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loliwrites · 4 months

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I. Tenacity | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, no infected here just terrible humans, mention of death, blood, and murder, mentions of hunger, diva cup appearance, talk of irregular menstrual cycles [trauma-induced menopause][epigenetics], DUBCON/NONCON [tagging ‘cause reader allows it but true enthusiastic consent is absent], brief SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, slow burn-ish, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.6k series masterlist a/n: my first go at writing something tlou-related. be gentle pls.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm. You could count the number of times your hip would be shoved into the wooden table with a high degree of certainty of when it would be over. Michael never lasted too long. Somewhere between thirty-four and thirty-seven thrusts. He was never particularly rough, and though he was never chasing to make you feel good, he was at least better than George and James – both of whom would probably be lining up after Michael was done. George seemed to last forever. Some old fart who’d gained his stamina before the world came to a screeching halt. He usually landed somewhere between sixty-two and sixty-six thrusts. The bruises he left behind always lasted the longest because of the sheer amount of times he slammed your body into whatever you were up against. A table, a railing, an old pool table with torn, dirty felt. And the worst of all was James. He may not last the longest, but he had the uncanny ability of making you feel like some depraved wild animal he was trying to break. He never took his time to make sure it wouldn’t be absolutely painful like Michael did. Nor did he have a pencil dick to make it somewhat manageable like George. He took it how he wanted it – fast, unceremonious, and always left you in a mess you’d have to clean up.

Part of you wondered if this was worth it. If the wolf was only as strong as the pack, then having a pack was supremely necessary. And though, these guys… and the group they led… weren’t the people you would’ve gone with by choice. A pack was a pack. Alone, you were an easy target for almost anything and anyone. Being together afforded you safety in numbers. Relative safety in numbers. Safe enough to have stayed alive with them for the past six years. Years that you likely wouldn’t have gotten if you’d fought them tooth and nail and went off on your own. Solitude could only get you so far. No matter how proficient you were with your rifle.

The one that lay in front of you on the table. Clean, well-oiled, with a scope affixed to the top. As Michael started to moan recklessly behind you, you thought about the meals you’d forfeited in trade for the supplies needed to keep the weapon in the best of shape. Times were tough – had been tough for a couple decades now – and a gun was a gun. It didn’t need to be clean, it just had to work. But this was no ordinary gun.

Michael came inside you with a strangled grunt and pulled out a second later. That was a relatively new twist in the routine. For years the men were careful to never finish inside you… or any of the other women in the group. Food and resources were scarce enough as it was, let alone adding little mouths to feed and take care of. But a few months back, you’d confided in some of the women that your period hadn’t been coming when you expected it to. And when time had passed and neither a baby nor your period came, you came to the conclusion you were suffering from the same fate as some of the other women. A hard life compounded. Trauma induced menopause. You weren’t sure which of the women had ratted you out. But soon enough the men had become aware of your new biological situation, and they stopped the frantic pulling out as they came. Perhaps that was for the best. Who’d want to bring a child into a world like this?

“Was that alright?” Michael asked, buckling his belt back up. His back was turned toward you as he reached for his own rifle, which he’d propped up against the wall.

You glanced over at him and pulled your pants back up your legs. Over the lofted railing, you could hear George and James mumbling to each other. “Fine,”

“Did you…?”

He finally met your eyes. Anxiety-ridden. None of the other men ever asked, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. At some point maybe it’d sink in that he should stop partaking in the act just to fit in with the boys. “No,”

His gaze averted to the floor sheepishly and he shouldered his rifle. “Guess we should get back downstairs,”

“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,”

Now you were the one to turn your back on him. Though you hoped he’d come to his senses and start to become a better man. You knew he wouldn’t. He was initiated into the system. The one George and James, and all the other men in the settlement formed. The one that meant they brought girls along on patrols so they could get their kicks and save face with the others that they were doing their due diligence in protecting the group. And you joining the group… well you turned out to be the little guardian angel for the women in the pack. Good with a gun, able to pick off infected and humans alike from a mile out. It only seemed natural that the men going out on patrols would take you with them. For that you inadvertently protected the other women from your fate.

Michael cleared his throat and started down the stairs from the loft. You bit the inside of your cheek to show yourself you could still feel something, and – BANG!

Your head flicked around toward the noise. What was left of Michael was splattered against the wall leading up the stairs. You grabbed your gun and held it poised. Looked over the lofted banister and down at the room below. George had backed up into the far corner; his arms raised in non-threatening compliance. Someone must’ve been pointing a weapon at him, but you couldn’t tell from the angle. And James, well… if it didn’t warm your heart a little bit to see him being restrained in a chokehold with a handgun to his temple. The man you could see, holding James, was tall, muscular… he had black, curly, jaw-length hair. A thick mustache. He was in all denim. And it was clean, which was the thing that caught you the most off-guard.

You lifted your gun, disregarding the scope, and looked down the barrel. James may’ve been part of your pack, but you’d thought about putting a bullet in him on a daily basis for the last eight years. And while these guys might kill you afterward, at least you’d have the brief satisfaction of knowing that you’d taken one terrible human off the face of the planet.

So there was no hesitancy when you squeezed the trigger. The round flew by the denim-clad man’s head and went straight into James’. He crumpled to the floor and the man who’d been holding him looked up in your direction, though you’d backed away enough to ensure you weren’t seen.

Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Despite two thirds of your life having been in a post-Cordyceps world, the sound and reverberation of your rifle going off right by your ear didn’t keep it from ringing. An almost concussion-like haziness emphasized by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. From down below, you could just barely hear George pleading for his life. Something about how he had a woman he loved and wanted to go home to. Strange considering he had his dick in you on most days out.

The ringing in your ears started to quiet, just in time for you to hear a footstep behind you. A heavy one. Definitely belonged to a man. But not in time for you to spin around with your rifle before finding the man already pointing his rifle at you.

“Drop it,” he commanded gruffly. A deep, gravelly voice. He was sure of himself. Confident. His tattered jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He wasn’t as clean-looking as his partner currently detaining George. Graying, brown hair, a prominent scar over his nose, a scruffiness… and yet, he still looked too put together to have been living off the land for any amount of time. You should know. God knows what you looked like had you ever taken any time in front of a mirror. If the dirtiness of your hands were any indication, you were a little worse for wear. “I said, drop it,”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you slowly bent over and placed your rifle on the floor. No sooner than you’d completed the action, he had another order for you. Kick it here and get on your knees. So you did. Nudged your most prized possession away with your foot when another BANG! rang through the old hunting lodge. Your eyes flinched shut; the nanosecond of thought that this was it. You’re dead. But then… you still felt alive. And you squinted your eyes open to evaluate. Yep, definitely still alive. No bleeding holes coming from your body, and the man still in front of you waiting for you to comply with his last order. Which you did… awkwardly. A grimace stretched over your face when you knelt down and felt your pants sticking to your thighs; Michael’s spend dripping out of you.

The muzzle of the man’s rifle never left you, “got anything else on you?”

“Knife in my front pocket,”

“Slide it over,”

You did. Quickly. Hoping that your quickness and willingness to obey him would mean he’d let you go with your tail tucked between your legs.

“You infected?”

You glared at him, “do I look infected?”

He cocked his gun and held it up in line with your head. You trained your eyes on his index finger around the trigger. Just one twitch. That’s all it’d take.

“Joel,” both you and the man… Joel… looked away from each other, and fixed your eyes on the stairs where the second one – the one you’d disregarded in order to kill James – entered the loft. “Look at her gun,” both men looked at your rifle. “I don’t think she misses very often. If she was gonna kill us, we’d already be dead.”

He went to approach you, and this time Joel spoke up. A cautious step forward, “Tommy.”

But this Tommy… he took another couple steps in your direction and handed off his rifle to Joel when he went to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes on his face, tilting your head back to keep him in your line of vision. Even if he tried something, you weren’t sure what you’d do to stop him, but at least you’d see it coming.

“I don’t think you missed me. I don’t even think you were aiming at me,”

“I wasn’t,”

A victorious smile spread across his face and he twisted around to look back at Joel, “see.” Tommy looked back down at you and set his hands on his hips. “What’s your name?”

You flicked your eyes at Joel quickly before returning them to Tommy to answer his question.

“You’re with the other settlement?”

“I wouldn’t call them a settlement,” your eyes flicked over to Joel when he clicked his tongue on his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Nomads, at best,”

“And at worst?” Joel barked.

Your eyebrows lifted quickly in contemplation before… “a bunch’a assholes,”

Another wide grin broke out over Tommy’s face. “You got a family or a partner in that bunch of assholes?” He waited for a verbal response but you only shook your head. “We’ll take her back with us. She might be able to give us some answers about our friends we’ve been seeing on patrol.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They made you walk while they sat easily atop their horses. Some kind of cruel twist of fate that your own gun was turned on you the whole time. Joel made sure of that. Based on the way the sun fell toward the horizon, you figured you’d all been an hour and a half walk south of their settlement. Which as you neared the large wooden gates, seemed to be more like a QZ than some random encampment. And judging by the way the two men bickered, you assumed they were brothers. Only siblings could piss each other off like that and not take it personally. How lucky, you thought, that after all this time, they still had each other.

When you did near the enormous gates, Tommy left you behind with Joel. A precarious position. His face remained stoic the entire time, muzzle of the gun pointed at you… didn’t even answer when you asked if his horse had a name. You thought about goading him into an argument for the fun of it. Maybe he named his horse Princess. Or Spike. But Tommy interrupted again, riding up with a handful of others and even a dog. It growled and snarled in your direction, and you weren’t sure why, but you glanced back up at Joel to see if his expression had changed. Maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if he didn’t look like there was something you should be nervous about.

To your surprise, he was already staring at you. Upon meeting your gaze, he nodded once and jut his chin in the direction of the dog. “S’gonna sniff you. See if you’re infected. If not, like you say, nothin’ll happen.”

“If I am?” You cocked your head back toward the snarling animal.

“It’ll probably just take your leg off or somethin’,”

“Any chance this dog fucks up?”

“Probably not,”

And it didn’t. Thankfully. Hopefully this meant they’d trust explicitly that you indeed weren’t infected. They seemed to trust their trained animal enough to let you inside their settlement. Jackson, they called it. You’d never heard of it. Never heard of any rumblings of a massive commune. And yet…. It was gorgeous. Nice buildings, string lights, stables, a bar, dining hall, and in the distance, what seemed to look like a large, sweeping neighborhood.

Tommy had joined up with a woman: Maria. They kissed and spoke fondly to each other, so you assumed they were partners. Both walked ahead of you, while Joel remained at your rear. You figured with your rifle still pointed at you. Everyone stopped what they were doing when you passed by. All staring to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Would you be joining them permanently? Would they kill you? You asked yourself the same questions.

Your feet had stopped moving but you didn’t notice until you felt the muzzle of your rifle press against your upper back. Joel jabbed the metal against your back again, growing antsier with the fact that your gaze had settled on a teenager in the distance. She was staring at you, too. A fact that seemed to make Joel even more aggravated. He mumbled his annoyance to you and you got moving again, walking up the boarded steps into the dining hall.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They treated you better than you expected. Hell, better than your group would’ve treated someone they didn’t know. They set a big glass of water in front of you with a heaping plate of vegetables, chicken, and fresh bread. The water was one of the biggest surprises. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t have to boil water before drinking it. Maybe when you were still with your parents. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Tommy and Maria shared glances like they weren’t sure what you were going to tell them. Considering no one else joined you, you figured these three (or a combination) held a great deal of power in the settlement. Joel, however, looked pissed that this was even happening at all. That he hadn’t just shot you on sight back at the hunting lodge. It was pretty easy to ignore him. You’d spent the better half of your time on earth ignoring men just like him. But then the questions started coming and you figured all this kindness came at a price. They wanted to know everything. So you didn’t hold back. Maybe if you were open and frank with them, they’d let you stay here. They wouldn’t make you go back to those awful people.

Told them that you’d been with that group for the last eight years. And in those eight years, they hadn’t really expanded their numbers by any considerable amount. That they hovered somewhere between forty-four and sixty-two people -- including the three that had been killed today – and that about two thirds of them were men. You even told them about how you’d become a sort of fun novelty for the men. That they brought you along on their scouts because you were better than anyone with a rifle. Once they got their rocks off by watching you down game a mile off, they got their rocks off again, fucking you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand the weight and pressure.

Joel looked down at his lap at that. Avoided your eyes. You took it to mean that he knew what that was like. Maybe he did the same.

You shrugged and pushed the remnants of food around on your plate. Eight years was a long time to endure that type of treatment. You told them as much.

“You don’t have loyalty to anyone in the other group?” Maria asked, probing.

“She shot one of her own guys today. Doesn’t have loyalty to anyone,”

Everyone’s heads turned to Joel. He’d since leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly. The gun that had been pointed at you now lay on the opposite end of the table. You thought you saw indignance in his eyes. Disdain for you and the plight he perceived you to be on. Scorched earth. Loyal to no one but yourself. Maybe that was true. Maybe you’d evolved to become highly selective in where to lay your loyalty.

“He wasn’t my guy,” you spat in Joel’s direction. It might as well have been just the two of you in the room. “He was the guy that killed my parents. So fuck him,”

It was hard to tell what they thought of you. Tommy was the only one who smiled freely. Maria saved hers for Tommy. And Joel didn’t smile at all. There was no talk of a plan or a future. No conversation about what was to become of you. All they told you as you wandered from the main street and down one cul-de-sac road lined with houses was that they didn’t allow anyone to have weapons in town. All firearms stayed at the armory.

That conversation ended as they stopped in front of a small one story cottage. It was dark and rickety, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom who you were to be put into the arms of. If the house was any indication, probably some horribly untidy mess of a man. Maybe it’d be the type of man you’d wished you’d have your gun around for.

Maria, Tommy, and Joel led you inside that dark, rickety cottage. Unlocked the door and flicked the lights on as they entered the living room. You kept your eyes and ears alert. Your awareness might be the only upperhand you had in sensing danger here. But you heard nothing. You saw nothing. There wasn’t another soul in this house waiting to attack. It was just you and the three who’d brought you here. They didn’t offer an explanation. Joel just stood back and eyed your every move carefully while Maria handed you a little stack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tube toothpaste, and a small cardboard box that held something you’d never heard of before: a diva cup.

You looked up to give her an apprehensive glance but found that she was already giving you one. It was a look you’d seen before. When you’d talked yourself into joining that other group all those years ago. It was the look the women had given you before they realized you were about to become their saving grace. She turned away from you and gave Tommy a peck on her way out; not even bothering to acknowledge Joel.

There was a part of you that admired her. For the amount of power she clearly wielded over not only these two men, but seemingly the entire commune. And the other part of you was scared of her. She reminded you of your mother. A strong, domineering type who knew how to control the men around her. You figured if the outbreak hadn’t happened and humans didn’t devolve before your very eyes, you might’ve become the same type of woman. The type who could keep her men in line with a look. The type whose men would’ve quivered at the look you’d shot them.

The front door shut behind Maria in the same moment Tommy was handing you a key. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the cold, smooth metal. It had been decades since you held one like it. Surely even before the outbreak, people just didn’t hand over keys to houses for nothing.

“You can stay in Jackson for a month on a little trial run–”

“Probation,” Joel interrupted.

Both you and Tommy flicked your eyes at him. While Tommy looked annoyed, you actually smiled. Somehow Joel’s bluntness was growing to be comforting.

“Jesus, Joel,”

He shrugged, “S’call it what it is. Probation to see if she’s a problem and we gotta send ‘er packin’,”

“Appreciate you both not shootin’ me,” you said, you voice sounding hoarse. You cleared your throat and shook your head absently; a small smile passing over your lips, “would’ve put a damper on my day.”

Tommy grinned though his brother looked unamused at your effort of levity. “Someone’ll come ‘round tomorrow morning around seven-thirty to bring you to the greenhouse. Teach you the workflow down there.” Then off your confused look, he smiled again, heading for the door, “if you’re gonna live in the community, you gotta help out.”

Joel turned his back on you to follow his brother, and you were quick on their heels, “what about my gun? I mean, does everyone have their own gun at the armory, or…”

“It’s a commune. We share,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he tugged the front door back open. He and Joel stepped through the threshold, but your voice stopped them.

“It’s just that… I’d rather not be here and have my gun, than be here and have someone else usin’ it. I appreciate what you’re doin’, and your helping me out, but… to me, staying in Jackson isn’t worth havin’ someone else use my weapon,”

“It’ll be safe,”

Tommy’s voice rang clear and sure, trying to reassure you of something. What, you weren’t certain. But he continued on his way, and only once he stepped off the small porch, did you realize that Joel had momentarily kept himself frozen in place. By your front door, staring you down. You started to shrink back beneath his gaze, unable to discern what it was trying to convey to you. Anger. Resentment. Disappointment. The door nearly concealed you entirely before Joel got his bearings again and descended the porch steps and jogged to keep pace with Tommy again.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The whole thing was weird. All of it. Jackson was an anomaly and the more you tried to make yourself at home, the weirder it got. The house they’d just given you was definitely a pre-outbreak build. It was obvious. Some of the other houses on the block looked new. You imagined they’d smell new. Not your cottage. Scuffed up wood floors. Cracks in the paint and drywall. Even the wood-burning stove. And when you looked out the front window, out at the street, you saw children. Walking by themselves. Joking around. Not nearly on edge or high alert. In fact, you dared to say that they looked like they were having fun.

You’d only been ten when the world came crashing down around you. Fun ripped out from right under your feet. The homestead you’d grown up on – climbing trees, playing hide and seek, shooting down Coke cans – once a safe place to be a kid, had quickly become something to be defended. As you found out many moons later, to the death.

At ten, there wasn’t anything to rebuild in the new world. You hadn’t had any worldly possessions to hang onto. When money became obsolete, it didn’t matter because you’d never had any. Perhaps in a bank somewhere, stuffed away in a savings account that no longer held any weight. Nor did you need the money to get by in life these days. You’d heard tales of the QZ’s from people who’d come from them. Escaped from them. They had a new type of currency. Not the kind you used to have. The green paper money with a bunch of old dudes on the front. The kind your family burned sometime in the winter of 2006 when the first freeze took over and you were sure you’d never get back to the old normal.

And that was what made Jackson the weirdest. It was the closest to ‘old normal’ you’d seen in over two decades. A whole town. Village. Commune, they’d called it. A formal education had stopped young, so the only awareness of anything commune related came from a book your father had about the Bolshevik’s October Revolution. And if you were being honest, it didn’t sound too good. But on top of that, how were you supposed to rebuild now? Maria had been kind enough to give you a few things, but there wasn’t wood for the wood-burning stove. And the electricity might’ve been working, but there wasn’t any food in the fridge. No sides of deer cut up and stored in a chest freezer. How were you supposed to get that in a commune? Did they have money? Did they barter? And either way, you had no money to give and nothing to barter. So how exactly were you supposed to get on in life?

Face up, staring at the ceiling, you laid in bed willing yourself to go to sleep. You’d gone to bed hungry before. More times than you could count. But usually those nights were accompanied by a dirt floor, extreme cold, the threat of being hunted. A million other things to keep your mind off of the fact that your stomach was growling. There wasn’t any of that in Jackson. Everything was quiet, almost eerily so. You were warm. And even though the mattress wasn’t the comfiest of things, it sure as hell beat the floor. With all these little luxuries, it was hard to ignore the hunger.

But even if you had been asleep, you’re sure you would’ve been woken by the footsteps on your old, rickety porch. None of the wood planks laid exactly right. All creaking with age and rot. Much like the world, you thought. Plus you couldn’t remember a night’s sleep that wasn’t disturbed by panic or anxiety, or just plain fear. Probably hadn’t had a peaceful night like that since before the outbreak. Now that creaking on your porch made you jump up and scurry into the corner of your bedroom. Into the shadows. Praying you’d had your rifle. Cursing the idea that you’d stay here without it.

The creaking came and went in a steady procession. Four footsteps. A pause. Another four footsteps. On and on for a few minutes. Long enough for you to have gained your courage again. Long enough for you to have crawled to the front room and peek through the window. Long enough for you to see Joel Miller ambling back and forth on the porch, stacking pieces of wood, conveniently chopped to fit the size of your wood burning stove. What a stark difference from the Joel Miller who’d been pointing a gun at your head this morning. You went to the door and unlatched it, slowly pulling it open so as to not startle him. He came to an abrupt stop. An armful of wood. Staring at you.

He blinked a couple times in quick procession, gaining the wherewithal to move again. “M’sorry if I woke ya’,”

You shook your head, “I don’t sleep much.”

Joel nodded and set the armful of wood on top of the rest. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, almost sheepishly. “Winter comes up on us pretty quick here. Insulation in this place is for the birds. Figured you’d need some wood for the stove.”

“Oh,”

“I cleaned out the flue a couple months back so you shouldn’t smoke yourself out,”

Lips pursed together, you pondered the stack of wood nestled up against the cottage. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay. Doesn’t seem like this is the right place for me,”

Joel didn’t have a response for you, just looked down at his feet and kicked at a nonexistent something on the porch.

“That gun–my gun. My dad gave it to me in 2003. September 26th,”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain riddled in his gaze as if he remembered that date all too well. And when it vanished, the coldness you’d first noticed in the hunting cabin returned.

“It’s all I have left. And as ridiculous as it sounds to be so attached to a rifle, I am. And I–”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he interrupted. Just when you thought he’d continue on and show a little more softness, kindness… he kept speaking, “Look, I don’t care if you stay or go. Don’t need stragglers hangin’ ‘round. So I’d love to give you your gun back and dump ya’ out past the gate. But Tommy’s always been a little stupid. Takes chances on people,”

“What an idiot,” you smirked.

A smile flashed over Joel’s face. It was gone in a second. And he turned away from you, descending the porch steps. “He’ll bring you to the greenhouse. Teach’ya how things operate, and…” he took a deep breath. Something almost like fondness erupted in his tone, “you might not wanna stay, but don’t fuck things up there for the rest of us. We got families here. And we’ll need the resources to get through the winter.”

“You think I’d fuck things up on purpose?”

Joel looked over his shoulder and nodded, “yeah. ‘Cause I’ve been in your spot before and I did.”

He continued on and you stayed put on your porch, watching him until he was out of sight. Wondering where the house he was given was. If he was alone, or if he had some sort of partner living with him. But also figured you’d never get the chance to know.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“We get most of our roughage and root vegetables in the colder months. There’s a constant harvest to keep up with the community’s needs, but some of these aren’t hearty enough to withstand the winter. Even inside the greenhouse,”

You nodded dutifully behind Wendy. At least you think that was the name Tommy mumbled as he was being dragged out of the greenhouse by Joel. Something about being late for patrol and not wanting to spend all day on some godforsaken cliffside. She’d just got done showing you the strawberry vines. The lifeless things that she assured you would spring to life when the warmer weather came back.

The work was easy enough. Boring. Nothing you hadn’t already done on your family’s land as a teenager. Only this was on a much smaller scale. Maybe most of these people had come from QZs. And maybe before that they came from big cities. Places where they never knew where their food came from. That it just somehow appeared in their groceries. Yet, by current standards… of canned things from yesteryear, the greenhouse was a bit of a spectacle. Something beautiful.

Wendy continued on her well-practiced lecture about potatoes as you got lost roaming the rows of plants. Up and down each long, leafed path. Fingers gliding over them, not taking the time to stop and acknowledge any plant in particular. Until, in the absence of your thought, your fingers brushed over something woolly. Pulling your hand back, you focused in. There, just beyond your fingertips, a tray of small white flowers. The petals, less like blossoms, but more like leaves. And woolly. Fuzzy. Unlike anything you’d ever seen.

“What’re these?” Eyes still locked onto your discovery, you hadn’t fully comprehended that you’d interrupted Wendy’s spiel.

And yet when she came upon you, there was no ill will or annoyance from her. Just her gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s edelweiss,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when her answer had you giving her a questioning glance. “It’s usually up in the Alps. In the middle of nowhere. Jesse came back from patrol one day ‘bout a year ago with a handful of these plucked up from the root. No idea how they ended up in Wyoming.” Wendy brushed her fingers over the fuzzy leaves.

“How’d you know what they were?”

“Call it coincidence or divine intervention, my grandfather had an oil painting of them above his fireplace in the eighties. When he was stationed in Germany during the war, he’d heard all these stories about this little star-shaped flower. Soldiers would climb high up into the mountains to find them. They grow in the harshest places, sometimes even right on rocks. The journey to get them was hard. A lot of guys didn’t finish the trip, but if they did, they got to pin one of these to their uniforms. A symbol of true bravery,”

You admired the flowers again. Now even a smile crossed your face.

Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, “and I figured, hell… if they can survive on the top of the Alps and in this nightmare of an apocalypse, Jesse finding ‘em wasn’t no mistake. Maybe we’re lucky here in Jackson.”

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ellecdc · 8 months

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Come Back, Be Here (finale)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 5.7k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, use of Y/N

A/N: Holy. Friggen. Crap. WHAT A RIDE! Thank you all so much for enjoying this story with me - it has truly felt like the most niche book club and I have had so much fun chatting with you all. Feel free to send in requests for these lovely characters in the CBBH universe - I'd love to continue playing with them! xx

Lily and James Potter returned to 12 Grimmauld place on the 3rd of November – Sirius’ birthday. There were long hugs, a lot of tears and soft dinner conversation, but there would be no gifts or raucous celebrating.

Regulus Black was arrested at Malfoy Manor as a marked Death Eater, but with the backing of James, Sirius and Dumbledore, the Ministry allowed Regulus to be placed on house arrest, confiscating his wand whilst he awaited trial. Dumbledore assured the group that because of Regulus’ defection, his support of the Order, and the memories that Dumbledore, you, and those who were present on October 31st provided the Ministry, Regulus would likely be acquitted of his charges, or at the very least receive a lighter sentence.

Tom Riddle was quickly charged with treason, tyranny, countless charges of the use of unforgiveables, countless charges of leading or causing the death of wizards, witches, and muggles, countless charges of torture and brutality, eliciting fear and chaos, and illegal use of Dark Magic. He was sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss and the act was carried out on the 5th of November.

Peter Pettigrew did indeed receive a fair trial for his role in the Wizarding War. He was questioned under Veritaserum, and it was found that he was guilty of treason, using unforgiveables, contributing to the fear and chaos of a treasonous leader, the use of Dark Magic, and sexual assault and brutality. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Lucius Malfoy came looking for his son and was thus arrested by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the charge of being a marked Death Eater. He was questioned under Veritaserum which proved Lucius was guilty of harboring dangerous criminals, using unforgiveables, contributing to the fear and chaos of a treasonous leader, and the use of Dark Magic. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban. His property and vault at Gringott’s were seized by the Ministry and, after taking what was owed for reparations, was placed into his son’s name.

The Ministry respected Narcissa Malfoy’s dying wish and placed Draco Malfoy in the care of Sirius Black and Y/N L/N. The Ministry offered the couple access to the Malfoy vault to support Draco’s upbringing, but they opted to leave it aside for the child to choose what to do with the fortune when he was of age.

Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral took place on the 7th of November. The blustery November air accosted the patrons which mostly consisted of Order members and a few of Narcissa’s friends who were able to dodge persecution for their roles or complacency in the war. She was awarded an Order of Merlin posthumously for her role - a title she now shared with you, Sirius, James, Lily, Remus, and later Regulus along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. Draco left his mother a beautiful bouquet of narcissus, baby’s breath, lavender, and pink camelia’s. You and Sirius gave her a bouquet of edelweiss, fern, and gladioli. Blue hydrangeas and hyssops came from Regulus who was unable to attend due to the nature of his house arrest but were placed at Narcissa’s headstone by Lily and Harry in the family plot of Malfoy Manor. Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora Tonks stood by you, Sirius, and Draco at the headstone during the funeral service as Dumbledore spoke of the bravery, loyalty, and dedication Narcissa showed not only to her son and her family, but to the greater wizarding world on the 31st of October.

“There is not one witch or wizard amongst us today that does not owe Narcissa Black Malfoy a considerable debt. Without her bravery and cunningness, evil could very well have prospered, dooming us all to life of immense pain and suffering. She dreamed of a legacy - of a better future - for her own son as well as for every child of wizard kind. Narcissa was a beyond bright student during her time at Hogwarts, a strong leader in her social circle, a skilled healer during the war, and an incredibly brave soldier. Though, possibly her favourite and certainly her greatest role was that of a loving mother; for she died to ensure that her son would live to see a better tomorrow. Narcissa Black Malfoy is the type of person, friend, partner, and parent that each of us should aspire to be. May her legacy of love and loyalty live eternally.” He said as he raised his wand.

One by one, every person present raised their wand to the heavens in honour of Narcissa Malfoy and her sacrifice to the wizarding world. Draco, Harry and Nymphadora, along with the Weasley children and Neville Longbottom who did not yet have their own wands raised a narcissus flower in solidarity.

The remaining marauders, you, Lily, and Regulus did indeed stay at 12 Grimmauld place for some time. The house was unrecognizable from the time Regulus and Sirius spent growing up there; it was bright, it was colourful, it was full of children’s laughter and squealing, it was a place people liked to come to visit, and it was chock full of love.

The problem with the new and improved Grimmauld Place?

Your tribe quickly outgrew it.

As time went on, your memories seemed to return to you basically in full, and the full extent of your trauma reared its ugly head. For years you became hyper-focused on knowing where each member of your family was at any given moment, and a panic attack threatened any moment you didn’t have everyone important to you within your periphery. The Third Worst Day™ of Sirius’ life (in chronological order, the first being the day he almost ruined things between you two, the next being the day you ‘died’) was the day Lily and James suggested to you, him, Remus, and Regulus that they should perhaps fix up Potter Manor and move their ever-growing family there. It was partly the worst day because of how the idea of James and Lily moving away made him feel, but it was mostly because of the mental breakdown you had at the news.

“You can’t! You can’t do this! I just got you back, we just got each other back. You can’t do this!” You shouted as everyone tried to get you to breathe. The numerous hands approaching you placatingly was in fact not what you needed at the moment, and you fell into a manic state.

Needless to say, the suggestion was not met well by you, and ended with you being admitted to the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo’s. Sirius sat at your bedside with your hand in his, Lily and James in chairs across from him whilst Regulus and Remus stayed home and watched the children.

“I cannot live without any of you anymore. I’m sorry, but I refuse. I can’t do it.” Sirius admitted quietly to his friends as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

You had been dosed heavily with calming draught and dreamless sleep in order to prevent any seizure activity, which you became plagued with due to the trauma of the brain from memory retention and prevention throughout the war.

“I can’t either.” James admitted, causing Lily to turn and face him.

“I’m sorry Lil’s, I know-” he cut himself off to take a steadying breath. “I know when we got married, you probably imagined us living at the Manor or maybe in another place as independent adults. After we lost mum and dad, I’m sure you imagined us taking that over in their place, and I think I wanted that too, but now, knowing what we know, I would have done things differently. I wish we had moved in with mum and dad and been there to enjoy their last few years with them. We had our own flat at the time and Moony, Pads, and Vix had theirs and I was so lucky that I got to spend as much time with Vixen as I did, being her order partner and all, but then she was gone, and I regretted ever spending a single moment away from her. Now...now I’m afraid that every second I don’t spend with you – all of you, any of you, my family – is a second wasted and I don’t want to waste another precious second. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Lily looked imploringly at her husband.

“You really are a bell-end.” She muttered fondly.

“Pardon me?”

“Do you really think I imagined us living alone in that big ass manor just us and our kids? What part of that do you think appeals to me? I love you, James, but a girl needs backup to deal with the likes of you.”

Sirius and James exchanged a bemused glance before Lily continued.

“I want to live the rest of my life with my family. That’s you, James, and our kids, but it’s also Sirius and Y/N, it’s Remus and Regulus and Draco. Hell, if Alice and Frank or Marlene and Dorcas told me they wanted to move in I’d happily help them pack the boxes.” She laughed as she looked at you and Sirius’ intertwined hands.

“I think we’re all going to be stuck with one another until the end of time.” James said as he pulled his wife into his side.

Sirius smiled greatly at them. “Until all the mischief is managed.”

After that, the friends all agreed that none of them were willing to part from the group, and if for whatever reason anyone felt the need for more privacy, they would opt to build an outbuilding on the property.

“Oi! You’ve gotta knock, Prongs! Fuckin’ wanker.” Sirius had shouted as he hastily pulled the sheets up around the two of you.

“Uhm, maybe you’ve gotta lock the door, Pads.” James muttered with a mouthful of muffin as he came in to sit on the edge of the bed, completely unperturbed by the fact that the two of you were still naked and very recently involved in unmentionable deeds.

Nevertheless, no one ever felt the need to build their own place on the property.

And Sirius made sure James got a taste of his own medicine a time or two after that incident.

Lily Evans Potter did indeed contact Healer Grundke at the end of the war and was brought on to work under her as an intern whilst she worked toward getting her Healer license. She spent many years in general medicine before moving fulltime to labour and delivery. Sirius often teased her that between the number of days she has spent in labour & delivery as a patient and as a doctor, he was surprised any of their other friends ever saw her.

His nose was charmed green for a week.

Regulus Black was eventually acquitted of his crimes. He was placed on a sort of life-long probation in the form of a tracking spell on his wand that would alert the Ministry of him ever practicing Dark Magic. He opted to stay with his brother and his friends though he pretended to hate every minute of it. In truth, Regulus found great joy in being an uncle to Sirius’ and James’ children and Godfather to his best friend’s daughter Luna Lovegood. He declined the opportunity to join the Wizengamot, stating that as the rightful heir to the Black name, Sirius should be the one to take the Black’s seat.

Sirius Black, in Sirius Black fashion, dramatically refuted this idea. He did not want to pick up the mantle that was laid for him by the generations of Black’s before him; he refused to sit in the nearly still warm seat that his father had left. It took Regulus, Remus, and Lily all to tell him how much good he could do by not only bringing in a younger generation’s perspective to the Wizengamot, but as a wealthy heir to a pureblood line, a war hero, and an advocate for werewolf and muggleborn rights, he could bridge the gap between the left and right-wing members of the court.

It also helped that you had told him he’d be the only one capable of making the robes look punk rock.

James Potter opted to be a stay-at-home dad and uncle to care for the children living at Potter Manor. The Potter vaults had enough money in them to last his family multiple lifetimes without every making a dent, and with the money Lily was making as a healer, there was no need to be worried financially. Also, being a kid at heart made him the absolute best friend of any child who met him. As the children grew older, he and Mrs. Weasley worked together to homeschool the children of the Order until they were old enough to attend Hogwarts.

Remus Lupin, never one willing to ride on his friend’s coat tails, spent the first few months following the war applying to various jobs through out Wizarding London. He had hoped that between his stellar academic record, his time spent as a prefect and tutor, his Order of Merlin, and his dedication to the winning side of the Wizarding War, that he would be able to secure a job within wizarding society. Unfortunately, it seemed the wizarding world still had a long way to go with the prejudice it held for werewolves. Walking through Diagon Alley feeling sorry for himself, Remus spotted a “for lease” sign in the window of what used to be a pet store. He immediately sent an owl to the landlord and asked for a meeting.

Though Remus tried to refuse, Sirius and James insisted on investing in Remus’ planned bookstore.

“I’m not borrowing money, Prongs.” Remus muttered defiantly.

“It’s not borrowing, Moons! It’s an investment! If anything, you’ll be making me more money.” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Moony, please,” Sirius added...well, seriously, “think of how pissed off my ancestors would be to know I’m investing their money in a half-blood werewolf’s business which happens to stock muggle literature?”

With a mischievous smirk, the deal was settled, and the lease was signed.

Remus wasted no time to get started at the bookstore. He walked into the small storefront and conjured a broom, deciding to start by sweeping up the hay and owl droppings.

No sooner had he started did he hear the door chime.

“Oh! My apologies, we’re not quite open yet.” Remus offered as he made his way to the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you and Regulus standing in the entry.

“I should hope not. This place looks awful.” Regulus commented with a wrinkled nose.

You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Looks like you could use some help.” You said cheerily as you held out a stack of papers. Remus took them gently to find your CV and cover letter. Before Remus could even look up, Regulus dropped his on top of yours in Remus’ hand.

“All my references are either dead or in prison so.” He offered with a shrug.

“I’ll vouch for him.” You said.

You were smiling at him so kindly and so sweetly, Remus wanted to cry. You had always been his biggest supporter; championing him through every milestone in Remus’ life. He was certain he didn’t deserve even half of the love you gave him, but he was eternally grateful for every drop of it.

“Thank you, guys.” Remus said wetly as he pulled the two of you in for a hug. Regulus groaned the entire time but when Remus finally pulled away, he had a slight blush.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, what is family for?” He muttered which elicited a sharp gasp from you and a bark of laugh from Remus.

“Don’t be going soft on us now, Black!” Remus said with a laugh and ruffled his hair.

“Fuck you guys, clean this barn up on your own.” He grumbled as he turned to leave, but the two of you wouldn’t let him.

He was grateful that you didn’t.

Sirius eventually proposed to you – though beg was likely a more appropriate definition.

“We should get married.” He had said to you late one night as he came back to the bedroom after putting Draco down.

You lowered your book into your lap as you considered him. “I beg your pardon?”

“We should get married.” He repeated plainly.

Your lip threatened to quirk into a smirk, but you kept your face blank. “And why should we get married?”

Sirius guffawed at you. “Uhm, maybe because we’re in love? And I’m the best and would be the best husband?”

You continued to stare at him.

“Why shouldn’t we get married?” He asked, now beginning to panic.

“I never said we shouldn’t.”

“Then why won’t you marry me?” He shrilled as he moved to kneel at the end of the bed.

“You’re the first thought in my mind when I wake up in the morning and my last thought at night before I fall asleep. Fuck, you make up the majority of my dreams too. Did you know that? Did you know that I go to the Ministry and count down the minutes until I get to see you again? Did you know that when you’re at work, I spend my time thinking about what you’re doing, who you’re talking to, what they’re saying to you and you to them? And not in a stalkery way, I swear. But I just think you’re the coolest fucking person ever and I’m jealous of everyone who gets to listen to you speak when I’m stuck at home or at work. And I watch you with Draco -our sweet boy - and our Godson and the other children and I get fucking giddy thinking that I get to spend the rest of my days with a woman so lovely. So, marry me. Marry me, damnit!”

It was a battle to keep your face straight but by the absolute grace of God you did before saying “Siri, babe, you’re coming off a little desperate.”

There was a brief pause before you got a “you cheeky little minx” and 45 seconds of tickling which turned into kissing which turned into touching which turned into so much more.

You were sticky and satisfied as you both caught your breath, still intertwined with one another when you said, “I will.”

“Hm?”

“I will.” You repeated as you leaned onto your elbow so you could look him in the eyes. “I’ll marry you. Marry me.”

Sirius stared at you in awe before pulling you down into his embrace for a searing kiss which once again turned into so much more.

And you guys did. Marry each other, that is. It was a beautiful spring day on the grounds of Potter Manor with only your closest family and friends. It was perhaps a touch smaller than what either you or Sirius grew up picturing your wedding to be, but it was so much better than either of you could have ever imagined.

“...I thank my lucky stars every day that I get to love such a wonderful woman. There’s not one person in this world who deserves to know the likes of you, me least of all, but will do everything I can to ensure I get to keep what little light you’re willing to share with me forever. I have already loved you in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, and in life and in death. There is not one planet in any universe, nor a timeline that exists where my love for you does not. I vow to you that you will never spend a day in this life not being loved by me. Wherever you go, I go; in this life and the next.” Sirius said through his tears.

With a smile you began your own vows. “Sirius, I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to witness you become the man you are today. It wasn’t always easy or pretty, but I have seen you through it all; the good, the bad, the really bad, and the ugly. And I have loved you through all of it. As I laid dying, I told James that I didn’t regret a single moment of this life with you, and that is still true today. Every moment, all the blood, sweat, and tears, brought us here today - and I would still do all of it again if it meant getting to stand here today by your side. I made a vow that I would find you in our next life and I would love you there too. Well, here I am. I found you. I will always find you.”

Lily, Marlene, and Alice stood by your side, and James, Remus, and Regulus stood by Sirius’ as your magic was bound together, and you were pronounced husband and wife.

Sirius hung the framed parchment that Remus had found in the wooded area where he first met Regulus in his office. The note symbolized your dedication to him, to your friends and family, and your unyielding perseverance. The parchment was later joined by your wedding pictures, drawings that he and Harry had painted back in Grimmauld place as well as pictures Harry and Draco had given him since, and the first ever check he received for his investment in A Marauder’s Map to Books.

You loved working at Moony’s bookstore; everyday felt like getting to hang out with your best friends even though you pretty much lived with them as well. It was nice to see Remus and Regulus in a setting outside of the parental/guardian role you’d all taken on following the war. You were surprised at first (though you supposed you should have known better) that Remus and Regulus worked really well together – Regulus’ uptight and serious façade was well balanced with Remus’ laidback and jovial personality. Regulus would handle the more difficult customers whilst Remus made sure every customer who came in felt welcome. Things often fell by the wayside or got overlooked when Remus was away due to the moons, and Regulus was quick to pick up the slack. Regulus would often get too caught up in work and forget to stay fed or hydrated, which Remus counteracted by briskly walking past Regulus and placing biscuits and cups of tea brewed exactly to Regulus’ liking before he could refuse. If you noticed Regulus’ cheeks tinge peak and a shy smile grace his lips – you didn’t mention it.

Draco grew to be a very happy child; you and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride every time that boy giggled or laughed. You kept your word and left the Malfoy vaults untouched save twice a year when Narcissa would purchase a gift for Draco on June 5th and December 25th.

He was such a good son and an even better big brother.

Draco was the most jealous of Harry when Harry became a big brother to his sister Jasmine Potter. It was hard not to chuckle at how proud the four-and-a-half-year-old was as he bragged about being the ‘bestest big brother’ and watching Draco skulk around the house.

“I could be a big brother! Really, I could. I’d be so nice and gentle, and I would share all my toys!” He told you and Sirius solemnly as you tucked him in to bed. You assured him he would indeed be a wonderful big brother, but not to worry about it too much as you were sure Lily and James could use two big brothers for their newest addition.

You both gave him kisses goodnight and closed the door behind you. You’d hardly made it two steps from the door before your husband had you pushed up against the wall.

“I could be a really good daddy too, you know?” He whispered into your neck before starting to suck on your pulse point.

You couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped your lips. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Sirius kissed his way back up your jaw before slotting his lips against yours. “Perhaps we should give the kid what he wants.” He managed between kisses.

You chuckled.

“He gets everything he wants already, Siri.” You whispered back as you pulled his body flush with yours.

“What about me, hm?”

You pulled your head back to search his face. “Do you want another baby, Sirius?”

Sirius’ pupils seemed to blow wide at the sentiment. “I don’t so much want a baby as I want your baby, my love.” He whispered reverently.

Your restraint snapped and you launched yourself at him. He caught you as your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.

Approximately ten months later you gave birth to your daughter Aurora Black.

September 1st, Kings Cross Station

“Merlin’s saggy balls, how do you – for fuck sa– oh, got it!” Sirius could be heard behind you as he fought with the pram.

“Would you watch your mouth?” Lily muttered.

“Yeah Pads, watch your fuckin’ mouth!” James loudly announced causing other parents to look over at the absolute freak show that was the Potter & Black family’s stepping onto Platform 9 ¾.

“Sorry.” You offered with a quiet smile to a particularly perturbed looking couple as they grabbed their smarmy looking child and ushered him away from the likes of you. “Wankers.” You muttered as they hobbled off.

“Who’s a wanker, mum?” Draco asked as he slid up beside you. The rotten child knew he wasn’t supposed to use such language but couldn’t pass the chance at getting to repeat your nasty comment.

“Presently, it’s you.” You commented while teasingly narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oi, leave your poor mum alone! You’re buggering off to Hogwarts and leaving her with the likes of me for the next ten months.” Sirius said as he (finally) made his way to you with the pram in tow. The three-year-old twins seemed none the wiser that they just nearly got folded into the damned thing and thrown onto the tracks in a fit of rage.

“My deepest condolences during this trying time.” Draco offered you severely.

Sirius scoffed and you laughed as you pulled him into an embrace. You were waiting for the day he pushed you away because hugging your mom goodbye in front of your friends was embarrassing. But today, you relished in the feeling of your first child letting you hold him tight.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco.” You murmured into his platinum hair.

“Thank you, mum.” He responded quietly.

“Draco! Harry! Over here!” The sound of Hermione Granger interrupted your hug as Draco turned to wave at his friends.

“Be good kid, okay? Look out for your sister?” Sirius asked as he pulled Draco into his own embrace.

“’Course, dad. I’m not new here.” He teased as he ruffled Aurora’s hair.

“Draaaccoooo...” She whined in response.

“Go see ‘Mione.” You ordered Draco with one last side hug. Harry and Draco swapped parents and siblings to give their respective goodbyes before heading off to catch up with their friends.

“Are you ready, Rory?” Jasmine Potter asked your daughter kindly. She was a year above Aurora and was very excited to get the chance to show her younger cousin around the castle.

Your daughter looked between her cousin and her parents before Sirius spoke up. “Jazz, do you mind giving us a minute?” He asked his Goddaughter.

Jasmine turned to talk to James and Lily who were busy entertaining Posie and Lyra as you and Sirius bent down to talk to Aurora.

“What’s on your mind, love?” You asked your daughter gently.

Your heart welled as Aurora’s eyes turned glassy.

“I’m not ready.”

Sirius made a cooing sound as he wiped the tears from under her lash line. “What are you most worried about, my little star?”

Aurora sniffled miserably. “What if I’m sorted into the wrong house?”

You and Sirius couldn’t help but rear your head at the comment. Out of all the things you thought would be worrying your daughter on her first day of boarding school, which house she got sorted into was not it.

“Rory, that’s the exciting part baby.” You tried as you rubbed her arm consolingly.

“I get it, Ro, I was worried about which house I was going to be sorted into as well.” Sirius commented.

Aurora rubbed a fist against her eye as she turned to consider her father. “Really?”

Sirius nodded solemnly. “Really. You see, I came from a long line of proud Slytherins. I was supposed to get sorted into that house too, because I was supposed to be just like them. But I couldn’t be like them, I could only be like me. So, I was sorted in Gryffindor, even though my family didn’t like it.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

Sirius nodded sadly. “I did.”

“But Ro, you know that no matter what house you get sorted into, me and daddy are going to be so, so, so proud of you. And we’ll be proud of you because you’re you, not because you were sorted into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor or Hufflepuff or Slytherin.” You added with a soft smile.

Aurora seemed to consider this. “Well, Harry and Jazzy are in Gryffindor, and Draco is in Slytherin. I’d like to be in one of those I think.”

You nodded at her, but it was Sirius who answered.

“That’d be pretty cool, huh? But listen, I met the most fantastic people in my house even though I knew no one in it when I first got sorted. Uncle Prongs and Uncle Moony were my dormmates for seven years and look at us now! Completely co-dependent and still living together.”

“What is co-dependent?” Aurora asked with furrowed brows.

“Not important. What I’m trying to say is, Rory, you are going to give that hat a run for its money, you know why?” Sirius asked.

Aurora shook her head.

“Because you are your mother’s daughter. And she is the the most loyal, the most cunning, the bravest and the smartest person I know. You’ve been raised by the most spectacular person, and any one of those houses will be lucky to have you. Got it?”

You watched as Rory took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before offering her dad a solid nod.

“Atta girl!” He said as he enveloped her in a hug and kissed her head. “You show that sorting hat who’s boss.”

Aurora chuckled as she moved to hug you.

“I’m so proud of you, my love.” You said into her hair. She tightened her hold on you before letting go and stepping back.

“I think we’re ready for you, Jazzy.” You called, and the older girl came and took Aurora’s hand as they headed towards Draco and Harry to board the train.

James and Sirius wolf whistled and hollered, waving frantically as they watched the kids walk away. Hermione, Harry and Draco chuckled while Neville and Ron turned beat red at the attention.

You propped Lyra on your hip and the two of you continued to wave as the train pulled away. None of you stopped waving until you couldn’t see your babies anymore.

A sob tore its way through James, and you looked over to see Lily making alarmed eye contact with you as she awkwardly patted his arm and he and Sirius leaned into each other.

“First time?” An older woman asked as she went to walk past you.

“No” was yours and Lily’s chorused response as you peeled your husband away from his best mate and moved him toward the pram where your youngest two sat forgotten.

“Lord, is it going to be this bad every time we send one of the kids off the first time?”

“It’ll be worse!” Sirius cried emphatically as he fell into your arms, basically crushing poor Lyra who was still sat on your hip. You looked over to Lily hoping for help only to see her in a similar predicament.

“Sirius Black, at this rate our youngest three won’t ever want to come back to Kings Cross Station.” You muttered as you moved Lyra to your other hip so you could support your husband’s weight.

“Good! Then they’ll never leave me!”

Your heart twinged as you patted Sirius’ back.

“Siri, look at me.”

For a moment you thought he might refuse, but he unfolded himself slowly and stood to look at you.

“This is what we fought for, my love.” You said as you caressed his cheek. “So that our babies could go to Hogwarts and learn and be children and be free and be safe.”

“I still hate it.”

You laughed at his petulance. “Me too, actually. Do you think Hogwarts is hiring? What if we all just move there?”

“Great idea, Vix!” James cheered from beside you, eyes rimmed and cheeks glistening. “Lily flower could work in the infirmary, Padfoot could teach astronomy, you could teach muggle studies, I could teach flying, Moony could teach defence against the dark arts and Regulus could teach potions! It’s perfect!”

Though you had to admit this plan of James’ actually sounded pretty perfect, your attention turned to little Posie falling asleep in Lily’s arms.

“Why don’t we discuss this more once we get these kiddos down for a nap, hm?”

Sirius found you later sitting in the sunroom with a book in hand. He thought you made the prettiest picture sitting in the soft sun filtering through the leaves of the trees outside, plants surrounding you with your nose buried in a book. So, he took a picture.

“I wasn’t ready!” You whined with a smile on your face.

“You’re always ready.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I was such a mess at the train station today.” He said as he lifted your legs off the loveseat to sit down and replace them atop his lap.

“You don’t have to apologize, Siri.” You said as you tapped him with your book.

“I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” He commented, his gaze seemed far away as he watched the branches dance in the September breeze.

“You can do that tomorrow.” You whispered back.

A smile graced his face before he turned to look at you. “I love you; did you know? I don’t think I say it enough, but I do; I love you.”

He punctuated his sentence with three loving squeezes of the fat of your thigh.

“Sirius. Every breath I take means ‘I love you’.” You responded and sealed it with a kiss.

You got an owl from Draco and Aurora later that night.

Aurora was a hat stall.

She was also sorted into the same house as her mum.

Thank you so much for reading! Can't get enough? Check out these CBBH themed one shots, or, feel free to request a one-shot from your faves in this universe!

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fic #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

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yogurt200 · 5 months

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what are your favorite locations in second life? i've been trying to get back into it lately but a lot of the places i used to go to are gone now so i'm having trouble finding cool stuff again

heres some of my favorite places

ichigoya , the leviathan skeleton , this temple in nautilus , angel manor , edelweiss' le mont saint-michel & private lillian educational instution (recreations of the real life place and the school from maria-sama ga miteru respectively) , machu pichu, INAKA INM , hatsune miku vocaloid cafe , ravenlock (amazing pokemon sim but you need a group of people to attract pkmn) , da vinci gardens is fun and of course kowloon .. i know many more places but this is a good start also i revisit these places quite often myself

theres a simhopper hud i didn't make up for grabs in the conejo lobby as well but lately to find new stuff i mostly just sail/drive/fly vehicles throughout the contients. drivers of SL has a bunch of useful stuff for those wanting to get into exploring through roads, seas and between airports. Sansara has been the continent i explore the most, its the oldest one .. maybe you've been here but Da Boom is a great place to start exploring it through since its the first second life region and has a lot of cool historical sl stuff.

ya .. hope this is helpful. ive been playing sl for a few years now and i never stop finding cool new stuff

#answer

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workingclasshistory · 2 years

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On this day, 25 March 1939, the German Nazi government brought in a tougher new law forcibly conscripting all 10 to 18-year-olds into the Hitler Youth. But despite years spent trying to mould "national socialist" youths, thousands of working class young people formed gangs known as the "Edelweiss Pirates" to socialise and organise their own fun activities. They began to get into fights with Hitler Youth patrols and when the war started they conducted sabotage, slacked at work and began to help Jewish people, deserters and POWs. Some became partisans and launched armed attacks on Nazi officials. Some of them were executed, but many survived the war, where young workers slacking off continued to be a problem for the Allied occupiers. We tell their story in our latest podcast episode 4, available for early listening for our patreon supporters: https://www.patreon.com/posts/e72-swing-kids-80403826 Pic: a group of Edelweiss Pirates https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.1819457841572691/2237258829792588/?type=3

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edelweissbarnes · 1 year

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Not a flower but a bomb

Bucky Barnes x supersoldierF!reader Edelweiss (smut)

We take a step back discovering how was the relationship between the winter soldier and Edelweiss. Hope you enjoy.

The two female guards conduct you to the locker room, their rifles pointed at you, ready for shooting if you dare to make a false move. Sweat cover your body after your training. Sometimes they put you out of your cryo cage to give a demonstration to the new reclutes. they always underestimates you because you have a too pretty face and a hot body to be a skilled supersoldier and killer. You look like more to a bombshell with characteristics long platinum hair, blue eyes and curves that can make every man falls on their knees. You know too well that everytime that assumption pop up from a new group of reclutes someone will visit soon the infirmary because you'll be ordered to kick the poor soul's ass without an ounce of mercy. That's how they'll remember the shivering fear of underestimate something apparently beautiful but lethal.

This time wasn't different but they leave you out of the ice also for another reason.

"undress and take a shower" one of the guards barks at you in german. You obey without a word, taking off your white tank top, then your black shorts, followed from your sport bra and your panties. You untie your high pony tail and you move over the showers. The showers room is silent, noone is there except for you and your guardians.

"Ah...look like they send him to have some fun" you hear the guards whispering malignantly before you reach the handle to start the shower.

You put your head first under the water stream,facing the wall and letting your hair getting soaked. You moan softly as the hot water ease the subtle pain in your muscles.

"Edelweiss" his voice is sharp and low. A shiver run down your spine at the way your new given name is rolling out of his tongue. You had sense him even before he steps in the showers room.

You close your eyes and you tilt your head back, letting small drops of water slide down your throat to the valley of your breasts.

"winter soldier" you reply in russian, unimpressed " Weren't you taught that this is the women's locker room?" You mock him passing your hands between your hair.

"I've finished a mission and you're my reward" he replies coming near you, fully clothed.

"take me then" you murmur stilling your movement.

You know well the winter soldier, you were captured by him and taken in Siberia for your conditioning and then to an HYDRA's base in the italian alps to be used as needed in the crisis management on the European continent. Before the conditioning you were a very skilled and valuable agent in the italian intelligence. You were very good at your job and, after your last successful mission, your boss had decided to give you a few days' leave to relax. You were together with some friends, heading to the cabin you had rented on the swiss mountains to enjoy a few days skiing (one of your passions) when the winter soldier came to pick you up. None of your friends survived, not that you remember them now, anyway.

When you were an agent you heard stories about him, like some kind of ghost to scare off newcomers, not knowing that one day you would become one of his missions, let alone be his prize and diversion.

You were tortured for months, you tried to resist the conditioning with every ounce of determination you had but they broke your willpower and your very soul in so many tiny pieces that you'll never be the same.

He moves his fleshy hand to grab the back of your neck in a possessive grip, you stay still, waiting for the right moment to knock him down. You exhale and open your eyes slowly, glancing at him and smirking before moving, using the wall at your advantage to do a perfect backflip and twisting his wrist so that you break free from his grip. You crouch down slightly and land a series of punches to his right side knocking the air out of him. He squats, lightly coughing, before glancing at you with a smirk on his lips. This excites him and you know that.

"Never said it would be easy" you murmur assuming a difensive posture, ready to move.

Your resistance arouses him, it's like a bolt of excitement that goes from his chest right down to his cock. He knows that physically you can fight him back, thanks to the supersoldier serum, and he likes to test and challenge your strength but he's given order to do with you what he want as long as he doesn't corrupt your face. He moves rapidly, his punches precise, with little expenditure of strength, you dodge them easily, backing down til your back touch the wall behind you. His metal hand reaches your throat too easily, squeezing and taking you up from the floor as you weight nothing.

"you're mine" he growls in russian as you squirm in his hold, trying to breathe. The wetness between your thighs is becoming uncomfortable. Your body is trained to give him pleasure and reacts instinctively to his proximity. You try with both of your hands to free yourself from his metal grasp, unsuccessfully. His fleshy hand tries to reach between your thighs to cup your sex but you resist and you try to kick his groin.

"Stop it" He warns, he lowers more his voice. You feel like a prey fallen into the hunter trap and as a reflex you're trying to fight for your life.

"Dämmerung" he breathes and, as this word rolls out of his tongue, you go limp and cease every attempt of resistance. As part of your conditioning they use some code words in german (your second language after italian), pronounced by the winter soldier himself, to unleash your killer self or sedate every kind of resistance from your part.

You feel his fingers tracing your folds and entering your heat, you whimper without shame, closing your eyes as you're savoring his touch.

"So ready and needy for me...why you have to fight it?" He whispers in your ear as he open slowly his metal hand, leaving you free to breathe easily.

"I-it excite you..." you reply stuttering as he move slowly his fingers in and out.

He hums in approval when you arch your back, as the tip of his fingers brush the sweet spot that makes you shiver, a moan vibrate in your throat as he traps your mouth in his.

He pushes his fingers out and Instinctively your legs are wrapped against his waist, your drenched core brushing against his tactical trousers, the rough fabric separates your sex from his. He growls at the light stimulation and you buck your hips slightly to hear again that sound coming from his mouth.

He's the fist of HYDRA, the winter soldier, the terrible weapon of the most corrupted and evil organisation in the world but it makes your knees weak hearing him goes feral to have you, to be inside you and fuck you senseless.

Your hands move to his chest holster unfastening the buckles eager to unleash completely his appetite. You rip his leather vest apart and latch onto his neck, nipping his skin with your teeth while descending on his chest.

Another growl rumbles in his throat and you feel his erection straining in his trousers. You let your tongue swirl on his skin and you try to suck a little purple hickey on his chest. he grab a fist of your hair with his metal hand and pull slightly in a warning, you glance at him, smirking, as you unlock your legs from his waist to kneel gracefully in front of him. His other hand cup your chin and his thumb trace your lower lip, there's a fire so dark and lustful burning in his eyes that the promise to burn with him is an irresistible sin you want to give in.

Your hands go unfastening his trousers and freeing his raging erection. You let out a strained whimper as you see a bead of precum at the tip of his cock. You lick your lips before letting him in. He groans tilting his head back, savoring the warmth of your mouth. You let your tongue caress his shaft while you retract slowly and let him in again, fully. You repeat the action, your movements very controlled as you want him to feel all the sensations you can give him. Once again he slammed it in and you feel the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and you close harshly your fists to suppress your gag reflex, he moans forcing a little bit more the barrier of your throat. You can feel him twitching inside your mouth and you try to retract but his metal hand stills you at the back of your head. Suddenly tears are spilling from your eyes on your cheeks because you can't breathe, you bang your fists against his thighs and he let you free.

"Your mouth is almost hot as you cunt..." he murmurs while you retract sputtering and coughing while some saliva slide down your chin. He doesn't give you time to sulk or breathe, both of his hands grab you by the shoulders to get you on your feet, then he turns you so you face the wall. You feel both of his hands grabbing your hips and then he takes you.

"CAZZO" you yelp crashing both of your hands into the wall in front of you. With one swift thrust he's all the way in. He's stretching you delightfully and your walls squeezing him in as that is the right place where he needs to stay, where he belongs.

"You're squeezing me like a vice..." he growls lowly as he start to move. You whimper and let him use you as he want, after all that's your purpose: appease the winter soldier needs.

"I'm gonna fuck this rebellious attitude of yours out for good..." he murmurs finding the rhythm to have you writhe against him. You're so groundend in the physical sensations that he's making you feel that you're unable to formulate a word, just a bunch of whimpers and moans are leaving your mouth. You try to reach his hair with one of your hand and you succeed at the same time his metal hand grab your throat and press your back hard against his chest. His cold fingers are squeezing lightly your throat and you feel the initial wave of your orgasm surging through you.

"Oh...you're so close...aren't you?..." he whispers in your ear pumping you up and then stopping abruptly.

You wail, showing your disapproval.

"You want it, right? You want to cum?" He asks in a whisper against tour ear before nipping your earlobe with his teeth.

You whimper and nod lightly while your soft walls are clamping his erection still sheathed inside you.

"Only the good girls can cum...have you been good?...I don't think so..." he whispers and you tug sightly his hair.

"Please..." you manage to reply under your breath. You know that having you begging is another thing that drives him out of control.

"Please what?" He continues as now he's pinching one your nipple between his fingers. You yelp, arching your back.

"Please, make me cum..." you breathe, trembling in your discomfort.

"Are you gonna be good?" He asks softly, his fingers now tracing circles on your abdomen.

"Yes..." you answer, pure desperation in your tone.

" I can't hear you...are you gonna be good for me?" he mocks you.

"YES! PLEASE...PLEASE...PLEASE" You shout on the verge of tears. One of your hand moves behind you, trying to touch him and make him move, the other reach his hand and squeezes it lightly.

He grunts hearing you beg and slowly he starts to move again. His strokes painfully calm and brutally precise, touching the spot inside you that makes you a shivering mess.

"Pleasepleaseplease..." you repeat whimpering while you feel again your orgasm approaching.

He fastens his pace and now guides his fleshy hand from your abdomen to the apex of your thighs, pinching between his fingers your bundle of nerves.

"Scream for me..." he orders you and you comply, feeling the orgasm crashing over you violently. For a moment you feel only the sound of your blood roaring in your veins and then a sudden peace invades your body as you feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and a strangle roar from his throat as he came inside you copiously.

He holds you against him before you both collapse on your knees. you can hear the rhythm of both of your hearts calm down.

"Let me wash you up, soldat...we better use our time out of the ice at the best of our possibilities..." you whisper turning your head slightly to watch him in the face. He nods quietly, holding you a little more tighter.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Notes:

•Cazzo: italian word for "fuck".

•the dialogue is in russian. It's my headcanon that both the characters speaks russian while they're together 'cause it's the language they hear the most as their conditioning was done in russian, however mothertongue die hard so our FC (who is italian) when overwhelmed turn to speak italian.

• Edelweiss is italian but grew up bilingual (the virtue of growing up in a border zone) so she speaks fluently german.

Please, let me hear what you think of this story and about this character. I'm always open to suggestions and I'd like to hear from you. Hope you can excuse me if there are any grammar mistakes.

#edelweiss #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #super soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #winter soldier #winter solider x reader

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anamelessfool · 5 months

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Papa Camino for the OC ask 6, 33, 36! Thank you

Oh wow yayy yes thanks for thinking of Papa Camino! Satanic Archbishop of New York City and Nihil's mentor! Wartime Papa Emeritus! It was fun researching band leaders and the origins of rock music thanks to him. I listened to a lot of tunes from the 1930s and 40s. I just love researching history in general.

Papa Emeritus Camino (1907-1984, Papa 1941-1954)

Notable Ghouls: Group 1 Dewdrop, Phantom; Group 2 Cumulus

6. OC's relationship with Parents

Throughout his whole life he had a strong bond to his family. His father and his two uncles owned a nightclub called Los Trillizos and the entire extended family worked there to some extent. He was taught to be an entertainer from a very young age. Unfortuately one of the uncles got involved in the mob and in 1934 the brothers were murdered, the club destroyed. Camino almost did not recover from the dark self-destructive spiral that ensued. Luckily the Church was a refuge for him.

He has always kept in touch with the rest of his family, writing or calling them once a week for decades, sending gifts to his nieces and nephews.

33. Other's perception of him/His own Perception of himself

Camino has the seemingly unearthly power of remembering the name of every person he's ever met. Siblings under his care consider him an artistic collaborator. He doesn't care what they make or do as long as they put their whole heart into it. Sometimes he's pushy towards siblings who drag their feet, or he puts them in positions outside their comfort zone. But he's always thinking three or four steps ahead. He sees the potential in most everybody, long before they see it in themselves.

Camino was Papa in a blatantly (and legally) segregated society. He had an approved "passing" appearance and a socially approved job in entertainment which gave him a bit more flexibility but he still had to suffer racism and indignity along the way. The ghouls backed him up in the case of any trouble but he had always quietly seethed about the logistics of his reign. When he was appointed Archibishop of the largest location of the Church of the Void he made a point to run the place as a completely open community space-- a raucous 24/7 hopping nightclub space but still a space for everyone.

36. Perfect night out

Camino is all about luxury, but to him luxury is excellence. He finds luxury in the most exclusive nightclubs or expensive steakhouses but also in a great home cooked meal made by one of his sisters. He'd go to a symphony orchestra at Carnegie Hall but then he'd also have a hot dog from the vendor on a street corner, or go to the movies. And he will talk the ear off of anyone, asking them questions about their techniques or their process, chatting and commenting for a solid hour after he's experienced some good art.

Associated fics

With Young Nihil "The Path"

Dewdrop & Phantom/Aeon Ghouls & Camino 1945 "Bestiary"

He will be briefly mentioned in Violence and Gentleness

OC Character Ask Link Here. I'm answering questions about Cardinal Marian, Edelweiss Ghoul, Papa Camino and Mater Jocasta. Still stunned by people's enthusiasm for my characters, thank you...

#oc character ask #papa emeritus #sibling of sin oc #ask answered

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jessreadswithpride · 2 years

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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ✂️🥞🐈👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻🏳️‍🌈 5 stars, obviously. This book is everything. Imogen is everything. This is the book I needed in high school. This is the book I needed when I was overthinking everything I was feeling, because I was straight, obviously. There was no way I could be a lesbian when I've been straight my whole life, and I'm only thinking I'm a lesbian because I'm friends with queer people. This book is seriously for anyone who thought that they couldn't possibly be queer but obviously are. Imogen has queer friends; her best friends are queer. Lili is an aromatic pansexual, and Gretchen is Bi. Her sister is a lesbian. She meets Lili's college queer friends and they instantly accept her in her group, because Lili may or may not have told them they were ex-girlfriends. Cue the internal thinking, the is-this-a-crush-or-am-i-over-thinking-it relationship between Imogen and Lili's lesbian friend, Tessa. Cue the cute banter of loving friends, and family. Cue that one person who thinks you can't possibly be queer because you haven't been queer since you were young. This book is about accepting who you are, even though you didn't think it could be possible. This is about finding love in unexpected places. This is about seeing who your real friends are. This book is everything, obviously. Thank you to Edelweiss and Harper Collins for the copy of the eArc. I leave this review voluntarily. @beckyalbertalli, thank you for telling your story. You are amazing. Can't wait to have three copies of your book. Where "one's signed, one's my reading copy, and one's for emergencies."

#imogen obviously #becky albertalli #book review #arc review #sapphic book #bisexual book #lesbian book #wlw book #ya book #bisexual characters #queer book #lesbian characters #lgbt characters #lgbt book #non binary characters #harpercollins book

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astra-lun · 2 years

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Ґудрун та Крістоф часто проводять разом час, коли Ґудрун з групою зупиняється у його маєтку. І цей час чаще за все складається з маленьких приємних моментів.

Так як Крістоф вампір, квіти у його маєтку не живуть довго. Але Ґудрун намагається це виправити за допомогою своєї магії при кожному своєму візиті. Для вампіра квіти лишаються нагадуванням, що вона тут була. Також Ґудрун не дуже любить, коли її волосся торкаються без дозволу. Тому і заплітати їх вона дає тільки тим, кому ДІСНО довіряє. Також! РУКИ. І ці маленькі дотики, помітні тільки цим двом? Моє бідне серденько, це дуже мило

Translation:

"Would you like to add an edelweiss flower on the coat of arms?" "Yeah. They are so beautiful! And in heraldry, they symbolize love and good fortune." "Indeed they are. I like it."

"A very interesting volume! The only pity is that the next time its text will appear only in 100 years" "Glad to hear you liked it."

Gudrun and Kristof spend a lot of time together when Gudrun and her group stay at his mansion. And this time often consists of small pleasant moments. Since Kristof is a vampire, the flowers in his mansion usually don't live long. But Gudrun tries to fix this with her magic every time she visits. For the vampire, the flowers serve as a reminder that she was here. Also, Gudrun does not like when her hair is touched without permission. That's why she only lets those she TRULY trust braid it. Also аlso. HANDS. And these little touches, visible only to these two? My poor heart, that's very sweet

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loliwrites · 3 months

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III. Bravery | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, enemies to lovers [ish], age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, switching povs, canon compliant violence, no infected but terrible humans present, one use of bitch [readers inner monologue], mention of death, stabbing, and blood, attempted SA [reader gets revenge], female rage, SMUT, protected p in v sex, clear and abundant consent, fingering, oral [f receiving], praise kink [attagirl, good girl], aftercare, stress baking, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, joel’s really just a big softie, no use of y/n. word count: 7.4k series masterlist a/n: gosh there is not much i love more than uninhibited female rage. and the praise kink will always make an appearance because i’m just an ex-honors student at heart

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“I know you’re Mr. Shoot First Talk Second, but try to control that trigger finger if we run into any of them. That boy whose brain you painted along the stairwell the day you found me? He wasn’t a bad guy,”

Joel flicked his eyes at you, and from your periphery, you could tell he was starting to fume. You knew how to push his buttons and knew that it’d rile him up even more that instead of looking at him when accusing him of such a thing, you were petting your horse’s mane.

“Nah, he wasn’t a bad guy, he was just fucking you for sport,” a sense of accomplishment rose in him when his comment resulted in you flashing a look of disbelief his way. “F’we run into any of ‘em, they’ll be lucky if I paint a wall with their brain.” His eyebrows furrowed and he adjusted himself in his saddle, “give ‘em a belly shot and let ‘em go all slow and painful,”

“There he is,” you smiled. “Mr. Sunshine,”

“Eyes open. We’re here,”

You pulled your rifle out of the scabbard attached to your saddle, a little more clumsy than usual with the thick gloves Maria had given you for the weekend. Winter had fully come down upon Jackson and you were thankful to be there rather than with your old group. How you ever survived the last handful of winters without a real, sturdy winter coat, you didn’t know. Regardless, with the butt of your rifle propped against your thigh, you inspected the right ninety degrees knowing that Joel was scouring the left ninety degrees. Together, both of you had a pretty wide range of sight to catch the upper hand of anything or anyone that might be lurking around.

Thankfully – gratefully – this had become routine. Joel hadn’t exactly sung your praises to Tommy after your first patrol together. According to Tommy, Joel had talked you up as much as someone like him could. She’s good, Tommy. Better than everyone. Not me ‘n you, but everyone else. Now nearly a month into your patrols with Joel, a lot had been talked about in the effort of opening up to each other.

He tried to stay away from your more recent past with the other group and instead asked about your family. About how it went when the outbreak began and your family of four defended a large ranch property. The grin he hid when you told him you were the son your father never had. That you’d helped him patch holes in the barbed wire fence, or replace rotted wood beams. And when the bad weather came in, you spent most nights in the barn cupola – on high ground with a 360 degree view – with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your eye spotting through your rifle’s scope. In turn you asked about his life and kept it vague. You figured he’d tell you the parts he wanted to tell you. You also figured there was a lot of pain in his past. He’d opened up as much as he was willing to for someone still so new. He talked a lot about what it was like when he and Ellie first arrived in Jackson; and a little bit about the time he spent in the Boston QZ. But everything before Boston, and the in-between Boston and Jackson went undisclosed. You didn’t need him to verbalize it to know it wasn’t good. The scars on his hands and face told you that. And the way he handled his gun told you that it wasn’t everyday someone gave him a new scar.

And you’d started to see deeper shades of the care and concern Joel held for the ones he was fond of. Even if Ellie wouldn’t acknowledge him, he always made sure there was a meal ready in the house for her. Sometimes going as far as to leave the food outside the shed door for her. You only saw these things because ever since the incident at your house about a month ago when he’d realized you’d gone without a full meal for almost a week, he took to calling you around for dinner at least once a week. Of course it was never phrased as “will you have dinner with me,” as much as it was, “come by for dinner tonight. Don’t need you passin’ out on me on patrol.” He even encouraged you to see the doctor in Jackson. Jus’ to take a look. And beamed when the doctor gave you a clean bill of health. More than once since that night in the dining hall, he brushed away any guy that made himself a little too comfortable in your atmosphere. If they were flirting, getting too close, or just flat out laying any type of hand on you, Joel seemed to materialize out of nowhere to warn them to back off. Another woman might’ve found the whole thing off-putting. That Joel was out to lay claim to something that wasn’t his. But all you knew was that he was keeping men away that just seemed to like that there was new blood in town. A new face to ogle at. And with the pressure of what that could mean, if Joel Miller wanted to be your own personal guard dog, well… that was alright with you.

Normally you and Joel patrolled the areas that were high risk for a presence of infected. Mostly runners. A couple stalkers. Even less clickers. Though Joel warned that he and Tommy had come up against a couple bloaters before. You hadn’t ever come across one in all the years since the outbreak, but you’d heard more than enough horror stories to know you never wanted to come across one. And if you had to, hopefully Joel or Tommy would be by your side.

Today you and Joel were going south. In a debrief of all the patrol teams, while you and Joel were northeast hunting runners, the southern teams were finding traces of human activity. Everyone knew what that meant, and once they figured it out, all eyes turned to you. Had you led them closer? Apparently two months wasn’t long enough to earn the trust of everyone in Jackson. They had long memories.

Tommy all but interrogated you in his living room with Maria and Joel the night before. Asked for any intel and insight that might help. But what could you know? You’d spent the last month only outside the gates with Joel, and the month prior to that holed up in the greenhouse. You told them as much. And even so, you knew you were close when you and Joel rode through the old abandoned town, long forgotten. The remains of what used to be strip malls all bumped up to each other. The wind blew through the tall grass that had erupted from the pavement, sending a whistling through the air. Not ideal if you were hoping to hear someone sneaking up on you. But you could feel it. Electricity in the air. You should’ve paid a little more attention to it.

You and Joel dismounted your horses at the same time, fully cautious and aware of everything around you. No words were going to be spoken for a little while. It was a dance that was well on its way to being perfected. But a new location – one not generally covered on the usual patrol routes, meant there were more variables to deal with. And one neither of you was prepared for the way an old flag of some raider group hung from one of the stores’ doorframes. It whipped in the wind, sending a sharp crack reverberating through your ears each time it snapped against the pavement. Worse than that, it made it impossible to see through the doorway, and mixed with the sun shining a glare through the old dusty windows, there was no clear line of sight in.

Like moths to a flame, you and Joel were drawn to it first. Guns poised, ready to act without hesitation. You weren’t sure if Joel felt it, but it was like every cell in your body knew this wasn’t going to go well. There wasn’t even time to see it coming. They had seen you but you weren’t given an even playing field. And your only regret was that Joel went in first.

You heard it before you saw it. A whoosh flying through the air followed by Joel letting out the most pained grunt you could imagine his body could summon. Then a thud on the floor. You figured the thud was Joel, but you, caught up in that old flag, trying to fling it around the barrel of your gun, left defenseless without your eyes. Just as soon as you untangled yourself and gathered enough visual information to understand what had happened, your gun was being ripped out of your hands and thrown to the other side of the shop.

And the first thing you thought was, you better fight, bitch.

Hands flailing, cursing yourself for that terrible nail biting habit. Some long fingernails would’ve done some good right now. Edward. Just as bad as James but with the benefit of youth on his side to be a real pain in the ass. He got you by your hair and gave it a yank that had you seeing streaks of white in pain. You stumbled backwards over a heap on the ground (Joel), who you just barely had the chance to get a look at – all in shock and sucking wind. You weren’t sure where he’d been hit but he was gasping for air.

You swung and kicked and did your best to fight despite Edward being significantly bigger than you. He was taunting you. Saying things like he knew he’d run into you again. Get his chance with you. And you wanted to scream for help, for anything, but the only person who would do anything for you was currently face down on the floor. You wondered where someone else was. Surely Edward wouldn’t have been out here alone. As soon as that other person showed up, you and Joel would be sufficiently fucked.

But the thing that pissed you off the most was the way he spoke about Joel. The way he mocked him – attacking his masculinity because surely Joel couldn’t give it to you the way he could. So you swung harder, each time hoping it would prove that Joel was more of a man because he didn’t give it to you the way Edward, and James, and George, had. Luckily one of those swings landed on his jaw and it was your chance to get away. To bolt for your gun. If you thought he’d been ferocious before, it was nothing compared to how he was after you’d punched him.

He ran after you and you were nothing for his big strides. Caught up to you in no time and tackled you to the ground. That was when you really started screaming. The absolute loudest and most feral you could muster. No. Stop. Joel. It all came from your lungs and none of it mattered. Edward straddled you and bore his weight down, pinning you in place, leaving you in the fruitless effort to beat against his chest. And though it didn’t account for much, you didn’t stop. You pressed your hands to the bottom of his chin and pushed his head backward but it was like a game of cat and mouse and the cat was getting even more riled up by the mouse putting up a fight. Edward reached for your pants and it was the straw that broke you. You knew these men. You knew their patterns. And you could use that against them.

Case and point – Edward may have had you at a complete disadvantage but you knew they generally always had a knife in their pocket. It was the reason you’d kept one in yours. And, not feeling the outline of it pressed to your thigh despite his body being flush to yours, you knew it had to be in one of his back pockets. The fact that you’d found it on the first side you checked was complete luck, but you’d take it.

Pulled that switchblade from his back pocket, flicked it open, and plunged it deep into his side. Over. And over. And over again. In a sound mind, it would’ve been enough the moment he slid off of you and to the ground. But you were not of sound mind right now. The furthest thing from it. So when his body was no longer on yours, you climbed up over his body and with both hands clutching the handle of the knife, continued to wreak havoc on him. Pure and unadulterated rage.

Had it not been for what came next, you were sure you would’ve spent all afternoon there, carving away at his body. Likely until his partner came around to see what he was up to. But you stopped yourself. Tossed the blade to the side. Because Joel had gotten himself up on his hands and knees and was crawling toward you, and that was all it took to get your brain to snap back to reality.

You scrambled to him, hands cupped around his cheeks but didn’t touch just yet; trying to find where he was hurt. Eyes scanned, and couldn’t pinpoint any particular injuries except for some blood at his nostril. “Y’alright,”

Joel nodded, still taking deep breaths to try and fill his lungs fully. “Clocked me in the stomach,” he set a hand over his heart. “Knocked the wind outta me, then got me in the chest,” he was speaking, but his eyes were searching you. “Did he hurt you?”

“We gotta get outta here, he wasn’t out alone,” you got up and ran to pick up your rifle, making a quick line back to Joel. With your hand hooked around his elbow, you helped him back to his feet and led him hobbling out of the shop.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Joel croaked and held the left side of his ribs the entire way back to Jackson, though when you both got through the gates and Tommy ran to intercept you, he somehow straightened himself up and acted as though nothing was wrong. Maybe that was something he’d picked up in childhood. Putting on a brave face in front of baby brother.

Tommy herded you into the barn, urging – no, forcing – Joel to lift his shirt. To check if anything was looking out of sorts. And in typical Joel fashion, he swatted his brother’s hands away, insisting he was fine. Tommy eventually won out. There was a part of you that figured Joel resisted because of you. How silly, right? For you to insert yourself in such a way as if that man even gave a real rat’s ass about you. But you really did figure he didn’t want you to see him ailing. At least not more than you already had. So you ducked away with your horses in tow, ready to be untacked. Passing by on the way to their stalls, you caught sight of Ellie. She, no doubt, had come along to visit Dina, but at the ruckus of Tommy yelling at Joel to lift his damn shirt, Ellie peeked out from the stall she was in to get a glimpse. Concern filled her eyes, and the urge to ask her why she was upset with him was near all-encompassing. But you also knew it wasn’t your place.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

You’re not sure how it happened. The ‘almost killing you to being inside you’ pipeline was way too quick. German Autobahn quick. No speed limit. Pedal to the metal. Whiplash.

At least Joel put a condom on first. Actually, most of what Joel did was a first for you. Somewhere between walking him home and ordering him to ice his ribs, and him asking you to come inside for a beer, you had ended up here – in Joel’s bedroom with him hovering over you. His hands pressed to the mattress at either side of your head. He hadn’t asked if he could kiss you, though in the hesitation that had oozed from him, you’d been the one to kiss him first. Quick and haphazard; everywhere and simultaneously nowhere for too long. He had cupped your face in his hands and held you still, letting a more gentle kiss to take place. Not that much kissing of any sort had happened in your life previously. George, James, and the rest of those guys hadn’t ever bothered with such a formality. Bit of a blessing, you supposed.

But he did ask if you wanted to go up to his bedroom. That was a first.

And he asked if it was okay if he helped you out of your shirt. And then your bra. That was a first.

Then bare to him and the world, he asked if he could touch your chest. And kiss it. That was a first.

When his hands began to wander down your side, leaving goosebumps on your skin, he asked if he could take off your pants. And that was a first.

Despite all these firsts, and your consent for him to do these things, you figured that by the time your pants were off, he’d do much of the same as all the other men had done. Get in, get out. Chase their pleasure. And leave you in the aftermath to do… whatever.

He tugged your denim jeans off your legs and tossed them to the floor, but instead of ripping off your underwear and pushing himself into you, he leaned back down over your body and kissed your lips. A bit rougher than he had previously, but you knew he was still fully conscious… calculating. It was as if you could hear the gears turning in his head. And a noise… it came from him no doubt but it was unlike any noise you’d ever heard a man make before. It was soft. And yearning.

When he gathered himself, the questions continued. Can I take off your underwear? Can I touch you? Make you feel good? A pounding in your head began. Nerves? Fear? You could only nod an affirmative, but Joel asked again, as if insisting to hear your voice and it wasn’t lost on either of you that it shook.

“M’not gonna hurt you,” Joel whispered and dropped his head lower until he was able to press his lips to the side of your neck. You’d never been kissed on the neck before. And perhaps even more frightening than what was to come, it scared you how much you liked the feeling of his lips pressed to you. “I wanna make you feel good,”

“Why?” You choked out. Now the pounding in your head was paired with a dryness in your throat. You could feel his lips stretch into a smile against your skin.

But then he lifted his head – removed the feeling you loved so much – and gave you one more quick kiss before his fingertips dipped lower. “Because it’s fun for me if you’re having fun,”

You swallowed and bit into your bottom lip when Joel’s fingers brushed over your slit. Eyes widened but you tried to mitigate it by quickly closing them. It seemed so strange to have so much experience with something so much more than this, and yet feel so inept with this. His fingers circled around your entrance, rimmed the hole for just a moment before he slid them up and found your clit. Your legs flinched together and you peeked past your eyelids to see if Joel had noticed.

The shit-eating grin on his face told you he had. “Bullseye,” he drew his eyes away from yours and rested more of his body weight on you. His muscular thighs kept your legs spread apart, but the only thing keeping him from laying himself on you fully was his arm snaked between your bodies. He raised his free hand and brought it up to the top of your head. His fingers at your clit only circled it a few more slow times before he slid them back down to your entrance. A wider smile appeared on his face and you only caught a moment of it because he pressed his lips back to your neck, just below your ear. “You this wet just for me?”

You didn’t know it yet but you were about to become well acquainted with Joel’s dirty talk.

“Make a man feel like a fuckin’ casanova gettin’ this wet over nothing,” he added pressure to your hole, not yet pressing his fingertip inside you. But you still turned your head to the side, knocking your cheek into his. And it drew him back, until he lifted himself and looked down into your eyes again.

“It’s not nothing. No one’s touched me nicely before,” heat rose in your cheeks and neck.

He nodded, “and you’re gonna let me touch you nicely right now?” He smirked when you nodded, but his eyebrows raised and he asked, “yes?”

“Yes,”

His fingers sunk into you at an agonizingly slow pace. And his eyes never left yours. They were ever searching for validation but there was no way he could know that your brain was already a million miles away from your body. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even feel uncomfortable. If you had actually let yourself feel it, you imagined it’d feel pretty good. But brain and body were diverging for self-preservation. Of the only thing you’ve ever known. You looked down and saw the tendons and muscles in Joel’s forearm flexing, and when you glanced back up into his eyes, you wondered how this would end. Whether or not you bruised the ego of the assholes you’d previously found yourself with was of little concern to you. They hadn’t cared to make sure you were having a good time, so you never tried to fake it with them that you had. But Joel wasn’t like that. He was trying. And if the growing warmth in your belly was any indication, you thought he could get you to finish if you let him. If you let him.

“You’re so tight,” he mumbled, bowing his head. Long, graying curls bounced against his forehead and the nape of his neck. “Bet you’ll feel amazing wrapped ‘round my cock,”

A whimper floated past your lips and it was the first of that sound you’d ever made.

Joel seemed to catch it too. “Yeah? Y’like the idea of takin’ my cock here,” he curled his finger inside you, pressing up against your front wall. “Tell me you want it,”

“Joel,”

“Tell me,” he goaded, “I’ll give it to you. Fuck this tight, little body ‘til you’re screamin’ for me, but I wanna hear you say it,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, almost frustrated, “want you to fuck me, Joel. Please,”

He obliged rather quickly. Withdrew his finger from you and sucked it clean before he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. It was the first time you ever cared to ogle a man. To really take in the sight of him. To commit him to memory as this was going to happen instead of doing all you could to wipe it from your mind. His broad shoulders, and defined pecs, and soft tummy, all tapering down to a thinner waist with creases at the sides, hinting at what was below. His shirt hit the floor with your clothes, and then he swiftly moved on to his pants. Taking them off completely proved to be too much of a hassle. He pushed them down with his underwear, just low enough to pull his member out. His size – length and girth – was daunting despite the amount you’d seen, and your eyes flicked back up to his, swallowing a sizable lump in your throat.

“Nervous?” He asked, reaching past you for the nightstand.

“No,” you protested, watching him yank the drawer open. When he pulled out a small packet and tore it open, you cocked your head to the side. “Condoms survived the apocalypse?”

Joel smiled and rolled it down his length, “lamb skin.” He placed his hands on the bed at either side of you, “ready?”

“What if you hurt your ribs more?

“My ribs are fine,”

You nodded, trying to be as reassuring as possible, but when he reached for his shaft, you sucked in a breath loud enough to grab his attention. “I might not… you know…”

“Okay,”

“I usually don’t. Just so you don’t take it personally,”

“Okay,” he pressed a grin and lifted his hand to your cheek, where with the gentlest of swipes, he wiped his index finger across your skin, “eyelash.” Joel blew it off his finger and then looked back down at you, “how about you tell me if something doesn’t feel good.”

Eyebrows furrowed again. Confusion. “You won’t get mad?”

“No, I–I want you to come, so if I’m not doin’ it for you, you gotta let me know. Alright?” He nodded after you and lined himself back up with your entrance again. “Alright,” he pressed forward gently. Slowly. Eyes glued to your face; absolutely nothing could’ve gotten him to look away from you.

And what you found was new. Call it whatever you wanted but you spotted care in his eyes. Maybe not care in the way fairytales of your youth wanted you to believe, but care in the way that he was doing his best to be soft and gentle. George and James hadn’t had the intention of hurting you, but they didn’t care if they did. Joel didn’t have that intention either. But he was going to great lengths to ensure that he didn’t.

He had eased himself into you steadily until your waists met. The coarse hairs at the base of his member brushed against you. When he exhaled, it was the first you’d noticed that he’d been holding his breath just like you had been. “Attagirl,”

It felt like he was splitting you in half, and he very nearly was. Your legs were stretched wide to accommodate him but it still didn’t feel like enough. His thrusts didn’t start immediately. You hadn’t been expecting that. He was waiting; studying your face, and you figured you looked pretty shell-shocked because he remained paused for a good amount of time. Long enough for you to look up at him and with vision blurring, just the silhouette of him reminded you of any number of the guys you’d run into over the last six years.

Maybe if you shut your eyes, it’d make it a little better. You could focus on the inside of your eyelids and the colorful squiggles that appeared. So you did just that, but still noticed that Joel didn’t make any inclination of beginning relentless thrusts. There was only a slight movement. But not of his waist. Before you knew it, you felt his lips at your neck again. Open mouthed kisses to your delicate skin, his tongue lapping up to your earlobe. He hummed softly and you knew it was a less-than-verbal way of checking in with you. You couldn’t respond yet though, not with the image of George and his saggy ballsack in your mind.

Joel hummed in your ear again and then took your wrist in his hand. Before you could even get the idea to fight back, he placed it over his shoulder, releasing his grip when your fingers hit his back. “Y’alright? Talk to me,”

You summoned your strongest voice, “I’m fine. Go on,”

He still stared at you and hesitated. His hips only shifted timidly, “what’re you thinking about?”

In a moment of pure honesty, you looked up into his eyes. And with an air of sadness, “them.”

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line. Definitely not what he was expecting you to say, but couldn’t also say he was at all surprised. God knows the last time you’d done this for anything other than obligation or self-preservation… if you’d ever done it for any reason other than obligation or self-preservation. He wanted to be considerate to that. Maybe it was a little late now that he was already inside you. He settled more of his weight on top of you to free up both his hands, and with most of your bodies touching, he raised both hands above your head and cupped them over it. His thumb stroked back and forth over your hair with the utmost softness.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I want you to make me forget about them,”

He nodded and after looking at you for just a second more, he leaned in closer for a kiss. Maybe he couldn’t do much, but he could certainly do that. And with the utmost care, he pulled his hips back halfway before slowly thrusting back in. You winced, eyes closing, and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was then you felt Joel’s lips back on your neck. A bite for emphasis. A lick and kiss for intimacy.

Then with a sigh, “was right. You feel fuckin’ incredible. Squeezin’ me so good and tight,”

“Joel,” you whimpered, stretching your legs further apart to accommodate the size of his body. Every sensation was a new one – even the feeling of a foreign material inside you instead of skin.

You felt like you were on fire; heat spreading throughout you, starting from where you two were connected and radiating outward from there. Through your stomach, up to your chest, creeping up to your neck and all the way up to your cheeks. There was heat coming from Joel too. Just about everywhere you touched radiated heat; beads of sweat gathered at his hairline and followed down to his sideburns.

“How’s it feel takin’ me here,” a harder thrust than before speared you deeper, pressing up against you cervix. Though you tried to wriggle away, Joel leaned back on his knees and hooked his arms around your thighs, tugging you down on him further. He kept you close there with a hold on your hips and remained upright when he started thrusting into you with greater fervor. “Tell me,”

“Good,” you choked on your breath.

He laughed lowly and removed one of his hands from your hip so he could wipe the sweat away from his forehead. “I know you can do better than that,” he fucked into you and laid back down on top of you, caging you in his arms, lips back at your ear. His hips in an endless cycle of pressing into you. And when a moan floated past your lips, he couldn’t hold back a smile, “there she is. There’s a good girl,”

“So big, Joel…”

He nipped at your neck and trailed his tongue over the affected skin, “and you’re takin’ me so well. Doin’ so good,” his lips stretched into a grimace against your neck, “M’not gonna last long,”

“S’okay,”

You couldn’t have predicted his next move. It hadn’t happened before in any capacity, let alone in this way. With Joel pulling out in a fury and tracing down your body until he reached the apex of your thighs. His hands held your legs forcefully apart and his hips rut into the mattress beneath him. And in the long line of things that were new tonight, this was exceptionally so. His tongue expertly ran from where he had just previously been splitting you in two, and migrated up to your clit, where again your legs flinched. This time it didn’t get any more of a verbal response than a hum against you and the vibrations it sent up your spine made your throat go dry.

He lapped at your clit. Tongue undulating against it in smooth procession and just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to make a noise due to your scratchy throat, you felt two of his fingers push inside you, curling up and scissoring open inside. It pulled the headiest moan from your lips. You didn’t dare look down to take a peek at him, but if you had, you would’ve seen the way he was thrusting into the mattress seemingly not of his own volition.

Your legs twitched together again, this time around his head and your hand flew down to cradle him, fingers tangling into his graying curls. It was fairly long now, giving you enough purchase as your body writhed beneath Joel’s ministrations. You could feel it building; slow at first and then all at once, just on the edge there. It hadn’t ever felt this way before. When you were younger, so were the boys, and not at all well-adapted to the skill. Even when you got yourself in the headspace to do it for yourself, it never felt like this. This was different. This was new. And so much so that you hadn’t known when the literal climax would be. When you’d hit that peak.

Whatever the case, it didn’t take long, that was for sure. One moment you were gasping for air to fill your lungs, and the next you were expelling the air you’d just sucked in with a shriek and labored groan. You all but pushed on Joel’s head to get him to stop and he did so immediately. You weren’t sure if that was because of what you were doing or if it was because his body was telling him to get the fuck up unless he wanted to soil the sheets.

So Joel scurried up to his knees and sat back on his heels. He peeled the condom off and wrapped one big strong hand around his shaft. The other went down to cup his balls. And his eyes stayed glued to you. More specifically your face… your eyes. Not aspects of your body like the others had. No. He stayed locked in to your face. And when you chewed on your bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed and a growl rumbled through his chest. Just a few tugs more and he was shooting his load up over his stomach. Long, firm strokes finished him off, and when he was done, he released his member and looked down at himself while his chest heaved.

Yours was heaving, too. If your ribs hadn’t been a cage, your heart and lungs wouldn’t have remained in your body. You’d seen plenty of men come in your lifetime. Maybe more than you’d have cared to see. But watching Joel was an entirely different experience. Not only had you wanted that for him, but when he did come, there was a sense of pride…or satisfaction in knowing that you’d been the one to get him there.

In the moment you wanted him again. Wanted his lips back on yours. Wanted to feel him. And you were just about to reach out for him when he carefully eased himself off the bed. He must’ve caught some sort of expression on your face because he flashed you a reassuring albeit sheepish smile. “Lemme get cleaned up. Made a bit of a mess of myself,” he plucked his underwear up off the floor. “Y’want water?”

You nodded eagerly, and had partially wished you hadn’t seemed so impatient because Joel turned rather quickly and left the room. If your guard and walls had been lowered by having him there with you, the moment he was out of sight, you felt the walls starting to build again. You scrambled beneath the sheets to hide yourself as if Joel hadn’t just seen you completely naked, and had only just gotten settled again when he strode back into the room; underwear on, stomach cleaned, with a glass of water in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

He handed the glass to you before he knelt back on the bed and flipped the sheets away from you without a second thought. It wasn’t until the cold air hit your skin and your entire body shivered that he paused and remembered this wasn’t something casual for you. He lifted his hand away from the sheet.

“What’s that for?” You pointed at the washcloth he still held. After taking a sip of water, you reached over and set the glass on the side table.

Joel glanced down at the wet cloth and then back up to you, “I was gonna…” he swallowed and cleared his throat, “was gonna help you get cleaned up.”

“Oh,”

“Can I?”

You thought for just a second before nodding, “sure.” But as soon as Joel made a move, you spoke up again, “Joel?” Heat rose in your cheeks when he looked up into your eyes again, “can I have another kiss?”

A red hue colored his cheeks, “‘course you can.” His lips were stretched into a smile when they made contact with yours.

This time you were the first to part your lips, allowing your tongue to gain entry into his mouth. He accepted it immediately and shared his tongue with you, too. The kiss hadn’t even finished before you felt the washcloth between your legs. It still held some warmth to it and you pulled your head back to look up at him; your legs spread wider to give him full access. He kissed your temple when you leaned in and set your head on his shoulder. His hand paid rapt attention to your most sensitive areas as he wiped you clean, folded the cloth over on itself, and then wiped the wet fabric down your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure how many more new things you’d be exposed to tonight. Everything seemed to be different from what you’d known. Joel didn’t ask you to leave. Didn’t give any indication that he was hoping you’d split. In fact, he seemed to evoke the exact opposite. Was getting ready to lay down beside you in bed when you asked if he could get you your underwear and shirt. He did so without question. Without asking if you were going to leave him. Was going to let you make any decision you needed to make. And yet – you swore you saw him exhale a sigh of relief when after putting your shirt and underwear back on, you tucked your feet back in beneath the sheets and settled in beside him.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Joel jolted awake as he normally did at night. Per his habit, he glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and was not at all surprised when it read half past two in the morning. That was about right. Sometime between two and four was usually the time when the nightmares reached their peak and he’d rise in a panic, gasping for air, trying to get his bearings, and hoping he’d be able to fall back asleep. But instead of his panic diminishing once he realized he was safe in his home, it increased when he looked to his other side and found himself alone in bed.

You’d been there when he fell asleep. Of that he was positive. He’d taken an extra peek at you to make sure you were comfortable. Finding your breathing slowing and evening out, he rolled over onto his side and went to sleep, too. But now you were gone and he jumped out of bed, straining his ears for any hint that you might still be around.

Out in the hallway, he heard something downstairs and it gave him a half-moment of hope before he tamped it down within himself. It could be Ellie, he told himself, don’t get your hopes up. The noise got a little louder when he came down the stairs, and a sweet scent in the air led him in the direction of the kitchen. At this point he knew it wasn’t Ellie, but he still didn’t want to jump the gun and believe it was you. Not until a whispered shout greeted him as he was about to turn the corner.

“Shit!”

And then he was there, in the threshold and staring at you, fully dressed again – your index finger pulled into your mouth, sucking at a burn. On the counter in front of you, a pie. His focus returned to you instead of the pastry, and he started in your direction, a smile spreading over his lips.

“Did I wake you up?”

Joel shook his head once he sidled up next to you. And easily, his hand dropped to your lower back, fingers curling around your hip. He noted how you glanced down at his fingers before looking back up into his eyes. “What’re you doin?”

You looked down at the pie, guilt rising within you, “couldn’t sleep.” You took a breath, “I thought about leaving, but then I thought you might get upset.” Averting your gaze back to the pie when Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, “my mom was a stress baker. Seemed like after the outbreak, she was always whippin’ something up. I just– you had most of the ingredients.”

“What didn’t I have?” his hand squeezed at your hip and tugged you in closer to him.

“Cinnamon. And sugar,” you looked back up at him as he all but shook you by the hip, trying to get your attention. “Hopefully the apples were sweet,”

Joel pulled open a drawer and took a fork and knife out of it, “well,” he started when he then reached up into the cabinet for a plate, “I don’t remember the last time I saw cinnamon.” With everything he needed in front of him, he sliced into the pie and about as indelicately as you could imagine, scooped the slice out of the baking dish and onto the plate. “Sugar’s hard to come by so whatever we have is usually kept at the dining hall for the whole town,”

You watched him carefully as he lifted a forkful up to his mouth. A good mixture of the flaky crust and the soft apples. No way this pie was better than your shooting, but you hoped he liked it all the same. He didn’t have to say anything for you to see that he did. His features softened, almost drooped in the relaxed way of having eaten something that was evoking a memory.

He swallowed, “the apples are sweet. I like it,” he went and stabbed for another bite, but instead of lifting it back up to his mouth, he offered it your way.

It took you a moment, but while looking up into his eyes, you opened your mouth and ate the bite he presented you. It would’ve been better with sugar, you thought. But the look Joel was giving you was almost better than the sugar.

Joel slowly pulled the fork out of your mouth and set it back down on the plate. He reached for your hand and hooked his fingers around yours, using that leverage to pull you into his body. You stumbled forward and caught yourself against his chest.. He suppressed a smile and bowed forward until his lips were pressed to the top of your head.

“Y’alright? Comfortable?”

You nodded gently and ran your hands down over his sides, fingers ghosting over his ribs, “s’it hurt?”

He shook his head but that wasn’t exactly the truth. “You don’t have to stay. And I don’t want you to think you do, but… I’d like to take you back upstairs, curl up with ya’, and go to sleep.” Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head but then migrated down to your forehead and gave it a kiss. “Been awhile since I had a woman to cuddle up to,”

“Joel Miller cuddles?”

A smirk crossed over his face, “oh yeah. And I’m great at it,” he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

You both inhaled into the kiss and Joel wrapped a hand around you again. This time, over your ass for a hearty handful. After a moment of just relishing in this moment, Joel patted your ass and with one more glance for reassurance, you passed by him and made for the stairs. If you could have only seen his face once you’d passed by. A deep sigh, a grin, and a thankful look skyward before he took off to follow you up the stairs and back into his bedroom.

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