slimybeth69

[slimybeth69]

literally everyone is high right now time to get zooted

[slimybeth69]

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Warnings: DBF!Joel, Undisclosed age gap (but its pretty big, reader is college aged and Joel is late 40’s/50’s), Dubcon, Finger Fucking, Edging, Somnophelia, Cum Play, Masturbation, Depravity. Joel is an asshole.

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.  

You were home for summer break and found out that your dad’s new buddy also happened to be irresistibly handsome. He was always over at your dad’s house. Having a beer (or six) together after work or sitting by the pool on a hot evening, watching whatever game was on. He lived just down the street, so it was nothing for him to come over. He would even spend the night often enough, falling asleep on the couch after too many drinks or a game that went too late. 

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

Night after night you shot those flirty eyes at him. Teasing. Dangling yourself in front of him when your dad wasn’t looking. Wearing the sluttiest of outfits and brushing up against him whenever he was in the way of where you suddenly needed to be. Sure, he was polite being a guest in your house, but he firmly removed himself whenever you got too close. 

You saw how he’d look away with a flushed face. How his jeans would tighten whenever you bent over in front of him to tie up your hair. How he’d stir in his seat when you were teasing him with your suggestive conversations on the phone that you knew he was within earshot of.       

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you. 

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it. 

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers. 

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist. 

He was massive and you eyed him with an insatiable want. His gorgeous, girthy shaft complimented his firm and broad body. The greys lining his patchy beard matched the messy thatch that trailed up to his lower belly and disappeared under his shirt. He was easily several decades older than you. Time had been kind to him, rewarding him with a body that just got better with age.

And you did want him. You wanted him badly. You thought about him night after night while you got yourself off. Now that he was on top of you in your own bed you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

You're lying in front of him, helpless and fully at his mercy, wearing just an oversized t-shirt and some modest cotton panties that are lacey around the waistband. Eyes still hazy from being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night. You weren’t exactly expecting company. 

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance. 

He uses his knees to press your legs open and make room for himself as he drags his free hand down your thigh, pushing you open wider. You don’t know what his exact intentions are but you know he is the one in control.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that. 

“What are you gonna do, call for daddy?” he taunts. “Let him see what a slut his little girl is?” He stops and looks between your legs, dragging his finger along the seam of your panties. “And how you’re dripping for my cock?” 

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it. 

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up. 

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He sits back on his legs while you shimmy out of your panties and toss your shirt onto the floor. As you lay back on the mattress his eyes scan over you, taking in your perfect breasts and the softness of your youthful skin. 

He lets go of his cock and leans down, putting his face right in your cunt. You can feel his hot breath hovering just above your clit but he is careful not to touch. You writhe towards him, begging for some friction. He gives you nothing.

He smiles a wicked smile as he picks his head up to look at you. His eyes lock with yours and you can see the darkness spreading over him. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and he was taking great pleasure in this payback. 

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance. 

He uses his hand to engulf your own and guides it to your clit, pressing your fingertips into it and rubbing. He never loses eye contact with you, studying the way your mouth hangs open as he forces your hand.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.  

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.   

He maneuvers back down the bed to get a better view as you circle your clit. He grabs your legs roughly and pulls you up close to him so they are wide open and hanging over his thighs. His swollen cock standing at full attention just inches from you. Just out of reach. A tease. A prize if you play his game. You slow down your movements, as you start to feel the heat inside you surging. 

“Sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he taunts as he pulls off his shirt, generously giving you more of his body to drink in. The ridges in his lean muscles catching the moonlight. He looks sinfully delicious and you ache for his body against yours. You want to make him happy, give him a reason to reward you with his touch. 

He leans forward and puts his weight is on his palms just by your hips, his cock pushing against your wet hole. His broadness looming over you. Leering at your neediness. The sight of him. The feel of his spongy head knocking at your entrance. It was too much. 

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he threatens, grabbing your hand again. “Wanna see you stuff that pretty hole.” He pushes two of your fingers together and brings them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and getting them good and wet. It sends shivers through your body imagining that mouth on your pussy instead.

He’s rougher this time, guiding your hand back down to your entrance. You can sense his patience running out. He pushes your pliant fingers inside without warning, fucking you in and out. Slow and hard. Until he lets go and watches you take over.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears. 

“Those pitiful little hands can’t get shit done” he grunts, dragging his hand up your thigh and curling around your stomach. The rough pads of his fingertips leave you trembling in their wake as he drags them lower.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something. 

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick. 

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands. 

You realize he still isn’t going to fuck you. No, he wants you to move his hand and use his body to get off. He knew you would do it too because he was making you so desperate for any way to release. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on. 

You are already so close, your body sucks him inside. The thickness feels so good as your pussy stretches to take him. You wince as you take in more and more of him, underestimating how thick he is. Everything about Joel Miller is so damn thick.  

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

You can sense a shift in the room that's palpable. He was having his fun with you, but he was getting greedy. Getting off on watching you struggle to take his fingers. He wanted to stuff you with his cock and show you what a real tight fit is, but he has no intention of giving you that satisfaction. You had to learn a lesson about teasing. 

He couldn’t resist curling his fingers inside you, prodding at your fleshy walls. Your hand was still around his but he was the one moving it now. His free hand rapidly stroking his length, thumbing over the swollen tip and God you need him so badly.

“Joel, please!” you beg. 

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before. 

“Bet you can’t handle three,” he challenges, giving you no time to respond. He’s already decided it's happening whether you want it to or not. You do want it. You want anything he will give you. 

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold  onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

“Come. Come now,” he snarls at you. Your orgasm has you gasping for breath as he relentlessly fingers you through it, chasing his own release. You soak his fingers and moan his name, your walls fluttering around him. Your nails claw into his skin, as you’re fucked out and overwhelmed by sweet ecstasy.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet. 

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you. 

A primal need surges inside him, desperate to leave you with his seed. You see the shift in his eyes and he can’t stop himself. His cum drips and pools around his knuckles as he fucks it inside you in a frenzy, needing his  spend as deep as his fingers will let him. 

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside. 

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high. 

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes. 

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess. 

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

@pedgito @slimybeth69 @syd-djarin @wheresarizona @frannyzooey @jolapeno @joelsdagger @joelmillerisapunk @for-a-longlongtime @tightjeansjavi @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @fuckyeahdindjarin @beefrobeefcal @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity @galaxyedging @perotovar @pearlessance @pedropeach @cavillscurls @sawymredfox @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @yourcoolauntie @jessthebaker @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @schnarfer

[slimybeth69]

friendly reminder since discourse is happening and peepaw is tired:

this is okay to reblog. in fact, i highly encourage it.

[slimybeth69]

Touch- Part 12

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Where is Din when you need rescuing?

WARNING: Please consume at your own risk and take a look at the tags and warnings here before continuing. This chapter is heavy and hurts a little (No graphic depictions of anything- only mentions, but it be could triggerin'.)

a/n: Sorry it took me so long to update this one! I said in a comment I would update next week- but I won't make you wait anymore. I'm a piece of shit- plain and simple. I'M SORRY!!! This was read over quickly and unproofread because again, I'm a piece of shit AND I'M TIRED.

Moff Gideon stands by the window of his bedroom. Looking out into the stars.

You cannot even look at him after what he just did to you. You feel so dirty and disgusting. Violated. Your whole lower half hurts.

“You’ll learn to enjoy it. Just like you did with Din Djarin once.” Moff Gideon still says from the window. You could throw up. You could never imagine enjoying that. Especially not with him. Ashoka didn’t train you to protect yourself from that. Being held down by stormtroopers.

No sounds come out of you. No tears either, they’re all spent up over the unknown amount of hours you’ve been in here. This is the worst feeling. You had never felt this way before. You’d go back to being sad about Din if it meant you didn’t have to feel this. 

“We’ll be converging with your beloved on Mandalore.” More meaningless words from the man who will probably do this to you forever if Din can’t rescue you. There are so many stormtroopers you’re not sure how he would be able to do it even if he still cared for you. 

“Okay.” You finally whisper out. Moff Gideon sucks his teeth like he might feel contrite now for what he just did to you. It’s quiet for a moment and then you feel the weight of the bed shift behind you. It makes tears well in your eyes thinking that he might just be getting ready to do it all over again. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, little loth-cat. I am sorry for all that. Next time don’t fight me so hard. I like a little struggle. Not that much though.” He’s speaking as he plants kisses along your arm and shoulder. You flinch with each one. “Would you like to stay here with me tonight or would you prefer your own bed to sleep in?” This makes you turn to look at him, making sure to keep the blankets covering your chest. 

“Are you giving me the option?” You ask quietly. This feels like a trap. Gideon nods and kisses your shoulder again softly. “I’d like my own bed.” You feel a giant weight lift off your entire body when he holds his hand to the door for you to leave. 

“The two outside will show you where you’re sleeping.” Moff Gideon kisses up to your ear and sucks your earlobe softly. You retract and crawl out of bed, keeping the blankets wrapped around you. You start to look for your clothes that had been ripped off of you earlier but they’re not on the floor. Gideon takes a corner of the blanket that is wrapped around you and pulls. You don’t expect the sudden tug of the sheets so they come away from your body easily and now you’re fully exposed. You try to cover yourself the best you can but you have only two hands. 

“Where are my clothes?” You ask nervously. Moff Gideon smiles salaciously. 

“Waiting for you in your room, little loth.” 

“So… I have to go there…like this?” Sweat starts to bead on your forehead. He nods silently. “Okay. I’ll stay here with—” He shakes his head from side to side.

“You’ve made your choice, little one.” 

When he calls you little one your knees buckle and all the blood drains from your face— you can feel it happen. You do not argue. A quick turn on your heel and you walk to the door that will lead you out of your walk of shame to wherever your room is on this ship. Two stormtroopers dressed in black armor look at you when you walk out and they snicker in their helmets. 

“I’d like to go to my room please.” A cracked out croaking voice you’ve never heard before comes out of your mouth. They nod you to the left and you lead them. 

“Can see why The Mandalorian keeps her around.” One of the troopers behind you whispers through his modulator to the other. You keep your lips pressed together tightly. “Left.” He directs you as you come to an intersection. 

“Think we’d get in trouble if we sampled?” The other trooper chuckles like you’re some treat at the sweets shop in the outside-rim market or whatever it was called. You do not know. But the heat rushes to your face in anger that they just talk about you openly like this, like you can’t hear them speaking two feet behind you. 

“Take a right.” The first original trooper commands at the next intersection. Four people have walked past you now and they have stared at you. You have one arm covering your chest and the other covering your mound the best you can. 

“You know your HUD is uplinked to their security system, right? They could check. If she ratted us out and Gideon believed her.” He sounds like he’s stunned the other man would even speak like that. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just talkin’ anyway. Not really going to do anything.” The second trooper mumbles. 

“Keep going straight.” The first tropper orders and you keep walking. Avoiding people's eyes as they walk by. You've been in a pretty enclosed hallway but they want you to keep walking straight and you see what it’s about to open up to. A giant room. And people have not stopped walking past the hallway since you turned the corner. There are so many people out there. 

They walk you through that room. It’s a giant room— seven cathedrals worth of room all around you. People with children who have to cover their eyes at the naked woman being followed around by two armed men in helmets. The one armed man in a helmet you actually like is not here and that makes you so sad because he would have never let this happen to you. Never. Now everyone in this ship knows what you look like behind your clothes. You still haven’t cried. You have no tears left. You're too embarrassed to cry. 

It takes you so, so long to get to your room. Moff Gideon knew what he was doing when he gave you this option. But now you’ve done it, so you’ll do it forever if he keeps giving you the option. You’ll never share that bed with him as long as your arms aren't being held down and forcing you there.

Tatooine Four Days Later

Din walks onto the ship. He’s expecting to see you. Excited even. He didn’t like leaving you here with Peli. Didn’t like knowing that you were not close to him or that you were possibly worried about your future with him. He had been upset with you, yes. Din missed you and forgot he was upset with you very quickly after he had left and felt foolish for making this decision so quickly. He felt like a brat when he realized he didn’t want you not with him. But he knew it was best for both of you. You needed to heal and he needed to focus on helping Bo-Katan. He had gone with her in hopes of restoring her old army and defeating the leader of the Axe Wolves. When she did, Din gave her the darksaber. 

You’re not on the ship though and that confuses Din. Because Peli was asleep. You’re not in the ship so where could you be. R5 is bleeping wildly down by Din’s feet. Once Din looks down at him with a tilted helmet, the droid begins to roll away, it’s little head stays right on Din to make sure he’s following but when the helmeted man does not, the droid stops and beeps at him twice. 

Din takes two steps towards R5 and now, he’s bleeping wildly again, light flashing. Din must follow this droid. He does. He follows it down the streets and through allies until he’s out side of Mos Eisley Cantina. Which is strange. This place was for bounty hunters and smugglers, star pilots. Not his little one. You were also not inside. Very strange. The droid is still rolling, to a seat at the bar. He rams it twice and then bleeps. 

“Hi honey, how ya been?” The bartender know’s Din. 

“Fine. Have you seen a woman? Three scars on her cheek and one under eye?” The bartender sighs and reaches under the bar. 

“We were told to give this to you if and when you came in and asked about her. Here.” She hands Din a Holotransmiter. 

“Who told you to give this to me?” Din rasps, taking the small metal cube from the bartender. She shrugs. Some stormtrooper? I dunno. The girl you’re talkin’ about got snatched—” 

Din doesn’t care what that slow talking bartender has to say anymore. Him and R5 are leaving the bar before she can finish what she’s saying. Din is rushing back to the ship so fast the poor droid can barely keep up. Once inside the ship and waiting for R5 to come back so he can shut it all up, he takes the cube to the the table and presses the button on the side. 

Moff Gideon’s hologram appears. 

“Din Djarin. I have something of yours. She’s delectably tight Djarin. Everywhere . I can see why you hid her away for so long. It’ll be nice to see you again. Come and find me.” 

The message cuts out and Din replays it four more times. What is happening? What could that mean? Din knows what it means but he cannot believe what he’s hearing. He plays the message again six times. Din is frozen in fear. What does he even do? He must go to Bo-Katan. She’s trying to unite clans of Mandalorians to help on Nevarro. They would help with this right? Moff Gideon? Din wastes no time. The child had been asleep already. He’s in bed. He’s got to go to Nevarro. Got to talk to Bo-Katan. 

Fuck.

“She what!? You let her what!?” Bo-Katan is screaming at Din. She told him not to leave you on that Maker forsaken dirt planet and Din did it anyway because he was upset with you. Now look at the mess he got you into. Bo-Katan is also a little scared. Moff Gideon, defeated her the last time he saw her. Now she had to run and face him head on to save a dala that she cared for because Din cared for her, and if Din cared for a regular human girl then she must be special because Din did not care for many things. 

“We need to go get her.” Din is still shocked that you are not on this ship with him right now. It’s stupefying his brain beneath the helmet and the head of beautiful dark curls. 

“Obviously!” Bo-Katan yells at him and rolls her eyes. “We were leaving for Mandalore to meet with a clan that I trust very much. We can group up with them and then we can look for her. We will have more of us to fight him. Din, we will get her back.” Bo-Katan has to really try and convince Din of this because now in his mind you are already gone. Moff Gideon wouldn’t let you live. No matter how close Din got it would never be close enough. 

Moff Gideon’s Class 546 Cruiser Three Days Later

You are not allowed to leave your room. You are given two meals a day. No snacks. No conversation unless it’s with Moff Gideon and that’s only if he wants to talk to you before or after he assaults you. You have learned that fighting hurts. Hurts worse than just letting it happen. What is worse than that though is when your own body betrays you and you come on him and he laughs at you for it. You cry those nights the hardest because how could your body do that to you? You hate it. You hate everything about it and yourself and you look out your little porthole and just pray to Maker that the X4 or Bo-Katan’s ship appears in between the stars and planets…

Din was right. You were not safe with so many stars and planets between the two of you. Not at all. You miss Din so much. Your body never betrayed you with him. Never. His touch was always welcomed and pleasant even when he was rough with you. Never like this. Never being slapped across the face during. He hadn't split your lip twice. Hadn't made you cry because that’s what he liked.  That was Moff Gideon.

Moff Gideon was a sick bastard. A horrible man and you hope he dies. You hope Din kills him right in front of you. They took your lightsaber. Probably will never see the most incredible thing you’ve ever owned. The most meaningful, precious thing because it was from Din. And you lost it. Got it taken from you. Even with all your Jedi training. Your chin starts to quiver and you remove your fingertips from the edge of the porthole. You have to sit with your knees underneath you on top of the desk that is in this room to look out of the little Grogu sized hole. It would be perfect for him. You hoped he never had to look out of one of these windows when Gideon had taken him prisoner. 

Thinking of all these things is making you sad. Your clothes were not here when you got back so you’ve spent the last week naked all the time! The whole time you have been naked. Wearing only the sheets that had been on the bed when you got here. The only time you are allowed to leave is when Gideon bathes you like a child. 

The ship is rumbling. Badly. A violent jerk of the ship sends you flying off the bed and onto the floor. If you hadn’t held your hands out you would have smashed your face into the hard, cold metal. It’s still rumbling. You wish you had your helmet. You don’t know why, you just do. It would make you feel safe, you think. Your door is opening. A young girl, a youngling who you do not recognize, is standing in front of the now closed door to your room with what looks like a cloth parcel in her hands. 

“Miss.” She bows her head to you and curtseys like you are royalty. She must have you confused with Bo-Katan Kryze. “I’m Vexira Maldeen. My mom works in the belly of the ship. I’ve been keeping your things safe when she tried to dispose of them for Sir Gideon. I washed your clothes and you kept your little silver necklace safe for you.” You are in shock. Who is this little girl? She sounds very nice but everything is a farce in this ship. Nothing is what it seems so you are suspicious. She continues very quickly. “Sir Gideon is on his way to attack the Mandalorian clans that are on the surface of Mandalore. The Mandalorian and Bo-Katan Kryze just boarded the ship and are looking for you.” 

“What?” You cannot believe what this strange girl Velcro Mudstone or whatever her name was. It was probably false anyway. A lie. A trick! “They’re not here. Who are you? Why do you have my things?” You ask from your place on the floor. She takes a step towards you and you cower in fear and expect to be slapped by the child but she just hands you the bundled up clothes in her hands. 

“I was able to use some help from my friends up top to get this for you too. I was surprised I was actually able to get it.” She opens the cloth and your lightsaber is inside and so is your little necklace Din got you. All your clothes. 

“Why did you do all this?” You ask her in complete and utter awe. 

“I’ve heard stories of you. You’re the girl who trained with the Jedi.” She looks into your eyes and she is in awe now. “How you got those scars down in the mines of Mandalore. You are as beautiful as they say.” She places the bundle in your hand and runs to the door. “I have to get back to my room or my dad will notice I’m missing. Go find The Mandalore. They boarded on the G Deck. We are on the L Deck. Good luck, Miss.” She bows to you again and curtseys before shutting the door only partially so it doesn’t lock from the outside. 

How did she get in here? This was absolutely a trick but you still stand and put your clothes and shoes on. You put your necklace in one of your hidden pockets of your robe and clip your lightsaber to your waistband. 

Decks? How did decks work? Deck L has got to be below D Deck right? Or Did she say G Deck… shit she said so much! She should have just said the important things. Shit shit shit. You take out your lightsaber when you see two stormtroopers run past the hallway you are in but they didn’t see you. They were moving too fast. You follow them though. Your pink plasma is already unleashed. The two stormtroopers have blaster pistols. It’s okay. You are fast. Very fast with the saber. You can make a shield with your blade. You taught Ahsoka how to do that. You taught Ahsoka something. 

The two men in white armor who are running in front of you still haven’t noticed you. How did they get this far being followed by an inexperienced dala such as yourself. Doesn’t matter. The dull ache in your shoulder isn’t enough to stop you from bringing the saber up over your head, you cock your elbow out and your wrist down so you can drive the blade down into the gap of the armor in the first man's neck before they can see you. He falls to the floor, off your blade easily and now the other man has turned in your direction and has started to blast. You do your best to block his lasers with your plasma blade but he does not hold back. One Maker forsaken laser bounces off your plasma and ricochets off the metal wall and into the side of his neck. 

“Yes!” Run towards him and bring your plasma quickly across the front of his throat. You pick up his blaster and try to remember how to use it. “Aim.” You point it down the hallway and put your finger on the trigger. “And then you pull.” You pull the trigger and a little red laser comes out of the other end and you’re so happy you know what you’re doing but then more lasers start to come out of the blaster and your arm is being propelled up towards the ceiling. You forgot to take your finger off the trigger!

Red flashes before your eyes and now you are surrounded by little red murder beams shooting all around the hallway. 

“Fu—” You have to duck and cover your head and you still get grazed a little by one of the little angry beams. “Mother fucker! Yousonofabitchcocksuckercuntwhore!” You scream down the empty hallway. “Fuck fuck fuck shit mothercrickking bitch!” Fuck that stings. Stings so bad. Got ya right in the ankle! Mother fucker! You run. You don’t care, you run because you need to find your Din. You need him now more than you’ve ever needed him. 

The deck levels are correct. D Deck is up. Or was it B Deck? What letter did that little child say? V Deck? V Deck is down. V feels right. So right. No. You had to go up. Had to. D Deck. It was the letter D and you are positive. There are so many decks. And twice the amount of stairs. You are running though. You don’t care if your legs are burning and your ankle is a little singed. You need to get to Din. With everything inside of you. Push. Harder. Run, two steps at a time. 

You are suddenly on your back. You don’t even know how you got here. You’re looking up at a blurry picture of a helmeted man in armor. It’s Din! Oh my Maker is— not Din it’s a stupid fucking stormtrooper who you ran into going up the stairs! You still have the blaster. You aim and shoot and don’t take your finger off the trigger again you just let it keep going until he falls down and you cheer for yourself in your windless state. Okay, you’re up again! That’s all that matters.

You’re climbing up the stairs when you hear him. Calling for you. You wheel around and he’s two floors below you on the complete opposite side of the floor. He’s leaning on the railing, pointing to you. Then holding his hand up telling you to stop moving. Din climbs on to the railing, both feet on the top rung and plunges downward. You scream for him because it’s so far down and you’re wondering why he just told you to watch him die when you see him being propelled upwards towards you 

Din’s fucking jet-pack! You forgot about it and now you’re never going to forget this moment because Din is jet-packing right towards you with his perfect helmet. You love his helmet. You'll never complain about it or have bad thoughts about it ever again because he is your weapon wielding, armored, helmeted man. Yours! Not another helmeted person can keep you safe the way he can. 

You’re on him before he even touches down. He’s on you. Touching you, making sure you have all your limbs. He’s frantically searching you for wounds and then he sees your lip with two splits in it on either side and a new bruise on your cheek that wasn't there before he left. You have a black eye. Din is furious. At himself for allowing this to happen to you. 

“Please don’t leave me again.” You’re sobbing. It’s uncontrollable. Din is holding you into his chest, his gloved hand on your bruised cheek, your other cheek is pressed into his beskar chest plate. Your body shakes as you cry into him. Din cannot form words from behind the modulator. Nothing comes out. He just wraps his arms around you and holds you close before he finally can manage to rasp out from behind his modulator. 

“Hold on. We’re going to the N-1.” Din waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he takes off with his jet-pack again. Stormtroopers are now on all the decks. Every single one of them and Din can see that they are aiming right for him and normally that is not a problem because of his beskar for the most part but he has an unarmored woman on his chest. 

Bo-Katan appears from far away, also jet-packing, Din can see from here the orange-red flames shooting out of the pack strapped to her. She is using her flamethrower to clear a path for Din to get to the hangar of this Class 546. It’s so big. It’s so far away and Din needs to fly you through so many stormtroopers. She gives Din as much cover as she can just being a singular Mandalorian and all. Even with her array of weaponry. 

Din makes it to the N-1 and drops down to his feet right outside the ship gracefully. He's running before he even touches down. You cling to him. Your eyes had been closed that whole time and now you’re too scared to let go of him. 

“You need to climb. Hurry little one. Climb.” Din is rasping in your ear to move your body and you don’t know what he means because your eyes are still closed. Din places his hands under your arms and lifts you from him but you struggle to keep yourself clung to him because he cannot leave you in this Maker forsaken place. Din gets your hands unpeeled from underneath his shoulder pauldrons and tries to show you where to climb. 

“We’re not both going to fit in there! I’m not the child!” You whimper at him once you get up there and he’s following close behind. Din is so very frantic to get you to safety that he did not think about this issue. He forgot that you were much larger than the child. “What do we do?” You have so much fear in your eyes when you look down to speak to him that Din almost doesn’t know what to do for you but then he remembers that Bo-Katan brought her ship! She has her ship right next to his. 

“C’mon.” Din jumps down and holds his arms out to you, beckoning you to fall into him. You jump to him and he catches you with ease and sets your feet to the floor gently. “Come on.” Din is pulling your hand towards Bo-Katan’s ship; she’s already running to meet the two of you. Running as fast as she can into the hangar. “Go. Get on the ship. I’ll meet you.” Din rasps, giving your lower back a small push. You're propelled forward and Din starts to run back towards the N-1 but you turn to follow him because where is he going? How is he going to leave? He sees you trying to follow him and skids to a stop to run back to you. "No! Get on her ship! You need to get on there and I'll meet you on Tatooine!" Din puts his hands on your shoulders and tries to walk you back towards the ramp of Bo-Katan’s ship but there are stormtroopers coming now and he won’t have time to get you on the ship and also back into N-1. Din pulls his blaster pistol from his belt and starts to fire at the troopers that are catching up to Bo-Katan. 

“Don’t leave me.” You’re crying quietly now as you attempt to cling to his shoulder pauldrons again, you had a good grip on them last time. You just have to get your fingers under the edge but he pulls his armor away from you when he feels what you're trying to do. You cannot help it, there is too much trauma inside of you now for him to leave you again. 

“Go. Please go. I’m not leaving.” Din starts to reach for your face but now there are new arms around your waist and they are pulling you back, away from Din. You try to fight them but they are strong. Din is running towards the N-1 now and the arms are pulling you into the ship behind you. 

“Don’t leave me! I don’t want you to leave again. I can't stay here, Din. I can’t be here anymore. Din!” You’re sobbing and trying to get back to him but the ramp is closing. The arms let you go and now you are alone again in the belly of this new ship and it’s terrifying. It's not as big as the last ship and it's empty in here but anyplace that isn't at Din's side is unsafe. A trap. A trick meant to embarrass you and humiliate and dehumanize you. This is scarier than the mines. Scarier than a Mythosaur. Scarier than a robot-bug. This fear has wrapped itself right around your heart and is squeezing tight. Suffocating you.

The ship starts to move. Really moving. So fast. Bo-Katan is getting you out of here. She is rescuing you, but you don't know any of this. You crawl on the floor until your body can no longer move. You are underneath the bench in the entryway of the ship and your body will not move the giant ship’s wall. You are trying to hide. To be unseen. You do not want any eyes or hands or arms on you and you are so scared. You’ve never been so scared. Where are you going? How is Din going to protect you from not right next to you? 

You protected Din once. You saved him from dying. You were so brave you dove to the depths of the Living Waters for him. Now you are hiding. Under a bench. Hyperventilating. You have never done this before. Gasping for air this badly without having the Living Waters in your lungs and belly. Just breathing big stupid gasps for no reason. 

There is a hand on your shoulder. You start to fight it violently because this is your least favorite way to be awoken by  Moff Gideon. In your sleep, because it reminds you— of Din. His helmet is looking down at you and you’re staring at your reflection in it and you look so scared. Eyes so wide there is more white than iris. Your hands are pulled into your chest, clutching your arms close to you, protecting yourself but your reflection has clothes on, real clothes. 

“It’s me.” He rasps softly. Your tears do not come. Just a feeling of safe. Din pulls you out from your hiding place under the watchful eyes of Bo-Katan. “It's me. I didn’t leave you.” You have no words for him because you thought that was all a dream. A break from the nightmares and assault. But he’s really right in front of you. 

“I want to go home.” You whisper up to him. Now the tears fill your eyes and the burn in your nose makes it worse. “I j-just wanna g-go home.” Din nods his helmet to your request and places one arm under your knees and the other under your arms. He lifts you while you stare at his helmet. You cannot move your arms to wrap around his neck. You just stare at him. Is this really happening?

“We’ll need you back on Mandalore as soon as possible Din Djarin but keep her safe this time.” Bo-Katan growls at Din as he walks off her ship. You’re back on Tatooine right outside the X4. Din keeps his helmet tilted down to your face the entire time he walks you on to the ship like he also can’t believe you’re in his arms right now. 

Din shuts the ramp of the ship and carries you into the bedroom and in the privacy of your room he takes his helmet off and stares at you. His eyes are so dark and they look so scared. So sad. 

“I thought I lost you. Again.” He whispers softly. He tries to kiss you but you pull away from him and turn your head to the side as he leans into you. Din's forehead is pressed into your temple and his breath on your cheek is making you sweat. 

Din is heartbroken. You are still upset with him or newly upset with him. He just wants to hold you. He tries to put his hands on your body but you fight him with stiff and frightened hands, pushing his gloved hands off of your waist and thighs. Your eyes are clenched shut. Din presses his forehead into your temple softly in frustration. 

"Don't be upse-" Din's pleading with you, he needs you now more than he has ever needed someone and you're turning him away and then Moff Gideon's voice replays in his head again for the first time since Din has seen you. 

“I don’t– I can’t–” You whisper to no one, it's just what you've been saying for the last week anytime you had hands on you. It's instinctual now to try and fight it. “Don’t touch—” You’re crying again softly, barely speaking. It's a quiet attempt to not feel pain again.

“Did he?” Din asks as he pulls his head away from yours. His voice cracks as his hands search for some sort of comforting touch from you but you are unable to give it to him. You want to crawl back inside your body somehow at his touches. The touches you had been so desperate for now feel like tainted memories. “Did he touch–” Din doesn’t have to finish before you nod sadly. More than sadly. Your forlorn. Broken now on the inside too and Din can see it from out here. Even if you can't look at him, Din knows what happened to you. It's making him sick and his knees weak. Din might faint right now but he cannot. He has things to do.

Din stands and starts to leave the room. The lack of his body has you scrambling off the bed so you can be close to him. You need to be with Din. You cannot be in this room alone. You stumble to the ground behind him. You chase him on your hands and knees, reaching for the back of his legs desperately but you miss each time, his legs pulling away from your fingertips at the last moment. You're attempting to get to your feet multiple times but they fall from beneath you endlessly. You're desperate for him to turn around and hold you again, you'd let him, you think. You no longer know your body as you once had. It lies to you now, along with your brain. 

“Please don’t go. Please Din.” It’s hard to say but you know how pathetic you look right now with tears streaming down your cheeks, reaching for a man who you just turned away; on your hands and knees of the ship you share together. “P-p-please don’t leave.” You are not begging, this isn't begging. This is more. You've never cried so hard begging for someone to come sit on the floor with you. Not ever. Maybe never again but right now...you're imploring Din to get on this hard metal floor with you. Hold you in his arms but he will not stop moving. 

If Din could hear you over the blood pounding in his ears which he cannot, he would have stopped to comfort you and pick you up off the floor and held you, wiped your tears and carried you into the cockpit with him but he thought you were still in the bedroom. Din has got one thing on his mind and it’s murdering Moff Gideon. 

Din is in the pilot’s chair of the cockpit when you finally catch up to him. The ship is already in the air when you touch his leg softly in hopes that he’ll notice you now. You don’t care that you have tears and snot dripping down off your lips and chin, or that your face is red and your hair is matted to your cheeks. Din’s head snaps down at you like he’s angry with you. It makes you retract your hand quickly. Now you’re pushing yourself away from him because you don’t want him to hit you. You don’t want him to be upset that you’re touching him. 

Din presses two buttons on the dash and is on the ground in front of you, his hands outstretched but not touching, he’s hovering close to you. He hasn’t put his helmet back on and he doesn’t look angry. You start speaking frenzied as you continue to push yourself with your feet away from him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I can’t have you touch me—” You sob, and Din slowly reaches forward with his gloved hand but you're pulling away, closing your eyes, expecting pain but he wipes the tears and mucus from your face gently. So carefully. “-please don’t hurt me.” You whimper as he dries your face with the leather glove the best he can. It’s not working, it's just rubbing everything around while you sob. Din rips both of his gloves off and whips them to the ground beside him in frustration. The sound of them smacking the floor makes you flinch terribly and sob harder. Din shushes you softly as he reaches for your twisting and turning head. Your eyes are still closed. 

Now, Din holds the back of your head in his tender hand so he can turn you to face him. He wipes four flat fingers across both of your cheeks while shhing you softly. He wipes those fingers on the outside of his thigh to dry them before bringing them up under your nose. He wipes your lips slowly and carefully to not reopen your healing wounds. Din drys your face now with his bare hand. You open your eyes to look at him when you realize he isn’t going to hurt you. 

“I cannot hurt you.” Din whispers to you. “I could not.” His eyes are scanning all over your face, like he’s trying to look for answers to the thousands of questions he has in it. He doesn’t find them. “He hurt you badly? Moff Gid—” The name enrages you. You try and pull your head from his grasp but he holds onto tightly so you don't hit your head on the walls you've cornered yourself against.

“Don’t say his name!” You shout at him. “Don’t ever speak his name to me–don’t talk abo–” Din quiets you with his thumb over your mouth and leans in to be closer to you. His dark brown eyes look into your scared and angry ones. 

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to hurt him badly. So badly, for what he did to my little–” You interrupt him, speaking quickly and desperately to quiet him. To keep him from finishing his sentence. You cannot hear it. It makes your stomach churn inside of you.

“Don’t call me that! ” You shout at him again. “Don’t call me that—don’t call me that, please–” You’re whispering now as your face twists up like you're going to start weeping again and Din doesn’t understand, you can see it in his face that it hurts him when you deny the sweet name he’s given you. “ He c-c-called me that. D-During. A-And After. And all the t-t-time.” You whimper into his confused face. “ Like he knew!” Din’s face changes from confusion to an emotion you’ve never seen before. You’ve missed a lot of his emotions while he’s under that helmet.  

“He did what? ” Din’s voice is so hushed it’s almost as if he wasn’t speaking at all. He wipes new teardrops off your cheeks with his thumbs. He’s holding your face in his palms and he’s looking at you but it’s like he’s not seeing you right in front of him. He’s looking through you. “ I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” Din finally focuses his eyes onto yours and leans in closer so his forehead is on yours. “I shouldn’t. I won’t. Never again.” 

“I’m not safe with so many stars and planets between us.” You whisper up to him, more tears fall down your face as you speak his words back to him from so long ago. “I didn’t believe you then— I should have believed you. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let you leave me there.” You sob softly. Din rips his head away from yours and then leans in close so that he can look into your eyes now that they’re looking down into your lap. Din’s twisted his body so that you’ll look at him, hunched over on his knees, his head almost in your lap. He speaks softly and comfortingly. Apologetically.

“Do not apologize to me. I am sorry. I did this. I caused this— I left. I’ll never leave again. I’ll never leave you again. I promise, cyar'ika. Never again.” Din does kiss you now, gently and you let him. It feels good now. You embrace him, your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Din presses your body against the wall behind you he leans into you so hard. It feels good to have his comforting touch on you now. To know he isn't disgusted with you. To know he still cares for you deeply even though you were taken by another.

Things—knobs and levers are pressed into your back but you don’t care. His hands move to your waist now and pull you close to him. He holds his lips to yours for so long before he pulls away and speaks quickly against your mouth quickly with desperation.

“I love you. I will love you forever. Never let anything bad happen to you ever again. I promise. I swear. Hide you away in the cave with my clan. Never leave. Never leave you again.” His breath against your lips reminds you of a comfort you knew once in the darkness of the Crest. You melt into him and let him pull you away from the wall now and into him. He leans against the door frame of the cockpit and wraps his arms around your neck, holding you close to his chest.

You’re unable to say anything. You just take in this feeling of being next to the man who you love. And you know now he still loves you too. Things inside you feel different now though. You don’t know why. You do know but you cannot think of them. You try to push them deep, deep down into your body where light and sound and your brain cannot find them. You numb the bad feelings inside of you and subconsciously all the good too while doing it. You numb your whole body because you don’t know how else to cope. Now, you’re just limp, laying on Din’s chest as he strokes your hair and whispers unknown Mando’a down to you. 

“We have to go to Mandalore. We need to meet up with Bo-Katan and all the clans that have gathered there. They’re the only way we are going to kill him.” Din’s not speaking Mando’a anymore. He’s telling you his plan and it scares you now because you’re going right to where Moff Gideon is headed.

“We can’t!” You struggle to get out of his grasp at first but he loosens his arms from around you while you scramble to your knees, looking at him with fear in your eyes again. “He’s going there! He’s going there too!” You have to try and convince Din to keep you far away from that man. He told you what his plan for you had been while you were captive and you couldn’t get captured again. 

“Then I won’t have to look hard when I go to kill him for you.” Din seems confused as to why you want to run and hide. He’s used to running head first into danger and scary. You are not used to running head first into anything unless it is bags of orange candy and apparently scary bugs and dark deep Living Waters… you were brave. You can be brave again. 

“No. I don’t want to go back there. I can’t go back to that room.” Bravery is not something you can find inside of you right now though. Bugs and Living Waters didn’t have an army of stormtroopers that held your arms and legs down. Those things were hurting your Din. Taking Din away from you. This thing is trying and has already taken you from Din. Proven to you that this thing is capable of, and willing to track you down and hold you prisoner. Din is still confused. 

“You…won’t go back? You’ll stay here or with Bo-Katan while I—” He tries to explain the plan he’s forming but you will not allow it. How dare he try and leave after he just promised he wouldn't!

“I will not stay here! Or with Bo-Katan! I’m staying with you. Wherever you go, I’m going.” You nod your head and narrow your eyes at him because you mean what you say. You mean it with every atom that is your human make-up. 

“You cannot come with me when I kill him—” Din is reaching for you again and this time your reach meets his halfway. You hold onto each other's forearms gently. 

“I’m not leaving your side. Not now. Not later. I’m not leaving. I cannot. I will not. Din. Please.” Your grip tightens around his beskar the best it can, he does not feel it but he sees the fear in your eyes again. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave. Please.” You have never begged for anything so hard in your life.

“Okay.” Din doesn’t know what else to say. You can tell he’d rather you not come with him, it’s written all over his unhelmeted face. “Okay, cyar’ika. Okay. You can come.” Din’s words leave his mouth and new bravery finds you. 

“And I want to kill him. I want to slice his throat and watch him bleed and see him suffer and watch the light leave his eyes.” You whisper. You grip Din’s beskar so hard that two new fingernails break on it. 

Din’s cock gets hard beneath his beskar when you say that. His heart races and if you hadn’t just been hurt in the worst most violating way he would have taken you right here on the floor of this cockpit but instead he just leans forward and kisses you. Tightly. A closed mouth kiss with force behind it like he just couldn’t hold it in or back anymore. He needed your lips on his. 

“I’ll watch as you do.” Din whispers to you as he pulls away, his hands still wrapped around your forearms.

The helmet is on your head. Din hasn’t left your side— you haven’t left his side. You follow him around the entire ship. You tried to follow him into the bathroom and he had to stop you and you waited outside the door for him because being alone is just too scary. Even with the helmet. It does nothing to help your bravery. Din tries to get you to eat and drink but you shake your helmet at him from side to side, refusing his offer of orange candies or ration crackers. Your favorites. 

“Please eat, cyar’ika. You need your strength and energy.” Din rasps to you. Your helmets stare at each other. This is the fourth attempt he's made in the short time you've been back together.

“I’m not hungry.” You rasp. It’s the truth. You are not hungry. Hunger is the furthest thing from your brain. How could you possibly eat when you've been through what you have!? Crackers and candies. You want whiskey! You want whiskey and for Din to touch you for some reason but it makes you scared at the idea of him inside of you. Your brain is going at hyperspeed.

“He fed you—” Din tries to ask questions but your helmet drops to look at the floor. This is the second or third question he has asked about your time on the ship.

“Stop asking about him— stop talking about him. I don’t want to speak of him. Not now. Not after he’s dead. I don’t wish to think of him!” You get angry. Din puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into him. 

“I am sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. I just want to know if you were cared for—” Din is trying to be helpful and nice to you but feelings are swirling around inside of you. Anger and frustration and now pesky memories. 

“I was not cared for! I was fed—yes! I was fed . I was naked ! I was bathed like a child ! I was raped ! So many times!” You shout it at him and all those feelings and memories you had tried to bury so deep and so far down come springing up out of you at the speed of the ship when Din puts it into hyperdrive. “Raped! Everywhere! Everyday! All the time it felt like— so no I was not cared for. There was no care ! Only mean words and sweet names that made me want to die! I wished to die so many nights there! Not cared for!” 

Din is silent. As always. It makes you embarrassed for your outburst. It makes you want to cry now that all the anger is out of you. You could not help it, a lot had happened to you in your short life but not this. Nothing like that! Nothing like what that horrible man did to you. You cannot even speak his name. It makes your stomach churn when you hear it. 

Din still has said nothing. Can’t speak. He had known what happened to you. Moff Gideon had told Din via holotransmitter. In other words, yes. But he had told him. Din had never expected for you to speak those words to him. He did not know why, he was assuming things when his brain told him you’d never speak of what happened on that giant ship. Din’s silence is making you angry again. New feelings and more suppressed memories come spewing out of you because you need him to rasp something to you. 

“I had to walk naked through that ship. There were children around who saw me naked.” Things you never wanted to speak aloud to anyone come out of your raspy modulator. “My body deceived me, Din Djarin! I hate myself for feeling pleasure at the hands of that man while he hurt me! I hate myself so much!” No tears come from your eyes. Not yet. They’re working their way up the ducts and glands you need to produce them though. Your throat is getting tight and you feel as though your nose is on fire as the tears do finally prick at your eyes. You're thankful for the helmet at this moment. “I do not wish to speak of him again. Ever.” 

“Okay.” Din rasps from behind his helmet breathlessly. Like he’s thankful you’re done talking. Like he wished you had never opened your mouth behind that modulator. “Okay. Never. Please eat.” Din holds the crackers and candies up to you again. You snatch both of them from his hands and hold them close to you. “Come.” Din places his hand on your lower back and leads you into the cockpit. 

The two of you sit in silence while he mindlessly presses buttons. No explanation of what he's doing or what the buttons do. Which is fine with you. This silence is comforting. Him being here next to you is comforting. Better than being alone in a room all day except for when you needed to use the restroom or bathe. This was much better. You would do this with Din forever if he wanted you to. 

“Where is the child!?” You exclaim suddenly. Din turns his helmet to you. 

“He is with Bo-Katan and my clan. I didn’t know if you’d be...okay or not. I didn’t want him to see you…” He trails off and it makes your heart hurt. Din had been scared for you again. “He is safe. I have a tracking beacon on his new nanny droid.” 

“Nanny droid? He doesn’t need a nanny droid. I am his nanny.” You’re so offended that Din would replace you. “Were you going to leave me back on Nevarro—”

“You are Grogu’s mother.” Din stops you silent. “Mothers need breaks sometimes. Especially mothers with soft, delicate skin.” Din continues to rasp. “Never replace you. Never leave you anywhere. Never again.” Din turns his head forwards. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I was a brat . I overreacted.” He keeps his helmet facing forward. “Trusting Peli to keep you safe—”

“Peli didn’t do this. Peli kept me safe. Do not blame Peli.” You're short with Din but you had grown fond of the woman and she had told you numerous times to not go back to that cantina. It was too dangerous but you did not listen. “I wanted to drink whiskey—”

“You drink whiskey?” Din’s helmet turns to you quickly like he cannot believe what he just heard. “Since when?” You had never drank whiskey in front of Din. You had never really drank in front of Din ever except for that once at Bo-Katan's and he had disappeared shortly before the actual drinks showed up and only got the worst, drunk, concussed version of you. Not a silly, sweet drunk that you can normally be when in the right conditons.

“Since the first night on Tatooine. I like it. It burns me very nicely .” You do miss whiskey. You wish you had some. Or something glowing and sweet. Anything to numb how you feel inside. 

“Whiskey? The brown liquid?” Din is shocks and can’t believe it. You're appalled that he doesn't think you know what you're talking about. 

“Yes the brown liquid! Do you think I got it confused with something else? I almost threw up on it twice the first time, I know whiskey!” Your fast speaking makes Din chuckle. He missed you speaking quickly and exasperatedly at him. 

“You didn’t throw up in the cantina, did you?” Din is still chuckling and this question makes you chuckle now too because you had been afraid that you might. 

“I almost did but I kept it down.” You sound proud of yourself. More like yourself than you have sounded since Din found you. 

“I love you, cyar’ika.” Din rasps softly. You stare at him through your HUD. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Beloved or…uh..oh sweetheart.” Din nods over at you. “Can I call you that or do you wish for a new name? I will find more for you. Endless things to call my Diathim.” You gasp.

“An angel! No. I am not a diathim. No you lie again Djarin,” You partially mock him but he is wrong, you have scars. You do not glow. You are not an angel.

“I didn’t say an angel or a diathim. I called you My Diathim. My angel. You are.” You remember— it was never forgotten but it’s resolidified in your heart now that he is the man you will marry. You will bear his helmeted children and hope they are not born with a helmet on their head already. You think for a moment and look at Din.

“What is the word for dream in Mando’a?” You ask after a moment. Din has to think. He speaks Mando’a often, but he does not speak that word as often. 

“Vercopa.” Din says after a moment of thinking and searching his brain for the word. “A dream or…a wish.” Din looks over at you.

You rasp the next words softly to him, like he had the night you thought you had been dreaming. “I am your cyar’ika, you are my vercopa. I have wished for you, dreamed about you for so long. Before you ever touched me. You awoke me from a dream of you that night. That first night. My Vercopa. My wish. My dream.”

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories @wandamaximoff4578 @probablyreadinsmut @katw474 @cowboy-like-m3 @gummy-dummy @cathynstuff @c0tt0n-s0cks

GUYS DON'T HATE ME IS WAS IMPORTANT FOR THE PLOT. Do know that if you read this on AO3 in it's entirety, this is where I'm changing things up a little because I didn't very much care for the way I wrote things the first time. I do apologize about the wait time for updates, but do know I haven't forgotten about you or Din and our sweet reader.

[slimybeth69]

a friend asked if I was free on the 30th to hang and I'm like it's not in my calendar but I know I'm busy so I can't and it's only just hit me that I was thinking about hungry man coming out lolol

oh my god- this is so cute. I LOVE THAT YOU HAVE HUNGRY MAN ON THE BRAIN BECAUSE SO DO I.

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT BECAUSE I'M SO NERVOUS.

Okay, so I don't know where you're located, but I'm on the east coast- so I'm planning on posting it at 3 o'clock PM Eastern Standard Time. Hopefully you can do something fun in the AM like some brunch or some general good time hangs-- and then be home in time to read it before you gotta go get ready for Monday.

But if she wants to make evening plans-- tell her to eff right off because you have stuff to do. <3

[slimybeth69]

i would sell my soul to Satan if this was offered to me jfc

the interruption

Javi x Steve x you drabble.

WARNINGS: 18+ Piv, m/m rimming & anal, creampies.

You're face-up on the bed, legs mostly together, stuffed with Steve Murphy's cock. He's supposed to stay with you while Javi runs to the precinct, and he was balls deep before Javi even got to his car and realized he had the wrong keys...

Javi warns, "don't move" as approaches the bedroom. Apparently, he's in no hurry. He takes his time unbuttoning his shirt while his jeans tighten at the sight of Steve's spread cheeks straddling you. As good as it feels being packed with cock, you'd love for Steve to move. He doesn't. He glances down at your tits and lets out a barely audible, closed-mouth moan.

You mouth, "Is he mad?" and Steve flashes his eyebrows as though to say, let's hope so.

Steve's nose twitches and he stretches his top lip down, curled over his teeth like he has an itch he can't scratch. You scratch his mustache for him as soon as Javi turns his back.

The next thing you hear is a bottle of lube popping open, then squirting. Steve wets his lips and looks at you darkly. He looks at your mouth like it's killing him not to kiss you.

Javi kneels onto the bed and straddles your ankles behind Steve. Javi slowly pumps his own cock and Steve twitches inside you in anticipation. No one speaks. Your chest is filling with butterflies.

Javi spits on Steve's spread crack and lets the saliva slide down before using his thumb to smear it into his asshole. Javi lowers his head and buries his face in Steve's ass. A growl rumbles in Steve's chest and he closes his eyes. You dare to reach up and rake your fingers through his hair. He opens his eyes, then looks at your lips. You pull his head down, and before your lips meet, Steve gasps and his cock jerks inside you.

You're dying to wrap your legs around him, pull him deeper, but your legs are pinned to the bed. You yearn to feel his mouth on yours. "Mm," he grunts and his cock swells and twitches again.

You whimper, "please."

Javi's voice is partly muffled when he remarks, "I heard one please..."

Steve rolls his eyes with a silent chuckle. You mouth, "Please."

"Mmm," Steve's hum turns into a sigh. "Please," he whispers.

Steve's skin peels off yours as his spine curls forward. He looks down at your tits and wets his lips. You want to kiss him so bad you're salivating. Javi's silhouette emerges behind Steve, placing one hand on Steve's back as he lines himself up between Steve's pale buttcheeks.

Javi grabs on for leverage, and Steve's neck vein bulges and as Javi's lubed cock slides into him. The look of pleasure that spreads across Steve's face sends a shiver down your spine, making you clench on his cock. You glance up at Javi, and Javi snarls back as he bottoms out with a punch of his hips that fills you all the way up with Steve. Oh, God.

Javi keeps his eyes on you, and you try to return the attention, but Steve's wrecked face is closer, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter, makes you pinch your eyes shut, makes you dread the moment he pulls out.

Your stuffed insides are swollen with tension, ready to burst any moment. Overwhelmed by pleasure, tears push through your lashes, and you whimper "mm mm," broken by the rhythm of Javi pounding Steve.

"Fuck," you whine, trying to hold off another minute, trying to savor this before you cum. "Oh, God," you whimper.

"You're--oh, fuck-- you're okay, baby," steve pants. The air is thick and dirty with moans. "Hey," he whispers and your eyes meet his. Tears stream down your temples. Steve lowers his head to plant a quick kiss on your forehead but he doesn't make it there in time before a sharp thrust from Javi makes him groan as he lurches deeper into you. Javi grabs him by the hair, and Steve's Adams apple and bulging neck vein hover over your face.

You whimper and your hips lift, still pinned to the bed by these men who sound more like animals right now.

Heavy breathes and moans. The salt of sweat, the smell of sex. Pressure building in your gut.

"Eyes on me," Javi commands, and you obey. He releases Steve's hair, and his hips slow down.

"Good girl," Javi coos. You bite your lip and watch Javi's glistening neck. Steve drops his head with a low moan that lands in your ear. Jesus, fuck, he feels so good. You're so, so full-

You hear yourself unravel as the climax rips through your body, clenching your muscles, making your hips lift. A massive but short lived wave of relief before it seizes you again and doesn't let you go. You quiver around Steve's cock and he unleashes a string of curses, followed by a hot load that keeps you seeing stars.

By the time you can fully breathe again, you can barely keep your eyes open to watch Javi cum.

Javi's chest heaves and glistens as he finishes with a sigh, and Steve releases the last of his load in your depths.

You can't keep your eyes open, but feel Javi getting off the bed and hear him smack Steve's skin. Steve sighs, "mm."

Steve rests his forehead on the pillow next to your head. You lie there breathing, and when you open your eyes, Javi is tucking in his shirt.

Steve pulls out slowly, anticipating your whine.

"shhh," he whispers, then kisses you on the forehead. He lies half on top of you, and you'll be grateful for his body heat as your swear turns cold.

By the time Javi's out the door for real, you and Steve are dozing off in the wreckage.

----

----

----

Thank you for reading 🖤🖤 please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed.

Javi & Steve x you fic recs

[slimybeth69]

so excited for hungry man, I loved girl dinner so much, I've already reread it multiple times !!

manifesting a lil raccoon or other feral animal partner in crime for Puddin' in Jackson ✨

I was really thinkin' that Puddin' needed a four legged friend around his size. I wonder how he'll handle that.

I'm doing some re-writes of the first chapter and adding some stuff I think it should have.

I can't wait to share it with you all on the 30th!!!

[slimybeth69]

        If you get a hateful anonymous message, SAVE it for reporting to Tumblr. Because NOBODY IS REALLY ANONYMOUS on Tumblr. Tumblr staff will know exactly who they are, even if they are a side blog. Tumblr will have their original signup email as well. Their ISP will also be available to Tumblr staff, which means identity is not exactly anonymous to The Powers That Be.

How to report Cyberbullying on Tumblr

If you’ve had death threats, racist slurs, or threatening speech etc. slipped into your Ask box or in a post, you can report it in addition to blocking that person. There are Terms of Service (TOS) on Tumblr all users must abide by, and if you want these people to get thrown off Tumblr, REPORT IT.

If you are a minor or you feel scared about reporting something hateful or that you don’t understand TELL AN ADULT YOU TRUST and let them help you handle it. Also, here is a general link to get to Tumblr staff: LINK

Before we do the tutorial, a few words of advice:

·        If you get a hateful anonymous message, SAVE it for reporting to Tumblr. Because NOBODY IS REALLY ANONYMOUS on Tumblr. Tumblr staff will know exactly who they are, even if they are a side blog. Tumblr will have their original signup email as well. Their ISP will also be available to Tumblr staff, which means identity is not exactly anonymous to The Powers That Be.

·        If you see someone who was bullied and want to help them, be aware that Tumblr will only take a report seriously if the person who is being attacked reports it. You can lend support by emailing Tumblr also and telling them what you saw, but if the person being attacked doesn’t want to press the matter, nothing will be done about it (although in a case that I reported, I was told that user ID was being monitored now).

·        Before you lose sight of the post, do a Control + Print Screen to capture a screenshot of the post and paste it to Word or notepad. Additionally, Tumblr is going to ask you for the link to the post, so you are going to go to the top right corner of the post and hover your mouse to where it says “view post” and click on that.  After the jump, copy the address in your browser bar and save that to Word or Notepad.

Okay, so how do you know what a TOS violation is? Click HERE. 

There is a whole page of offenses and descriptions, so you might need to scroll down to see which offense best fits what you want to report. In the case of cyberbullying, most often it will be this one:

Malicious Speech. Don’t encourage violence or hatred. Don’t make violent threats or statements that incite violence, including threatening or promoting terrorism. Especially don’t do so on the basis of things like race, ethnic origin, religion, disability, gender, gender identity, age, veteran status, or sexual orientation. If you encounter negative speech that doesn’t rise to the level of violence or threats of violence, we encourage you to dismantle negative speech through argument rather than censorship. That said, if you encounter anything especially heinous, tell us about it.

There will be a link for reporting it under this paragraph. When you click on it, you will be asked for:

·        The URL of the post you are reporting

·        A short description of the offensive material and why you are reporting it

·        Your name

·        Your email address.

You should hear back from Tumblr soon. Give it up to a week. (I’m not Tumblr staff; I am just going by personal experience on reporting bullying.)

ADDITIONAL STEPS TO TAKE:

Using the link that you saved, get a friend or several friends to report it as well.  You can shoot them a PM with the link address so they can see it and bear witness to what happened.  Also, it might make you feel better to know someone else knows about it and YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

[slimybeth69]

all of these imbecilic people hiding behind anonymity to spew racism are truly the scum of the earth. they deserve to be met with every ounce of warranted hate for their barbaric behavior.

i feel sick to my stomach for my friends on here who have to constantly deal with this shit on and off of this app. you deserve better than this bullshit.

[slimybeth69]

before you jerk it to another fetishized dbf joel fic read something new, think critically, and do something with what you learn

applied to fandom: accessible anti racist policy/practice

racism and structural violence: interconnected threats to health equity

Racism, whiteness, and burnout in antiracism movements: How white racial justice activists elevate burnout in racialjustice activists of color in the United States

racial equity tools

anti-racism resources (the beginning is more local to this org, but there's more later in the list)

anti-racism resources for white people

recources for white people to learn and talk about race and racism

this blog post from 2020 that is more relevant than ever:

I am Black. This is what I Need (& what I Don’t) from White Allies:

[slimybeth69]

Fuck racists, fuck nazis and fuck that anon.

in allllllllllllllll of my fucking days.

since day one of me hopping on this egregious, nasty cesspool of an app ive faced racism. but this? this reaaaaally takes the cake.

it’s not fun watching all your friends be sent hideous, dehumanizing shit based on their race. id argue that hurts me more. honestly i should’ve expected this.

on most days i wouldn’t really react to something like this. it clearly wants a reaction. but considering the state of the fandom right now today? im posting it.

a lot of yall love ignoring what it’s like to be us and then use us as engagement fodder when we get hateful asks. don’t let this be a one time thing. don’t forget that as yall post fics that rack up countless notes, the people who liking them could very well be the same people who turn around and say this sort of thing to us. this fandom is truly heinous.

edit since i know im gonna get this: im not looking for pity. in fact you can save it and put that energy towards speaking up for us and amplifying our voices. thx.

[slimybeth69]

girls will look at a man and say “he’s just misunderstood” as he murders people

[slimybeth69]

Was reading girl dinner and wondering do u write for game joel or Pedro? can’t wait for the next series!

I try to keep it as ambiguous as I can. I want everyone, regardless of their Joel preference, to be able to enjoy it!!

I will always write Joel Miller with chest hair- regardless of Pedro and chest hair situation-- he's got chest hair as Joel MFing Miller

[slimybeth69]

ahhhhh I'm so so glad you enjoyed this!! I can't wait to post Hungry Man for everyone! It's going to be different, but in the best way.

thank you for reading <3

Girl Dinner: Part 4 of 4- Goodbye

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

W/C-10.3K

Chapter Warnings: kidnapped/mean/dark!Joelx hunginged/crazy/mentally ill/dark!reader. dub-con, period sex, crying, altered mental state, graphic depictions of violence and death, animal death (not graphic but mentioned), alternating POV's, creampies, cock warming, unprotected P in V. No happy ending? This is DDDNE-- don't forget!!

Reader warning/ potential trigger warnings: mentions of readers past-- with gory and sad details. Mentions of sex as payment, impregnation, child loss.

PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS.

There was never a question about why you forgot your name, or how that could happen to a person. Mister-man never asks you again. He never peppers it into conversations, or late night talks when you’re wrapped in his arms. 

It doesn’t matter– you’re his crazy girl. His sweetheart. His baby. 

Mister has his hands on your knees, holding them open. His fingers dig into the soft skin as he plants soft kisses on the soft nest of curls on either side of your sopping pussy. He’s moving slow and deliberate as he licks and sucks your lips into his mouth one at a time, then nipping at the junction where your legs meet your hips.

“Love makin’ you feel good sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, sucking dark marks into the supple skin of your thighs. “You like when Mister makes you feel good, dontcha?”

You do. 

The answer is caught in the back of your throat, so you nod, whimpering feebly at his endless teasing. He’s been kissing, and biting, and pinching you for what feels like an entire lifetime. He teases you, gets so close to your aching, throbbing clit, and then suckles and licks everything BUT that.

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, how could you? He propped up pillows and leaned you back so gently and said ‘enjoy the show’ before kissing down your chest, sucking your nipples into his mouth greedily. His hands explored every single inch of your body as he licked and sucked those dark marks into your skin.

Claimin’ you, Sugar.

He could, he can. He can do whatever he wants to you. Every time he touches you it’s like an entirely different experience.

Perfect every time.

It’s like he knows when you need him to be gentle— and he knows when you need him to take control. It’s like he’s tuning into your wavelengths through your cunt.

The tears come sometimes regardless of how he handles you. His touch doesn’t always stop the bad feelings, the bad memories, but tonight they aren’t sad tears, they aren’t fearful or filled with shame.

Tonight they’re just confusing tears, too many emotions inside of you to process all while he’s been torturing you relentlessly.

“I know, babygirl,” he rumbles against the top of your slit, his hand moving from your knee, up your quivering thigh. “Relax for Mister.” Hot, thick fingers push into your folds, tracing the outside of your cunt before the thickest, and longest one pushes inside. “I’m here… I gotchya,” he whispers before he seals his lips around your clit, sucking slowly, lapping with his tongue as he thrusts a second finger alongside the first.

You let out a choked sob as his digits plunge into your wet heat. “Oh fuck,” you whine, the stretch is sublime, bordering on painful in the most amazing way.

He chuckles darkly, the vibrations traveling across your skin. "That's it, crazy girl. Let Mister-J take care of you." His voice drips like molasses– thick, sweet and slow. It’s tantalizing how just his words, his tone can make you feel crazy. 

Your fingers thread through his graying curls, tears streaming down your face as he works you expertly. “I- Ohh fuck, I-” He’s stoking the fire building low in your belly already- you’ve been wound so tight and are ready to snap.

Mister’s grip tightens on your thigh, holding you open as he drinks you down like a man starved. “You what, baby girl?” He sucks your clit into his mouth, teeth scraping the delicate bundle of nerves, tongue lapping at it.

Say it, Sugar.

Don’t.

Your hips move on their own accord, grinding against his mouth. Your cunt clenching his fingers because you can feel it building, the pressure, the need, the want. Your nails dig into his scalp, pulling him closer. “I- I love you,” you whimper as he adds a third finger, stretching you to capacity.

Your whole body tenses, the last of your resistance shattering as you come violently around his fingers and on his lips. He groans against your pulsing clit, swallowing your cries as he milks every last drop of pleasure from you.

“I know,” he hums, resting his head on your hip. His large hand rubs the outside of your thigh. 

There is a moment of silence, and you’re expecting him to either do it again, or lay down and ask you to get on top, but he doesn't. 

His fingers trace the scar on your lower stomach.

“What’s this?” Joel asks as his fingertips trail across the slightly raised, white line of skin just above the swell of your cunt. 

“They wouldn’t let me keep it,” you sigh down to him casually as the aftershocks of your pleasure run their course, carding your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face. “I tried to hide it,” you push yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. “They found out though.”

Joel blinks up at you as you get ready to speak again, he wants to tell you to stop, to shut up– to be quiet and he’ll make you come again, but he can’t form the words. 

“They said it was too dangerous– too stupid.” You roll your eyes and pick at the sink on the side of your thumb. “Said I couldn’t take care of it– Which is bullshit because I’ve taken care of Puddin’ for so long and nothin’ bad happened to him.” You grumble. 

Joel’s mouth is so dry it’s painful. It’s like swallowing shards of metal, or fiberglass insulation. 

“And there was Lou and Bud! I took such good care of them–”

“Who are Bud and Lou?” Joel croaks softly at what the heart breaking answer could be.

“Bud was a squirrel with a broken leg, and Lou was a baby raccoon that I nursed back to health after a real bad wind storm– they both got knocked out of their nests.” You explain with a smile on your face. “They didn’t stick around like Pud, though.” 

“How’d you find Puddin’?” Joel asks, four flat fingers covering the scar so he doesn’t have to look at it. 

“Puddin’ found me,” you grin, combing your fingers through Joel’s hair now. “Sweet lil thing came up to me while I was comin’ home one night– basically beggin’ me to bring him back here. All cold ‘n ‘bout to die. His momma must’a lost him– or couldn’t take care of him… and now I’m–”

“You're his momma,” Joel chuckles, finishing your sentence with the thought running through his head. 

“Yeah, exactly!” You exclaim happily. 

Joel doesn’t want to ask, but he can’t keep the words in, he can’t hold it back anymore. “Who did this to you?” He runs his fingers along the scar one more time. 

It’s quiet for a long time, and Joel wonders if he shouldn’t have asked. You don’t answer right away, but he can hear your breathing change, quicken– go shallow. 

“The guys at the QZ in Wichita,” you whisper. 

Joel has to strain to hear the words. He knows that you know he can’t hear all that well, but he isn’t going to tell you to speak up. “Doctors?” 

Wishful thinking. 

You shrug your shoulders, “I dunno– some of ‘em could’a been doctors– but that’s not what they were in the QZ’s.” 

He just looks up at you, still laying between your legs. “No one was takin’ care of ya’?”

“My mom and dad were bowling the night of the outbreak—” you explain, eyes darting everywhere but Joel. “It was jus’ me ’n my brother that night– and then for a long time after that.”

“He didn’t know what was goin’ on?” 

You chuckle, but Joel can tell you don’t think it’s actually funny in the way you pick at the side of your thumb like there’s the cure to the infection inside of you. 

“He knew,” you huff. “He got hooked on those pills in the QZ, the big white ones– I don’t know what they were called–”

“Hydro.” 

“Hydro,” Joel explains, looking into the eyes of the Lee, the FEDRA guard he’s been supplying to for as long as he can remember at this point.  “How old?” Lee questions curiously.   “Three months,” Joel nods his head. He doesn’t have time for this, he’d rather be back at the apartment.  Lee inspects the pills, like he doesn’t trust Joel. “From Atlanta?”  “I dunno know where he gets ‘em from. I just know they’re real,” Joel huffs, narrowing his eyes on the FEDRA badge on his chest. 

“Yeah! He really liked those,” you roll your eyes. “Didn’t wanna work though, so he didn’t always have a way t’pay them… so when I couldn’t get ration cards to help him, he’d offer me up–”

“Well, the more you shoot people, the harder it is to sleep, I guess.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans quietly. He closes his eyes, crawling until he’s lying beside you. He doesn’t want to look at that scar again, or honestly hear anything else you have to say. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, sinking as far into the mattress as your body will allow. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to–” you whine quietly, but he presses his lips to yours, silencing you in the process of trying to comfort you. 

Joel wraps you up in his arms and pulls you close to him, something inside his chest vibrates and like the deepest note of the guitar he has back in Jackson.

“They all dead?” Joel growls in your ear. 

“I dunno,” you shrug, wiggling your hips as you attempt to scooch closer to him. 

Joel’s mind is racing, but his body betrays him. He’s raging hard behind his jeans, restricted behind the tight denim. It doesn’t matter to you; that he still has his pants on or the topic of conversation that had just been had– you’re reaching into his jeans, wrapping your warm, perfect hand around his length and pulling him free. 

“Wanna fall asleep with it inside me,” you murmur, shifting your body all around, jutting your hips out. The tip of Joel’s head stretches around your tight cunt, and he groans into the back of your hair. 

He wants to fuck you, wants to thrust deep inside of you, but he can’t– he’s too focused on Puddin' who is laying on your side of the bed– his tail hugged close to his body as you rub your index finger between his ears, and down between his eyes. He's asleep, and snoring softly.

Joel holds you, his fingers trace your belly button once, move up to the space between your breasts and back down again. His voice is shaky when he speaks again. “Why don’t you take me back to Jackson… you can stay there with me– you and Puddin’.” He offers, brushing the hair away from your face carefully with his free hand.

“Why?” you murmur sleepily. 

“I got family–”

“Tommy?” Every single piece that makes up the parts of your body freeze, and it’s almost like you’re playing dead like Puddin’ would in a stressful situation. 

“Tommy and his wife Maria– ” Joel tries to paint the picture for you, tries to show you what could be waiting for you if you would just let him go. “I got a nice house and a porch we could sit on, a bed we could sleep in every night– a big giant wall t’keep the infected out…”

Everything feels thick, and it’s hard to breathe like during a humid summer day– but it’s getting cold now and the air is crisp and Joel can see his breath most of the time, especially at night. “S’a lot of people behind that wall?” You whisper after a painfully long silence.

Joel lies. “A few, yeah. But Maria and Tommy run things– they’re good people–”

“Maria is good?”

“Yeah, she’s real good– real fair.” He nuzzles the back of your neck with his nose softly.

It ain’t her fuckin’ fault– and you know it. 

“Maria’s good– Tommy is good– they’re kind.” Joel whispers, holding you, squeezing your middle to keep the two of you connected for as long as possible. 

“Ellie?” 

He hates you for saying her name, but he hates himself more for letting it slip one drunken night. Joel knows that if Ellie ever found out about what you did to him out here, she’d kill you. Painfully. Slowly. 

Tommy would never let Joel live this down– getting snared in the mall because he wanted to sit in a recliner? Then he might help Ellie kill you.

“I could take you on dates– bring you down to the bar, we could drink whiskey with a real roof over our head,” Joel hums lowly, giving your stomach a pinch but you don’t laugh, or giggle or shy away. 

“How many people?”

“I dunno, a couple…we wouldn’t have t’see them often. Keep to ourselves, mind our business– just like we do here, just safer,” Joel feels like he could be getting somewhere. He’s never offered this before, he’s never even asked for you to let him go. He’s always just gone along in hopes of one day getting home.

Oh is that what you’re tellin’ yourself? Alright, alright. Gotta cope with this all somehow…

“Safer this way, less things t’worry about. Been doin’ it long enough to know that this way is better.”

Joel shakes his head, the tip of his thumb brushing across your eyebrow. “Long enou– how long have ya' even been out here? A year or two?” He watches as you subtly turn your head to give him more access to touch your face, caress you. 

With your eyes closed, you shake your head no at him, pinch your brows together like your thinking or– counting. Joel can see your lips moving as you silently recall whatever it is you're trying to remember. 

“Twelve,” you say confidently.

He hugs you closer to him. “Twelve what?” 

“Twelve winters–”

“No fuckin’ way,” Joel snorts in disbelief, but his eyes never leave your face. They’re searching for the joke, the punchline, something that will tell him that you’re joking. “What happened to the other people ya’ came here with?” 

You blink at him. “There was no one else…” 

"How many other guys have you done this to?" Joel asks quietly.

"Three," you murmur, as he gently drags the backs of his fingers down your face.

"What happened to 'em?" He probes, feeling like he already knows the answer. The fear coils in his gut like a snake ready to strike.

"I killed 'em…” you whisper into the dimly lit room. 

"Why?"

"They wouldn't stop tryin' to 'kill me…" you murmur.

“You built this?” 

Joel is in awe. He’s seen a lot, a whole lot in the thirty years since the outbreak, but you continue to surprise him. Impress him too, more than he thought was possible for a lady who had captured him and was holding him hostage in the woods. 

It’s a greenhouse– but that’s not what he’s impressed about. You built your own heating system for it out of a distillation set up– he doesn't do much to hide the look of bewilderment on his face.

Smart girl.

The smile that spreads across your lips as you take in his dumbfounded expression warms Joel’s heart even though the weather outside has cooled off drastically. 

“A couple years ago, yeah.” You explain, opening the door for him to step inside. 

The vinyl wrapped cord gets caught on the doorway, and the prongs on the choke chain dig into Joel’s neck painfully. He sucks air in through clenched teeth, his calloused fingers desperately try to put space between the metal and his tender and angry red skin. 

“Careful,” you murmur, untangling the rope for him so he can walk further inside. You hold the slack of his tie-out rope in your hand and carry it in for him.

Sweet girl.

Joel takes in everything. How well constructed this place is, how neat you have your rows of vegetables and fruits. Rows of raspberry bushes line the perimeter of the greenhouse. “How’d you get all this shit up here?” He turns to look at you, shoving his leather-glove clad hands into the winter jacket you brought him a couple weeks ago. 

Loves you.

Joel tries not to think about it.

You blink at him for several moments and then a flicker of uncertainty washes over your face. “Ya’ really wanna know?” You ask like you don’t believe that he could be interested in what you’ve been doing out here for the twelve long years you’ve been out here.

“Yeah I wanna know,” he nods his head to the entire structure built up around him. He knows that distillation set up outside is at least a couple hundred pounds, if not more.

He can see it on your face, the worry. The fear- as if telling him the truth, or telling him anything at all would send you spiraling.

Spiraling somewhere Joel isn’t sure he wants you to go.

He hums, turning his gaze to the rows of onions and potatoes. “Did your other fellas help ya’?” Joel teases.

You shake your head from side to side. “I had help–sometimes,” you finally admit, drawing the word out, eyeing his face and body as you whisper it to him. “I had some help, but mostly did it on my own,” you look like you're waiting for him to hit you, yell at you— pounce on you.

He doesn’t do any of those things. It just feels like someone knocked the wind out of him— stole all his air.

“Brought me up here to help you?” He offers, kneeling next to the garden bed to start digging up carrots, or celery or anything that he can throw into a stew for tonight’s dinner.

He loves to cook. It gives him something to do. Something to think about and look forward to. Joel likes that you eat what he makes for you. You eat a lot of it, and have actually put on a couple pounds since he got here.

You place one gentle hand on his shoulder and tug him away from the garden. “No, no— stop it,” you kneel down beside him, wrapping your hands around his and removing them from the dirt. “I didn’t bring you up here t’help me,” you smile at him happily. “You jus’ kept asking where I was gettin’ it all from… I’m showin’ you.”

Your eyes glimmer with something he hasn’t seen in a long time—trust. The look that makes him feel like maybe you’re not crazy- not a murderer- just scared. Fearful, but not anymore.

You trust him.

“Where you been hidin’?” Mister’s voice echoes off the tiled bathroom walls and floors.

You flinch under the stream of warm water and pinch your brows together at the sound of him coming closer. “I haven’t been hidin’. Been here all day,” you roll your eyes even though he can’t see you from behind the door. The water suddenly shuts off.

He’s kinked the hose, preventing the warm water from flowing freely.

“What’re you doing!?” You open the stall door, and poke your head out.

Joel has both of his eyebrows raised, looking at you incredulously. “Ya’ been here in the bathroom takin’ a shower all day?” He huffs at you. “Liar. Where ya’ been?”

“Let go,” you nod your head at the hose he has bent between one hand.

“Tell me where you were,” Mister narrows his eyes at you, unwilling to back down.

It’s cold in the mall, and you worked so hard to make sure that your shower would be warm in your irritable state. Everything has been miserable the last couple of days, you’ve been cramping. Teary and sad for no reason. Now you’re shivering, and a sense of rage floods you.

“Leave me alone,” you grumble.

Joel snorts, letting the hose fall to the floor and the warm water sputters out of the shower head attached to the side of the stall.

“Thank—” you start but hear his belt jingle and hit the tile.

Is he coming in here? He can’t! You’re unclean, undesirable!

“What’re you—” you put your hands on the stall door as he tries to push his way into where you’re naked, and bleeding.

“Need t’shower— I stink, been a couple days-” He starts, eyes narrowed on yours but you don’t let him finish and shove the door closed. “Hey! Let me in,” Mister wraps four thick fingers around the edge of the door to stop you from shutting it completely and locking him out.

“Get…out!” you huff as you push your shoulder into the door, using all of your body as a counterweight.

Mister pushes the door open easily, as if you weren’t even trying. “Th’fuck is wrong with you? Don’t like me anymore?” He frowns dramatically, the crease between his eyes deep.

“I- wha- no- yes, of course I still like you!” You exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest and pressing your legs together tightly. “Just- I don’t… I— please just go. I don’t want you to see me—”

“I see you. I been fuckin’ seein’ you, so th’fuck is your problem now?”

The frustrated tears burn at your eyes. “Get. Out.” You growl.

“You ‘bout t’cry?” He raises an eyebrow at you again, but with less anger etched into his face, and more worry. “What’s the matter, crazy girl?” He purrs, stepping into the small, crowded stall with you, letting the water wash over his broad shoulders and down his chest.

“M’just gross right now,” you groan, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Don’t want you thinkin’ I’m dirty or nothin’…”

“Dirty? What you been gettin’ up to?”

“I’m bleedin’…” you whisper up to him shamefully.

Why would this handsome, perfect man want to touch you during your monthlies? No one else ever did, and none of them were nearly as incredible as Mister… none of them seemed to have any standards— but this was one thing none of them wanted to go near. Like you were cursed because of what was happening between your legs.

It’s all right Sugar, he’s a real man.

“Where- what happened?” Mister looks more worried than he was a moment ago, eyes scanning the length of your body looking for something. “Ya’ hurt?”

He’s real. Real simple.

“Please just go away,” you whine as he inches himself closer to you, caging you into the corner of the stall with his strong body. The heat creeps up your neck and chest, your eyes fill with more tears uncontrollably.

“Y’really want me to leave?” He whispers, his warm, soft lips ghost across your forehead, his stubble scratching gently in their wake.

“S’just… gross,” you offer weakly, your resolve shattering with every careful touch he gives you.

“What the hell are you talkin-” Joel starts, but cuts himself off quickly. He tilts his head down to look at you. “Bleedin’, huh?”

All you can do is nod silently, avoiding his gaze.

“Thinkin’ Mister ain’t gon’ wanna touch you, that right?” He coos as he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Why would… you?” You wince, clenching your teeth together as cramps overtake your lower stomach and back.

Joel nuzzles the side of your face, pulling you back under the steady stream of warm water, letting it wash over the front and back of you as his free hand slips between your bodies. “Let me help you,” he nips at your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth.

Pulling your head back to look up at him, the water washing through your hair and down your back. “Wh-what? How…” you trail off as he slips his hands between your legs, fingers pushing through your swollen, aching lips. It’s uncomfortable and makes you whine and hide your face in the crook of his neck as he pushes two fingers deep into your cunt, curling them against that spot that has you seeing stars.

“Mister knows things too, crazy girl,” his deep voice vibrates in your ear and makes your knees weak. "Know this'll make ya’ feel better." He nudges your legs further apart with his knees and you don't fight him.

The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as he strokes that spot inside you over and over, again and again. "Oh god— don't…please, you'll get dirty-" you groan, your walls clenching around his fingers anyway despite your weak and meaningless protest because you love when he touches you. It’s impossible to fight.

You hate having to hide from him when this happens— it's easier when there isn't snow on the ground and you can leave the mall for a couple days. Hide in the woods and keep watch from a distance… in the shadows. Like before he was yours.

"I don't give a fuck about blood," he growls into the crook of your neck, moving the hand on your waist to the back of your head. His fingers leave you suddenly, and he pulls back, holding your head down so you can watch his already throbbing cock fuck into his partially open fist. 

Mister always takes your breath away, no matter how many times you see it, or put your mouth on it, or take it deep inside of you. It curves slightly up towards his stomach from a thatch of thick dark curls. Swollen tip already drooling with precum.

He gives himself a few slow strokes, coating himself in your slick and blood. "I'ma grown man. Don't matter to me," he groans. His fingers grip your hair and tilt your head up to look at him now. "Turn around, sweetheart," He purrs, licking at your bottom lip teasingly.

"Okay," you sigh, head bobbing up and down as you try to regain some sort of composure. Your eyes drop back down to his hand, still stroking his length slowly as you turn around and rest your palms on what used to be a toilet-paper dispenser, knocking over your small collection of soaps that smell nice and make your skin feel soft.

Joel pulls your hips out, and grinds every inch of him through the folds of your pussy slowly. One of his giant hands moves to the globe of your ass and pulls you open, the other guides the tip of him into your aching core.

The two of you groan together as he sinks himself into you, not letting you adjust or open up to him at all. He splits you open each and every time like it's the first, and it's heavenly.

You rest your forehead against the wall while Joel wraps one hand around your throat and leans over you, his chest pressed against your back. His thumb caresses your jaw as his fingers press into the artery on the side of your neck.

When you're with Mister like this, it all goes away. All the sad, and the bad, and the angry and fear— he replaces it with something else. It's good, and warm and it makes you feel small and weightless.

"S'my crazy girl," he grunts as he starts to thrust slowly but deeply, the tip of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as his hips grind into yours. You clench around him, and he moans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "God damn, you feel so fuckin' good," he rumbles.

"Don't stop," you mew, the lightheadedness taking you exactly where you want it to. Weightless and free of all thoughts, fears and inhibitions. The blood isn’t real, the pain is numbed and Joel and you are the only ones to exist right now. 

Everything else doesn’t matter.

Mister chuckles against your ear, his breath warm and inviting and pluming down the side of your face. Joel’s like the pyroclastic flow from a volcano; hot and all-consuming, taking over every one of your senses. “Don’t stop fuckin’ you?”He purrs deeply as his free hand slides down your stomach to your slick cunt. “Or don’t stop callin’ you mine?” He teases, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucks up into you from behind. 

You don’t even remember what he’s asked you, it’s all too good, the way every inch of cock seems to know the inside of your cunt so intimately, it’s like he’s fixing something inside of you. It’s only temporary, but it feels good while it lasts. "Yes," you gasp, pussy pulsing around him with every beat of your heart, tilting your hips to take him even deeper. 

He just laughs, low and from deep in his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head as his fingers work your clit faster, urging you higher and so quickly. Then his hand from around your throat is squeezing tighter– your vision tunnels just as he brings you to the precipice. 

Mister lets go of your throat just as you orgasm, it tears through you and he never lets up, fucking you hard and fast through the whole thing. “Oh I know, babygirl.” He growls. “Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?” The tips of his fingers trail down the column of your throat and through the valley of your breasts until he palms one, groping gently at the tender flesh, pinching your nipple and tugging. 

It does feel good– it’s relief from the aching and jackhammering going on inside of you somewhere– and you’re thankful for Mister. You could get down on your knees and worship him. You might. It’s incredible. White hot bliss in every inch of you.

Joel snaps his hips into yours over and over again as you ride out the aftershocks, keening and crying through the pleasure. You’re on the brink of another orgasm, both of his hands now palming and pulling at the soft, over-sensitive flesh of your tits as he spills himself inside of you. 

“S’right, fuckin’ milk me dry. So fuckin’ tight, baby girl.” His teeth sink into the sink on your shoulder–hard. 

It’s pain that brings you back to the women’s restroom in an abandoned mall, a couple of hours trek outside of whatever is left of Jackson, Wyoming. 

It’s the breaking of skin, and the feeling of molten lava pooling in your core, and then flooding down your legs as he pulls out of you. 

His tongue laves at the torn flesh on your shoulder as he coos soft apologies and promises, but you don’t even listen because that was the first time Joel ever came inside of you. There had been plenty of ‘times’, but they all ended with him finishing on some part of you that wasn’t the walls of your cunt. 

When you turn back to look at him, he’s leaning up against the opposite side of the stall, eyes closed, chest heaving with water droplets dripping down his stomach to his still half-hard cock covered in the mixture of your red-slick and his milky white release. 

It makes your stomach flutter, and more liquid heat pools in your core. 

“Lookin’ like you wanna get fucked again,” his eyes are barely open, but he’s staring at you with a goofy half-smile on his face. 

When you try to speak your voice wavers and cracks– and you make Mister-man laugh. A real laugh. He shakes his head from side to side, pushing himself off the wall to crowd your space once again.

He smacks your ass twice, and pulls you under the water with him, “Ain’t gotta say nothin’ sweetheart.” 

Tonight he has his head in your lap, and he rumbles happily when you run your fingers through his loose curls, and scratch at his scalp with your nails.

He's reading one of your comic books to you and Puddin' who is curled up in the big bed almost under your lap.

He's almost got the voices down— just needs a little more time. He'll get it.

It doesn't matter, just having him here is more than you could ever ask for. He doesn't fight, or argue with you anymore. Not like he used to. There are days when he doesn't want to talk, or sometimes even look at you— but he's never mean. Sometimes he's just quiet.

Today was a good day though because you brought back fresh meat again, and you cried about it in the woods before you brought it back so he wouldn't see how badly it bothered you. The first time you brought it back, you cried the whole day and refused to eat it. It bothered you so much that you'd do something like that just to make him happy.

You didn't talk to him for a couple days after, thinking about letting him go or killing him because why does he have that much control over what you do?

You like makin' him happy, Sug.

He's reading from the comic, but you're not really listening.

You've killed people for a lot less than sustainability.

There isn't much you wouldn't do to keep Mister happy, and safe here with you. He doesn't seem miserable, or unhappy. Sometimes he talks about how he wishes he could see his family.

You're his family now. You 'n Puddin'.

He has a real family though out there waiting for him… Missing him. 

The comic ends, and the silence creeps in. The strands of his hair feel like home between your fingers, so you start to rake the fingers of your other hand through it now too. 

"She must really love him," you whisper down to him. "S'why she does all those terrible things for 'Mistah-Jay'," you lighty mock Harley's high pitched crooning and smirk down at him as he closes his eyes.

Your Mister-J shakes his head from side to side, snorting from his nose softly like what you said is funny to him. "Don't know if I'd consider that love, sweetheart." He keeps his eyes closed and speaks slowly with his southern drawl.

Condescending– he doesn’t know love– not real true love. Don’t listen to him.

Hear him out, sweet girl. 

Something like vines coil around your heart when he says it, but you're not sure why, but it doesn't feel good, or nice. The vines have thorns that poke at the soft parts inside you. "Whadd'ya mean?"

"Well y'know Harley was normal once, right? She was a doctor or whatever—"

"A psychologist…" You correct him. She had been a psychologist, fallen in love with Joker, gave up everything for him… Well, maybe—You only had five comic books!! You're not really sure what happened or, why or how… just a couple parts to a much longer story, apparently.

"Oh yeah, well whatever she was— Joker goes to Arkham Asylum, meets Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel… PhD," he nods his head, opening his eyes to look up at you. "Pretty girl, smart and witty..."

"Yeah?" It feels like every word he says could either make you laugh or start crying.

"And Joker brainwashes her— makes her crazy," he starts but there is only screaming inside your head that drowns out whatever else he says. "She loses everything 'cause of him."

Joker wouldn't do that! Not to his Harley, at least. Everyone else, maybe? But not his girl…right?

Don't listen to him, Sugar. He don't know what he's talking about.

There's a squeeze, and the sharp points of the thorns pierce your lungs and it feels like you deflate, like the world could be slipping away from you, or you could be floating somewhere else.

Your fingers have stopped moving, but still grip his hair in the space between them. "He loves her, he wouldn't do that…"

"He doesn't love her- he uses her." He whispers.

He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. 

Now it feels like you can't breathe because that can't be true. Harley and Joker might not have always been nice to each other in your comic books, or cartoons— but he loved her. He had to love her, she loved him so much.

There was no way that he doesn’t love Harley, right?

That’s not love. That’s not love.

Mister-man doesn’t stop talking even though you wish he would. "She loves him— but she figures out that Jokers is a bad guy… a real bad guy," his hands are around your wrists now, sliding his fingers between yours to loosen the hold you have on his hair.

"What does she do then?"

Joel's eyes are so dark, chocolatey brown– wide with…fear?

You're hurtin' him, sweet girl.

Who fuckin’ cares— remeber when he hit you?

Listen to Mister, listen to him…

"She kills him," Miser-man laces his fingers with yours and pulls your hands out of his hair. 

Being shot would feel better than this. It's like your chest is caving in on itself. You can't breathe, you can barely think. 

"She wouldn't do that," you hiss at him, struggling to pull your hand free from his grasp, his fingers pinching around yours, refusing to let him go. 

"She loves Joker, and she wouldn't hurt him- wouldn't kill him…" your eyes flash between your fingers laced in his, and his big brown, perfect eyes.

Perfect baby cow eyes. 

"She smartens up— she realizes he's been abusin' her." Joel's on his knees now, cupping your face with his free hand "She's smarter than him, crazier too." He leans in and kisses away the tears that had sprung from your eyes, and are now rolling down your cheeks.

Joel lies.

"You're bullshittin' me," you put both hands on his chest and push him weakly. "He loves her, she loves him— she doesn't kill him. Why would you say that?"

"It's just how their story goes, crazy girl. It ain't real," he wraps one hand around the back of your neck and tries to pull you in for comfort but you don't let him.

You spend the night in the greenhouse that night. 

People were capable of a lot of things, you had seen it first hand. Watching it happen to yourself, and people just like you thrown into situations they didn’t ask to be in, or maybe got themselves into on accident– but nobody wants to be abused. Nobody asks to be taken advantage of. 

Look at what you’ve done. 

Look at what you were able to take for yourself. 

Ruined a man's life.

He loves you. 

This isn’t love. 

It’s hard to look at Joel after that. 

You just keep to yourself until your next supply run. 

–He’s going to die if you don’t do it.

Don’t fucking do it!! What are you thinking!? He’ll leave!

“That’s fine!!” You sob as you climb up the service ladder that takes you to the roof where you can enter the mall on the rafters. 

Joel can’t die. Not like this. Not because of you.  

All the other entrances have been boarded up so tight that it’s nearly impossible for one or two people to get in on their own, but it doesn’t matter now with how many of them are coming. 

They’ll tear this whole place apart looking for you. They saw you– got the dogs on your scent and it’s incredible that you lost them for as long as you did running in the river but they’re still coming. 

They’re going to kill you this time and there really isn’t anything you can do about it. There are too many this time, and they never stopped following you. The dogs kept barking, kept howling, and kept alerting when they’d pick up your trail again. 

Puddin’s only chance to get out of here alive is to leave with Joel right now. You’ll give him all his stuff, his guns, his gas-mask and you’ll just keep the raiders preoccupied while Joel and Puddin’ get away. 

Joel is in the bookstore when you come running in, already fumbling with the keys that will unlock his choke chain and his shock collar. 

He’s so handsome, and big. If by some miracle you get out of this alive– you can go to Jackson and find Joel. 

“Whoa, what’s goin’--” he looks concerned, and he has a good reason. He doesn’t have a lot of time to get out of here. 

“I don’t have time– you just need to get Puddin’ o-out of here, go out through the r-roof, like we do to get to the greenhouse. There are two ladders, the one in the back will take you into the woods and you can go back to Tommy and Maria, Ellie– but you have to take Puddin’!”

The words don’t feel like they’re coming out fast enough, but Mister-man is looking at you like you have seven heads and are possibly growing another one as you try to explain that bad guys are coming. 

Joel clamps his hands around yours while you fumble with the keys. “Slow down– jus’ take a deep breath–” Joel turns his hands to the side, and opens them with yours cupped in either one, the keys pinched between your index finger and thumb on your right hand. “Keys?”

Don’t tell him, don’t tell him. Don’t let them go, don’t let them go. You’ll lose him forever. He’ll kill you. He’s going to kill you. Let him die here with you.

“The gold one is for the chain, silver is for the collar–” doing the right thing. 

“You got guns? I need a couple–” Joel nods his head at you as he takes the keys from your trembling hands very carefully, like you might spontaneously combust if he makes any sudden movements.

Take them keys back, it’s not too late. Take them back. Take them back. Take them back.

There are guns hidden in the ceiling of the mattress store. Lots of guns that you’ve collected over the years. 

“I’ll give ya’ whatever you need. Ya’ just gotta–” You’re already backing out of the bookstore, stumbling over fallen shelves and debris from the ceiling caving in a couple weeks ago. 

“I’ll take Puddin’, don’t worry. M’right behind ya’,” Mister’s already got one key in one of the locks as you turn to sprint to the mattress store. 

You climb onto the counter and push one of the ceiling tiles aside, and start pulling guns and boxes of ammo out, handing them to Mister-man to get ready. 

Faintly, the sounds of dogs barking are growing closer and closer. Every warm thing about you goes cold because it might be too late for Mister-man if they get this place surrounded. 

Shouldn’t have come back here. You keep making mistakes. 

It’s okay, sweet girl. Doing the right thing by letting him go– sacrificing yourself to save him and Pud. 

The tears come and are hot, and fat and sting your eyes. 

“Please take care of Puddin’, please don’t jus’ let him go- go the second you get out in the –the woods, okay?” You try and speak over the lump in your throat but it’s hard, and it hurts, and you want to just lay down and die right here. “He’s not real good at takin’ care of himself– he needs someone.”

Joel isn’t listening, he’s loading up rifles and handguns faster than you’re getting your pleas out. He looks determined, he’s not paying attention to the things that you’re saying. 

“Hey! M’talkin–” you start, taking a step towards him. 

“Here,” he shoves a rifle in your hand and a pistol in the other. Then he slings another rifle over your shoulder. He starts loading more guns. In your backpack, you have your preferred weapon of a metal slingshot and free, unlimited ammo. Hard things

It’s deadly when used properly, silent and easy to practice with because you can never run out of rocks. Metal nuts and bolts work well too, and those are all over, fallen out of the iron skeleton that keeps the mall together over the years. 

“Puddin’?” You question, backing out of the storefront slowly. Joel waves you away as he continues to load up the rest of the weapons. 

There isn’t much you can think about besides how Joel is going to get out of here with Puddin’ safely. You don’t even know where the little guy is, and he’s probably hiding now hearing the dogs closing the distance outside. 

Make it easier for them to get in hopes they don’t go looking for another way in– Before you climb into the rafters, you push the tables, chairs and racks out of the way and make the entrance accessible from outside. 

You’re so stupid for letting him go, he could have died here with you– lived as ghosts here together for eternity. 

You take your place above the entrance, where you would come and wait for Mister-man before he was yours– where you would hide from him when you were bleeding before you knew he was a ‘real man’, or what a real man even was. You did the right thing. 

It happens fast– the doors explode open with an ear-splitting, head ringing bang, and debris flies everywhere. You can hear it showering down on the tiles of the food court, into the small puddles of still water that have accumulated with the quick-melting snow. 

The smoke and dust make it impossible to see, but you stay hidden regardless and get your slingshot loaded and ready for when it all finally settles. 

The dog's nails click on the ceramic flooring as they run inside and start looking for you. Start sniffing you out– which is easy. Your scent is all over this mall and they take off running in the direction of the mattress store. 

In the direction Joel and possibly Puddin’ if they didn’t get out in time. 

Muffled voices echo through the quickly dissipating cover of dusty smog. 

Three dark figures move quickly, following in the direction of the dogs. You pull your loaded slingshot back, aim for the pulse point on their throat, or at the base of their neck– in the spine. 

It’s usually quick and they’re down before they know what hit them, or even realize that they’re on the ground. 

The other two raiders see their friend go down, holding his neck, choking on his own blood and begin looking around the food court through the scopes of their machine guns. You load up the pouch quickly with a heavy metal nut and aim. 

Let go. 

There is a millisecond when you think you weren’t quick enough. He saw you, his finger pulled the trigger, but before the gun goes off his hand falls to his side, his rifle tumbles to the ground and he stands there like he’s been stunned. 

You aimed for his forehead, but it entered through the eye socket of his closed eye with a soft pop you could hear over the dogs barking in the distance. Then he goes down. 

There are gunshots, but not from the food court– they’re coming from a different part of the mall. Two different types of gunshots. Then it’s quiet. 

Both of ‘em dead and it’s all your fault. All your fault. All your fault. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, at the thought of Joel and Puddin’ being shot at, torn apart by the dogs. 

The one remaining raider looks around the food court, and then down the long, wide corridor where the dogs are still barking, and now more guns are going off. 

They’re both dead. Dead ‘cause of you. 

You toss your slingshot to the side and grab the hunting rifle, aiming at the back of the last raider's head as he turns to walk away. You take one shot and watch as he goes down, and hope that the dogs and whoever else is in the mall come your way instead of following after Joel.

You count as more people come into the mall through the entrance, stepping over the bodies of their dead friends. One, two, three, four, five, six…

Ain’t even worth it anymore. Should just shoot yourself now– end it all quickly–

Just keep moving, sweet girl. It’ll be okay. Give him time to get out of here. Keep him safe, he doesn’t deserve this, never did. 

No more people come inside– and that’s when you open fire from the rafters, moving as gracefully as you can while trying to aim. 

This rifle only holds five rounds, and you drop three of the intruders before you run out of ammo. You drop that gun, and grab the one around hanging off your shoulder. 

Their guns start going off, bullets flying past your face. One grazes your shoulder, just the skin– it burns and stings, but your feet stay deft in their movements. Remembering where to step and what spots to avoid because of the structural faults. 

More gunfire from the other wing of the mall. Near the department store with two floors. Near the bookstore. Near where you and Joel sleep together most nights– except for the past couple. 

Now you regret it, now you regret not feeling his cock inside of you these last three nights. Not falling asleep sticky with his release between your thighs, or taking advantage of the nights when he let you fall asleep inside of you.  

Three nights you can never get back. If you make it out of this you’ll crawl across hot coals for him– beg him to stay here with you forever– you can go back to Jackson to visit– to see everyone– but then you can come back. 

He won’t let you come back, you fucking cow. 

He won’t come back here, baby. He won’t– but that’s okay. This place isn’t good for you. 

This place is your home– it has been and it will be, it’s kept you safe. It’s made you smart and independent. 

Look at what it did to you, who it made you.  

You were crazy before you got here. 

“I’m not crazy…” you whisper. 

Then it happens, your foot falters, and the rafter creaks loudly as the bullets continue to whizz past you. Missing you by centimeters– but you never stop moving. Not even as the beam underneath your foot starts to sway from side to side. 

A low, echoing groan fills the mall as you move faster to get to the other side where things are still a bit more secure– you think about jumping, but falling–

It doesn’t matter, you’re weightless, everything about you feels like it stays up in the air while you tumble down to the ground. The world flips and spins– a kaleidoscope of fresh new greenery growing, and the old dingy colors of the mall's ceramic tiles, the dimming evening sky. 

Everything about you feels detached, like your body no longer exists, nothing is real; like you're suspended in a dream.

This is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with a broken body. 

The impact is jarring, a violent explosion of pain that sends white-hot tendrils searing through your shoulder and down your left arm. The air is punched out of your lungs and you’re clinging to consciousness with everything that you can- but the darkness is so inviting, the warm ground is so cool against the broiling pain that has you sweating. 

Puddin’ could need you, Sug. Joel might need you. 

The handgun is still somehow tucked into your waistband, and you push yourself to your knees despite all the tendons and muscles in your shoulder and back telling you to lay down– to give up. 

Shoot yourself before anyone else can– they might not be so generous. 

You can’t give up. Not now, not yet. 

It’s nearly impossible to aim, your vision is blurring in and out of focus. It’s hard to keep steady when you feel like you could be sick, and take a nap all at the same time. 

Point and shoot, point and shoot point and shoot at whatever is moving, whatever looks like a target. Your left hand hangs at your side limp, unwilling to cooperate when you think of things to do– like grab a new magazine when the clip gets low. 

Everything on your lower-half is fine, seems fine– you think. It’s not completely clear if anything hurts because everything above the waist feels like it’s on fire. Gunshots echo throughout the mall in what sounds like all directions. Everything is echoing. Everything feels so fuzzy and thick– so warm.

When you come to, Joel is kneeling over you, blood dripping down the side of his face, chin and neck. His shirt is stained dark red down the front of his chest. 

Did he eat them?

He might’a. 

“What happened–” 

A soft but deafening metallic click echoes in your ears. You’ve heard it before– it’s distinct and only one thing makes that sound. A padlock locking into place. 

The part of your brain that tells your body to move still works, your right hand starts to move to your neck– but your left arm stays limp by your side and fireworks go off in the space behind your eyes. 

You are a ragdoll being held together at the seams. Then thin, red strings that connect your shoulder to the rest of your body are hanging there limply, all the tension and tightness that allows you to move is gone. 

It’s excruciating. It’s like the grooves of your brain are being peeled apart– you can’t think, you can’t do anything but shriek. 

Joel tuts softly over the sounds of your pain, “Yeah, a dislocated shoulder’ll do that to ya’.” There is a twinge of twisted pleasure in his empathetic tone. “Planned on fixin’ it up while ya’ were still out,” he explains through your wailing. 

“Pl-Please don’t tou-t–touch it,” you’re stammering through the red-hot pain.

Mister-man shakes his head at you, his lips together in a tight lipped smile– like what he’s about to tell you is unfortunate news. “I gotta, and I can do it now… or I can go get that brick–”

The choke-chain suddenly feels like it’s ten thousand pounds, too tight and also hot; white hot like it just came out of the fire. 

Kill him. 

The brick might actually not be too bad in this situation–

“I gotta couple things t’go take care of, so…why don’t you jus’ sit tight ‘n I’ll be right back.” Joel doesn’t touch you, or fix your fucking shoulder before he stands up to leave. “Don’t go anywhe– oh wait,” he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side. 

There are parts of your brain telling you to sit still, to relax and the pain will eventually subside, to just let things happen. Bigger, louder parts of your brain are telling you that this is worse than dying. This is the least desirable outcome. You’re not sure what parts they are, or who is even speaking because all the words and sounds are blending together. 

Joel walks over the bodies of the dead dogs, the nameless raiders– he uses cautious feet as he steps over new collapsed parts of the roof. Twisted and mangled metal– sharp and dangerous as he climbs and crawls through the narrow openings. 

Joel has to look for the shock collar remote. He doesn’t know what you’ve done with it since he hasn’t made you use it since shortly after you put it on him. He hasn’t seen it in— 

Months. It’s been months. 

He’s not thinking of the countless nights of sharing his warmth with you– or how you made sure he always had something to eat– how you tore yourself apart to make sure that he was taken care of. 

He’s trying not to think about it. 

His backpack is almost full by the time he leaves the second floor of the department store. He’s careful and makes sure to not let this get jostled around in there. He was gentle with how he packed things and wanted to make sure nothing got ruined.

Puddin’ is right where Joel expected him to be. On the highest shelf of the bookstore, which is where he was before you came running in with tears in your eyes almost an hour ago. When Joel was still your prisoner. Still your captive. 

Joel grabs Pud by the scruff– unfazed by the hissing and clicking sounds of protest coming from the completely domesticated animal. Joel hasn’t seen Puddin’ hunt or scavenge for his own food once since he’s been here, and knows for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it on his own. 

He doesn’t want to bring him–

Yes ya’ do. 

No…he doesn’t.

He doesn’t even really know why he’s back inside the mattress store tearing the place apart looking for the remote to the shock collar. He doesn’t know why he’s inside the pet store looking for a new shock collar when he can’t find the old one.

When Joel returns to the spot where he left you– you’re gone. 

She couldn’t have gotten far. 

He picks the cord up off the floor, gives it a soft tug and feels the resistance– you’re still on the other end. He sets his backpack down gently and holds the cord in his hand as he lets the sounds of your pained whimper lead him right to you. 

Joel follows you into the service hallways he’s explored a million times. He wonders why you came back here, what you’re looking for that he doesn’t know about. A secret way out? Bolt cutters? 

Joel looked constantly for something that he could have used to cut through his restraints, but never found anything.

Never really looked that hard– don’t kid yourself.

He did look– he always wanted to go home. 

Could have killed her a long time ago. 

“Come on, lil puppy– Puddin’s missin’ ya’,” Joel croons, the sounds of your shuffled footsteps on the concrete floor growing louder and louder. “Hear ‘em cryin’ for his momma?” He holds Puddin’ up, and he hisses loudly in annoyance or discomfort– he’s not completely sure. 

Joel’s about to round the corner, expecting you to be there with a horrified look on your face at what he might do to the over-sized rodent in his hand. 

He’s not expecting you to be waiting for him with a knee hurdling towards his unprotected dick and balls. It knocks the air out of his lungs, and bile rises in his throat. 

“You’re hurtin’ him!” Your worried voice rings in his ears.

She’s going to kill you. 

The rest of his stomach drops down into his ass. 

Joel grabs the cord attached to the choke chain, gasping for air, and pulls on it as hard as he can and is still met with tension. You shriek and choke as he drags you to the ground—still holding Puddin' safely in your arms. 

He realizes you hadn’t even been going for the keys or his gun, or his knife. You were just trying to protect–

Her baby. 

Joel gives your restraint another good tug– he knows how it feels to have the prongs dig into the soft, sensitive skin above the collarbone. It’s horrible, but not as bad as the shock-collar. 

Joel moves as fast as he can, pouncing on you and pressing his knee into your chest.  

You look up at him with eyes so wide they're more white then iris, pupils blown wide with terror. Then you scream, it vibrates his eardrums, and splits his skull open. 

He didn’t think any human was capable of making a sound so absolutely bone-chilling.

He presses his palm over your mouth, squeezing your cheeks together as tight as he can to avoid getting bitten. With the hunting knife he points it at Puddin’-- who is currently playing dead beside your flailing body.

Joel turns your head to the side while your fingernails claw into his wrists. You go limp when you see the threat.

“Ain’t gotta say it— but you know,” Joel warns. quietly. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut– got it?” He growls in your ear. 

You whimper and nod silently in defeat.

“Good. Now you’re gon’ get up real slow– Mister’ll help ya’, okay?” He whispers in your ear. 

You nod again, body shaking underneath his with each silent sob. 

Be careful-- her shoulder.

Joel helps you to your feet. He picks Puddin’ up more appropriately– holding him like a newborn– still pointing the sharp edge of the knife towards his belly as the three of you make your way back out of the service hallway. 

Once Joel has you back where had intended on you staying– he gives you Puddin’ to hold and then gives you a stern look with narrow eyes and a strongly pinched brow. 

“You try anythin’– make one single move…and I’ll kill him; make you watch,” Joel nods down to the still stiff opossum in your arms.

"I'm real sorry--"

"Sorry don't mean nothin' out here, remember that?" He barks at you as he pulls the new collar out of the packaging.

He has no sympathy for your tears, or the way that you're almost silently apologizing over and over again-- almost like you're not even talking to him anymore.

She ain't... you know it.

He places the new shock collar around your neck and locks into place with the padlock from the choke chain. He then puts the batteries in the remote and holds his thumb over the button.

“Say goodbye t’all of this,” he motions around with the blade of his knife. The crumbling ceiling, the broken and warped rafters littering the ground now. “We’re goin’ to Jackson.” 

To be continued…?

authors note-- this was honestly one of the most fun stories to write-- and I really hope you all want me to continue this fucked up story back in Jackson.

Thank you to everyone for the love and support!! I didn't expect a little tiny drabble to turn into this big whole thing.

I hope I didn't disappoint everyone-- I didn't want either one of them to die and I genuinely don't think Joel would have just let her walk away from all of this with a nod of his head and a wave.

thank you for @pedrospookie for your amazing mood boards and knowledge of DC and Harley Quinn, and @almostempty for your help with this last chapter. I really needed your words of encouragement and support because I felt like I was fucking it up all the time.

@probablyreadinsmut your love for Puddin' kept me going and I love you for that.

tag list:@pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem @lumpatto @shivispunk

again, i'm sorry if I forgot anyone. I have a little hamster brain and I forget things.

[slimybeth69]

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE SOME HUNGRY MAN FOR WIP WEDNESDAY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

FINE! FINE. YOU WANT HUNGRY MAN? HERE YOU GO.

There are so many things you want to tell her- that the last house you were in felt like a prison, and the people who kept you inside were worse than the infected. You want to scream at her that you know you have a name– but it doesn’t matter what it is, because you aren’t that person anymore. There are secrets that you haven’t shared with anyone, not even Mister-man, that you want to whisper into her ear– but your voice escapes you. 

Keep your secrets, take them to the grave with you. 

She might be able to help you, hon. 

You don’t need any help. You’re perfectly fine. Normal. 

Normal. 

An audible gasp leaves your mouth; it feels like your ribs are being torn apart and pulled in every direction. That light voice, the voice of reason for the last couple of years, the sweet voice- that hadn’t been so sweet or light as of late- lies to you. 

Normal. 

“Is everything…okay?” Maria asks softly, her voice echoes and bounces off the walls of your ear canal and then around inside your skull. It’s like she’s drifting away from you.

Or you are the one drifting, spinning, possibly floating, through time and space. 

Talk. Say anything.

How could anything be okay when that good, sweet voice just lied to you? 

If there is one thing that you know, and one thing that is for certain– is that you are not normal. The way you’ve been living isn’t normal– the things you do out in the woods, hiding in the mall, are not normal.

“What is normal?” You blurt out, slapping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Your face burns and for some reason your entire body tingles in the worst way, and your stomach flips inside of you– part of you thinks of taking off running-- but where would you go?

[slimybeth69]

idk?! cool af? TELL ME

🤙

just kidding. I'm a giant ball of anxiety, usually full of rage and entirely too horny for my own good. I like to think that I'm a good listener, and a loyal friend, someone you would trust to take care of you when you were too fucked up to take care of yourself.

I yell at my dog too much for getting into the garbage and for trying to hump my cat. I treat my cat like a princess (because she is), and I smoke way too much weed.

I'm really actually enjoying the transition back into the reality of having a job again, and leaving my house everyday. There was honestly a point in my withdrawing from the public and real life that I thought I would be like that forever.

I don't really have a lot of friends irl-- but the few that I do have I cherish and would do anything for them if I knew they needed me.

I bought a steam cleaner today and took apart my fridge after I cleaned it out (RIP to 2 of my glass containers because I wasn't gonna fucking open them), and then I did the dishes. I also got a swiffer but girl-- after cleaning the fridge I was not ready to do them floors, so we gonna do them tomorrow, ok??

I HOPE THIS WAS ENOUGH. NOW I'M IN MY BED AND I'M GONNA PUT ON HOW IT'S MADE AND TRY TO WRITE HUNGRY MAN.

LOVE YOU

[slimybeth69]

what's your vibe irl lol

guess lolol