiting with two saddled-up horses. The brothers bid each other a private goodbye, and you thank him for everything. He gives you directions as Joel pulls Ellie up on the horse to settle behind him, and you listen, too, in case Joel forgets something. 

Then, as quietly as you arrived, you leave Jackson and its inhabitants for whatever the Fireflies have in store for you three. 

[angelkissiies]

takes two to toxic

ellie williams x reader

cw/tw : fighting, cursing, hurt no comfort, aggression, manipulation, cunnilingus, toxic relationship, sex obvi, mentions of violence, mean!ellie. like a lot more but i cannot remember.

wc : 2.5k

proof read : yes | hell no

a/n : i have no idea how this reads and i cannot bring myself to re-read it - so enjoy! also this is only one of the dark!ellie fics i have planned!! also this kinds sucks.

Seattle had been taxing, putting a strain not only on your bodies but also your relationship. It had been two weeks since Ellie had even slept in the same bed as you, causing you to suffer alone in your sleeping bag. You knew it had been a long couple of months for her, so you tried not to hold it against her- but you couldn’t control the feelings when they bubbled over and bubble over they had been. She’d found a fun hobby of being insanely reckless and picking fights with you when you criticized her. It drove you insane, leading your mouth to react before you could control it. 

“Ellie, that was so fucking stupid!” You huffed, slamming the theater doors closed before shoving the chair back into place. She’d decided to sneak off whilst you were sleeping, ending up catching an arrow in the shoulder- thankfully she wasn’t dead, but as she rolled her eyes at you, you kinda wished she’d gotten a little more damage done. “What were you even thinking?”

It wasn’t usual for her to storm off and ignore you until you ultimately cooled down over the situation, but something made her halt as you shouted. Yes, it was stupid- but she couldn’t find it in herself to care how stupid or dangerous her moves were. It was progress, one way or the other. Ellie prided herself, usually, on keeping a cool head. On being able to handle situations without popping a blood vessel, but as she looked at you a glowering rage entered her body. Even if you didn’t realize it, you were a walking reminder of the reason she had to do this. “I did it for us, babe.” She spat, her usually delightful green eyes becoming murky in the dark light of the theater. “Thank me and get over it.”

You scoffed, pulling your pack off and letting it fall to the floor with an obnoxious thump. “Thank you? You really expect me to sit here and thank you for going out there alone and almost fucking dying?” The gall of the woman before you genuinely made your stomach churn, how could she be so blind to the recklessness of her actions? And how could she possibly think you’d be cool with it? “What did you even get out of this? Did you find anything new? Did you find her?” You knew the answer, seeing as when you found her she was taking her anger out on some poor long-dead infected. 

Ellie brought her tongue up to skim her gums as an angry smile came to rest on her lips, “At least I’m doing something. Hm? You couldn’t possibly understand that since you’ve been the one bitching the entire time about being tired.” She saw you wince at her words, bringing her to take a step back from you. As much as she didn’t want to be doing this, she couldn’t stop herself as words kept flowing, poisoning the air between you two. “You begged to come with me, so don’t fucking complain about what I do.”

“Y’know, you’re just like her.” You whispered, pushing past her to find some dark corner to tuck yourself into. She was so mean, too mean. You often thought back to Joel, how he’d feel about the person his little girl had become, surely he’d be appalled. YOu knew you were, as you often tried to force yourself to forget the Ellie that’d died back in Jackson. The Ellie you’d fallen in love with. The Ellie who’d never have spoken to you like this. 

Her hand wrapped around your wrist, jerking you back towards her as you attempted to pull away. Her grip was like steel, her slender fingers digging into your skin roughly. “Who.” She asked, internally knowing the answer. She knew exactly what you meant at that moment, and the restraint she’d been holding inside completely disappeared as she pulled you back to stand in front of her. 

You’d had enough, no longer fearing the consequences as you peered up at her- her impossibly overwhelming aura seeping into you as your face morphed into something staining in hatred. “Abby. Who else? you two fucking deserve each other.” You sneered, feeling her nails begin to pierce your skin as her grip began to tremble from how hard she was squeezing. “Fucking let go!” Your free hand came up to push against her chest, trying to free yourself from her death grip. 

Ellie’s entire body felt hot, having urges she’d never experienced as she felt your hands fighting against her but failing as she overpowered you. She couldn’t understand why the feelings she had about you now were so violent, so brutal. They used to be so gentle, so innocent. It didn’t change the fact that her mind was spinning now, seeking a way to convey her feelings. A way to show you how she felt without hurting you any more than she already had, though part of her wasn’t opposed to the idea. 

Her hands moved faster than you could comprehend, one coming up to weave into your hair whilst the other wrapped around your neck. It was dizzying, how unpredictable she was. She jerked your head back, dipping down to connect your lips in a clash of teeth and flesh as you battled against her- not understanding why. She was persistent, not letting you wriggle free as she stole the air from your lungs. 

You hate her? You didn’t even know, still feeling the sting of her words as you cowered before her. The grip on your throat made your head fuzzy as she finally allowed you a second to breathe before backing you onto the decades-old couch in the middle of the room. You didn’t know why your fight against her had slowed, letting her win as you blindly followed her wherever it was she wanted. Maybe it was the love you still held for her or maybe it was something in your stomach that had fluttered when she’d put her hands on you. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, okay?” Her voice was rough, filled with an edge of desperation as she realized that this entire time the hatred she held for you wasn’t because of Joel or Abby. It was because she’d been letting her want for you turn into disdain with every moment she distanced herself from you. Every second she barred herself from sharing with you, every lonely night in her sleeping bag, every joke she stopped herself from telling you. She’d been the reason for all of this, her own happiness being smothered by her need for revenge. On Abby and herself. “I know you want this too.” 

“I-,” Did you want this? She’d been making your life a living hell since you left Jackson. She’d said some really horrible things to you, even going as far as to threaten you when it got too heated- yet you could deny the yearning you had to be important to her again. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted as much as being hers again, and it was evident now as you felt a heat begin to pool between your legs as she hovered above you on the couch. “I want this.”

She didn’t hesitate for a second, the pit in her stomach begging to be filled as she shoved her hands under your shirt- practically ripping it from you before discarding it out of sight. She felt like an animal, nursing a hunger she could only fill with you as she attached her mouth to your nipple, dragging her tongue against the bud before taking it between her teeth. She didn’t understand the need she had, something inside of her still wanted to hurt you. To make you cry, whilst the other just needed you to look at her with- those eyes. As she looked up at you, mouth attacking your poor bud, she saw them. Your eyes were filled with a familiar haze, one she’d last seen in Jackson when she’d chased you through the woods outside the walls- hunting you down. 

You whined, arching your back to be closer to her as she sucked a dark mark onto the skin of your breast- almost drawing blood with how hard she was biting. “Fuck, Els, want you.” You breathed, hands coming up to wind in her auburn hair. 

She was quick with her movements, hands dipping down to the button of your cargo pants as she pressed chaste kisses to the skin of your stomach, dragging her teeth across sensitive spots as she got closer to your waist. Her fingers broke the waistband, pulling your pants and underwear down as she did so- discarding them haphazardly. You attempted to close your legs, only to be stopped almost instantly by her arm coming up to hold your left leg down to the couch roughly.

“Keep your legs open,” Ellie grunted, dipping down between your thighs to lick a stripe up your pathetically wet cunt. She practically moaned at the taste, fingers digging into your thighs as she used her tongue to separate your folds- finding your sensitive numb all puffy, and swollen begging to be touched. She didn’t hesitate to circle her tongue around the orb, flicking it roughly with every pass she did. 

“Oh my god, Ellie!” Your stomach tensed, cunt releasing an embarrassing amount of arousal as she played with you. The sensation was almost enough to make you cum on the spot, having spent so long without any kind of sexual stimulation- you were more than a bit frustrated. You knew how easy it would be for her to fuck you and go back to how it was, and at this point, you weren't sure you cared. You’d take the hits if it meant keeping her for yourself. “Fuck.”

Her mouth dipped down to lap up some of the slick that had begun pooling around your slit, gently coaxing her tongue past your swollen lips and inside of you in one swift movement, She moved her hand up to rest on your stomach, thumb reaching down to deliver rough stimulation to your clit as she dipped her tongue in and out of your tight cunt. The barely audible noises escaping her mouth vibrated against you, making you press her face further into your heat. 

You practically screamed at the added pleasure, bucking your hips as you ground into her mouth- wet noises echoing through the desolate theater and more than likely out into the street via the broken windows. You couldn’t care, the dizzying pleasure beginning to wind in your stomach like a rubber band- aching to snap as she pushed you further and further into a place you could only describe as heaven. You cursed her, internally, for having such a way with her tongue that made you put a backseat to all the shit you’d been through with her. If there was one thing you knew she excelled at, it was manipulation. “M’gonna cum, Els.” You whimpered, her abuse of your clit making you attempt to pull away. 

Her tongue came up to replace her thumb on your clit, pulling the nub in between her lips as she sucked on it harshly- eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your mouth. She didn’t need you to tell her you were close, as the fluttering of your cunt around her tongue had already keyed her on. “Tell me you hate me, tell me that you belong to me.” She groaned against your clit, savoring every inch of you as she peered up to take you in. 

You’d thrown your head back, just barely hovering over the dusty couch cushions, with your mouth agape as you let out messy moans of her name. Her words hit a sweet spot, prompting you to give her a sweet whine in response. “Fuckin.. Fucking hate you, Els. So fucking much.” It was mostly a lie, though the words felt good as they slipped off of your tongue and into the thick tension that surrounded the two of you. You didn’t want to mean it but as you recalled all of her abuse in your haze of pleasure, you’d found a wave of anger rising despite everything. 

“And?” 

You didn't want to say it, not wanting to give her the pleasure of owning you again- when you’d already given her everything you’d had. It bubbled at your lips, on the tip of your tongue as you panted. “No.”

Ellie halted, her dark eyes meeting yours as she stopped completely, mouth coated in arousal as she glowered at you. “What was that?” The untamed aggression she’d been pushing down arose again, this time doubling as she tilted her head at you. You were hers. Bottom line. What were you saying? She’d been processing all of this and doing all of this for you. You weren’t leaving, were you? No, that couldn’t be it. There had to be another explanation. Right?

Your eyes grew wide as you tried to push yourself back, away from her but she kept you locked firmly in place. You wanted to be upset about your ruined orgasm but couldn’t as you cowered under her gaze. She was terrifying, like a completely different person from moments ago. You didn’t think she could become more intimidating, more ferocious in her pursuit but you were wrong. “E-Ellie... I-,” You began, voice unsteady as you felt her hand move down to her pocket. 

“You’re mine. You’re not anyone else's. Hear me?” She growled, letting her hand caress the soft perfect slate of skin that covered your thigh. She was an artist, this was art. You were art, or at least you would be. 

You whimpered, eyes clouding with anticipation as you felt goosebumps arise at her touch. You were terrified, of course, but embarrassingly enough it didn’t stop your cunt from becoming even more soaked as she spoke. You should definitely not be finding anything about this pleasurable, hell, you should've turned around and headed back to Jackson by now but something about her kept drawing you in. It was unhealthy. Toxic. Addictive. “M’yours?” You said, speaking it as more a question than a statement- making Ellie grow frustrated. 

Ellie drew her hand from her pocket, switchblade flicking open as she scoffed lightly. “You are so dumb,” She began, letting the blade skim the sensitive skin. “But, god, you’re so pretty.” She was as if whiplash was personified, sending you for a loop every time you thought you understood what was happening. “M’gonna make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

You furrowed your brows, nodding along with her mindlessly. God, what was wrong with you. Every piece of self-respect and resolve to defend yourself had been whittled away into a need to be with her. You’d tried to fight. You’d tried to leave. You’d done everything you could to put yourself first and you’d failed completely. Every effort had been in vain as you felt the cool metal press into your thigh. “Are you gonna hurt me, Els?” You whispered, watching her bite back a smirk that rose to her lips with the sound of your feeble voice. 

“Yeah, I am, baby.”

[lilislegacy]

The real question is: who would ✨you ✨ be the most scared of if they were coming towards you angrily?

honestly i’d be freaking terrified of all of them. they’re all terrifying and any of them are valid choices.

but for me personally, percy. without a doubt. and here’s why

reyna, i’d be terrified, but i also feel like she wouldn’t waste any more of her time on me than she needs to. she’s got shit to do. she might slam me against a wall and call me some roman insult, maybe break my wrist or something, but i’ll live.

annabeth is very scary, but she also is a logical and level headed person. if she knew i didn’t mean to do whatever she’s mad about, she’s not gonna judo flip me or stab me. i think more than anything i’d just feel really bad about myself cause she’d lay it on thick about how stupid i’d been. but i def wouldn’t go anywhere near her anytime soon

nico is very powerful and very creepy scary, but he gets worked up so easily. and then never handles it well himself. i’m kinda just used to seeing him mad to be hoenst. he also gets drained so easily, it would take a LOT of his energy to do something really bad. so he’s probably by 2nd biggest worry, but i know hurting me would hurt him too, so he’d think carefully about it.

jason i’m not that scared of tbh. not becasue he’s not powerful, but becasue it usually takes a lot for him to actually, like, do something worth being terrified. he’s calm and level headed. he has to build up to deadly-level actions, it doesn’t just happen.

percy jackson however… he’s too powerful for his own good. he’s the most powerful AND the least in control of his power. the worst mix possible.

first off, we know his “however bad you are, i’m worse” wolf glare is terrifying. when percy glared at leo in MoA, leo was shaking, and said percy’s look felt the same as when jason summoned lighting.

let that sink in.

a single look from percy feels just as dangerous as the son of zeus summoning an ear-piercing, earth shaking lightning bolt. like… HELLO?? i’d throw up and pass out the second he glared at me.

but also, when percy’s mad, water reacts before he does. toilets explode, geysers shoot up out of nowhere, oceans and lakes form 100 foot tall deadly waves, hurricanes dominate, need i go on?that’s not even including the most brutal stuff he’s done. and the most terrifying part: he does a lot of this without even thinking. they are all aquatic and earthly reactions to his emotions. there’s a certain uncontrolled brutality to percy that none of the others possess. the sea cannot be controlled.

so if the others are mad, yes i am very, very scared about what any of them might do on purpose. but with percy, i am most scared of him because he’s an untamable powerhouse, and his emotions unchecked might kill me on accident.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Author of the Month: July

captainquint | @jesterlesbian

Works in FT Fandom: 8

Most Recent:  I Wanna Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart [E, 3K] Hawk tipped his hat politely towards Tim, the way he always did when he rode back into town and stabled his horse at the Liberty Bell, where Tim worked as a stable hand. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady work, and the off-chance of spotting Hawkins Fuller in leather chaps astride a horse sweetened the pot considerably.

Hawk flashed Tim the look that he understood meant “Meet me around the back,” so Tim dawdled for a few moments more, trying in vain to wipe off as much dirt and muck as he could from his shirt before oh-so-casually strolling to behind the stables, where it met the treeline and provided just the right amount of cover.

Longest Fic:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues [E, 5K] Tim Laughlin stood in front of Hawk, one hand still raised as if to continue banging on the door, his tweed jacked dotted with snowflakes. Water droplets were trapped on his glasses, maybe from melted snow. But with how red-rimmed his eyes were, there might have been teardrops on his glasses as well.

Hawk’s slightly intoxicated reflexes took a moment to spring into action upon seeing Tim. “Skippy,” he grinned, "what, did you miss me that much? I’ll still be here after New Year’s."

Tim’s face screwed up in a look of righteous fury that Hawk knew meant an argument was coming. And before he could react, Tim was shoving Hawk backwards and into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“You absolute ass!”

Or, Tim confronts Hawk about his being investigated by the M Unit.

Top 3 Highest Rated Fics:  I Guess I've Got The Christmas Blues

Picturing You Kneeling In Prayer [M, 2K] It's the beginning of Lent in 1953.

“During Lent, we’re supposed to give up earthly pleasures so as to better reflect on Christ in the desert, and his overcoming Satan’s temptations. Speaking of which, you should probably be going.”

Tim slid away from Hawk’s grasp and moved to gather his hat and coat for him. He turned to find Hawk still seated on the bed, staring back at him with a slightly confused look on his face.

“People give up lots of things for Lent, things they consider indulgent or pleasurable. Booze, cigarettes, chocolate. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I gave up… you.”

we'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac [M, 4K] He tried to think of what Tim would do or say. The man who had only spoken to his son a handful of times over one weekend in 1968, but had seemed to understand him far better than Hawk ever had.

The business card felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

An idea burst to life in Hawk’s mind. This was an emergency if he’d ever seen one.

“What would you say to coming with me to San Francisco?”

Or, Hawk and Jackson go on a cross-country road trip to San Francisco.

Hidden Gem:  Only The Lucky Ones Come Home [M, 1K] It didn’t make sense. Kenny wasn’t in Italy, he wasn’t in Europe. He was sent somewhere in the Pacific, Hawk wasn’t quite sure. That was the last he had heard. So how could Kenneth Willard be bleeding out at his feet in Velletri?

“You did this.”

The blood in Hawk’s veins turned to ice at Kenny’s words.

Or, Hawk has a nightmare about his time in the war.

FTFR Fave:  All Tied Up With Nowhere To Go [E, 2K] “Are they too tight?” Hawk asked, tugging on Tim’s wrists.

Tim’s wrists were, at that moment, bound to the headboard of Hawkins Fuller’s bed by some carefully knotted neckties. Tim was struck by the thought of Hawk wearing one of these ties to work on a later day, becoming distracted in his office thinking of what they had done with them on this night. His mouth twitched up at the corner. “Hey, are you listening to me?” Hawk placed a hand under his chin and tilted Tim’s face towards Hawk’s own. “This is important. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim rolled his wrists and wiggled his fingers to show they were fine. “I’m not made of glass, Hawk, you don’t have to treat me like I’ll break.”

Or, Hawk teases a tied-up Tim

Part 2 of FT Valentine's Day 2024 

Upcoming Work I’m Excited About: Tim in Lingerie Fic Snippet (Tim in Lingerie Fic):  He was pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of Hawk slowly removing his sheer stockings, caressing his calf and ankle on the way down. Hawk took one bare foot in his hand and smirked up at Tim with a raised eyebrow, as if to say, “Remember this?” before sucking a toe into his mouth. The wet heat hit him immediately, and Tim whined high in the back of his throat.

“Hawk, get back up here, I need you,” Tim groaned, already creeping toward overstimulation at the dual sensations of Hawk’s tongue along his foot and the slide of the lace against his skin. He had always been… excitable, and the last thing he wanted to do was spill too soon.

Hawk pulled off his toes with an obscene pop! and rose again before him, bringing a hand to the hard planes of Tim’s abdomen and scratching lightly, teasing.

“You’re always in such a rush, Skippy. It’s not your fault, you’re still young,” he chuckled, “but I think I’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

Thanks for reading!

✨ Please show the author lots of love with your kudos, comments and reblogs of this post!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Survivor Blues

Part Six: Kitchen Scraps

A/N: I feel like every single one of my author's notes begins with me screaming and apologizing for how long it took me to update the story, so pretend that's what this says. I am very excited to share this part of Survivor Blues because even though there's not a lot of action, it sets up a ton of things to come, and we get a lot more background information on Reader. From the bottom of my heart I hope you all enjoy these kitchen scraps. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: language, mentions of trauma, death, murder, mentions of illness, some angst but hey that comes with the territory

Word Count: 8,454

Summary: Three months into your new life in Jackson, you start to notice some changes. But how much change, and are you sure you're entirely ready for it?

June - 2037 

With the start of your third month in Jackson came a considerable number of changes. 

Your apartment, for example, began to look like someone actually lived there. 

For the first time in nearly a decade, your pack had been unpacked, your belongings given places of permanence instead of just pockets and pouches. The pair of chipped enamel camp mugs now sat side by side in the cabinet over the kitchen sink. Gavin’s stained and threadbare concert tee was folded and put away with the rest of your clothing. A hook next to the front door held your coat by the hood, the key to your place dangling on another one right beside it. The creased and tattered old envelope you’d carried with you for years that held photos and a handful of notes had been emptied and tossed. The notes, mostly from Gavin but a few from Laura and Kyle, as well as a faded old marker drawing your nephew had done for you when he was six years old, were tucked away in your bedside table.

But the photos you chose to display. 

Because they deserve to be seen. Everyday. 

You’d found some old frames in a box in the hall closet a few days after you moved in, but you weren’t ready to use them then. Now one sat atop your dresser, holding the last picture of you and Gavin taken before the outbreak - incredibly youthful faces smushed cheek to grin-split cheek, Gavin’s inked fingers holding up your wrist as you showed off the diamond ring he’d slipped onto your finger only moments before. Your engagement ring had been sold ages ago, back when you were still in the Philadelphia QZ and people still cared enough about things like diamonds to trade medicine for them. But the photo was worth more to you than a rock ever could be. 

And I still have our bands. Even though we never… 

You were never officially married, and since the bands had been hand-me-downs from Gavin’s grandparents and didn’t fit either of your fingers, you’d only ever worn them on chains around your necks. But you knew that never mattered. Not to you, and not to him. Not since the moment that picture had been taken. Not since you’d joyfully exclaimed the word yes when he asked you to be his wife. 

Another frame sat on the T.V. stand in the living room. That one held a picture of you and Laura from the summer before the outbreak, the two of you sitting on the steps outside her building, cups of brightly colored Italian ice in your hands and Kyle’s father’s arm sticking in from out of sight to add bunny ears to his girlfriend’s head. Both of you were laughing at some long since forgotten joke, but you’d always be able to hear the sound of her laughter when you looked at it. 

There was another picture taken that day, one of just Laura and Dante on those same steps. You’d taken it yourself, with Gavin’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind you as he made faces at his sister to get her to laugh. That one you didn’t have anymore, though. You’d left it with Kyle. It was the only photo you had of both of his parents. It was only right that it stay with him. 

The last two photos that you had in your possession were polaroids taken with a camera you’d found during your time at the farm. One of them was of you, Gavin, Laura and a two year old Kyle, the little boy perched on his uncle’s shoulders, the four of you standing in front of the old oak tree that his family had been taking pictures in front of for generations. Ty had been behind the camera that day, not wanting to be caught on film herself but more than happy to capture moments for the rest of you. The other was a candid she’d snapped of just you and Gavin from the same day, your hands linked together and hanging between your bodies and his face turned in your direction. The expression he wore was one of pure adoration as he watched you watching the sunset. Seconds later he was leaning in to press his lips to your temple, kissing a whisper onto your skin. 

“Love you, Sugar.” 

Memories like those didn’t belong in your backpack anymore. If you were going to build a life here, they deserved to be a part of it. 

Because they’re a part of me. 

Those two, because of their unconventional shape, didn’t fit in the 3x5 frames you’d found. But you had another option in the form of your stark white refrigerator door. Using the plain green circular magnet that had been stuck there when you arrived, you tacked up the photo of you and Gavin. The last thing that you pulled from your pack was what you used to hang the other - the rest stop souvenir magnet that Joel had given you the morning after you’d sewn up his arm. 

It was the first “new” thing you’d brought into the apartment since you moved in. The first new item in your collection of trinkets that tied you to moments and people that mattered to you. It scared the shit out of you to admit, but one of the biggest changes you’d gone through since your arrival in Jackson was allowing things to matter again. When Kyle died you thought your ability to feel anything but emptiness had died with him. You thought life, however much more of it you’d be unlucky enough to endure, would be nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other until you physically couldn’t anymore. No more laughter, no more happiness, no more warmth and certainly no more human connection. Just the hollow feeling in your skull and the involuntary drive to carry on. Left, right, left until you marched yourself into the dirt. Or worse.  

But then Joel and Tommy found you in that split-level not far from town and now here you were, with a refrigerator door decorated with things that mattered. 

You wondered if it would ever be as covered up with kitschy clutter as the one in your and Gavin’s tiny apartment. Photobooth strips and postcards, recipes that you wanted to try, either clipped from magazines or scrawled hastily on scraps of paper, a birthday card you’d gotten one year from your friend Dave that was too funny to take down, the test results from Gavin’s blood work that showed improvement after his surgery which he jokingly slapped up calling it his A+ report card. Magnets from trips you’d taken, a promotional one from your favorite dumpling place, stray letters from one of those colorful alphabet sets, objects you’d simply glued a magnetic strip to to turn into a magnet, like the little plastic stingray you found on the floor in the hallway of your building or the cork from the champagne bottle you popped when you moved in. 

Like a scrapbook. 

That was what Gavin used to call it. A memory pushed its way forward from the back of your mind as you stood there looking at your mostly bare by comparison fridge, a moment you hadn’t thought about in what felt like ages. 

Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you scurried from the bathroom to the bedroom, fingers deftly fastening an earring before flipping the strap of your dress to lay it flat against your shoulder. The anxiety of running late and nerves about meeting extended members of Gavin’s family for the first time at his cousin’s wedding popped and jumped like corn kernels in your stomach. As a result, your thoughts tripped over themselves in your head as you stuffed your phone and a tube of lip gloss into a small purse. I still have to sign the card and - shit! The card! We need to stop at an ATM and grab cash for the card! Wait, the place is in Germantown, right?  

“Gav? Where’s the invitation? I need to check -” 

“Hung it on the scrapbook.” He followed you from the bedroom down the short, narrow hall to the kitchen as his slender fingers worked to form the knot in his tie. “Slow down, Shug, we’ve got plenty of time.” You plucked the invite from the collage you called a refrigerator door just as he finished his task, those same long digits now curling around your hips to pull you flush against his long, lean frame. When he spoke again, lips close to your ear and breath warm on your skin, you could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re not gonna be late, don’t you worry.” You closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You look gorgeous.” His murmured compliment made you melt, made the nerves that were just exploding inside you go calm. And then he spoke again and made you snort out a laugh. “Gonna upstage the bride.”

You turned in his arms to see the smile still on his face, his eyes shining softly as he looked at you. You rolled yours playfully, smacking his arm with the invitation as you did to draw a chuckle from his throat. “Oh, stop. I’m sure Maya is gonna be a stunning bride.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, leaning in to nudge the tip of your nose with his. “Just not as stunning as you.” 

You wondered if you would ever again feel even a fraction of what you felt in that nearly forgotten, long buried memory. Like you were floating. Radiating love. Sure of every part of yourself. Safe in the arms and heart of a man who always put you first. Blinking at the expanse of white, powder-coated stamped steel that surrounded the two pictures and two magnets, you decided it was far more likely that you’d fill up that empty space before someone else filled the empty space in your heart. 

But… it’s not entirely impossible. 

Your focus strayed to the Wyoming magnet, a small, soft swell growing in your chest as you remembered the look on Joel’s face when he handed it to you. Maybe it was possible that you could find both here. You scoffed and shook the thought from your head before you took it too far. You knew you were in no shape for anything like that, emotionally speaking. 

The last time you’d been in anything that resembled a relationship had been a little under ten years earlier, just outside the Chicago QZ, and you’d done everything you could to keep it as stunted and strictly physical as possible. A means to an end. A way to release tensions pent up for too long, a way to feel something other than fear or pain or white hot rage or the soul sucking sadness that clawed at your throat most nights. AJ - a tall, muscular smuggler with a deep voice, far away eyes and a teenaged sister he’d shoot you dead to save if it came to that - was happy to agree to those terms. He understood you and your bricked up walls and your need to keep your broken heart behind them. He understood those things without you ever saying them because he was doing the same thing. 

It lasted three months before he ruined it by offering you more. 

“You know, Gia and I are thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ Chicago,” he told you one night in the upstairs bedroom of the stash house he let you and your family stay in while Laura rested a badly sprained ankle. In exchange, you kept his cache of smuggled goods protected from raiders. The fucking had just been a mutual bonus. “QZ’s goin’ to shit. Think it’s time we get out for good.” 

You balked instantly at the casual way he dropped his future plans on you. Your clothes were still strewn on the floor, your bare skin still pressed to his. You were too exposed for that kind of intimacy. Shifting away from his hold you felt yourself shutdown, an icy flush running through your veins to kill whatever warmth AJ had managed to put there before he spoke. 

“Oh?” Your voice came out flat as you sat up and reached for your shirt. 

The man in the bed behind you cleared the gravel from his throat and sat up, too. “Yeah.” His large palm landed too gently on your shoulder blade, and you knew he felt it when you flinched at the sweep of his thumb, but he kept going anyway. “I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come with us.” He leaned forward and broke another rule, brushing a stubble-studded kiss to your spine. “You and Kyle and Laura, of course.” 

You stood, putting more distance between you so he couldn’t feel the way your heart was banging on your ribs, telling you it was time to pull up stakes and go. Yanking the shirt over your head, you looked at him with empty eyes and a slight shake of your head. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” You arched one eyebrow and shrugged. “That’s not what this is.” You took another step, bending down to pick up the rest of your clothes so that you could seal yourself away from him. 

He let out a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh and you heard the bed springs creak as he got up. “It could be,” he answered, reaching for your wrist in an attempt to slow you down, reel you back in, try to coax you into agreeing to let this thing between you go from bare bones and scraps to something more fleshed out and filling. You shook off his loose grip and finished getting dressed despite the click of his tongue and the low murmur of your name. “You could let it be. We can keep each other safe. I can keep you safe, and-“  

A humorless laugh escaped your lips then. “If you think I need you to keep me safe, then you don’t know a goddamn thing about me.” You shoved your feet into your boots and laced them up tight. 

“I know you don’t need it, but-” 

Wheeling on him, you cut him off. “You know what, AJ? I think this has run its course. Laura’s ankle is healed, so-“ You hardened your features against the way his face fell. “We’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” 

And you were.

AJ had tried one more time to get you to stay. One more time to tell you that he wanted you in his hair, that he wanted you in his life. But that would mean him becoming a part of yours. That would mean Gia becoming a part of yours. That would mean two more people to anchor yourself to. Two more people for you to protect. Two more people to weave themselves into the fabric of your heart, and two more people you could potentially lose, causing that fabric to tear in two more places. You’d already worn yourself ragged with responsibility and loss. You weren’t looking for more. AJ was a good man. He could have been good for you. The timing was just wrong. 

But you were safe now. There was no reason to run from companionship or intimacy now. That didn’t mean it would be easy, though. 

Like that’s ever stopped you before, you could hear Gavin tease, a smirk on his face. 

It hadn’t. You had never been one to back down simply because the task at hand might be difficult. You moved out on your own for the first time with only what you could fit in your car. You took your first kitchen job without a lick of experience. You fell head over heels in love with a man with a heart defect, knowing full and well that any chance at forever with him could be cut short by his condition and diving in anyway. Easy wasn’t really in your playbook. 

Again, it was Joel’s face that came to mind. You had no real idea what his story was when it came to relationships, you only knew that he wasn’t currently in one. And with the way you had heard some women in town speak about him when they thought only their closest friends could hear, you gathered that it was by choice. That it wasn’t something he was looking for. 

And though you were almost afraid to admit it even to yourself, a part of you already hoped that you were wrong about that. 

Another change came in the way that you interacted with people in town. For starters, you’d stopped outright avoiding eye contact and dodging conversation when walking to and from your apartment. When people came into the bakery, you smiled and found yourself chatting about things you used to talk to your customers about before the outbreak. 

“Morning, Heather! How was Kaylee’s birthday? Did she like the cupcakes?” 

“Hi, Marty. Didn’t see you yesterday when they were fresh, but I saved you some corn muffins. I know they’re Carl’s favorite.” 

“Hey Nadia, you live next to Allie and Greg, right? How are they doing with the new baby? Can you drop their order off to them on your way home?”

On patrols and trail sweeps you picked up where you left off on topics you’d previously spoken to your partners about. It was never anything truly personal aside from when you were paired with a woman named Jo who still spoke with an unmistakable Pennsylvanian accent, and you shared that you were from Philly. In an extreme case of it’s a small world afterall, she turned out to be from Glenside, a suburb just a few SEPTA stops away. The two of you had spent that shift - an overnight gate patrol - talking about restaurants, bars and other places you missed in the city. Typically you talked about books or movies or music, trading recommendations or trying to recall lyrics to songs you hadn’t heard in decades. Sometimes, like when you were paired with Jesse or one of the other younger volunteers, you brought up a movie they hadn’t heard of and you ended up summarizing or explaining it to them. Like some kind of post-apocalyptic storytime. The Tale of The Men in Black. The Saga of The Breakfast Club. The Epic of Empire Records. 

It never strayed into “opening up” territory, but you were refamiliarizing yourself with being a person again, and not just trying to stay alive for another 24 hour block of time. You were still hesitant to attend one of the Friday night gatherings at the Tipsy Bison, but you had started to eat one or two meals a week in the communal dining hall. You’d sit with people you knew and felt the most comfortable with - Evelyn from the bakery, Tommy and Maria when you saw them, Eugene or Henrik if they waved you over. You rarely saw Joel there but sometimes you caught a glimpse of Ellie surrounded by some of the other teens. You still spent most of your nights alone in your home - cooking small meals for yourself, reading, sewing patches or buttons onto things as needed - but you were trying, and that was new. 

Despite all that had changed though, some things unfortunately remained the same. The nightmares, for example, had proven far more stubborn than your crumbling resolve to not form attachments. They still woke you up every few nights, your breaths coming in greedy gasps as you worked to convince yourself that you were safe in your bed in Jackson and not tearing through the dark woods with a twelve year old Kyle’s hand clamped in your own, a pack of hunters hot on your trail. Or that Gavin hadn’t met a horrific end at the snapping jaws of a horde of infected. Or that those men hadn’t caught you in that warehouse in Kentucky and kept you chained to a mattress in a back room.

But it wasn’t the close call and what if nightmares that were the worst of them. Not by a long shot. The darkest dreams you fell victim to weren’t conjured by your fears or anxieties. They came straight from your actions and experiences. They weren’t dreams at all, just memories played back in excruciatingly high definition. Memories of the worst things you’d ever done. Reminders that you might not deserve this new lease on life. Portals to places where you’d committed the unthinkable. 

Places like that waterlogged and overgrown Walgreens where you crossed the line for the first time - where you became a murderer, taking the life of a human being who wasn’t infected. Who wasn’t even a threat to you. Your mind would floor with details from that fateful day. The squish of the moss covered floor tiles beneath your boots. The odor of rust and mildew that permeated the air. The rustle of things being knocked off a shelf and the terrified hiss of “oh, shit!” that followed. The tilt of your head as you took in the sight of the bottle gripped tightly in the dirty-fingered grasp of the woman, identifying it as the exact drug that you needed. That Gavin needed to stay alive. The way she pleaded with you on behalf of her sick son. “Please, he’s only twelve. He’ll die without them. I’ll split them with you!” The way you didn’t even blink as you shot her dead. The maraca rattle of the pills as you pried the bottle from her hand. The way that shot rang in your ears until you made it back to the farm. 

It vibrated in your lungs, even in the dreams. And when you handed the medicine to Gavin, it was written on your face clear as day for him to read. You’d told him what you’d done, waves of nausea roiling through your belly and adrenaline coursing through your blood to make your hands shake and your breathing turn to sobs and gasps. “Oh, Sugar,” he’d said, opening his arms to wrap you in them, pulling you closer to the weakening, uneven beat of his heart. “Don’t lose yourself over me.” Your hot tears soaked into the old, stained concert tee that hung baggy and loose on his frame as you clutched fistfuls of material. “It’s not worth the toll.” 

You’d tried to argue with him then, because to you, anything was worth it if it meant more time with him. Another year, another few months, fuck, even if it only bought you mere days there was nothing you weren’t willing to do for Gavin. “We both know you can’t buy me much longer,” he said, speaking calmly as he stroked his long, tattooed fingers up and down your spine. “Don’t turn yourself into something you’re not. Stay you, Sugar. Stay you and stay with me.”

In the end though, it was him that couldn’t stay, and that particular nightmare would always end with you sobbing into your pillow. Alone.  

More recently your nightmares took you to that grimey hotel room where you helped Kyle end his life. Where you killed him, your subconscious would remind you. Details you didn’t even realize you’d absorbed would come leaching out once you were asleep. The feel of the dust encrusted carpet against your sweaty, blood soaked palm. The pocked and peeling paint flaking from the walls and piling up in little heaps. The icy draft that came through the broken window to freeze the tears in your eyes. The way your nephew suddenly became so heavy as you held him. And that nagging, illogical thought that burrowed itself into the center of your brain and slammed every cell like a cymbal - He could have been immune. You don’t know that he wasn’t. 

There had always been rumors about the possibility of natural immunity to the Cordyceps infection. You’d heard the whispers whenever you moved through a place that had or previously had a Firefly presence. Genetic mutations are always possible, they’d posit. You’d always rolled your eyes and called it a hopeless hope, a pipe dream. Just something that desperate people told themselves so they could justify what they’d done or give themselves motivation to keep going. Everyone you’d ever known to be infected had turned within a day or two. You weren’t holding your breath for a miracle mutation. 

And even though it was one of the rules you and your family had written for yourselves decades ago, and even though it was what Kyle wanted, and even though you still thought it was easier than having to see your sweet, smart, funny, thoughtful nephew become a snapping, snarling monster, that thought still reverberated in your mind whenever that dream woke you up. He could have been immune. But now you’ll never know. 

There were others, too, but those were the ones that came most frequently. Those were the ones that the firewalls in your sleeping brain had no chance against, the ones there was no falling back to sleep after. 

On those nights you woke shaken and shaking, pulling yourself from the bed and turning lights on as quickly as possible to banish the things that crept into your mind. On those nights you didn’t try to find sleep again, knowing that the ache in your heart and the spike in your adrenaline wouldn’t let you. Instead you’d pad into the kitchen and do what you’d always done when you couldn’t sleep - open the cabinets and preheat the oven and bake something to take your mind off of whatever had just taken over it. 

In college, before you’d dropped out, it was blueberry muffins to distract yourself from the stress of exams. You’d bake dozens of them and give them to your friends as study fuel. On the nights following Gavin’s open heart surgery it was rye bread and cinnamon buns. You’d take them with you to the hospital when you visited him, giving them - along with your unending gratitude - to the nursing staff and doctors that worked on him. At the farm when you worried that you wouldn’t be able to keep your family safe it was potato rolls. And for the few months that you stayed in the Chicago QZ it was a modified oatmeal cookie recipe that tasted more like sugarless styrofoam due to the lack of certain ingredients, but bless their hearts, Laura and Kyle still told you they were delicious. 

Three months into your stay in Jackson, at six in the morning on your weekly day off, it was sourdough and carrot cake muffins. 

By ten o’clock you’d finished baking three loaves of bread - two of which you were planning to take to the community center to be used for meals that day - and were just getting started peeling carrots for the muffins, when there was a knock at your door. 

And as you crossed the room to answer it, wiping your hands on the dish towel that hung over your shoulder, you noticed another change - you hadn’t reached for the knife in your boot. You hadn’t even put your boots on that morning, your feet still only covered by the socks you yanked on before coming out to the kitchen. Your heart didn’t start to race. Your fingers hadn’t even twitched. You’d just heard the sound and moved to respond to it like it was normal. Like you would have before the outbreak. 

Like I would have back at home. 

Unwilling to have that conversation with yourself while someone stood waiting outside your door, you shook your head to clear your thoughts. Not now. Peeking through the view hole, you actually smiled as you saw who was on the other side. I wonder what… 

You unlocked the door and opened it. “Hey, good morning, Ellie. What are you up to? Everything alright?” 

She groaned in dramatic teenage fashion. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Except for the fact that I’m dying of boredom with these lame shifts Maria put me on this week.” 

Maria tried to keep the younger volunteers busy with tasks in the town or on the walls as often as possible, only sending them out when the schedule demanded it to relieve other patrol members, and it seemed that was what had brought Ellie to your apartment. Good. Boring is good and safe. I’m sure Joel loves boring for you, kid. 

“Oh yeah? What’s she got you doing today that’s so terrible?” 

“Compost duty.” She held up a metal pail that you hadn’t noticed at first, nose wrinkled and top lip curled. “I’m here for your rotten vegetables.”   

You let out a laugh in the form of a snort, pushing the door to open it wider. “Well they’re not rotten yet, which is kind of the point, but they’re all yours. Come on in. I’ll grab the jar, it’s in the fridge.”

Closing the door behind herself, Ellie followed you through the small living room towards the kitchen. “Ugh, it smells fucking amazing in here. Are you baking? Even on your day off? Jesus, what time did you wake up?”

You shrugged and looked back over your shoulder at her. “Yeah. You caught me.” You pointed to the counter where the loaves of sourdough sat cooling, moving aside so she could see them. “That’s what you’re smelling.” 

She groaned and slumped against the doorframe. “Oh my god those look so good. It’s making me hungry.” 

Laughing again, you pulled a serrated knife from the block on the counter. “You want a slice?” 

Her eyes lit up as she stood straight. “Are you kidding? Hell yeah I do!” You smiled and turned to saw off a hunk, the knife’s teeth scraping at the thick outer crust before sinking into the soft center. “You know, nothing against Todd or Evelyn, but the bread from the bakery is so much better now that you’re working there.” 

You chuckled, letting her compliment wash warmly over you. “Thanks, Ellie, I take my bread seriously so that means a lot to me.” You handed over the slice and she immediately took a bite. 

“Fuck,” she groaned through a mouthful, eyes rolling closed as she chewed. “So damn good!” 

“Good.” You wiped the blade off and sheathed it in the block again. “I haven't tried it yet, so thanks for helping out with quality assurance.” 

“Literally anytime,” she said around another bite. 

You smiled and already it was hard to imagine that you’d started that morning shaking and in tears. “Hey, if you’re not in a rush I’ll have even more to throw in your compost bucket if you can wait until I peel these carrots?” Picking up the peeler, you used it to gesture to the pile of vegetables on the cutting board. 

She shrugged. “No rush. Peel away.” You nodded and went to work as Ellie leaned against the countertop on the other side of the sink. “So, can I ask you a question?” 

You took a breath and considered the kind of question she might ask. “Um… sure.” 

“You were a baker, like… before, right? That’s what Joel said, and I mean -” She held up the remainder of the sourdough slice as proof. 

“I was.” You answered. “Had my own shop and everything.” 

“Okay, so then… How did you not… I mean, fuck, how do I ask this?” 

Turning in her direction you took a wild guess to help her out of her struggle. “How did I not become infected immediately since the initial cordyceps contamination was spread through flour?” 

She held up one finger, slightly gaping mouth snapping shut. “Yes, exactly.” 

You chuckled and went back to the carrots. “Mine was a little different from a regular bakery. I specialized in baking things for people with common food allergies. Eggs, wheat, dairy, things like that. So the flour I used came from a completely different source than…” You trailed off because you knew she got the picture. 

“Huh. Do you have allergies? Is that why you decided to bake like that?” 

You shook your head. “No, I don’t. I had…” You swallowed. “I knew people who couldn’t eat certain things, so I did it for them.” 

“Well…” She raised one scarred eyebrow. “I guess that was a good choice.” 

Snorting, you nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

She pushed away from the counter and stepped closer to the refrigerator, her head tilting slightly to one side as something there caught her eye. The pictures. She’s looking at… Your grip on the peeler tightened, a pulse of panic seizing you at the thought that you might have to talk about your family. That was something you hadn’t done in a long time, something that you were still just on the cusp of readiness for. Hanging the photos up for your own eyes to see was one thing. You hadn’t thought about the prospect of others in your home seeing them, too. She’s gonna ask about- 

“Hey, Joel has this same magnet.” Reaching out with her pointer finger, she tapped the one shaped like your new home state. 

He… What? You let out a breath and set the peeler on the cutting board next to the pile of long orange carrot skin curls. The flash of panic turned to flurried confusion, Ellie’s comment catching you completely off guard. He took one, too? Clearing your throat, you prepared to respond when she spoke again, this time throwing something that looked like a smirk over her shoulder at you. 

“What, were they on sale or something?” She tapped it again. “Buy one, get one- Oh, shit!” 

The press of her finger must have shifted the magnet, freeing it from the pull that held it in place. You watched as she whipped her head back around and scrambled to try to catch not only the dislodged magnet, but also the picture that was stuck beneath it. She was only successful in saving one from the ground, though, juggling the plastic piece between both hands before closing it in one fist while the polaroid fluttered to the floor. Crouching down she snatched the picture up and reattached it to the door. 

“Fuck! I’m sorry! It- I didn’t mean to…” 

It was then, as she carefully put the photo back in its place, that you noticed the recognition on her face. Like she hadn’t even really seen the picture until that moment, hadn’t noticed anything beyond the familiar magnet. She went quiet, a sadness you wished she didn’t have to know creeping into her expression as she realized that none of the people standing next to you in the photo were there in Jackson with you now. 

“Is this your family?” There was a hollow tone in her typically light and bubbly voice as she stared at the smiling faces on your refrigerator. Like she didn’t want to ask but felt some compulsion to know. Like she already knew but couldn’t keep the question on her tongue. Like she should have been able to do something to change the outcomes for the people you’d lost. 

You recognized it right away and it broke your heart to see it in her, too. The guilt. The deep dark blues of surviving when everyone you loved was gone. When everyone everyone loved was gone. Oh, Ellie. 

Though only moments before you felt panic at the prospect of talking about the people you lost, suddenly, when asked, you were filled with an overwhelming urge to tell her about them. To show her - and maybe yourself, too - that not every memory hurt. That most of them didn’t. 

“Yeah,” you answered around a bittersweet smile. “It is. From about…” You hummed. “Fifteen years ago.” Wetting your lips and blinking back the stinging threat of tears, you stepped closer to where the girl stood. “That’s my-” 

You stopped yourself because you didn’t want to choke on the word you were about to use. You’d never had to explain to anyone who Gavin was to you. For years, the only people who mattered had simply always known. But that’s not the case anymore, is it? Not if you truly were serious about trying to have a life here. Left hand coming up to touch the outline of your chain through your t-shirt, you took a breath and focused on his smile in the photo. Hey, handsome. 

You cleared your throat and started over. “That’s my husband, Gavin.” You pressed the rings to your chest as you spoke his name. “And his sister, Laura.” Dropping your arm back to your side, you raised the opposite one to point at the little boy under the mess of curls that sat perched on Gavin’s shoulders. “And that’s Kyle, my nephew.” 

She stayed quiet for a few seconds, looking at the faces of the people you’d just introduced her to as though committing them to memory. “They look…” She sniffed. “You all look happy there.” 

She’s right. Despite the thick knot forming in your throat, you smiled. “Yeah.” Nodding, you looked down at her. “We were. Those were really good years.” 

The girl looked back up at you, lips pulling to the side before curving back into a small smile. “I’m glad you had those.” 

You took a breath, feeling somewhat lighter than you had in a long time even if it was a bittersweet lightness. “Yeah, me too.” Wetting your lips, you reached for the fridge handle. “Um, let me get those compost scraps for you, yeah?”  

Ellie nodded, lifting one hand up to wipe quickly at her eye. “Yeah. I should get going.” She moved over to the counter and scooped your pile of carrot peels into the bucket, then turned back to let you dump the contents of your scrap jar in as well. “Dina and I are supposed to hit all the apartments on this side of town before noon, so…” 

“So you better get moving, then,” you finished for her. “If I remember the schedule correctly, I think you and I have gate patrol on Wednesday night.” You winked. “I’ll make sure to bring snacks.” 

She grinned, almost all of the sadness that had crept into her expression gone. “You’re the best.” 

That made you laugh. “I’ll see you around, Ellie. Tell Dina I said hi.” 

She told you that she would, adding that she was also going to tell her that she missed out on the best damn sourdough left in the world by choosing odd numbered apartments, which only made you laugh harder. Closing your door after her, you couldn’t help but think of what a kick Gavin would have gotten out of Ellie. She would have made you laugh, too, Gav. 

Over the next hour you finished up the batch of muffins and cleaned the kitchen. Wrapping the two extra loaves in clean dish towels, you stuck them both in the canvas tote bag that you usually used to pick up your groceries from the general store. Once they’d cooled enough to handle, you did the same with the muffins, bundling them up and adding them to the bag. 

That done, you decided to get yourself together, changing your flour streaked shirt for a fresh three-quarter sleeved one, and the sweats you were wearing for a pair of jeans. When you looked in the mirror you were hit by yet another change - you no longer had that lost, wild, withering look that you arrived with. Your eyes had more light in them and fewer bags beneath. Your cheeks were less hollow and the windburn on them was healing well. You looked more like yourself and less like a spectral waif using your name than you had in longer than you could remember. Not that it matters but… Your lips - no longer peeling and chapped - hitched into a small grin. Not terrible. You took a second to adjust your hair, tucking stray pieces into place, and then flipped the lightswitch and left the bathroom. 

Grabbing your bag of baked goods from the kitchen, you shoved your feet into your boots and slipped your knife into place. Some things were unlikely to change after two decades of always needing to have a weapon on you, and you knew that it was the same for many other residents in town. Your gun, though, was left behind with your pack. Those items were reserved only for patrols, trail sweeps and supply runs. They had no place in your daily life anymore. Another small change. 

There was still a lingering late spring chill in the air as you stepped outside your building, but the sun was shining unimpeded in the clear blue sky and you hummed as it warmed your skin. It’s beautiful out today. As you turned onto the main street you were met with the sounds of the town. Windchimes and laughter, barking dogs and the clang of metal on metal from the blacksmith’s shop, birdsong and conversation. It felt like the much more rural version of strolling through your neighborhood in Philly on your way to the farmer’s market that used to pop up in the park on Thursday and Sunday mornings. It made you wonder what it was like here twenty some years ago, and how different things were now. 

The call of your name from somewhere to your right interrupted your thoughts before they could wander too far. You recognized the voice as you turned, eyes widening in surprise to see Joel Miller lifting one hand in greeting from the other side of the street. Oh. Hi. You stopped walking, raising your hand in a return wave and waiting for him to cross to your side.

As he did, you took a few seconds to let your eyes rake over him. He still wore a thin white bandage around his bicep, and it was visible beneath the short sleeves of his faded green t-shirt. As were his muscled arms, the warmer weather letting you see more of them than you had previously. His jeans were worn in but fit him well, the denim broken in to accommodate his movement perfectly. A toolbelt hung at his hips, hammer, tape measure, pliers and several screwdrivers attached to the loops or sticking out of the pouches. Right. He said he was in construction. You drew in a small breath as he came close enough that you could see the sunlight catching the silver in his hair. And then he smiled. Damn. 

“Thought that was you,” he said as he took the last few steps to close the distance. 

Forcing yourself to focus on the conversation at hand and not on how good he looked wearing a toolbelt, you smiled back at him. “You were right, it’s me.” 

That earned you a small chuckle, Joel raising the same hand he’d flagged you down with to scratch at the back of his neck. “How are you doin’ today?”

You tipped your head back, closing your eyes and letting the sun hit your face before responding. “The sun is out and I have a bag full of bread and muffins.” Bringing your chin back down, you shrugged the shoulder that your bag was on. “So I’m doing great.” He didn’t need to hear about the nightmare that preceded the baking. “How are you?” 

“A bag full of bread, huh?” He dropped his eyes to the goods and then brought them back up to yours. “Well I’m doin’ alright but not a bag of bread alright.” 

You laughed and pulled one strap of the tote bag down, reaching inside. “I might be able to help with that.” Pulling out one of the muffins, you offered it to him. “Carrot muffin?” 

He grinned as he took it from you. “If I ever say no to that question you’ll know there’s somethin’ wrong with me.” Nodding, he held your eyes for a second and the rush of warmth you felt had nothing to do with the sun. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You cleared your throat and tilted your head in the direction you’d been walking in. “I was on my way to drop this off at the community center. Are you heading that way, too?” 

“I am. Meetin’ up with Tommy’n a few others to do some roof repairs.” You both started walking again, once your mutual destination was established. “Figure by now we won’t be gettin’ anymore snow, so it’s a good time to get up there and poke around.” 

You blew out a huff and shook your head. “The idea of snow in June or even April or May where I’m from is laughable. It’s probably 85 degrees in Philadelphia right now.” 

Joel made a similar sound. “Snow at all is laughable where I’m from.” You figured he was from somewhere in the south due to the slight drawl in certain words that he said, but before you got the chance to ask where exactly, he took a bite of the muffin you gave him and groaned at the taste. “Christ, that’s good.” 

Hoping you didn’t look as flustered as the sound of him groaning like that made you feel, you managed a smile. “Yeah?” He nodded, eyebrows drawn together in a serious expression as he chewed. “Good. You and Ellie make good taste testers, you know.” He tilted his head in question. “She stopped by my place this morning on her compost collection rounds.” 

“Uh huh, and she weaseled baked goods outta you, did she?” He took another bite, the reaction smaller this time but still visible and still making your chest puff up just a little. 

You shrugged. “She said she was hungry and she complimented my bread. What was I supposed to do?” 

“That girl is always hungry,” he said with a roll of his eyes that you could tell was just for show. “And if compliments are all it takes then let me tell you again, this-” He held up the last bite of muffin. “- Is delicious.” 

Letting a small laugh slip through your grin as you reached the community center, you turned to face him. “Well, thank you. If you like those, just wait until I get my hands on some apples or chokeberries.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” 

Just then Tommy appeared from behind the building with a ladder hoisted on one shoulder. He lifted his free hand to flag Joel down, calling out to him. “Waitin’ on you, big brother!” 

Joel clicked his tongue and turned to lob his response in Tommy’s direction. “Hold your horses, will you?” He gestured at you with his hand. “Can’t you see I’m havin’ a conversation?” 

“Yeah, I see.” The younger Miller tipped his chin in a nod and said your name. “Hope you’re havin’ a nice mornin’. Can you please send my brother up to the roof when he’s done yappin’ your ear off?” 

You laughed at that, Joel’s grumbles only making you laugh harder. “Will do, Tommy,” you said with a wave of your own. 

He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. Take care now.” 

You called a “You too!” back at him as he disappeared behind the building again, and then you turned to face Joel once more. “Sounds like you’re needed on the roof.” 

Joel blew a huff through his nose and swatted his hand towards the roof. “He can wait a minute. I, uh…” He drew his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask you if you’d want to come over for dinner some night this week.” What? He dropped his hand to his side again and you tried your hardest not to let the shock you felt at his question show on your face. “Just as a thank you for stitchin’ me up,” he added. 

You blinked and took a breath, trying to process the offer he’d just made. Dinner. He’s inviting me to dinner? What is…  “I…” You shook your head as though your brain was a magic eight ball and shaking it would prompt a valid response to come out of your mouth, but immediately regretted it from the way Joel’s lips turned downward. Shit, he thinks I’m saying no. “That… That sounds nice, Joel.” Your heart hammered at your ribs as his frown faded back into a relaxed smile. “What um… What day were you thinking? I have a gate patrol Wednesday night, but-” 

“How’s Thursday, then?” 

Wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, you swallowed and nodded slowly. “Thursday works.” Joel’s smile spread a little wider, sending his cheeks up into his eyes and making the skin around them crinkle. “Can I bring anything, or-” 

“Well I was raised to say no ma’am, just bring yourself,” he began, a mischievous glint brightening the depths of his eyes. “But I wouldn’t stop you from bringing something that you baked if you wanted to.” 

You let out a small laugh. “Got it.” 

“Alright then. Thursday it is.” He tilted his head towards the back of the community center, where the sound of the ladder being set up against the wall could be heard. “I better get up there ‘fore he has himself a conniption. You have a good day now.” 

As he turned to go, you reached into your tote bag and pulled out another muffin. “Joel!” He spun back to face you and you tossed the muffin in his direction, leaving him to scramble to catch it in one large hand. “For Tommy. Maybe he’ll be less annoyed at you if you bring him food.” 

He chuckled. “Maybe. See you around.” 

With that he headed off to join his brother and you were left momentarily standing there unsure of what had just happened. I just… He just… 

But then you heard the call of your name from the open door of the community center, and turned to see Maria grinning at you. “You comin’ in, or are you just going to watch my brother-in-law walk away?” 

You could feel the heat spread through your cheeks at her words, and quickly stepped toward the door as she started to chuckle. “Sorry, yeah, I-” 

“Hey,” she said, resting one hand on your shoulder. “I’m teasing.” She winked. “Besides, I think it’s great.” 

You let out a sigh. “Maria, it’s just-” 

“Just dinner, I know.” She nodded and held the door open for you to walk through it. “I still think it’s great.” The door clicked shut behind you and you sputtered for a response only for her to spare you the need to say anything more. “Anyway, what’s in the bag? You’re just in time for lunch prep.”

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[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 21: Centaur

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21

“Fuck!” Derek roared as he stormed into the yard, hands clenched into tight fists. 

The werewolf was irritated over having nearly lost control of his inner wolf, and nearly wolfing out in public. Derek and Stiles had been out on a simple dinner date, when stupid Jackson had to show up and be his usual douchey self. Normally, Derek was able to keep his lupine instincts in check; however, the second that stupid Jackson had placed his hand on a clearly annoyed Stiles’s shoulder, Derek had seen red. He’d shot out of his seat and had unleashed a fearsome snarl, even baring his massive werewolf fangs in the jerk’s direction.

It had managed to get Jackson to cut his crap, but the action had also accidentally caught the attention of other patrons in the restaurant, who’d only stared awkwardly/fearfully in Derek’s direction. The ceaseless staring had totally ruined the night, and Derek had dragged Stiles out of there early, much to his chagrin.

“Der!” Stiles called out after the stomping werewolf. “It’s fine, really!”

Derek was still seething. Sure he was irritated with Jackson, yet he was more so angry with himself and how his lack of self-control had ruined his date with Stiles. Thinking about it more only served to bring out an onslaught of more anger-inducing memories about how being a werewolf was a pain in Derek’s ass.

His jaw clenched, Derek just huffed in annoyance. “It’s not fine,” he pouted. “And this whole werewolf bullshit is something that’s just going to keep causing us trouble.”

Stiles frowned and placed a tender hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” Derek huffed, “I wish I wasn’t a werewolf.”

On cue, a streak of light flickered through the night sky as a shooting star bolted across.

Immediately, Derek flinched as he felt a warm travel throughout his body. The first thing he noticed was that his pants were starting to grow uncomfortably tight. 

“What the hell…?” Derek wondered aloud as he looked down at himself. HIs eyes went wide as saucers when he saw his altered bulge in the front of his pants. 

His normally proportional six inches had somehow elongated, creating what looked like Derek was stuffing a ripe grapefruit in his boxers. It was obscenely large, and between his thick thighs, Derek felt balls that had to be the size of lemons. Worse was that back of his pants felt as if they’s burst at any moment.

Looking over his broad shoulder, Derek gasped at the caricature of a butt that was attached to him. His perky cheeks had somehow managed to balloon out to a crazy size, pushing further out with each second.

In his panic, Derek ripped off his pants, his breath getting caught in his throat at what he saw.

Never being one lost for words, Stiles gasped out, “Holy crap, Der! You’ve got a horse cock!”

Derek’s cock had grown to at least fifteen inches, and it was nearly as thick of his beefy wrist. His balls had swollen up to resemble baseballs. The werewolf didn’t have time to focus on that as he felt his weight being yanked back due to the increasing size of his booty.

His legs stretched out longer, causing Derek to sprout up at least two more feet in height. All he could do was stare in disbelief at his changing body, his heart beat loudly in his muscled chest as he wondered what was happening to him. His throat went dry as he witnessed his toes fusing together, his nails hardening to form hooves. 

His butt grew so big that Derek stumble back and almost fell, but he was caught by something.

Stiles’s wordless gasp mirrored his own as he looked back and saw that he’d grown an extra set of legs to offset his elongated backside. Derek blushed at how he must’ve looked, having his regular-looking torso sitting atop a lower half that was stretched out with four legs needed to keep it upright.

Derek’s altered lower half began to itch as thick, black fur sprouted all over it, covering every inch. It was glossy and looked shiny underneath the moonlight. As a final touch, Derek winced when he felt his distended backside tingle as he sprouted a long tail that swished back and forth.

The warmth finally dissipated, and Derek also felt an odd calm inside of his head, like his inner wolf was finally silenced.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Derek panicked, taking an awkward step forward in his new body, his hooves clacking loudly on the ground as he struggled to get used to walking. As he moved, his huge cock dangled around freely, making his face crimson.

Stiles’s mouth was agape as he looked over his changed boyfriend. Derek’s long legs were thick with muscle, which flexed with animalistic power with every heavy step he took. “Der,” he gasped, “you’re a centaur!”

“A what?” Derek groaned, pinching his nose in irritation. “When I said that I didn’t want to be a werewolf anymore, that didn’t mean that I’d rather be a centaur instead! How the fuck am I supposed to hide this thing!?” He gestured at his horse ass and cock, which were humongous and definitely would prove to be difficult to keep from prying eyes.

Derek stopped and sniffed at the air, still maintaining a keen sense of smell. And a curious aroma was wafting off of Stiles in waves.

“R-really?” Derek asked incredulously.

Stiles bit down on his lower lip and shrugged. “I played a lot of fantasy RPGs, and always liked the centaur characters… like, a lot.”

Derek felt his shock slowly fade, and he couldn’t help but grin coyly at his boyfriend.”C’mere, I’ll give you a ride,” he chuckled.

Stiles eagerly took his hand and hopped up onto Derek’s new back, wrapping his arms around Derek’s human torso. 

Derek marveled at how weightless Stiles felt as he carried him, and he began to trot towards the house… his swaying horse cock getting harder and harder. He just hoped that Stiles knew some special stretching techniques.

[j0elmill3r]

Wish You Were Here (II): Welcome To the Machine

"Where have you been? It's alright. We know where you've been."

Pairing - Joel Miller x Daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x Niece!Reader

Summary - Witnessing your fathers' demise at the hands of the daughter of a man he killed saving your best friend, you realize your crusade for revenge for your father’s brutal death is bound to be a bloody one.

Warnings - Diverges from canon and I mean it in no way at all follows canon, spoilers for the last of us part 2, canon violence, death, mentions and implications of suicide, baby girl struggles mentally, implications of self-harm (Please let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - And here is the second chapter, almost halfway already? damn. Anyway, I just wanted to say that this series? Does not follow anything of the second game at all, only in that Joel dies and someone hunts down Abby. I hope everyone is enjoying it, and as always, feedback, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Joel Miller Masterlist

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Joel had thought settling down in Jackson would have helped you and your often fragile mental state. Your dad knew that you struggled with your mental health, and he wished that you had better access to at least some help in managing whatever was going on with you mentally. He hoped that settling down somewhere would help stabilize your mood with some kind of routine, that maybe now you'd be able to relax after being so tense and on edge for the past year.

But it appeared to have done the opposite to you.

With nothing to think about, you didn't have anything to distract yourself with, which left you alone with your often loud, deafening thoughts - deafening thoughts which told you to hurt yourself. Joel knew about your tendencies of self-harm, at 16, he had found you in a bathroom in the QZ, holding the deep gash on your wrist. But he thought by now that you were past that, that you had gotten better. Maybe not.

Joel climbed up the stairs, having heard a smash and then your panicked gasping and crying, he had to check on you, knowing your slightly shady history with things smashing near you and holding the shrapnel to your wrists.

"Y/N?" He called out for you, reaching the bathroom door to where he had located you. He rattled the door, only to find it locked. "Y/N. Open the door," Your dad demanded. Joel continued to rattle the door. "Y/N!" He was panicking now, what if you had gone too deep again? You hadn't locked the door the last time, making it easier for Joel to get to you in time - But if you had gone too deep in this instance, you could have already bled out by now, laying dead on the floor in a pool of your own blood. "Y/N stand back. I'm kicking this door open." You barely had any time to react before the door was kicked down, and you looked at your dad, your face the double of a deer that had been caught in headlights, looking its killer dead in the eyes.

"D-dad!" You cried, clutching your wrist as you looked at your dad. Joel took the sight of you in, your hands and clothes stained with blood, pieces of the smashed mirror scattered around you - A large piece sitting on the sink beside you, your blood smeared across it. "This isn't what it looks like!" You tried to defend your self-destructive actions to your dad, who knew that this was exactly what it looked like.

"Y/N, put that down please," Joel said, referring to the sharp piece of glass you held in your hand tightly, the sharp object cutting deep into your hand as you gripped it. You sobbed as you held it tighter, your breathing increasing as you noticed the concern on your father’s face. "Come on, baby girl, it's okay," He assured you, holding his hand out to you in a reassuring gesture. Your panicked and bewildered eyes met your dad’s concerned ones, and you dropped the piece of glass which you held in your hand, it falling to the floor and shattering into smaller pieces. You didn't react as Joel took your hand that wasn't cut up from the glass, and led you out of the bathroom and to your bedroom, sitting you down on your bed.

He sighed to himself sadly as he picked up the first aid kit from the kitchen, Joel really thought that settling down would have helped you with your issues, but it appeared to be the opposite - You had seemingly gotten worse. You sat in silence as your dad stitched you up, he was a pro at this, having done it so many times before. It never mattered how many times he stitched up your cuts, Joel could never stop the helpless feeling that nestled deep in his stomach - He wanted so badly to help you, but he knew that what you were going through was far from his level of expertise; All he could do was assure you that everything was going to be okay, even if neither you nor he believed that it was true.

You awoke with a startled gasp, Tommy looking over at you with concern on his face. In your tired gaze, his figure was a blur, which you almost mistook for your dad - And then you remembered. It was a funny thing, grief. Sometimes you were blinded by it, it weighed you down and made you feel like you were drowning with no surface in sight, the cracking of your dad's skull would deafen you as you were forced to relive the day of his death over, and over. Then there were the days when you could seemingly escape your grief. There were days when you could wake up and forget all about your dad's demise, you'd be able to go about what needed to be done, and then at a point in the day, it would catch up with you. It would hit you like a train, dragging you with it for miles and miles before coming to a screeching halt.

"You alright?" Tommy asked you, watching as you ran your fingers over the scar on your hand, a nervous tic you had picked up. You nodded and looked away from your uncle, unable to meet his eyes - A telltale sign that you were lying to him. Tommy knew you were going through so many emotions, especially towards your former best friend, Ellie - Who had packed up and moved to a farm with her girlfriend, Dina. You couldn't understand how she dared to have acted so attached to your father - and often act as though he was hers - and then pack up and leave straight after his death. "You can talk to me, you know." It broke Tommy's heart when he thought of you and everything life had put you through at such a young age - Losing your childhood, your older sister dying, your mental health issues, and now losing your dad.

"Yeah, I know, Tommy," You told him. The car battery had died just outside of the Indiana state line, so you and Tommy had been walking since then. You were reminded of the hike trails that Joel had shown you and Ellie while you were on the way taking Ellie to the fireflies, he told you that he used to bring you and Sarah on these walks, even though you were too young to remember them.  "Are there any firefly-occupied QZs out here?" You asked your uncle, turning back to look at him as he walked behind you.

"One just outside of this forest," He told you, watching as you huffed and rolled your eyes, powering on through the dimly lit forest, despite it being broad daylight, there was minimal light in the forest.

This was shown when you stepped right into a bear trap, the contraption clamping tight on your ankle. Tommy, noticing the look on your face, then looking down, ran towards you, clamping his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as the shock dissipated and became pure, unfiltered pain.

"Hey. I know it hurts but we have to be quiet," You continued to scream into your uncle’s palm, even as he tried to shush you. "I have to try and unclamp this so we can keep moving." Tommy knew he could be straight with you, he knew Joel had raised you to accept that that was how people had to talk to you to keep you alive sometimes. You chewed on the insides of your cheeks, accepting the roll of gauze that your uncle handed you from his backpack and clamping down on it. Tommy knelt down by your legs and pried the bear trap open with some struggle, swiftly catching you as you fell to the ground with a muffled cry of pain. Acting fast, Tommy quickly gauzed up your ankle to attempt to staunch the bleeding, but judging by the paleness of your face, Tommy knew this was getting bad.

"Tommy," You pointed to behind him, noticing a hoard of infected coming on the horizon. He looked to where you pointed, and he didn't, not even for a second, consider leaving you. "No, Tommy you have to go." You pushed him. He shook his head as he put his arms under you, lifting you up with a groan.

"Not without you. Not a chance in hell," Tommy threw you over his shoulder, leaving you room to grab your gun should any infected get the chance to get close to you. You shot at a couple of them before your vision started to blur, the world around you gradually dimming as you continued to profusely bleed. "Y/N? Hey, Y/N, stay with me, don't close your fuckin' eyes." He demanded, noticing that you had stopped shooting as he continued to run out of the forest with you.

"Tryin'," You were tired, and it wasn't long before you went limp over Tommy's shoulder. Luckily, he was out of the forest, immediately making a beeline for the small shack which sat outside of the QZ. Tommy knew this QZ, having worked with the fireflies to take it over. He barricaded the door shut after laying you on the floor, seeing that your blood had soaked through the gauze he had wrapped around your ankle.

You groaned as you woke up, the sun streaming in through the blinds causing you to squint your eyes at its harshness. Wait, this...this isn't the forest, why were you in bed? You looked around as you sat up, recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom in your house in Jackson. Your ears perked up at the sound of guitar playing from downstairs, if you recognized correctly, it was Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd - And there was only one man you knew that could play the guitar like that.

Throwing the duvet off of you, you sprung to your feet, looking down to notice there was no evidence of your leg ever being caught in a bear trap. You let out a sigh of relief and made your way down the stairs, freezing as you got halfway down them - Joel and Sarah sitting laughing on the couch. Your dad spotted you first, concern on his face at your presence.

"Y/N?" He got up from his spot on the couch, Sarah having to do a double take at you - You were no longer her tiny baby sister, but instead a fully grown woman. You accepted your dad’s embrace as he waited for you at the bottom of the stairs for you. "No...No, baby girl, why are you here?" Joel asked you.

"I-I was in the forest with Tommy and my leg got caught in a bear trap, there was a lot of blood," You explained to your dad. Joel shook his head sadly as he sighed, Sarah still looking at you in shock. "Hi." You said shyly, giving her a small smile. You hated that you knew so little about your own older sister, you wished that you had gotten to spend more time with her.

"You...You," Sarah couldn't find the words to express how she felt, so just hugged you, even though you were now taller than her. "You're not little anymore." Sarah knew it was childish to say, just because her life had ended,  it didn't mean yours did.

"You got little," You joked back to her with a teary laugh, looking back to your dad. "I miss you." You choked on a sob as you looked at your dad. Joel smiled sadly as he hugged you once more, savoring the moment for as long as he could before letting you go.

"I miss you too, baby girl," He assured you, kissing the top of your head. "But you can't stay here," Joel told you adamantly. You looked up at him, shaking your head.

"What? No, I wanna stay here," You pleaded with him, not knowing if either of them had any control over who could stay. Joel shook his head and put both hands on your shoulders.

"I know baby, but it's not your time," He was tearing up, he felt selfish for wanting you to stay. He hated that he could only have one of his girls at any one time, he just wanted the 3 of you to be back together as a family again. "You have to go back, for Tommy."

"But, dad-"

"Y/N."

"Y/N"

"Y/N?"

You let out a quiet gasp as you woke up, seeing your uncle hovering over you. Tommy was taken aback by your sudden hug, but accepted the gesture, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

"Sorry," You apologized, avoiding eye contact with your uncle, who smiled at you comfortingly - If he was being honest, Tommy actually appreciated the gesture. "How long was I out for?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes.

"Couple of hours, I didn't realize how deep that went. I'd say you're lucky to be alive," He told you, before helping you up onto your feet, wobbling on your injured foot before standing steadily. You took your backpack as he handed it to you, slinging it over your shoulder and limping out of the shack. The more you thought of what Tommy had told you - Lucky to be alive - That was too real to be a dream. Had you died for a couple minutes? You hoped not, you would have felt terrible, the thought of your poor uncle Tommy being forced to resuscitate you days after losing Joel broke your heart. He broke you out of your trance by putting a hand on your shoulder.

"So, what's our plan?" You asked him, looking up at him as he stood beside you. He let out a sigh as he studied the gates, barbed wire tangled around them to deter people from both entering and escaping.

"We go through."

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[astralnymphh]

what do you imagine ellie smells like? which perfume/body wash/scent would she use? im curious!!

i'll cut this off based on product + natural scent causeee ideas aplenty! ౨ৎ MDNI implied smut

perfume/cologne— im gonna project just a tad and propose black ice cologne. it's my fav, plus the smell is attractively tantalizing. if my nose caught a whiff of ellie wearing that scent, ohh boy, i would be FAWKING on her. but besides personal projection, i'm catching a lingerance of anything fusing aromatic, dry woods, or soft oriental scents. like amber or leather, and i weirdly feel the scent of apples is something you'd be inhaling when going in for a hug. you're at her door, greeting her, and as soon as you nosedive that collarbone— forest of apples. a peculiar occurrence, ellie never dons a scent to mask her own, so what's the reason? you. oh my goddess, she definitely sprays a few clouds to her wrist and neck if crush!reader was coming to hang out at her place in jackson. pursues the act of impressing you— bluffing up her true appearance with the perfumes, the freshly ironed and tucked–in shirts, a pair of warm mahogany boots that aren't nearly as scuffed as her converse. literally doesn't need all that, I'll take her as she is. I bet she also applies way too much on accident the first few times, welling a sear to your nose and a lake to your waterline when you sniff. ackk.

natural scent— so steering off the beaten path of her smelling sweaty, in an attractive manner, i just know that girl reeks a vintage aroma. like a dad scent. naturally comes with wearing cast–offs from the pre–apocalypse age, but also because i hc ellie borrowing several pieces from joel's closet sometimes— in tandem with his jacket. hopping hurried feet back on that beaten path though, B.O. yeah, body odor can transmute into nose–curling pungency when baked beneath the sun or vigorously pushed to surface because of jolly little ring–a–round–the–rosies with blathering infected that refused to die during patrols or hustiling workdays, but normally? when that tang settles upon her skin by the lick of warmths gentle spirit, cuddled up in a blanket with you? ugh, a pheromone fest, piquant. has her dumbfounded when you nudge the wad of your nose in her neck, sniffing noises coming from you as you take that shit in greedy. she tchs low in her chest, the little jitter of her chuckle budging your shoulder, "y'gonna watch the movie ooorr sniff me out like a dog?" cooed she, meshing a snort afterward as her palm whole on the base of your spine lifted, pressing a new presence on your shoulder and piano–tapping her fingers, which shifts a reply out of you, "stop smelling so good, n'maybe i won't get distracted.." you enchant at the level of a whisper, spoken lacy with red, flirty ribbons for tone. a sigh leavens above your head first, then a sough of fabric below— and a zipper, "alright, as long as you don't distract me."

and that's how ellie got fingered while watching an 80s action movie.

[soulofapatrick]

Not a One Night Stand - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Your first week in Jackson doesn't go as planned but Tommy is there to protect you and help you forget. Part three of the Instant Attraction series

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of past attempted SA; male and female receiving smut (consensual) 

Y/N’s POV

I’d been given my assignments from Maria the very next day, I’d be taking the route up to the cabin in the mountains with a patrol leader until I was trusted enough to them on my own. It meant that Tommy and I rarely got to see each other, random kissing in passing or a quick ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ as we were on separate schedules. It was driving me insane, having to come home to an empty house and just fall asleep without any interactions. 

Daniel - my patrol partner - is nice but he’s too quiet and weird. He tries to be all silent and wise but it doesn’t work. He just seems a little creepy with the way his beady eyes try to undress me when we’re trotting along, those stupid eyes stuck on places on my body that shouldn’t be. It makes me shower and scrub myself clean every time I get home and even then I still feel dirty. I want to swap but I can’t as Maria’s orders are final. 

That quickly changes when we come back from a certain patrol, about a week into my patrols, and Daniel is trotting through the gates with definitely a broken wrist and nose as well as a budding black eye that will be very much visible by morning. Maria approaches at the sight of him, stopping short when I come cantering in after him. I’m jumping off of Indiana - my horse - and storming my way towards Daniel and he’s cowering away. 

“Now now baby girl,” arms are grabbing me but I’m struggling against them, seething with rage, “What happened?”

“He tried to grope me in the cabin.” I snap and suddenly those arms are gone and Daniel’s out for the count with Tommy standing over him with a fist still raised. Maria finally interjects: telling me and Tommy to go home while ordering others to help get Daniel to the medical bay and she’ll deal with him when she wakes. 

I’m ripping off my jacket, hoodie and shirt as soon as Tommy has the door shut, my skin feeling dirty with Daniel’s grabbing hands. It’s as if Tommy understands because suddenly a sense of calm washes over me when familiar hands replace those slimy ones and I’m leaning back against his chest, letting my eyes slip closed. 

“Where?” Tommy asks, voice shaking with anger and there’s also a hint of guilt as if he could have done something to protect me. I can protect myself, it took nearly everything in me not to shoot Daniel when he tried his luck. Lucky for him he’s only got broken bones, but I should have done so much worse- “Y/N.”

I take a deep breath, moving Tommy’s hands to my hips and stomach, just above the waistband of my jeans. He inhales sharply, spinning me around and pressing my back to the wall before sinking to his knees. I should feel scared or panicked by Tommy’s actions after Daniel’s attempt but I can’t seem to feel anything but want, trust and love for the black haired man looking up at me with those dark eyes. I caress his cheek lightly and he turns his head to kiss my open palm before he focuses his attention on where Daniel’s hands made contact with my skin. 

Sweet kisses replace the stinging sensation on my skin, his hands on my hip and thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles into them. It has me relaxing my weight against the wall, letting my eyes slip shut and I just focus on the way he’s mumbling about never letting anyone lay a finger on me again and singing praises about my body. The calloused pads of his fingers hook under the waistband of my jeans, looking up at me for consent as he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. I just reach down, curling my right hand in his hair, trying not to let the pain show on my face as the split knuckles pull apart again. He sees it though and is grabbing my hand, face softening and he’s rising to his feet again. 

“Tommy.”  

“After baby girl, after.” He soothes, pressing a chaste and heartfelt kiss to my lips before leading me upstairs to his room. He sits me on the bed before disappearing to the bathroom to get the med kit before he’s sitting next to me again. There’s not much to Tommy’s room but every item in his room screams Tommy. He’s got a few pictures littered around, most in cracked or broken frames-

I’m hissing in pain when the damp cloth covered in disinfectant is dapped against the dried and caked on blood. Tommy soothes me, telling me about his morning and how he and Joel were talking about their childhoods. Apparently both of them wanted to be singers but ended up being contractors. Contractors were people who build all sorts of things and were paid for it. Doesn’t sound too bad of a job. 

“There, all done baby girl.” 

“Baby girl.” I echo, his face breaking into a breathtaking smile that has me flushing red and eyes going down to my now patched knuckles. He’s moving around, putting things away until suddenly a familiar shirt lands by my feet. It has my head flying up to him standing in front of me in just his jeans. My hands move of their own accord, tracing my fingertips over the multitude of scars covering the softly defined sun-kissed skin. It has him inhaling sharply when my nails lightly drag down from his chest to the waistband of his jeans, taking in every bump and crevice of his abs until my fingers find that happy trail of dark hairs leading south. His chest is rising and falling quickly as I make quick work of unbuckling his belt then unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his legs until he’s able to kick them aside. 

My eyes are widening at the heavy tent in his boxers because I can already tell he’s huge. I don’t care though, leaning forwards to suck him through the fabric and his head is falling back with a groan and whine of ‘tease’. Not wanting him to change his mind about this I quickly pull his boxers down, swallowing at the way he springs free and oh fuck he’s big. Tommy’s opening his mouth to probably say we don’t have to do this but I will actually scream if he stops now when he’s so close. To shut him up I lean forwards again, giving the weeping head kitten licks and guiding Tommy’s hand to my hair. 

Before he can do anything I swallow as much of him down as I can, looking up at him between my lashes as I suck him. He lets out the dirtiest moan I've ever heard, making me groan around his length. My eyes flutter shut when he grips my hair tightly, pulling hard and bucking his hips forwards so he’s hitting the back of my throat. It turns me on even more and in approval I drag my teeth lightly down his length, making his hips jerk and me gag. 

I would keep doing this for as long as he keeps letting out those all consuming moans and his hand tugs on my hair but he’s pulling my mouth all too quickly, “Fuck baby girl, you carry on like that and I’m gonna cum,” I try to capture the tip between my lips but he holds my head out of reach, “You make me cum and no sex.” 

In this moment in time I don’t care, I just want to watch him come apart because of me and his grip on my hair loosening enough to take him in all at once. It takes a few seconds of teasingly swirling my tongue around the tip before Tommy’s lips are thrusting forwards, causing tears to build behind my eyes from holding back the urge to gag, “Oh fuck baby girl, hollow your cheeks out for me.” He murmurs, other hand coming to cup my jaw, eyes meeting mine and thumb rubbing my cheeks softly as he thrusts. I just do everything in my power not to gag until his dark eyes slide shut, a low moan leaving his lips and his hips stuttering, that bitter liquid hitting the back of my throat and some spilling down the corner of my mouth. 

Instead of disappearing into the bathroom like other men I know would he lets me go, growling out lightly for me to get undressed. I comply, almost tripping over myself to get my jeans and underwear off. It has Tommy laughing, kneeling down and helping me before he’s pushing me back on the bed. His hands grip my legs, yanking me forwards until I’m by the edge, my legs spread and completely exposed. His umber eyes flicking up to meet mine before he’s focusing back on my leaking core, delving forwards and licking one strip between my folds with the flat of his tongue. It sends a jolt through me and his arms are wrapping around my thighs to hold me in place when I start to wiggle away as it’s been so long. Every move of Tommy’s tongue is precise and has my back arching off the bed which is soon pressed back down by a broad hand, making me moan even more. My eyes pretty much roll back into my head when a finger circles my crying opening, my hips rolling down to get it to breach but Tommy teases until I’m a begging mess, “Please Tommy.” The finger immediately curls inside on me and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe because oh fuck the pleasure radiating through me. It’s tensing every muscle in my body and my hands in flying to his curly locks, tugging hard as he focuses his attention on the sensitive nub. 

“T-tommy,” I whimper and a second finger is added, the pace picking up as my walls start to flutter around the digits. I can feel the pressure building and my toes are curling as my hand tightens in his hair, causing him to moan. The vibrations of the moan is the final straw and suddenly the coil snaps and I’m trying to close my legs with the pleasure that has the corners of my vision whiting out as Tommy continues what he’s doing as I ride out my high. I think I cry out his name but I’m sure, fading in and out of reality until it becomes too much and I’m pulling his head away by his hair. My chest heaving as I finally catch a glimpse of him: his moustache and chin soaked in my juices, pride in those umber eyes and I think I almost come again when he licks the fingers that were just inside me. 

I just let myself fall backwards, eyes slipping shut as Tommy bustles about, disappearing from the room then coming back, the door shutting behind him, “Come on baby girl.” He’s nudging me up the bed, pulling the duvet back enough for me to slip under it and sliding in next to me before manhandling me closer to him. He grips my chin, drawing my malleable body up into a lazy and sleep filled kiss before I’m laying my head on his chest, arm around his waist and his around my shoulder. 

“Not a one night stand?” I find myself mumbling and his chest rumbles with amusement. 

“No fucking way. Not a one night stand.”

-----------

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

[asliceoftoast]

while i'm back home and no longer in seattle, the writing streak continues!

__

April and Arizona rounded the corner of the hospital wing. Brushing a wavy bang out of her face and tucking the strand of hair behind her ear, April looked at her friend. She leaned in slightly, eyes scanning the room for familiar faces before telling Arizona what she had witnessed an hour earlier in a soft whisper against the blonde’s ear.

“What!” Arizona whisper-screamed. “I can’t believe that.” They stopped at the counter of the pit’s desk, and April leaned over to put back her tablet. 

“I know! They look like such a picture-perfect couple, but imagine my surprise when I walk into an on-call room and he’s getting another nurse out of her scrubs while his wife is in the middle of surgery.”

“Ugh, I can’t imagine.” The pediatric surgeon shuddered, feet tapping the floor as she moved. “Gosh, do you think she knows?”

“Uh-” April sighed as a depressed sound fell out of her mouth. “Well, I think she’ll find out soon because apparently I’m not the only person who walked in on them today.” Blue eyes widened in shock as Arizona absorbed the information. “You would think they would lock the door after the first time.” 

April’s brows screwed together, disgust rising in her chest. It was at times like this that she was immensely grateful for her husband and remembered just how lucky she was to have him.

“Honestly, she’s too good for him,” Arizona added. “I hope she knows that. She’s a badass surgeon and she’s such a sweetheart. I can’t believe that he did that.”

“I can’t imagine what’s going to happen to their marriage now. They have two young kids to think of too. God, why would he do that?!”

“Men,” Arizona muttered. The two shared a moment of silence, sitting on the drama that was swirling around the hospital that day. “Quick question.” April hummed, tapping on her phone to respond to her husband’s latest text as Arizona tilted her shoulders to face her. “What would you do if Jackson ever cheated?”

April snorted, knowing full well that he never would. For her, cheating was a non-negotiable. She had no second chances to give when it came to that. “If he ever does that, I’m going to divorce him.”

Arizona peered over the redhead’s shoulders, watching the plastic surgeon slowly sway as he walked. His blue eyes were missing their normal Avery sparkle as the color drained from his face.

“D-d-divorce,” he mumbled under his breath.

April spun around, a bright smile illuminating her face as she saw him. “Hi, baby.”

“What did you just say?”

“Hi, baby?” Her voice skewed upwards, repeating her greeting.

“No, before that. Is it because I didn’t use the key hook last night?” April’s head tilted, confusion clouding her warm reception. “Or is it because I don’t like leftovers?”

“Jackson, what are you talking about? You know that doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Jackson talked to himself, voice low and confused. He continued to ramble while April and Arizona stared on. 

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve been acting a little weird since you came.”

Arizona tapped April’s arm, drawing the trauma surgeon’s attention. “Hi,” she smiled, quickly dropping the corner of her lips as she spoke again. “Can I jump in for a sec?” April nodded along, and Arizona whispered into her ear. “I think all he got from our conversation was ‘I’m going to divorce him.’”

April’s eyes widened, snapping back to her husband who stood dejected a few feet away. “Divorce?” She grabbed onto his wrist, and his eyes turned to her. “Why would I want to divorce you when it was so hard to marry you?”

He swallowed, looking back and forth between his wife and her best friend. “I heard you say it though.”

April sighed, stepping in to wrap her arms around him. “Arizona asked what I would do if you ever cheated on me.” 

It was like the thought of even being associated with the action was repulsive, the flit of anger passing through his body before he quickly assured April that he would never do that. He paused, one eyebrow arching as it dawned on him. 

“Is this about you walking in on someone today in the oncall room?”

“You know about that already?”

“Half the hospital knows by now. I believe the nurses said you turned bright red and told them to lock the door after scolding him for cheating.” Jackson snaked his arms around his wife’s waist, assured that he was not getting divorced any time soon.

She sent him a dejected smile, “I don’t think they listened to me though.”

[thefruitiestofbois]

We just needed time- pt3

Twenty-two Seraphites. That's exactly how many people know about Ellie and her immunity. How do I know that? Because these cultist freaks were kind enough to leave a scripture full of the names of all its members who had been sent on the Prophet's mission for purification. A lovely little charter that I'd discovered the location of after beating it out of the dead Scar on my right. I'd already sorted out the last fifteen or so on the list so twenty-two were all that were left between me and the road back to Jackson.

I had one thing to be grateful for- the Seraphites involved in the mission swore themselves to secrecy before setting off from Seattle. No doubt there were probably more who knew but I still had time before they set off for Jackson. I just needed time to find them all and pick them off one by one. My cooperative friend, who was now slumped into a wall, crimson bleeding from both his eyes and mouth, had helped me learn a number of things after we escaped.

The 22 remaining Seraphites were still planning their mission in secret and consulting the Elders for the best of course of action.

They would kill Ellie if they found her. Maybe do worse.

Once a plan was in place they would depart from different locations at different times so that they had the best chance for Ellie's capture.

Now my only aim was to kill all these sick fucks before they even got out of Seattle but there were still some flaws. I didn't know where these Scars were planning from nor did I know anything about Seattle so I had not the faintest idea where to start. Luckily, I had a vengeful and muscular blonde in a braid and her ex-Scar sidekick to help. Abby deemed me harmless seeing as Joel was dead and that her only shot at an eye for an eye, or dad for a dad, was gone. Lev was glued to Abby's side- I think he may have attachment issues but I understand.

"Two Scars headed your way, approaching from the east." Abby radios in and I look through the scope of my rifle at the dirt road in front of the blitzed building I'm in. "Sorry I meant Seraphites." I chuckle at her correction because Lev definitely made her say that. We were quite the team, the three of us, we had taken out entire patrols and raided a few places in the last two weeks we had been free. Sure enough two Scars- Seraphites- were approaching, leather jackets clinging to their bodies just like all the other ones we had seen today but these two had a marking on their left arms- an imprint of a phoenix. A distinct marking of the Prophet's order.

"Hold your fire, let them walk a few paces forward first." I chime in but keep my finger dead still just in front of the trigger, just in case. As expected they walk forward to what they think is just a broken square of wooden panel before crying out as they fall into the trap beneath- a twelve foot ditch with wooden spikes dug into the walls. I sprint down the few flights of stairs still intact in the building and approach the ditch and murmuring Scars with my pistol trained on them every second of the way there when I'm out of cover. Abby and Lev do the same but instead come from the opposite side from behind a small shop with its roof blown to pieces.

We reach two frantic looking Scars who rush to draw their bows but upon seeing they're outnumbered, surrender by tossing their weapons to the floor.

"Well would you look at how the tables have turned. Nice to see you Marcus." I say, replicating his sick sadistic smile that I'd still had trouble purging from my brain.

//

Marcus keeps struggling against his restraints, friction burns covering his wrists and neck. His feet scuffled incessantly on the floor and muffled grunts sounded from his gagged mouth. His partner was already dead, her body leaving a permanent maroon stain on the floor. I didn't move the corpse, I just left it there for Marcus to watch. I'd decide when he was done.

"Seeing as your girlfriend isn't waking up any time soon, how about you tell me where the Scars are hiding before you join her for a little afternoon nap." All he does is shake his head rapidly and grit his teeth through the gag. I raise my spiked bat, like I'd done so many times in this past hour and angle it towards the side of his torso, which was already a bruised mess and his clothes were scraps clinging to his body. I'd done damage, I knew that and I also knew I could never hurt him like he hurt me for an entire week straight, so I settled for inflicting agony for the next few hours till we had to eventually discard him and move onto the next targets.

Just as I'm mid-swing, he cries out for me to stop, so I do and remove his gag. I press one of the spikes into the side of his neck, puncturing his flesh to draw out small droplets of blood before ordering him to talk.

"There's an aquarium- that's where you'll find all of them." Twenty-two Scars- well now it would be all twenty.

"When?"

Two nights from now and then they go to Jackson the next morning."

"Aren't you talkative after a few hours of torture." I say as I settle onto my knees by his side, discarding the bat to replace it with his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"If you're going to kill me, do it already you coward!" He practically roars it out before spitting on the floor by my knees.

"Oh I'm going to but I'm going to do is slowly. I'm gonna start with your eyes first," my thumbs press the centre of his eyes only lightly because I'm only just starting, "then I'm going to slit your throat and listen to the satisfying sound of you fighting for your last breaths. And then..." I give him an earnest smile before saying "I'll leave your body, right next to your girlfriend's, so the demons of Seattle can rip you both apart. Because that's all you amount to: nothing. Roadkill essentially." And with that I press harshly into his eyeballs, feeling his body fight and writhe in pain as he screams out for me to stop.

//

"Any words from the scouts?" Maria looks at Tommy who only offers a sympathetic look before answering.

"I need you to know that you ain't gonna like what I have to say." His southern drawl heavy, almost like a loaded gun just biding its time til it goes off. She nods, head hung low while forcing a deep sigh out, already knowing the answer- dreading the answer.

"Seattle's got bodies popping up everywhere, all the scarred cheek kind, some a few WLFs. But Maria they- it's the way they were killed... their eyes had been gouged out. Just like-"

"Like the ones from last year at the ski resort." Maria finishes for him. A pale shadow casts itself onto their faces. "So it's her?"

"Yeah. I mean it's gotta, who else would it be?" She swallows harshly and sets her fist onto the table, resting her weight on it before ordering Tommy to keep this from the rest of the townsfolk.

"And Tommy if you find her, you don't bring her back into Jackson before I get a chance to assess her."

//

"Why do you kill them like that?" Abby asks while the three of us are sat eating dinner. Well if you would count scraps and dried up trail mix dinner. Lev was asleep inside the store room and Abby would soon join him while I took up watch like I did most nights. I didn't sleep much anyway so I didn't mind, plus I needed Abby rested so she'd be able to help us fight off anyone or anything. She was the strongest out of the three of us by a mile. Lev was useful in making traps and silent combat, so we didn't really need them for much aside form crafting and sometimes hunting.

"Long story." Is all I state before grabbing my water bottle to take a swig. We had taken up camp inside a run down coffee shop just outside off the highway that we'd be taking to the aquarium in a few hours. It was well into the night but we were hoping to get there to scope out the place beforehand. Even with all this planning and hunting we did together I still didn't understand why Abby and Lev were still here. They could have left me the moment we were all free but they just stayed and then when I suggested, well more so announced, that I was hunting the Scars before they got to Ellie, they didn't even hesitate, they just agreed.

"You should try opening up you know. Maybe you'd have more friends that way." She jokes and I laugh but inwardly I was thinking about that word. Friends. It felt strange to think about it. Were Abby and Lev my friends or were we just three people forced into a situation together? Except they weren't forced, they were here willingly. Ellie made sure I never experienced what it meant to have real friends seeing as she practically ordered Jesse and Dina to stop hanging out with me most days.

"I don't really want to talk about it." I confess and she just stares at me for a few moments, the light of the lamp illuminating the freckles around her nose and cheeks and her pale blue eyes gleaming. She says nothing before getting up to approach me, her hands softly cup my cheeks and one of her thumbs wipes away a tear I hadn't even realised was there. I freeze. My body goes stiff and Abby just rubs my cheek again with a feathery touch in response.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have asked. Whatever it is, I'm sorry it happened. It's a fucked up world." She says so gently I don't even register she's speaking at first. I hum in response, her touch melting away small fragments of my exterior. It felt as though my actual skin was melting away from wherever her thumb had left its mark.

I jolt backwards and clear my throat as I hear Lev open the door of the store room, rubbing their sleepy eyes and yawning.

"Abby it's your turn to sleep, I can keep watch if both of you want to rest a little." Lev offers and I shake my head.

"Thanks Lev but I'm not tired, you should eat something though before we leave in a few hours." They nod before rummaging through their backpack.

"I'll head to sleep then I'm kinda tired." Abby says before walking into the store room and I don't miss the way her eyes are on me the entire time with pity and something else I don't quite know how to define.

"Are you okay with what we're going to need to do tomorrow?" I was asking because I knew the Scars that were going to be in the aquarium used to be their family.

"I'm okay with it. It needs to be done. They'll just keep hunting innocent people even after they get what they want." I take a deep breath, not even wanting to ask what I wanted but I knew I had to so I could make sure the three of us were in this thing properly.

"Why are you and Abby helping me do this? The people in Jackson mean nothing to either of you and the Scars-"

"Seraphites."

"Seraphites- sorry- used to be your family. Hell Abby came to Jackson to kill Joel so why are either of you here?" Lev breathes in sharply, almost as if their unsure of what the answer actually is.

"I think we're here because we have nowhere else to go." Well that isn't the worst of reasons. "But also because I think the three of us have an unspoken sense of companionship. We were all tortured and almost gutted together." That's true.

"Well either way, thank you." Lev was right, we were just stuck in this together.

"For Abby I think it's also revenge."

"Revenge?" I question and Lev tells me that one of the WLFs the Scars killed was Owen, Abby's boyfriend or ex-boyfriend. That made things a whole lot clearer.

"Also because I think she likes you." Lev says, a small smile tugging at his lips like a teenager who had just dished the world's most scandalous gossip. Well I suppose in Lev's world, they had done that and they were just a kid.

"You think she likes me?"

"I know she does." I awkwardly nod in response. Not because I don't want Abby to like me in that way but because for a split-second when Abby had held me in her hands, my mind, for some unfathomable reason flickered to Ellie.

//

They were here. All twenty of them each with an imprint of a phoenix on their arms. Night had fallen and the moonlight beamed off of the water surrounding the aquarium almost as if it was highlighting our target for us. The faint whistle of the wind rushed past my ears but even then the silence of the night amplified the footsteps of the Seraphites as they reached the entrance to the aquarium. My heart was thudding, fast and harsh as the massive 'what if' flashed in my mind. What if it didn't work? This would all be a waste and I'd have trusted Abby and Lev for no reason.

"Hey, it'll work, we got this." Abby rubs a soothing hand on my back as she takes the binoculars away from her eyes, almost reading my mind. Or maybe she noticed the way my finger shook against the trigger of my rifle. All three of us had taken up prone positions on the broken highway just off the aquarium and if all went to plan we wouldn't have to even go down there. Well they wouldn't but I needed to, no matter the outcome.

I watched through my scope as the group struggled to find a way inside, ultimately leading them to the only way in- a door at the back near the electrical transformers which led into a kitchen or staffroom of some sort. The first stage was a success thanks to Abby's blood, sweat and tears that went into pushing anything and everything in front of all the other entrances. She lets out a satisfied huff and I nudge her shoulder to congratulate her and Lev silently punches the air. I zoom in a little and I see that only four of them have any rifles or pistols, the rest just have bows or just torches. Idiots. Who leaves safety in the middle of the night to come up with a heist without being properly armed? But then again, it probably doesn't even register to them that they could have been tracked by three vengeful ex prisoners of theirs. Let's see if their Prophet can save them tonight.

Satisfaction courses through me as they all disappear one by one into the room, the last member closing the door behind them and unknowingly sealing them in there. Abby had also made sure to block all the doors leading out of that room into the aquarium. I angle upwards, getting a specific spot above the door they entered into my crosshairs. I dismissed Lev's idea of putting an explosive in the wall but all they said was a simple 'trust me' before doing it anyway. "Am I supposed to just shoot it or what?" I turn to Lev on my left and they just nod, a malevolent smile etching itself into their cheeks.

"Okay boss." I roll my eyes and Abby shoves me with light force disapprovingly.

"Don't be an ass."

"Do it now." Lev urges and I squeeze the trigger, sending a single bullet into the spot and it explodes upon impact, triggering a cascade of explosions, the fire brighter than the moonlight and the following grey smoke snaking into the air above as rubble crushes the Seraphites. The distant screams and cries for help fade with each passing second as the aquarium starts to slowly collapse in on itself, the roof looking like a sinkhole of concrete and wiring. It fucking worked. Holy shit.

"Woah that's so cold." Lev beams with excitement and be Abby correct him simultaneously as we all stand up,

"Cool."

"What?"

"Never mind." Abby laughs out and looks to me and just smiles. A genuine smile that I've never seen before but it's infectious and I can't help but grin back. Relief sweeps through me and I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time since I left Jackson. And now I couldn't wait to go home. I'd done what I needed to do to redeem myself. Ellie didn't need to forgive me because I owed her this. I owed it to her and everybody at Jackson to keep them safe.

Even amongst the relief and satisfaction I felt after killing all those Scars, that little shadow inside of me was itching to just get down there and rip through the rubble so I could get my hands on at least one of them and make them cry blood. I shake the feeling as we're all travelling back to the coffee shop, I'd already done plenty damage to all the Scars that came before but I couldn't fully tame that gnawing inside of me just urging me to turn back around and finish the job my way.

We all wake up the next morning, not a single tired or worn out face amongst us. We deserved the rest. We'd spent weeks hunting and torturing and killing. Well Abby and Lev spent a few gruelling weeks helping me on my revenge fantasy.

As we all eat breakfast together, the air weighs heavy with the one question none of us had dared ask since we woke up- what's going to happen to all three of us now? I knew I wanted to go back home, Abby and Lev knew that from the start and I always assumed they would just set off by themselves and we would part ways. But I didn't want that. I wanted to stay with them. I wanted their companionship- their friendship. The truth was that I would miss them. I hadn't thought about missing anyone since my dad died but now, that thought of leaving them behind rattled me.

"What's Jackson like?" Lev asks and Abby's head perks up, in bewilderment at Lev's boldness but she still stares at me expectantly. Well if Lev was going to be bold so am I.

"How about I show you what Jackson is like instead?"

[iamyoursinblog]

Teasing

Summary: 

His reaction when you are teasing him in public/in front of members.

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LIST (BTS & GOT7)

Mark Tuan

You loved training with Mark. What could be sexy, you thought as your eyes run over your boyfriend's hot body. But even more, you enjoyed teasing him while he taught you the martial arts. You kept casually stroking his ass or thigh, almost reaching his crotch as he taught you a new move. He gave you a warning look every time you kept teasing him. But it turned you on even more. You couldn't concentrate while he explained the new hold to you. You watched as a drop of sweat from his hair flowed down his neck to his chest, which was bare due to the kimono being too open. You chuckled as you walked around him from behind, following his instructions. You wrapped your arms around him, but instead of clasping your hands into a lock on his chest, you slipped your hand into his kimono. You ran your nails across his chest, brushing against his nipple. Mark practically growled at your actions. He grabbed the collar of your kimono, throwing you over it. He stopped you in the air before your back touched the floor. "Baby, don't you think you're in bad position to tease me like that?" he growled, making you chuckle as his eyes darkened with excitement. He let go of you, letting you plop down on the floor as you giggled contentedly at the reaction you received.

Lim Jaebeom

You teased him all evening at the family dinner. To say that Jaebeom was overexcited is an understatement. The way he tried his best to calm down only made you want to tease him even more. That's why you smiled widely when you were in the elevator right in front of him, due to the crowd. You move your hand behind your back and squeezed his hard cock with your fingers. He groaned softly as he squeezed your wrist. "Don't you think you've got carried in your game, baby?" he whispered in your ear, squeezing your hand tighter You just giggled softly, continuing to run your fingers along its length. You took your hands off his cock and, making sure no one was looking at you, lifted the hem of your short dress from behind, teasing him with your ass. You heard a low growl that sent goosebumps to your skin. Jaebeom gripped your shoulder tightly, pulling you towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, hurting you as you rubbed your ass against his cock. “Congratulations my kitty, you just hit the jackpot. And don't even think that your safe word can help you tonight!" he said in a low voice, and a chill went down your spine as you realized it wasn't a joke.

Jacksom Wang

You sat in a restaurant and had dinner with all the members. You continued to fiddle with the pendant, drawing the eyes of Jackson, who was sitting opposite, to your deep neckline. You practically snorted in frustration as he continued talking to the guys. You smiled as you took your glass of wine. You didn't look away from Jackson, running your glass over your bottom lip. "Daddy" you said wordlessly with just your lips before taking a sip. You chuckled as it made Jackson freeze for a second before he returned to the conversation. You took a slice of the cake, deliberately leaving cream on your lips. You said wordlessly "Daddy" running your tongue over your lips. You bit your lip slightly as Jackson gulped looking at your lips. Perfect, you thought, realizing that your little game was working. You took off your shoe, running your foot along Jackson's ankle. "Daddy," you said again as he looked sharply at you. His jaw tightened as you ran your foot across his crotch. "Daddy" you chuckled, making him squeeze the glass in his hand. You sharply returned your foot back on floor as he slammed hard his palm down on the table. “Are you really could handle it if I turn into your daddy right now?!” he growled glaring at you, causing the guys to stare at Jackson with their mouths open. You smiled broadly as you returned to your cake, getting exactly the reaction you were hoping for.

Park Jinyoung

You rested your elbows on the table as Mark and Jaebeom prepared dinner. You turned around and smiled when you saw Jinyoung staring at your ass in short shorts that were barely visible from oversize T-shirt. You turned your head to make sure BamBam and Yugeom were totally into playing on PS. You spread your legs slightly and leaned forward, arching your back just enough for Jinyoung to see your ass and crotch completely. You pulled your shorts up, letting them dig between your folds. You couldn't help but laugh when Jinyoung cleared his throat. You turned slightly towards Jinyoung, meeting his glare. You saw how white his fingers were when he squeezed his phone, tapping his leg nervously. Jinyoung closed his eyes while taking a deep breath. Perfect, you thought as you watched Jinyoung try to keep his arousal under control. You ran your hand down your ass, lightly grabbing the hem of your shorts, completely exposing your buttocks for Jinyoung's gaze. “Baby,” he warned you in a stern voice. "You talking to me?" chuckling asked Mark turning towards Jinyoung before returning to cooking. You were glad that because of the kitchen island you leaned on, Mark couldn't see your little show you put on for Jinyoung. You heard a low growl behind you as you ran your fingers along your crotch. You chuckled when you heard Jinyoung's chair creak as he stood up. “One more move like that and I’ll show the guys how much you love being punished!” Jinyoung growled leaving a hard slap on your half-naked ass before lowering your shorts down, leaving all the guys staring at you practically with their mouths open. “Nerd” you snorted as Jinyoung left the kitchen heading for the restroom, causing Mark and Jaebeom to laugh out loud.

Choi Youngjae

You chuckled as Youngjae sat on the floor instead of joining everyone at the table. You knew that he could see your legs under the table, unlike the others. You spread your legs wide, pulling your skirt up your thighs. You noticed how Youngjae's jaw tightened as his eyes caught your movements under the table. You ran your fingers over your crotch and almost laughed as Youngjae's jaw dropped. He turned his gaze to you, completely blushing from your actions under the table. You almost moaned when you saw the pleading in his eyes to stop teasing him. You bit your lower lip, causing him to swallow loudly. "Are you okay?" asked Jaebeom "No!" Youngjae practically groaned. You giggled contentedly as Youngjae fell to the floor, turning his back to the table, trying to hide his boner.

BamBam

BamBam didn't react at all to your attempts to seduce him while you were hanging out together with members. But you had a secret weapon that always worked. You selected one of your underwear photos and sent it to BamBam, quickly slipping your phone into your pocket. BamBam gasped loudly making all the members look at him. You barely kept a smile, making the most surprised look, while BamBam drilled you with a look. "Are you okay?" asked Jackson, clapping BamBam on the shoulder. “Yes,” BamBam cleared his throat, slowly blushing without taking his eyes off you. “You seem to blush. Are you sure you're okay?" You asked innocently looking at him. You ran your fingers along the stem of the glass, forcing BamBam to follow your every move. Now whatever you do it will tease him even more. "Yeah, I'm fine," BamBam practically growled looking into your eyes. "Got a notification that I wanted to watch the movie 'Love and Leashes' tonight!" answered BamBam. You bit your lower lip and BamBam unconsciously leaned towards you but quickly stopped when he remembered that you weren't alone. You laughed softly at his angry looks as you continued your little torture to seduce your boyfriend.

Kim Yugeom

You couldn't help but laugh as Yugeom watched open-mouthed at you while you sucked on the lollipop. He tried to keep the conversation going with the other members, but his words were constantly confused, making the others laugh at him. “I'd be scared of him if I were you,” Jinyoung said while pushing Yugeom in the shoulder. “He looks at you like he's a maniac... ouff” You laughed at Jinyoung's comment that made Yugeom resent his hyung. “How can I even look at her differently when she does something like this!” Yugeom growled as he snatched the lollipop from your hand. “From now on, lollipops are forbidden for you,” Yugeom snorted as he tossed your lollipop into the bin. You couldn't hide the amusement that your boyfriend's cute reaction caused.

REACTIONS:

That ass…

Teasing

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LIST (BTS&GOT7)

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