#Really missing QZ!Joel

[arcanefox207]

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

time

Summary: Not wanting to face Joel after you found out that you're pregnant, you leave the Boston QZ to live with Bill and Frank. Almost four years pass before you can't hide from him anymore, letting him finally know why you ran from him all these years back.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Rating: E

Warnings: angst, unplanned pregnancy, secret pregnancy, secrets, fluff, trust issues, Joel being Joel, making up, kissing, age gap (not specified but it's around 15 years), smut (unprotected sex), mentions of alcohol, Joel really is bad at feelings, but he's trying, Girl Dad Joel Miller, happy end

A/N: if these two had a relationship status it would be "it's complicated" Another WiP done! So now I am allowed to think about Biker Raider Joel for a moment, right?

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Pedro Masterlist || Joel Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“You know you’ll have to face him at some point,” Frank had a fond smile on his lips as he sat in his wheelchair next to you. He was watching Bill who let himself chase across the yard of his picture perfect post apocalypse home. 

Nobody would expect that just down the street, outside of the fence the world as you knew it had ended. 

“I know,” you sighed. 

“He asks for you every time he’s here. If we had seen you, if we knew where you are. He’s gonna understand,” Frank said and you scoffed. 

“He’s not gonna care. He has Tess and… he’s not…” you shook your head, searching for the words, “he’s not the man I fell in love with.”

“We all can change,” Frank said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Bill is the best example for that. Could you have imagined him like that when you showed up here three years ago?”

You watched Bill play with your daughter, Ava, playing catch. 

“Joel is not like that. He was like that. Before. But that part of him died long ago.”

You sat in silence for a while, just watching Bill and Ava, trying to soak it all in. It would never be like that again and you were already dreading having to explain all of this to her. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whispered, fighting against the tears as you looked at Frank. He smiled softly at you before he came closer, kissing your forehead. 

Four years earlier

You knew he could tell when you were lying. He would know with one look at you that you were full of shit telling him that this was not working for you anymore. Whatever this between you was.

Joel and you had known each other since before the outbreak. You had started babysitting Sarah to earn some extra money while you were finishing you degree when she had just been nine years old and you had moved in next door.

You had been there on outbreak day. Next door, still living at home to take care of your sick father. You would never get the picture of his infected body lunging at you out of your head the night the world changed. 

You and Joel… You didn’t know what Joel and you were exactly. 

You loved Joel, you knew that. And you were pretty sure he loved you too. You just wanted… more. Most people did not allow themselves to love so openly anymore. And in Joel’s case? Losing Sarah had changed him. After fifteen years the man who had been Sarah’s father was gone, replaced by a man that still had his face, but was missing the warmth and comfort Joel Miller had once provided. 

You could see it in glimpses, whenever his hand would rest on your back when he passed by. When he fell asleep in your arms deep in the night. When he kissed your forehead before he headed out for work. 

Loving Joel Miller was easy. 

Being loved by him was close to impossible. 

You never really labelled your relationship, mostly because you did not think of it as important. You trusted him more than any other person on this planet. It’s why you ignored the way he had started looking at Tess. It’s why you did not question him when he stayed away at night. You ignored it all, opening your arms for him when he chose to come home to you, letting him in your bed just to feel close to him. To feel something. 

The jealousy was killing you slowly, making you reckless when you let him have his way with your body. 

But once you had missed your period the first month, and then the second, you knew that there was only one possible answer to your dilemma. You had never been late before. A ration card swapped for a twenty year old pregnancy test had your worst fears come true. 

You were pregnant with Joel Miller’s child. 

Fifteen years after you both buried his daughter. The daughter he never got over losing. 

You could already see his reaction. The eyes you loved so much empty before he would tell you to deal with it. 

You could not face his anger or disappointment, but mostly you could not face him not caring. So you packed your little belongings once he had left you in the morning, sneaking out of your bed without a word.

You did not leave a note, just fled the QZ, making your way over to Bill and Frank, hoping your friendship with Frank would make them take you in. 

Of course Bill hadn’t want to, but once he saw your stomach swell (and tasted the sweets you baked in his kitchen) he had put all his work into making the house next door into your home. 

“Mama, can we go get Strawbebbies?” you chuckled, holding her hand as you walked with her on your daily walk by the fence. 

“Strawberries, baby,” you tried to correct her. Ava pouted at you, her dark curls swinging in the wind, her brown eyes so much like her fathers. 

“That’s what I said!” she put her little hands on her hips and you smiled. 

She was definitely her father’s daughter.

“Okay, baby. Let’s get some Strawbebbies,” you picked her up, making her shriek with laughter. Once again you were glad you made the decision to come here. She could grow up like a child was supposed to. 

Even though now that Bill and Frank were gone it was getting kind of lonely. You had all enjoyed a last dinner together before Bill and Frank had tucked Ava in for one last time and read her a story. 

You had tried to keep the tears at bay as Bill had reminded you of the folder full of instructions of how to take care of things around here for you. 

After dinner you had walked them to the gate, opening the fence for them as they took their last walk. You had watched them until they had disappeared into the dark woods before you made your way back to their house. You had cleaned the dishes and tidied everything up, before with a heavy heart, you had turned off all the lights and closed the door behind you before you walked to your house, allowing yourself to cry yourself to sleep as you sat on the floor next to the bed of your daughter, watching her sleep. 

That night was almost three months ago. The days were getting shorter, the nights colder. You’d have enough firewood for this winter but come spring you would have to find a way to make more. 

You had just finished making breakfast for Ava when the motion detector alarmed you that someone was at the gate. You froze, telling Ava to eat her fruit salad before you made your way downstairs to check out what was happening. 

Your heart was pounding against your chest, once you noticed his face. 

Joel Miller. 

And a…. Teenage girl?

The gate swung open after he put in the code and you allowed yourself fifteen seconds to panic. You knew this day would come. The day after Bill and Frank had gone you had checked the basement, finding that Bill had put on 80’s music, the distress signal. 

Even though you had turned it off immediately deep down you knew he would show up at some point. 

You just did not think it would be that soon. 

You grabbed your gun, checking if it was loaded before you made your way back upstairs. You did not think you would need it, but it was better to be prepared. 

“Ava? Remember when Uncle Bill played hide and seek with you and showed you the best place to hide?” you asked, hiding the gun in the back of your jeans as you got to your kitchen. She nodded. 

“I want you to hide there until I come and get you,” you said. 

“Hide?” she asked. You nodded, kissing her cheek. 

“Take Sluggi with you,” you smiled. Sluggi was the stuffed plush slug Bill had gotten for her. She nodded and ran out of the kitchen and upstairs, You heard her door to her room close and took a deep breath, calming yourself. 

You knew this day would come. You knew one day you would have to face Joel Miller and you knew you would have to face his reaction. 

You never regretted your decision to leave. Life has definitely been better here. That did not mean you had just stopped loving him, no matter how much he had hurt you in the past. 

Stepping towards your front door you could see him walk towards Bill and Frank’s house. 

You closed your eyes, taking a calming breath before you opened the door and stepped out. 

His head snapped towards you once he heard the door opening, eyes widening for a split second before he pulled the girl that was with him behind his back. 

He was protecting her. 

“What are you doing here? Where are Bill and Frank?” he asked, his voice low. 

“They’re dead. Frank got worse and… he couldn’t…” you shook your head, lost of words. He just looked at you before he shook his head, trying to put in words what he wanted. 

“I just… We need some…” he took a deep breath, looking up at you, a million emotions playing over his face. 

“Are you hungry?” you asked the girl behind him. 

“Starving,” she replied and you smiled a little.

“There’s some fruit salad left on the kitchen counter if you want?” you asked. She stepped around Joel and he looked at her. 

“It’s safe. There’s… there’s no one there,” you lied. He gave her a nod before she walked past you into your home. 

It had been years since you’ve been alone with him. He did not really change. His hair maybe a little grayer, the lines around his mouth a little deeper, but he was still Joel Miller. 

“You left,” he said. 

“I did.”

“Why?”

You took a deep breath. You looked past him towards the house the girl had walked in, hoping your little girl continued to hide. Knowing her she had was working on her puzzle. She would be okay for a moment. 

You knew she was safe. You just needed a little moment alone. 

“You can have some fruit salad too. I am going to get some vegetables for dinner,“ you gave him a nod, before you turned around and walked towards your garden, ignoring him as he called after you. 

With a basket full of salad, cucumbers and some tomatoes you pushed the door of your house open. Joel was sitting on the stairs, across the door, already looking at you. 

The girl walked past the both of you towards the living room, an apple in her hand she was munching on. 

„This is so fucking weird,“ she shook her head and you snorted while Joel hissed at her. 

„What? It is weird,“ she said, her head turned towards him. 

You smiled a little as you looked at her, before you walked towards the kitchen, setting the basket down. You had to go up to check on Ava. 

And you had to talk to Joel.

You couldn’t hide her from him, even though you wanted to do nothing more than that. 

You took a deep breath when he walked into the kitchen. 

„Is it okay if Ellie takes a shower?“ He asked, knowing that there was warm water around town. 

„That’s her name. Ellie,“ he clarified.

„Oh. Of course, yeah,“ you nodded and Ellie walked in, snorting as she looked up at Joel. 

„You could use one too dude,“ she said and you had to fight hard against the grin as you watched the look on Joel’s face. 

You were about to offer her to show her to the bathroom when you heard a door upstairs click open, followed from little footsteps, your eyes widening. Joel frowned, his hand immediately searching for his gun, his arm putting Ellie behind himself. 

He raised his gun, taking a step forward as you ran around the counter, the knife you had put out to cut the salad now in your hand. 

„Gun down,“ you hissed and his head snapped to you, his eyes widening when he saw the knife in your hand. You stood in front of him. 

„I will not repeat myself, put the gun down, right now or I will put this knife in your thigh,“ you fingers flexed around the handle of the knife. The footsteps came closer as you kept eye contact with Joel until he slowly lowered his gun. You nodded at him once you saw him put the gun back to wherever it came from, then looked at Ellie who was looking at you with wide eyes, before you let the knife fall down to the floor just in time as Ava jumped the last step down, rounding the corner. 

„Potty?“ She whispered shyly, looking up at you with big eyes and you sighed, before you nodded, the people behind you forgotten as you picked your daughter up. You risked a glance at Joel as you turned towards the stairs, your daughter in your arms.

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, before you practically ran up the stairs. 

„Who is the man mommy?“ Ava asked as she was finished, washing her hands like you taught her, making as many bubbles as possible as she rubbed her hands together. 

You sucked your bottom lip in as you watched her, your hand brushing over her soft hair. 

„That is an old Friend of mommy,“ you explained, and she nodded. 

„And the girl?“ She asked. 

„That is a friend of him, I think. I am not sure.“

She finished washing her hands and you handed her the towel, her little face full of concentration as she dried her hands, making you smile.

You got down on your knees in front of her, your hands on her shoulders. 

„Do you think she’s gonna play with me?“ She asked, hopeful.

„We can ask her,“ you said with a smile.

You weren’t prepared for the sight in your kitchen when you came downstairs. Joel was standing at the counter, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back as he cut the tomatoes with the knife you had threatened with him not only ten minutes ago. 

He didn’t look up as you entered the room, but Ellie did. You looked between them warily. 

„I’m Ava,“ your daughter chirped and you took a deep breath, Joel still not looking up. Ellie looked at him with a frown, before she sighed, rolling her eyes, and walked towards you.

„I’m Ellie,“ she said and smiled a little and bend down to her knees. Ava looked first at her, then at you. 

„Ellie, do you like sea turtles?“ You asked and the girl looked at you. 

„Uh…. I guess?“ She said and you smiled. 

„Because Ava loves them. Her whole room is full of them,“ you said and saw interest flicker in her eyes.

„Can I see?“ Ellie asked and you nodded. 

„You wanna show Ellie your sea turtles?“ You asked Ava and she nodded eagerly. 

„Awesome,“ Ellie said, taking Ava’s hand before you could offer to show them, the girls already walking upstairs towards Ava's room. 

Which left you alone in the kitchen with….

„How old is she?“ Joel asked, still not looking at you as you turned to face him. He grabbed the cucumber after he had used the knife to put the tomatoes in the bowl you had prepared for the salad, beginning to slice them. 

You took a deep breath. 

„She turned three last month,“ you said, watching him nod slowly, the knife hitting the cutting board the only noise in the room. 

„She has my eyes,“ he finally said and you sucked your bottom lip in, nervous. 

„Yeah she has,“ you agreed and he finally looked up at you, setting the knife down, his hands spread out on the counter, resting his whole weight on them. 

„Why didn’t you tell me?“ He asked, his voice quiet. 

„I didn’t know how. Joel…. You were barely acknowledging me outside of when you were inside of me. You spend all your time with Tess doing god knows what. How would you have reacted if I told you that I was pregnant? You never even acknowledged what we…“ you stoped yourself, shaking your head. 

„You should have told me. I could have…“ he stopped himself, searching for what to say and you looked at him, waiting. 

„I could have helped you. I would have….“ He shook his head, his hands shaking. 

„I’m gonna need a moment. Can you watch after Ellie?“ He asked and you nodded, confused and he nodded back before he walked past you and out of the house. 

You just didn’t think it would be almost two days before he got back. You were outside in Bill’s garden, letting the girls help you pick everything that was ready from the garden when you noticed him walk towards the house. 

You knew he was still inside the little locked up town Bill had made his safe haven. None of the alerts had went off, indicating he had left. And yeah you could have searched after him, but what good would it have done?

You’ve known him from almost twenty years, and you knew that he needed time to process certain things. 

He hadn’t talked to anyone in almost a year after the outbreak and what happened to Sarah. 

„Look what the cat dragged in,“ Ellie said as she spotted him and Ava perked up, her little head turning towards where Ellie was looking. 

Joel nodded at the girls before he looked at you. 

The sun was already setting and you had dinner prepared inside. 

„How about we have some dinner and then Ellie can read you some more of the story you started yesterday?“ You asked and both girl smiled at you. Ava ran past Joel who looked after her as she disappeared into the house, Ellie following her. 

„Next time you ditch me, at least tell me?“ She glared at him before she walked back into the house. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. 

„Can we talk?“ He asked. 

„After dinner?“ You said, getting up and grabbing the basked full of fresh vegetables. 

„Yeah. Yeah okay,“ he nodded and you walked towards the house, giving him a hesitant smile when he grabbed the basket from you and walked inside after you. 

It was two hours later that you found yourself on the left corner of your couch, your legs tucked under you, a glass of wine in your hand. 

Because this conversation needed some alcohol. 

And not only because of what you were about to talk about, but because of the man who was sitting on the other side of the couch, similar glass of wine in his hand. 

Because he looked so damn good.

He had showered while you put the girls to bed after dinner, the whole scene feeling so domestic. Like a dream you had many many times before when you were still dreaming. 

Dreaming of a normal future. 

Dreaming of a normal life. 

Dreaming about how it would feel like if Joel Miller loved you back. 

Because no matter how much he may have hurt you in the past, you just could not stop loving him. 

„I’m sorry,“ he whispered after a while and you turned your head to look at him, his eyes already on you. 

„I’m shit at talking about those things….“ He stopped.

„Those things meaning feelings?“ You helped and he groaned. 

„Yeah. Always sucked at it. Even before….“ 

He sighed. 

„Sarah would be so angry with me with how I treated you,“ he whispered and your eyes softened. You could count on one hand how often he had brought Sarah up ever since she died. 

And while you thought you could understand him in the past, you loved her like yours after all, now that you had Ava, you realised that loosing her would kill you. 

It would be something you could never come back from. 

But he did. 

„I never cheated on you. I know you thought I did, can’t blame your for it. Tess was just…. Fuck, how do I explain this?“ He sighed, his fingers rubbing over his chin. 

„I never deserved you. You’re too fucking good for me. For everyone really. Because even after the whole world went to shit, you still had some kindness left for everyone around you. I know how much you hated what we did in the beginning. And I hated myself for putting you through it. I hated myself for putting you through everything I did to you since the moment Sarah died…“ he said and you could see his eyes watering. 

„Can’t blame you for hating me and leaving. And not telling me about….“

„Joel….“ You said, setting your glass down and getting closer towards him, your hand reaching for his. Slowly he turned his hand so you could put yours in it, his fingers wrapping around your hand softly. 

„I’m not gonna lie and tell you that it’s okay. Cause I was hurting. You were hurting me. Every time you left in the morning without a word. Every time you passed out drunk and drugged after you came back. It was like living with a ghost and it was killing me. That was the reason I decided to leave when I found out. I could…. I couldn’t bring a child into this. And I knew I wanted her before I even met her. Even though it seems crazy to bring a child into this world. But… She was half you. And the thought that there was even the possibility that you didn’t wanted her….“ You took a deep breath. 

„Honestly? I can’t tell you how I would have reacted. I was… I was really fucked up in the weeks before you left. I was taking too many drugs. Drank too much. Got too fucking reckless. But that changed when you left,“ he said and squeezed your hand. 

„Not right away. It might have gotten worse first but… I got better. Not perfect, but better. And I… Fuck I even talked through some shit with someone. Made me realise I never even told you how much I love you,“ he said and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing as he looked at you, a small smile tilting his lips up. 

„Pretty sure I fell for you the first time you walked through my door wearing that pretty baby blue dress. Even though you were way too young for me. Still are. But…. I hope you knew, know. I really fucking love you,“ he said and you felt a tear running down your cheek. 

„Can you tell me about her? About Ava?“ He asked before you could form an answer to his confession. And so instead you told him. 

You told him about how you craved strawberries your whole pregnancy. How Bill traded one of his guns for the seeds from Tess.

You told him that she only slept through the night in the beginning, when Bill put her to sleep. 

You told her how much she reminded you of Sarah when she smiled at you. 

You told her how every time you looked at her you saw him. 

Hours went by where you two talked, you ending up leaning against Joel’s side, his arm around you. His fingers brushing over your arm, his other hand still holding yours. His lips brushing over your skin when he told you about how Ellie ended up at in his care. 

How he wanted to take her to Wyoming to search for his brother who might know how to find the fireflies. 

„Do you know where he is?“ You asked and he shrugged. 

„Not exactly. I know he messaged me from the Cody tower, so that’s where we’ll be going,“ he mumbled and you nodded. 

„We could take Bill’s truck,“ you said and he stilled. You looked up at him. 

„We?“ He asked and you chuckled, sitting yourself up so you were facing him, your hand now on his cheek. 

„You really think I’m gonna let you go now?“ You asked with a smile. 

And then you finally kissed him. 

It was decided that you would leave within the next 5 days, giving you enough time to make a list (You always made lists) of everything you had to pack. 

Which was a lot. Getting four people across the country on a trip that hopefully would be just like you remembered road trips to be, took a lot of supplies. 

And while you were preoccupied deciding which food was best to take, Joel had asked you if he could spend some time with Ava. He wanted to get to know her. And of course, you agreed. Watching him, Ellie and Ava walk towards the garage where they spend hours doing god knows what. 

It was almost dark outside when they walked back in, your heart melting as you watched Joel carry a very sleepy Ava inside who told you all about how seatbelts where very scary, something you would make sure to ask Joel about as you took her upstairs, putting her to bed. 

The days went by quickly like that.

Joel quickly became Ava’s favourite person which could have to do with the fact, that she was always allowed to sit on his shoulders. Ellie had been confused, yet delighted at the change in the grumpy man she had left the QZ with. 

He even got his Dad jokes out, making the teenager groan in mock annoyance throughout the day. Ellie also spend a lot of time with you, wanting to learn everything you offered to teach her. Starting from making protein bars for the trip down to how to properly braid her hair. 

Even though she preferred you doing it. 

You got the impression that she never really had anyone how just… listened to her or wanted to spend time with her. She told you she grew up in FEDRA School and that her mother had died while giving birth. 

She had no family and her best friend (though you got the impression Riley had been more than just a friend) had died not that long ago. 

That the only thing she had left in life was her purpose to save the world. Joel had told you that she was immune, Ellie showing you the healed scars to confirm it. 

„You know that that’s not the only thing you have left, right?“ You asked her, sitting on the porch next to her, enjoying one last sunset, watching Joel and Ava play soccer. Her little feet chasing after Joel with happy squeals. 

„What do you mean?“ Ellie asked and you looked at her with a smile. 

„You have us, Ellie. You think we just gonna let you go?“ You asked and she stubbornly shook her head. 

„I have to do this. It’s my purpose. I have to save the world,“ she said and looked away from you. 

„Are you saying this because you feel that way, or because someone told you so?“ You asked and she looked at you. 

„Because it should be your decision what to do and what not. And… think about it, even if they are somehow able to make a cure out of your blood, do you really think they will be able to make enough to make a vaccine for everyone? Who will decide who gets it? And if they end up deciding on giving it to everyone…. There are so many bad people out there. Do they deserve to be saved too?“ You asked and you could see her thinking about your words and you smiled softly at her. 

„Even if you don’t like hearing it, your a kid Ellie. You should grow up and live first before you make a decision like that. You don’t even know how they would get whatever they needed from your blood. If I remember correctly Cordyceps grow in the brain, what if they have to get into your brain to get out whatever they need?“ You said and her eyes widened. 

„But Marlene….“ She whispered and you reached over her, taking her hand. 

„I don’t know how well you know Marlene, but I’ve known her for more than ten years. I know how she manipulates people to get what she wants. You wouldn’t even notice it,“ you said and she sighed. 

„I’m gonna think about it,“ she said finally and you gave her a small smile. 

„That’s all I ask about. Now how about you get upstairs and take one last long hot shower before we are on the road for days?“ You asked and she nodded, standing up and turning away from you to walk inside the house before she turned back to you and hugged you quickly.

After saying good night to Ellie later you walked towards your daughters room, her little suitcase for her toys laying open next to her bed, waiting for Sluggi to be put into the next morning. She was already in bed, Joel sitting on the floor next to her, reading to her. 

You wished you could take a picture of this. Unfortunately the Polaroid camera had broken earlier this year. 

„Mommy!“ A tired Ava smiled as she saw you, her arms raised towards you. Joel looked up and smiled at you as you walked over, climbing into the bed behind your daughter, pulling her into your arms. 

„What story is Joel reading you?“ You asked. 

„The little mermaid,“ she said and you found Joel’s eyes. You had been thinking about it for the last days now. Telling her who Joel really is. He slipped into your life like the missing piece, the man you had fallen in love with all these years back seemingly falling right back into his role as being the best father there ever could be. 

So before you could talk yourself out of it you said

„Your sister loved that one too.“

Joel gulped, his eyes growing sad for a moment, before he looked at Ava. 

„I have a sister?“ She asked you, her eyes big.

„Mmmh…. Her name was Sarah. She watched the movie every single night before she went to bed,“ you explained and Ava pursed her lips in an ooooh motion. 

„There was a movie?“ She asked in awe.

„Oh yeah there was. And a cassette with the music. Can’t remember how often she made me listen to it“ Joel said and smiled softly. 

„Where is Sarah?“ Ava asked and your smile went sad. 

„She’s where Uncle Bill and Uncle Frank are. Watching over us,“ you explained and she hummed. 

„I wish I could hug her,“ she whispered and you nodded, tears in your eyes, squeezing her against your chest, your hand reaching out Joel’s hand finding yours as you kissed her forehead, looking at him who had tears in his eyes. 

„Me too baby. Me too,“ you whispered before taking a deep breath.

„You know Joel is her daddy,“ you finally said and she looked at you. 

„He is?“ She asked and you nodded. 

„I bet he is the best daddy,“ she sighed and you chuckled at Joel’s cheeks turning pink. 

„Yeah he is. What would you say if I tell you that Joel is your daddy too?“ You asked and her big eyes looked at you first and then her head turned towards Joel. 

„My daddy?“ She asked and both you and Joel nodded with a smile, her smile getting wider, before she jawned.

„I always wanted a daddy,“ she whispered before her eyes dropped close. 

You were walking down the stairs to Bill's basement after you showered, finding Joel checking if he could manage to take any more guns. The supplies had all been packed into the truck already, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave anything of value behind. 

He looked up when he heard your footsteps, giving you a small smile. 

Walking over to him you were surprised when he reached for you, pulling you into his lap, one of his arms looped around you, his other hand on your cheek, his fingers brushing over your skin. 

„I didn’t know you were gonna tell her,“ he whispered and you smiled. 

„She deserves to know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell her sooner. If I would have stayed you wouldn’t have missed so much…“ he stopped you by kissing you softly. 

„None of that. We both know I would have fucked this up. I would have said some really fucked up things and hurt you even more. So, there’s nothing you have to be sorry for, okay?“ He looked at you, his eyes pleading. 

You released a long breath, bringing both of your arms up to cross behind his neck. 

„Have I told you lately that I love you, Joel Miller?“ You whispered with a small smile that he mirrored. 

„Don’t think so. But I don’t blame you, I gotta say it a lot more often than you to make up for all the years I didn’t tell you. I do love hearing it though. Love you,“ he mumbled before he kissed you again. His lips moving on top of yours slowly, his hand tilting your head up a little so he could deepen the kiss. 

With a little sigh you parted your lips for him, his tongue dipping into your mouth, a deep moan coming from him, his arm pulling you closer against him. 

There had been lots of making out in the last days, stolen kisses when the girls weren’t in the room, secret touches under the table while you had dinner. 

But you haven’t slept together. 

And you were ready. 

„Joel,“ you mumbled, parting from his lips. He hummed, his lips running down your jaw. 

„We aren’t gonna be alone for a while,“ you whimpered, your head tilting up to give his wandering lips some more space. 

„What are you proposing?“ He asked, playfully nibbling on your neck. 

„I’m proposing that you fuck me, Miller. Right here,“ you gasped when you felt his other hand slip between your legs. 

„Right here?“ He asked, his fingers over the seam of your slick panties. 

„Mmmmhh….“ You closed your eyes, biting your lip when he pushed the fabric to the side, his fingers dipping between you slick folds, lazily teasing you. 

„All that for me?“ He asked and you opened your eyes, crashing your lips against his. 

„It’s been almost four years Joel. Please don’t tease me,“ you whined and his eyes softened before he picked you up and set you down on the table behind him. Within the next minutes you were both naked, your hands in his hair as you kissed him as he stood between your parted legs, the heavy weight of his cock resting against your stomach. 

„Gonna need to prepare you,“ he hummed, his hands on your ass. You shook your head. 

„Please just fuck me. You know I can take it,“ you whined, one of your hands wrapping around his cock, making him hiss. He groaned, sucking your bottom lip between his before he slapped your hand away, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he held his hand out to you. Waiting. 

Feeling your whole body heat up you spit in his hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. 

„My good girl,“ he praised you and you couldn’t stop whimpering. 

He brought his hand down to wrap it around his cock, coating it in your saliva, before he lined himself up. You had dripped on the table you were sitting on, more than ready to take him. 

„I love you,“ he whispered and you looked at him with a soft smile, your lips parting when he slowly pushed his cock into you. Filling you inch by inch, both of you starring into each others eyes. 

„Missed this,“ you moaned. 

„Missed you,“ you crossed your legs behind him, giving him a little push, his cock finally filing you up completely. 

„Fucking Perfect,“ he groaned kissing you again before he began to move, pumping into you slowly. 

You let yourself fall back down against the table, stretching your arms over your head, your back arching, your tits moving every time Joel fucked into you. 

He licked his fingers, bringing it down between your legs, his thrusts getting harder as he rubbed your clit, your pussy clenching around him. 

„Yes… Baby… Just like that….“ You moaned, your hands coming down to play with your tits. 

„You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?“ He asked, moving faster, his skin slapping against yours every time he moved.

Nodding, you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you came, your whole body shaking as he fucked you through it. 

„Shit….“ He groaned, both of his hands now coming to rest on either side of you as he leaned down, fucking into you deeply, chasing his own orgasm. 

„Want you to cum again,“ he grunted, kissing you, drilling his cock into you, the whole table moving over the floor. 

„Want you to cum inside me. Let me feel you,“ you whimpered, your hands in his hair, trying to meet his thrusts. 

„Fuck that is…. Not a good idea….“ He laughed and you grinned. 

„I don’t care. Wanna feel you. Cum for me, Joel. Cum inside me,“ you whispered and he groaned, fucking into you a half dozen times more before you felt him twitch inside of you, filling you, making you cum for a second time. 

Both out of breath you looked at each other before Joel leant down and kissed you. 

„Sleep in bed with me?“ You hummed against his lips. 

„As long as you let me,“ he answered against your lips before you both sneaked upstairs. 

Against all odds after six days of a rather boring trip across the country you reached the radio tower in Cody. And two days later a group patrol of people on horses found you, asking you all kinds of questions before a man pulled the bandana that had been covering his face down, revealing Tommy Miller in the flesh. 

By now you were living in Jackson for almost a year. 

Ellie had decided to stay and live her life, the constant threat of someone looking for her still on the horizon, but it was decided that the town was not in immediate danger. Patrols kept an eye out for fireflies, but they haven’t spotted anyone. 

You were living a happy life all things considered. 

Ava went to pre school, Ellie went to normal school. They really became sisters in the last year, spending a lot of time together. 

Even though Ellie started to spend more and more time with a girl called Dina you suspected was more than just a friend. 

Joel was always working on improving the house. 

He had changed the most, back to the man he had been before the outbreak. Yes, he still was the protector when he needed to be, but most of the time he was just Joel. Your husband. 

„Yellow?“ He asked, holding the can of paint up.

You walked over to him with a smile, nodding.

„It’s a happy colour. I like happy colours,“ you shrugged and he chuckled, setting the can down on the floor before he put his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

One of his hands came to rest on your growing belly, the baby inside kicking up a storm as if it could sense their dads hand, making you both smile. 

„Still think it’s gonna be a girl?“ You asked and he nodded, before he kissed you softly. 

„Think I’m meant to be surrounded by beautiful girls,“ he hummed before he kissed you again. 

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Could you write something where Tess is jealous with how protective Joel is over you? Please and thank you 😊

thank you for this request. i hope you like it. have a great sunday, sweetie!

warnings: Tess is not nice to you, smuggling, talks of leaving QZ, Joel doesn't play much of a role in it

[my masterlist]

"Are you okay?"

You straightened up and adjusted the backpack that was weighing you down. "I'm fine." You mumbled.

A snort behind you made you turn around. Tess rolled her eyes. "She'll kill us eventually." she said.

"Really?" you replied. "That board would have collapsed under you too."

"I wouldn't have stepped on it."

"Right, your fucking sixth sense."

Tess opened her mouth to say something, but Joel raised a hand, silencing you both. You listened for a moment, but the building was quiet.

"We should go now." Joel finally spoke. "Let's go back. We have enough goods to trade."

You and Tess exchanged a quick glance, but neither of you said anything more. The tension between you was palpable. Tess had seemed irritated by your presence for a while now, and it was starting to tire you out. Like her and Joel, you were involved in smuggling and other work at Boston QZ. They needed someone to do a job, so you joined their team.

It wasn't immediately noticeable. It started with eye rolls, then verbal sarcasm. You felt like it happened every time you spoke to Joel or he made any kind of friendly gesture towards you.

Joel never mentioned whether there was anything more between him and Tess, and you hadn't tried anything more with him. It was just work. Yes, he was handsome, and you weren't used to anyone caring about you, even in the slightest. But that was Joel, wasn't it? He was grumpy and seemed distant from people. You could even say he didn't like people. But he tolerated you, unlike Tess.

It was late when you returned to QZ. It wasn't until the next day that you showed up at the apartment Tess and Joel shared. The woman was alone, but she watched with interest as you pulled more and more goods from your backpack. The loot had to be divided and exchanged for reasonable goods. Each of you wanted to gain something from it.

“Are you looking for a car battery?” you asked, sitting down at the table and watching Tess’s skillful hands sort through what you had brought.

She looked at you with curiosity and irritation. "Where did that idea come from?"

You shrugged. "Joel mentioned something." You replied and immediately noticed that the woman snorted. "I know someone who can help you."

She looked at you. "And you'll do it for free? Because you like me?"

You crossed your arms over your chest, ready for a verbal argument with her. “Do you want this or not? I don’t know why you’re so hard on me. I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yes, Miss Perfect.” Tess snorted. “You don’t want anything in return because you expect him to be grateful.”

“Fuck!” you hissed. “Who would I want to please?”

“Joel, of course!”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. You were sure Tess was joking, but she was looking at you completely seriously. Your eyes went straight to the bedroom door. “He left,” Tess replied. “He had something to do.”

You leaned in towards her. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but me and Joel…”

“I know that.” Tess waved her hand. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it drives me crazy when I see the way he looks at you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! He’s always more caring and protective of you.”

“When it comes to you, he’s also…”

“He’s changed since he met you. He’s a hard ass, but I’ve known him for a long time.” Tess plopped down in the chair across from you and pushed her hair out of her face. “I have nothing against you, you’re strong and smart. You saved my life too, so…” she sighed. “We want to get out of QZ. Joel has a brother he wants to find. You could be useful.”

You looked at her like you didn't believe her words. Just yesterday you were ready to throw yourself at each other, and now Tess was offering you an escape from Boston. Madness.

Finally, you spoke up. "I can help you with the battery."

“I’ll go there myself. Thanks,” she said. “And you? Will you come with us? Joel will definitely ask you. He wouldn’t want to leave you here.”

"We're just friends." you assured her again, but the corners of her mouth turned up.

"For now."

You wanted to say something, but the door opened and you noticed that Joel was back. You quickly stood up from your chair. “I have to go back.”

“You don’t have to,” Joel replied, looking uncertainly at Tess, as if she was the reason you wanted to leave this place quickly.

However, you had already thrown your bag over your shoulder and passed him.

“Thanks for everything!” Tess quickly called out to you. You nodded and a second later you were gone.

Joel stared at the closed door for a moment longer, then glanced at the woman sitting at the table. “Did you say something to her again? Do you have to be so fucking mean to her?”

“Your little bird found us a battery,” Tess said, and was pleased to see the change in Joel’s face. “If we can figure this out, we can get out of here.”

Joel nodded. Tess smiled, then stood up and began clearing the table. “You should talk to her. She could be useful to us outside of Boston. She’s good.”

“I know she is.” Joel swallowed. “But is she…”

“Fuck, Joel!” Tess groaned. “You’re a grown man. Just go to her and do it.”

He nodded and glanced at the door, as if he had expected you to come in. Tess was right, she always had been. You could be useful outside of Boston, and he couldn't imagine you being left here alone. Yes, he would talk to you. You would leave this place together.

[shaunasrabbit]

Playin' Games | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You steal Joel's cut from a run. He comes to claim what's his.

Tags: No use of y/n, implied age gap (pretty nondescript but I imagined the reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his mid-50s), reader is afab, some physical descriptions (reader has hair that can be pulled, has a bush because #bushnation, and is curvy if you squint), sort of mean!Joel, reader is a little bratty, blood (brief and barely described), pussy eating, pussy pronouns, Joel is uncut because I said so, pussy slapping, use of good girl and other pet names, choking, face fucking, light dacryphilia, impact play with object, edging, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected piv, creampie. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~6.5K

A/N: This is my first time writing fiction ever (nonfic writer here), so I'm very excited and nervous to post. My apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors—I lightly proofread this myself. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! The entire fic was born out of wishing Joel Miller was hitting me with something. If you like this fic, please reblog and like. I hope you enjoy! Divider by @/saradika-graphics.

You knew what you were doing when you pocketed Joel’s cut.

It was a job that he orchestrated, smuggling some pills out of the QZ, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You put your ass on the line. Really, if you think about it, you deserved it more than him, but that’s not why you kept it. 

It’s no secret that Joel has a temper. You have seen him murder people—innocent people—for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t find it sexy. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with you, but you figure that you’re living through the fucking apocalypse so you give yourself a pass for failing to psychoanalyze yourself. Trying not to die is the priority. And getting fucked by gruff Joel Miller apparently. When he bursts through your front door, and you know he will, he’ll get his payment. One way or another.

You’re waiting for him in bed, clad in only his undershirt. He gave it to you on a run after yours was shredded by barbed wire. Although you’d never admit it, you find yourself wearing it to bed sometimes, touching yourself to the thought of him. It’s infrequent—the fucking. A treat after a particularly stressful week, sometimes after a night of heavy drinking. He gives you the look, the one that says he’s about to ruin you, and you know. The small group that the two of you work with have no idea, though. You and Joel keep your mouths shut, talking only business. But fuck, you crave it. You crave the way his cock stretches you out, his intuitive hands, the feeling of his sticky cum on your tits. Sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about it while trailing behind him on jobs, staring at his broad shoulders and the gray peppered throughout his curls. Joel Miller makes you feel like a goddamn school girl with a crush.

Right when you think you’re growing too impatient, hands almost sliding between your legs to give yourself some relief, you hear it. A blunt knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the door knob. Your thighs squeeze in anticipation, feeling giddy like a teenager. When you hear his keys jangling, you stand up, scanning the room for the best place to hide. Unfortunately, your shabby apartment came without a closet door and you don’t really own many items to hide behind. Under the bed will have to do, even if it is predictable. He’ll find you in seconds, but it’ll rile him up a bit.

The door swings open and you hear him call your name. Sliding under the bed, you lie on your stomach—a rabbit waiting for the fox to sniff it out. Despite knowing you aren’t in any real danger—well, probably—you feel your hands start to shake, your breath becomes uneven, and wetness pools between your thighs. You silently curse him for the effect he has on you. Fucking embarrassing, you think to yourself.

“You better get your ass out here,” he barks from the living room, boots thudding against the distressed hardwood as he slowly makes his way towards the archway into your bedroom. You clamp your hand over your mouth to dampen the sound of your heavy breathing. 

He walks into your room and passes your bed, heading for the bathroom. A deafening scrape from the shower curtain rings echoes through the apartment, making your heart race. The anticipation feels like torture. Both you and your pussy, now clenching around nothing, know that Joel’s coming for you any second—there’s nowhere else you could be hiding. 

A gasp is pulled from your throat as Joel’s calloused, large hands grip onto your ankles and yank you out from underneath the bed. You don’t even have time to think as he flips you onto your back and places his worn boot on your chest to hold you down. “Fuck,” you curse under your breath.

“Where is it?” he asks, his voice low and flat. A twinge of annoyance hits you as your pussy is left unacknowledged; either he’s actually focused on getting his ration cards or is intentionally ignoring you to fuck with you. Heat creeps across your face, searing your cheeks.

You blink at him, eyes wide in a half attempt to feign innocence. Slowly, you spread your legs to draw attention to your slick folds. “Where is what, Joel? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel’s eyes rake down your body as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt. His eyelids are heavy and though it seems impossible, his deep brown eyes become darker. There’s a hint of lust—maybe rage—behind them. The line is blurry, and all you can think about is his broad shoulders as he towers above you. 

“I’m not playin’ these fuckin’ games with you, sweetheart,” he spits out, clenching his jaw and his fist in unison. Got him. “The ration cards. My cut. Hand ‘em over.” 

“Oh, that.” You bite your lip to hold back a smirk. “Gone. Sorry. You can take mine from the next run.”

Within seconds, your chest is relieved from the pressure of his boot, but his hand tangles in your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling you up to your feet. 

“Not how that works,” he says, tightening his iron grip on your hair before pushing you onto your bedspread. He climbs on top of you, pinning one of your wrists to the bed while the other reunites with your throat. If he wasn’t squeezing your neck so damn hard, you would probably be able to moan when his knee makes contact with your leaking core. Instinctively, you rut your hips against him for even a hint of friction. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to think I’d take this pussy as payment.” Joel lets go of your wrist and lands a sharp smack against your cunt. “No matter how fuckin’ sweet she is.”

Grabbing your mound, he rubs circles over your hair there before slapping your pussy again. You try to yelp, but his grip is so tight that it comes out strangled and pathetic. Joel scoffs and his jaw goes slack. 

“Ya see this?” He holds up his hand, slowly moving his fingers apart so you can see strands of your slick between each of his digits. “Barely touched you—god, you’re desperate. A desperate fuckin’ whore.” 

He lets go of the python-like grip he had on your throat and jams two of his wet fingers into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Tears well in your eyes quicker than you’d like to admit. 

“I may be a dumb, desperate whore,” you say, managing to choke out the words through your gasps, “but you’re the one that’s already hard.” 

Joel moves swiftly to stand and you sit up on your elbows, legs parted and pussy still exposed to him. Your eyes drop to his belt buckle to watch his hands move expertly to undo it. Saliva pools in your mouth as you think about how hard his cock is going to be. Joel’s bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, and you fear that there will come a time where you don’t get to feel the stretch of him anymore. No one else could compare.

“I know what’ll shut you the fuck up.” He pushes his pants down to his mid-thigh. As his cock springs free, he demands, “On your back. Head off the edge.”

Fuck, he’s going to make it hurt and considering how pissed he looks, he’s going to make it really hurt. But you do as he says because you want it regardless. You want anything Joel has to give, but you’d never admit that to him and even without confessing, he knows. 

With your head hanging off the bed, you look up at him and see his heavy balls above you, bouncing as he strokes his already hard cock and exposes the swollen head. You stick your tongue out and he rewards you with a hard slap. Closing your eyes with bliss, you taste his salty pre-cum. A sense of victory swells in your chest—your plan was fucking working.

“This isn’t payment, darlin’. This is punishment,” he grumbles before forcefully shoving his uncut cock into your open mouth. He says it’s not payment, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like punishment to you as your wet, wanting mouth coaxes a groan out of him. The intrusion makes you gag and tears prick at your eyes. You can tell he hasn’t showered today, taking in the scent of his musky sweat. So unmistakably Joel—you swear you’d wear it as perfume if you could. 

It takes a moment for your throat to adjust to his size, but once you do, you stop gagging as much as he finds a rhythm. And damn, he is relentless, fucking your mouth fast and careless. 

“That’s it,” he groans, “I like you better when you got my cock in your mouth.” 

Joel grunts above you, expletives and your name interrupting every now and then. Your hands are fisting the sheets, trying to give yourself some stability as he rocks his hips. Tears roll down your temples and into your hairline, your eyes closing tightly as you try to blink them away. 

He looks down at you, eyelids heavy. “So goddamn pretty when you cry, baby.”

You’re rewarded with a particularly hard thrust that causes spit to sputter out of the sides of your mouth, dripping onto your cheeks. You instinctively try to pull your head back to catch your breath, but Joel’s hands grip the sides of your head to hold you in place. 

A cruel chuckle mocks you from above as Joel looks down at you, rubbing your cheeks, hot and burning with want. Joel slows his hips and nearly pulls out all the way before slowly easing himself back in. “Fuck,” he exhales, looking down at his cock disappearing between your swollen lips. “You’re such a fuckin’ mess, but you’re takin’ my cock so well.”

You hum at the praise, the vibration adding an extra twinge of pleasure for Joel. His movements become erratic and you can feel his dick twitch in your mouth as he gets close to his release. That’s your favorite thing about fucking Joel—watching a man who never loses his composure, never seems vulnerable, finally falter when he comes. But when he suddenly leaves your wet mouth with a groan, you’re left gasping for air. You push yourself upright, feeling a little dizzy from all the blood rushing to your head while upside down. “Joel,” you whine, exasperated and utterly frustrated.

“‘Joel’ what? Do ya need something, baby?” he teases as he strips fully naked. 

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up against the headboard and spread your legs, lightly teasing your clit with your index finger. Even the slightest touch makes your legs tremble and you rest your head back, letting a delicate whimper slip from your lips. 

“Uh-uh,” Joel tuts, sliding between your legs and slapping your hand away, “use your words. Had no problem runnin’ that pretty mouth earlier.” 

Joel has always had a way of turning you on without even touching you, but this was a whole new level. His taunting goes straight to your cunt and you can feel your arousal dripping out of you. As badly as you want his hot, wet tongue on your clit, you aren’t going to give in that easily. 

“Didn’t think you were dumb enough to need me to spell it out for you,” you quip, voice low and sultry. 

Joel’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. You can tell he’s trying to decide what to do with you. Maybe he’ll shove his cock down your throat again to shut you up, maybe he’ll deprive you altogether and leave, or maybe he’ll give you what you want. When he’s in a bad mood, Joel likes to deny, deny, deny. But he does end up giving in. He always gives in. 

Grabbing you by your leg, Joel pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your slick cunt finally makes contact with his hard length and you bite back a small moan at the pressure. There’s no point in trying to mask your neediness, Joel already knows, but you hold yourself back from grinding against his cock. 

“Playin’ a real dangerous game, baby, ya know that?” Joel growls in your ear, giving your neck a light nip. You shudder at the sensation and take a deep breath, still fighting the urge to move your hips. His hands find your ass, squeezing and digging his fingernails into the soft flesh. 

Draping your arms over Joel’s shoulders, you tilt your head to give him better access to your neck. “Maybe,” you smile as his teeth pinch the sensitive skin on your pulse point, “but I think you like this game.” 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh against your neck, sending shivers down your spine and your breath catches in your throat. His fingers trail lightly up your ass before settling on your hips. The gentle touch is soured as he clutches you, a deep burn licking your sides. He moves you ever so slightly, making your clit brush against his swollen head. Your breath wavers and you pull back to look at him. Brown eyes illuminated by the setting sun, accentuating all of the flecks of gold and amber in his irises. You swear that you could stare into his eyes all day. Joel’s lips part like he’s hungry for you and you lean in to kiss him, but his hand intercepts you, grabbing your jaw tightly.

“No. Rule number one is,” he scolds, shaking your head slightly before letting it go of you, “no kissing.” 

Part of you can’t help but feel disappointed even though you expect this from Joel. The two of you only ever kiss when there’s too much whiskey involved and the heat of the moment blinds him from his normal detachment. 

You open your mouth to say something snarky, but Joel cuts you off. “Rule number two”—he grips the collar of the shirt hanging loosely off of you—“is no hiding these tits from me.” 

Effortlessly, Joel rips your favorite shirt—his shirt—right down the middle. Within seconds, he brings his mouth to your already pebbled nipple, swirling it around his warm mouth. You bite back a moan and remind yourself that he just destroyed your favorite item of clothing. Instead, you furrow your brows and clench your jaw. You’re sure that you look ridiculous as you put on the angriest face you can muster while pleasure shoots through your core.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?” you hiss while trying to push him off of you, palms pressing hard into his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. 

He pulls back for a moment and looks at you, replacing his mouth with his fingers and gives your nipple a light pinch. You pull your cheek between your teeth to stop a moan from tumbling out of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Like you’re not wearin’ nothing but my shirt.” Joel bites the swell of your breast and soothes it with a gentle suck after, finally eliciting a moan from you. “You wear it when you touch yourself?” 

Your cheeks feel hot as embarrassment bubbles in your stomach alongside desperation. Every time Joel mocks you, you feel yourself falling deeper into that safe space that you crave. The space where you don’t have to think about the broken world around you, the space where only Joel and his touch matter. 

Unable to think of anything snarky to say back, you let out a pathetic whimper that Joel takes as a victory. He flips you onto your back and settles between your legs, nearly growling when he sees your arousal leaking from your slit. Gripping your hips, he stops you from trying to wiggle towards him.

“Look at that, baby,” he groans before kissing the coarse hair on your mound, “I can’t believe how fuckin’ wet she is for me. Such a needy little thing.”

All you can manage is a small whine as you tangle your hands in his soft curls, practically pushing his face into your pussy. Joel’s hot breath fans over your cunt and you press your head into the pillow, spreading your legs more for him—begging him to give you something.

Joel accepts the non-verbal invitation and licks an agonizingly slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, he lets go with an obscene pop. You moan at the loss of contact, squeezing your eyes shut and letting go of his hair so you can fist the bed sheets instead. Joel’s not patient, but neither are you, and you’re starting to feel a level of want that’s almost painful. 

Two of Joel’s fingers form a V to spread your folds, further exposing your clit so that he can get a better look at you. You glance down and the sight of him causes you to clench, reminding you how empty your pussy is. Pupils blown, hair tousled, and if you didn’t know that the glisten around his lips was your arousal, you’d swear he was drooling. He may have you melting under his touch, but you were wrecking him, too.

“Are you going to be a good girl f’me?” he asks, lightly brushing his index finger over your swollen bud. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I don’t know, Joel,” you say, almost sing-songy, as you tilt your hips closer to him. “Are you going to give me a reason to be?”

A hard smack to your cunt forces your eyes open and you try to retreat, scooting towards the headboard, but it’s useless. Joel has you held firmly in place with one hand. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he growls.

You don’t get to answer before Joel’s jamming two fingers inside of you, giving you no time to adjust to the width before he’s fucking into you. You suck in sharply at the slight burn before a strangled moan claws its way out of your throat. His pace is unforgiving, but you can’t get enough. You find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, propping yourself up on your elbows for a better view of his fingers moving in and out, covered in your juices. 

Joel’s eyes are dark and fixated on your cunt and how it gushes around his fingers. The sound of your squelching pussy and wanton moans filling the room, sounding like a symphony. If you had the ability to think about anything besides the sweet tension building in your lower stomach and the rugged man between your legs, you’d be concerned about the neighbors hearing. 

“Good girls get to come,” Joel says, glancing up at your flushed face. Your lips are parted as you’re basically panting, trying to catch your breath, but Joel never gives you the chance to, continuing to fuck you mercilessly. “Is that ‘nough of a reason for you, sweetheart?”

“Mm, maybe—fuck!”

When Joel’s tongue meets your clit, you cry out and try to grab at his free hand to ground yourself. For a moment, he laces your fingers together, his large hand swallowing yours, but he quickly moves your hand up to your breast. Your grab at your own flesh, gently tugging at your nipple as Joel’s fingers and tongue work in tandem. The way Joel’s tongue swirls against your clit in precise circles feels like magic, like this is all he was built for. Your legs start to twitch as you approach your release and electricity courses through your body while Joel’s fingers curl just right to hit that spongy spot inside of you. You clench around him, obscene moans and gasps just pouring out of you. Joel hums against you, clearly pleased with himself. He takes your bud into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. And fuck—that nearly does you in. But just as quickly as you got there, he takes it all away—keeping you at the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

Pulling his mouth away and retracting his now soaked fingers, he drags his index finger up and down your seam. Your hips shift and you groan, disgruntled and, frankly, annoyed. When the two of you make eye contact, despite your exasperation, you can’t help the way the corners of your mouth turn slightly upward, admiring how his lips and scruff are glistening with your arousal, his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that’s dampening his curls. 

“What’s that little smirk about?” Joel asks with a raised brow. He moves up towards you, peppering your breasts with a few delicate kisses before settling next to you. As Joel’s arm snakes around your shoulder and he pulls you into his warm chest, your breath hitches at the sudden, unexpected gentleness of it all. 

These moments when Joel’s soft with you are rare, making them all the more satisfying. Something tugs at your heart, though. You wonder what Joel was like before the outbreak, before the world turned even the softest to stone. Maybe Joel was the type to make love, not the type to fuck. Maybe he brought his dates flowers and opened the car door for them. Once, you heard whispers that Joel had a daughter who died. The thought of him making her school lunches makes your chest tighten. With your ear pressed to his chest and his heart beating steadily underneath you, you realize that you’d do anything to see Joel Miller being domestic, being soft, being sweet. God, what the fuck is wrong with me? you think, squeezing your eyes shut to push the thought away. You tell yourself being this turned on can make the mind think crazy things. 

“You gonna answer me?” Joel’s voice is low, quieter now. 

Nipping at his jaw and soothing it with a kiss, you whisper, “Need you—need your cock inside me, Joel.”

“Darlin’,” he chuckles, his lips brushing your temple, “I don’t really give a shit what ya need. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

With a small whine, you nod and nuzzle your face into his neck. You asked for this, you know that, but you feel like you're going to explode and there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. His cock twitching ever so slightly against the soft shelf of his tummy gives him away. 

Joel’s free hand slides down to your breast, giving your nipple a hard tug, before coming in contact with your clit. He begins to rub excruciatingly light circles on your sensitive nub. A wanton sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan, climbs its way out of your throat as you press your face into his neck. You start to hate him for a moment, but then you remember how perfectly he stretches you out and if you’re just a little more patient, maybe you’ll feel it soon. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“I know, I know,” he coos. “Wanna come for me, huh?”

All you can do is whine and nod in response, bucking your hips toward his thick finger, begging for more pressure on your clit. The way his voice has softened shoots right to your core. Something akin to butterflies in your stomach overwhelms you as heat spreads throughout your chest. You feel so hot, so needy, and so agitated that he isn’t just giving you what you want. 

Joel lets out a breathy laugh and finally rubs your clit in earnest. It feels like heaven and hell at the same time, both overstimulating and not stimulating enough. You close your eyes so tight that you see stars as you feel the pressure steadily build inside of you. Joel whispers filthy things in your ear, but you can hardly focus on anything except the practiced circles on your clit.

Involuntarily, your legs twitch and begin to close as you approach your peak. Joel pins your leg to the bed with his own and slaps your clit, a playful warning. “C’mon now, be a good girl. Keep ‘em spread for me,” he says, voice husky and low as it vibrates the shell of your ear. 

The praise nearly makes you come and Joel knows it, but he slows his pace, letting your impending orgasm dissipate. You exhale slowly, trying to mask your frustration. But then he does it again and again, bringing you right there before taking it all away. After your orgasm is snatched away from you for the fourth time, you’re a shaking mess, hair sticking to your forehead and face hot with lust and anger which, right now, feel like the same thing to you.

“Y’look s’pretty  like this, y’know that?” he asks, his syrupy drawl thickened by want. 

“Mm—feels s-so,” you moan, “fucking good, Joel.”

After the first few times fucking him, you figured out that Joel likes praise as much as you do, even if he isn’t forthright about it. It isn’t a lie, it feels so fucking good, but you also hope that telling him so will give you the release you crave. As his fingers speed up, applying the right amount of pressure, you think your strategy may have worked. Your moans become louder as your hips jerk up. You’re right there. But he stops altogether, dragging his fingers up to rest on the curve of your stomach, leaving a trail of your arousal. 

The smug look on his face pisses you off. You want to hit him. You want to scream, maybe cry. You want to fucking orgasm.

“What the fuck, Joel?” you snap, breaking away from his hold. 

“Oh, baby, real awful, ain’t it? Not getting what you want?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, trying to pull yourself up off the bed despite your legs feeling like gelatin. 

A calloused hand catches your wrist and drags you back onto the bed. Joel positions you so that you’re straddling him. If you weren’t so worn out from being edged for what felt like hours, you probably would try to resist, but it’d be useless. You’re forcing yourself to hover above him, legs twitching as you try to muster the strength to stay like that, just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of your wet, hot cunt on his throbbing cock. 

Joel notices that you’re enraptured by him below you, your eyes focusing intently on the expanse of his chest and the gray hair littered across, covering scars here and there. While you’re thoroughly distracted—lecherous yet embittered—Joel forces you down on his cock. The unexpected intrusion makes you wince and a jumbled fuckjoelohmygod spills from you, sandwiched between high pitched whines and moans. 

“Fuck me, sugar,” he commands with a grunt, slapping your ass as he bottoms out inside of you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix, stirring a delicious pressure inside of you, and the initial burn of the stretch melts into pleasure. 

You can’t think of anything except the feeling of Joel splitting you open. The way the gray patch of hair at the base of the cock meets your own hair and your swollen clit, the weight of his hands on the soft, plush flesh of your hips, the bead of sweat rolling down his aquiline nose. You snap out of your trance as he squeezes your supple thighs and raises an eyebrow, awaiting your movement.

“I-I…” you stutter, pinching your eyes closed. You anchor yourself to him by pressing your palms flat against his chest, his heartbeat steady yet accelerated under your touch. Seated fully on his cock, you begin to languidly grind on him, softly moaning as the base of his cock grazes your puffy clit. You’re slow in your movements, but precise, only prioritizing Joel’s cock nudging the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and the pressure on your clit. 

“Is that the best ya can do?” Joel groans, discontented with your lack of compliance. His feet dig into the bed for leverage as he lifts his hips to fuck up into you, fast and sloppy. 

It’s an obscene sight—your tits bouncing as he fucks you, his thumb playing with your clit, hands grasping at the headboard for some grounding. But the sounds, god. The sounds in the room were downright sinful. High-pitched, borderline squeaky, gasps and mewls from you with grunts and groans from Joel. Skin on skin. The bedframe precariously creaking. Nearly out of your goddamn mind from Joel’s cock ruthlessly pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, you have no idea how loud you really are, but even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The louder you get, the harder Joel fucks you. 

“Mm, fuck, can feel her squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” Joel grumbles between heavy breaths, “but ya can’t come until I say so, got it?” 

You nod dumbly with your mouth agape, doing your best to fight the fire in your clit that was rapidly burning. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as Joel’s thumb works faster to circle your clit and you hear him chuckle beneath you. That fucking asshole. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 

“Joel, stop,” you choke out, “or I-I-I’ll…I’m going to—”

“No, be a good girl f’me.”

That’s all it takes. Those two words—good girl—send waves of pure ecstasy over you while you come on his cock. As your walls spasm and clench around him, you dig your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’ll leave your mark on him, adding to the collection of scars across his body. Joel fucks you through it, each thrust more erratic and delectable than the last. 

As you come down from the high of your orgasm, each of your senses trickle back in. You can now hear Joel saying something that you can’t quite make out below you, you can taste the iron on your tongue from where you bit down on your lip while you came, you can feel the wetness on your thighs. Wait—why was it so wet?  Glancing down, it hits you. You must’ve squirted because you and Joel are drenched in your release. Heat creeps up your neck and rests on your cheeks, your face burning with embarrassment. 

“Hey,” Joel’s gravelly voice cuts through your haze. A light tap to your ass draws your eyes down to his. “Up.”

Lips parted, you nod slowly, pulling yourself off of his cock and collapsing next to him. Joel shifts onto his side to face you, heavy and hard cock landing on your wet thigh. Your eyes meet his for only a few seconds before you look away, unable to read his expression. You sigh and say, “That’s…never happened before…”

Joel hums in response as he sits up and positions himself between your shaky thighs, spreading them apart and grabbing the base of his cock. Your breath hitches and your eyes widen, mesmerized by the angry red tip in front of you. How is it even possible to still need him after such an intense orgasm? Joel makes you like this. Insatiable. You think you hate him for it or  at least you might right now, while you lie in front of him, absolutely wrecked.

“Soaked my goddamn lap,” he grumbles.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Don’t go blamin’ me,” he gruffs, lining himself up to your leaking entrance. “Blame this needy fuckin’ pussy. Can’t help creamin’ all over my cock, huh?”

In one swift motion, Joel snaps his hips into you, his groin flush against yours. You nearly yelp, your pussy beyond sensitive from your orgasm. He begins fucking you relentlessly and you wrap your legs around his waist to suck him in as deep as possible. You swear, you can feel him in your stomach every time he bottoms out. Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, your sweat mingling with his. It’s torturous, having him this close to you, but knowing that you can’t kiss him. You wouldn’t risk it, not when you’ve already pushed your luck with him. All you want is Joel. Inside of you, on top of you, touching you. 

“Y’need to learn your lesson, girl,” he mumbles, lips dangerously close to yours. Joel’s hand snakes between the two of you and rests heavy on your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, unsure of what you’re even asking for. Pliant and soft beneath him, you’d take anything. 

Joel props himself up on an elbow, his large hand never leaving your neck, as he looks around the room. Something shifts as his gaze lands on the back scratcher next to your bed. His eyes, dark and heavy lidded. Letting go of your throat, he grabs the back scratcher and turns it over in his hands like he’s contemplating whether or not it’s a suitable punishment. You know damn well that he’s already made up his mind—he’s just fucking with you. 

“Hm,” his eyes flick up to meet yours, “ya think this will get it through that pretty little head? That ya gotta listen to me?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you give a small shrug. “Maybe,” you say, practically a whisper. Sweat starts gathering in the pit of your knee as you anticipate the burn.

Joel pushes your legs together and shoves your knees into your chest, making your pussy choke his cock and you can’t help but moan at the change in position. With the back of your thighs exposed to him, Joel has the perfect view of where his cock meets your pussy and he’s practically salivating. When his thumb brushes your swollen lips, you hum in pleasure and close your eyes, letting your head loll back onto the pillow. Lost in a daze, Joel seizes the opportunity to catch you off guard. Cold wood meets your skin with a loud smack and you cry out at the sudden pain. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim, eyes opening and brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Poor thing. Shoulda listened to me if ya didn’t want me to hurt ya.” Soothing the skin that was already beginning to raise with his thumb, Joel tuts and shakes his head. “But I think ya like this, don’t ya?”

You whine in response, nodding your head in quick succession. It’s true; in a world with so much unmitigated pain, it was nice to have a strike come from Joel. Joel, who despite all of his rough edges, wouldn’t ever hurt you too badly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, raising the back scratcher and hitting the back of your thighs again, but this time with more force. 

As the sting fizzles out, Joel begins fucking you, setting a punishing pace. The pleasure and pain are an irresistible cocktail and you start to clench around him, feral moans and his name mindlessly pouring out of you. 

Joel groans at the sight in front of him. You, all fucked out, just writhing in front of him. Pulling your legs closer to your chest, you invite him to hit you again. And fuck, he does. Over and over again, only stopping when he sees that he’s broken skin, crimson bubbling from the small split in your flesh. At this point, the pain has clouded your mind and everything felt hazy. You’re finally in that space that only Joel can bring you to. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel coos between grunts, “did s’fuckin’ well takin’ your punishment.” 

You smile stupidly at the praise, letting your legs drop, blood smearing on your bedspread. When you open your eyes, you see Joel looking down at you, almost affectionately. You’d seen him vulnerable before, yes, but this feels different, like you’ve managed to access a different part of him. You’re not sure what part of him, but it was definitely something new. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as he continues to fuck you, hard and deep. Holding him to you like you’ll fall off of the earth if you let go, you moan his name in his ear as he kisses that sweet, velvety spot in your pussy with his cock. 

Hips stuttering, you can tell he’s close. His grunts grow louder and beautifully harmonize with the squelch of your pussy. “Joel,” you whimper, “want you to fill me up. Please.”

“Like when ya use your manners, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at your throat. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Claim this fuckin’ cunt.” 

With that, he’s spilling ropes of come inside of your spent cunt, filling you to the brim. Your pussy has a vice grip on him, squeezing and milking every last drop from his cock. When he finally stills inside of you, you’re both panting messes. Joel goes limp against you, putting all of his weight on you as you both try to catch your breath. 

You could lie like this forever, you think. There’s something comforting about his body suffocating yours, cock softening inside of you. Something safe about it. Something that makes your body vibrate. You push the warm thoughts away, knowing that in a few minutes, Joel will be slamming your door shut to go back to his apartment across the QZ. 

Joel pulls out of you carelessly without a word and begins to get dressed, shoving his come-slick cock in his boxers. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the draw and pulling his ration cards out. As you do this, you feel his come leak out of you, trickling down to your puckered hole and pooling on your definitely soiled bed sheets. 

Tossing the ration cards his way, you lean back against the headboard. Joel’s eyes flick from his cut to you, quietly shoving the cards in his back pocket. 

“Y’could’ve just asked,” he says flatly. 

“More fun this way.”

Joel exhales through his nose and the slightest smirk tugs at his lips. Padding over to you, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. You leave a kiss on the palm of his warm hand before getting out of bed and walking over to the bathroom to clean up. Joel’s eyes are burning into you as he watches his come drip down your legs from behind.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Joel’s gone, but the white t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel is folded at the end of the bed.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started.  Joel clears his throat. 

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!” 

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult." 

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips. 

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person. 

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it. 

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs. 

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!" 

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees. 

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?" 

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree. 

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover. 

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses. 

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire. 

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground. 

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says. 

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize.  You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks. 

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off. 

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway. 

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark. 

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window. 

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop. 

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.” 

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary. 

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half. 

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating. 

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head. 

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?” 

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave. 

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks. 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.” 

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you. 

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest. 

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space. 

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves. 

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin. 

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says. 

“From what?” 

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him. 

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap. 

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel. 

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says. 

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh. 

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room. 

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back. 

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands. 

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel. 

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully. 

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm. 

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael. 

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night. 

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships. 

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down. 

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips. 

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish. 

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses. 

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer. 

Joel Miller masterlist

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[alrightieaphroditie]

moon and stars | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ back to masterlist

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x boston!qzjoel miller wc *:·ﾟ1.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ mention of being catcalled, reader being cornered by a group of men, joel saving the day the only way he knows how (with his fists), mentions of stitching, openish wounds, blood, and alcohol, slightly insecure!joel/soft!joel worried about being too much, just some pretty pure fluff, methinks :)  an *:·ﾟthis is heavily inspired by this post, because i saw it earlier today and couldn’t get this idea with joel out of my mind! nothing crazy, just a little ficlet with some tender joel. hope y’all enjoy! 

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel rears his big, brown puppy dog eyes at you while you’re stitching him back together. a promise is made. 

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” the words are muttered, accompanied by the sharp snip of your scissors and the slight rumble of thunder in the distance. 

The hand on the back of your thigh squeezes you gently. “Like what?” 

There’s something playful in his voice, in his usually rough and rich voice. It’s not the typical tone that someone who just got into a fight with three other men would usually have. But then again, Joel Miller wasn’t really the typical type of man. 

Your eyes narrowed at the man sitting on the bathtub ledge before you, taking in the bloody mess he was. He had a gnarly gash on the top of his head, one that had required you to dust off your stitching skills. His nose looked like it had been broken (again) and there was an array of blood and dirt littering his face like a dark constellation of stars. 

You weren’t even sure if half the blood on him was his own. 

The alcohol bottle made a gulping noise as you tipped it onto your towel, the glass clinking as you set it back on the bathroom counter before returning between Joel’s spread legs. His hands, which were also bloody from split knuckles, cupped the back of your thighs. His thumbs worked softly against the outer seam of your jeans, though his fingers dug into your thighs as you gently pressed the towel against the cut between his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” you replied, gaze narrowed in on the bridge of his nose as you cleaned the area. You couldn’t miss his big brown eyes watching you, though; the one hanging light in the bathroom reflected in the darkness of his irises as he stared up at you in… “Awe. You’re lookin’ at me like you’re in awe of me or something.” 

A chuckle passed through his lips before his eyes winced a little, the laughter no doubt causing the split on his lip to widen. This man had been beaten to hell and back, and all of it had been for you. As cheap as it was to say it, though… you should’ve seen the other guys. 

Earlier this evening, you had been walking through the lower end of the QZ with one of your friends, watching as the local kids took turns running through a broken fire hydrant that was spewing water everywhere. When you left, taking back alleys and walking on broken sidewalks, you had been cornered by a group of men who seemed to have been drunk. 

A catcall here, a few misplaced hands there, and one swift tug of your bag was all it took before the biggest of the men had been pulled out of the group, exclaiming loudly as a fist connected with his cheek. 

You hadn’t even realized Joel had been around, though you should’ve known better; he had a tendency to lurk around the apartment building when you stayed out later in the night. You had a clear view of the front door to the building from where you were cornered, so you could imagine that Joel had witnessed, well, everything. 

The fight had ended quicker than you expected, if you were honest. Joel had a lot of pent up anger that he was always happy to expel with the help of his fists, and even though it wasn’t a fair fight, he held his own. He was bleeding and bruised, sure. But he scared the hell out of the other men enough for them to stumble away from the sidewalk without sparing another glance at you. 

“Well, maybe I am. Whatcha goin’ to do about it?” There he was again, with that teasing tone. As if you weren’t wiping off blood from his face after stitching his forehead back together. 

Your eyes rolled. “Someone’s feeling charming tonight, huh?” 

You tossed the alcohol-soaked rag onto the counter behind you, reaching for the clean one you had placed on the toilet lid right next to all the other supplies from the first aid kit. Joel reached behind him, helping you run the faucet in the bathtub long enough to get the towel wet, his hand resuming that spot on the back of your thigh after shutting it off. 

Gently swiping at his skin, the once pristine (well… mostly pristine) white towel soon became a mix of red and brown as you cleaned off his face. In this position, you were barely taller than Joel, but that still meant he had to lift his eyes upwards to look at you. He looked like a damn puppy, gazing up at you as if you were about to give him his favorite treat. 

As if you had hung the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky yourself, but just for him. 

“‘m always charming, baby.” He winked one of those big eyes at you, causing your face to heat up as you brushed his hair back to clean off the top of his forehead. “That’s why I have you cleanin’ me up right now after I defended your honor.”

“My honor?” You couldn’t help but snort, pulling the now dirty towel away from his skin to fully face him. “Joel Miller, you are ridiculous.” 

You moved to step away, to go grab another towel to help with the cut on his bottom lip, but his grip on your thighs tightened and he hauled you into him. The squeal that left your mouth would’ve made you embarrassed if it hadn’t made Joel laugh out loud, his chest rumbling against yours as he held you tight to him. 

“Yeah, I might be. But you still love me anyway, don’t you?” 

And there it was.

That slight desperation in his voice that had you realizing why he was acting so playful. That neediness in his tone, the one seeking out the affirmation that yes, you still loved Joel, despite his darker tendencies. That you still cared for him, still wanted him to care for you in the only way he knew how sometimes. That he hadn’t turned you away by his actions tonight, even if he was just trying to protect you. 

He knew in his mind that he may have gone a little too far with some of the men surrounding you, but when he saw you pressed up against the brickside of the building, clutching your bag on your shoulders and trying to evade the dirty hands of the men trying to take advantage of you, something in him just snapped. He had no excuse other than pure hatred for the men trying to touch, trying to claim you. 

As if you weren’t his and his alone. 

Joel didn’t often lose control like that in front of you though, and he hadn’t missed the way you watched the event with eyes blown wide, the way you had flinched each time his fists landed on someone else, or when someone else’s fists connected with his body. It was only when you were helping him into the apartment, his arm slung over your shoulder, that he felt worried that he might’ve scared you away. 

And you recognized that now, with his question. With the way his eyes were big, unwavering on your face as he looked for any sign of you backing out. Of you leaving him. 

Your hands rested on either side of his face, gently brushing back his hair and being mindful of the fresh stitches taking up space on the right side. “Joel, there is nothing you could ever do that would make me stop loving you.” 

Your words were firm, giving Joel no room to look for any hidden meanings or hesitant feelings. His eyelids fluttered for a brief second, and you could see the relief that flooded his body afterwards; his shoulders dropped down half an inch as his posture went from rigid to relaxed. His chest expanded as he took in a big breath of air, letting it pass through his nose with a quick nod of his head. 

“Promise me?” His hand found its way to the base of your neck, tilting your head ever so slightly so that your forehead rested against his. You inched it to the side, avoiding the cut, and nodded your head. 

“I swear.” 

Even though it had to have hurt him, he pressed his mouth against yours, capturing your bottom lip in between his in a deep, desperate kiss. The taste of blood lingered on your lips afterward, but you could tell that he needed this. That he needed some proof that he wasn’t as unlovable as he felt, that he wasn’t undeserving of love, your love, specifically. 

And you were more than happy to provide that proof, for however long he needed it.

[chasedbyatlantic]

flawless, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — joel miller comes to you hurt and in pain, after realizing that you are the only one that he can find peace with - you're there to welcome him with open arms.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, boston qz era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, frenemies to lovers type trope, angsty to fluff, mentions of blood/injuries/death (lightly mentioned), joel being so sappy i love it, swearing, cute ending. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.9k

a/n: i hope u love this as much as i do. i've been meaning to write it for a while, and it's a bit of a diff style from my writing but i love how it turned out! make sure to reblog, like, comment and follow for more! xoxo

—

It had to have been three in the morning by now. When Joel said he was going to be at your place by seven, you believed him. He was a man of his word after all - or at least ninety nine percent of the time he was. He had told you this morning that he was heading outside of the walls after his shift at the "graveyard" (the nickname given to where the bodies of infected were burned), and he would be back just after sunset. You had protested to join him on his well-travelled route, but he had forbid you from going with him. Despite not going with him, he had promised to swing by your place once he was back and drop off any goods he may have scavenged while out.

You weren't sure why he wouldn't agree to let you come, it wasn't like he was your father, or brother, or boyfriend - you guys were friends. Sure, the two of you had hooked up every so often, but that gives him no right to make decisions for you, about what you can do or where you can go. It's the zombie apocalypse for Christ sake, you can do what you want when you want.

You had been up for an extra few hours, it was way past the time you would usually be asleep. You were waiting for that knock on the door, you were waiting for the bickers on why you were awake and waiting for his return, you were waiting for Joel. In all honesty, you weren't sure why you were up. Maybe it was the thought in the back of your head that he was dead, or stranded alone somewhere far outside of the walls.

You had to shake those gruesome thoughts out of your head as you were forced up and toward your window, having to close it due to the newly started rain. As soon as the window was shut, the sounds of pitter-patter were echoed through your entire apartment, the only thing it did was put you on edge. He was probably at home, you thought to yourself, thinking it was too late to bother you and that he would see you first thing tomorrow. You could only hope for that.

You had decided it would be best to go and sit down on your sofa, the one in front of the TV that hadn't worked for twenty something years. It wouldn't hurt you if you remained up for the next little bit, just in case. In case there would be a knock on your door, in case he showed up. You took a seat on the well weared in part of the sofa, kicking your shoes off and cuddling up to the blanket covering the arm. It wouldn't hurt you if you stayed up waiting with your eyes shut, would it?

It was a quarter to five when a few sets of knocks went off at your door. You had shot up from the light rest you had fallen into, mentally cursing yourself for not being able to stay up. Was it Joel? You really shouldn't be caring this much about him, or this situation. You were sure it wasn't anything serious, but this is what friends do for each other, right?

You had gotten up as quick as you could, tripping over your shoes and almost face planting on the ground. Without spending any time to worry about it, you moved over to the door. Whoever it was on the other side, Joel or not, mustn’t have heard you make your way over to the door since there was another set of desperate knocks. It felt like an eternity while you undid all four locks, before swinging it open.

Your eyes could only fall into the gaze of the grey ones in front of you. You weren't sure if he was crying, or if the paths under his eyes were extra watery from the torrential downpour happening outside (though, you wouldn't question him about it). Your eyes had scanned over his saddened face, to the puddle of water beneath his shoes. Your hand had automatically found its way to cup his cheek, your thumb running over his skin as gentle as possible, "Fuck, Joel."

You could feel him soften his muscles when you did this, despite his facial expression remaining neutral, "I gotta come in." He had mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You had immediately dropped your hand from his face, and moved out of the doorframe, allowing Joel to enter. It was only when the dull light from your candle lit lamp engulfed Joel that you could really see what had happened to him.

A black eye, a busted lip, small bruises littered around every masculine feature he had. You were going to kill whoever did this to him. "I got clothes that'll fit you, hold on." You had turned and shuffled your way into your room, digging through the drawers when you had reached them. You had a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you, but would most likely fit Joel. Before leaving the room, you swiped a shirt that was laying in the pile of clean clothes off to the side.

You emerged not long after, seeing the barely-clothed man remove his last sock off his right foot. You two were past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other, you had learned to adapt due to the many years spent surviving together. As you walked past Joel, toward the kitchen, you shoved the clothes into his arms. You wanted to give him a little privacy, so he could hold onto his pride, if he managed to have any left.

Making your way into the kitchen, you immediately got out a mug from your tiny mug collection, and turned the gas-powered stove top on. Placing the mug beside the stove, you had brought over a little pot and dumped an entire bottle of water into it. It didn't take long for the water to boil, so once it was done, you immediately put it in the mug labeled "World's Best Boss" and started to scavenge. You hadn't opened the box of tea you were looking for, you wanted to save it for a special occasion. Tonight was special enough, right?

You had found it after a moment of searching, taking a packet out of the box and moving back over to the living room. Your eyes fell on the emptiness of the sofa, the man nowhere to be found. He couldn't have left, you didn't hear the door open or close. Just before you were going to call out for him, he walked out of the darkness (his limp more noticeable than before). "Put the clothes'n y'ur bath tub, didn't want the floor all wet for ya' to clean." His voice was hoarse.

You shot him an almost unapologetic look as you placed the mug down, dropping the tea bag inside. "Stop worryin' 'bout that, now sit down and let me help." For once in his life, Joel Miller kept quiet and did what you told him. You had wished it would be under different circumstances, but a win is a win. "Now," You began, "I know you like coffee, but this was all I could find."

It had to taken Joel a moment before he realized that there was a warm drink waiting for him, his nose too stuffed to have taken in the scent. It had been a while since Joel had something warm to drink, a while since someone's cared enough about him to make him something like that. Even though he despised any sort of drink other than coffee (and water, of course), he would not complain about this. Not now, not ever. He reached forward for the mug, carefully bringing it back to his lap. "Best boss, hm?"

You could only giggle as you were now opposite of Joel, instead of being on the couch, you had pushed it away and were digging on the floor. Months ago, you had figured out there were two layers of wood that divided you and the person who occupied the apartment below you. That space served as a cubby, so you figured why not use it for its purpose? "You're gonna be jumpin' with joy, Joel Miller." He looked puzzled, trying his best to ignore the immense pounding that came from everywhere in his body. That's when he caught glimpse of what you were holding, headache medicine.

Sure, headache medicine was some measly little thing that probably didn't work as well as it used to anymore, not many people would bat an eye at it before the apocalypse. But now, it was gold. People were sentenced to the firing squad if any guard in the QZ found out about medicine that wasn't recorded, since it was so scarce. "Why the fuck do you have that?" Was all Joel could say, forgetting about himself for a moment, and worrying about you. That's what friends do, right?

"For emergencies like this." You had gotten up from the floor, kicking the wooden plank back into its home before moving over to Joel. You had opened the cap, taking out four. Four would send you into the doctors office if you took them before they expired, but since they expired twenty years ago, they only worked half (if you were lucky) of what they usually would. You had reached out for Joel's hand and placed the pills in there, "Drink tea with'em to help them go down easier."

He listened to you, silent for a moment. After he had swallowed the mouthful (literally) of pills, he broke silence. "I don't want you runnin' 'round'n gettin' shit like that." He was referring to the pills, "You know what happens if ya' get caught." How could even talk this much with a busted lip, you thought to yourself. You repeated the 'if ya' get caught' part to him as you slipped away once more into the kitchen.

Joel called your name out a few times as you left, leaning farther back into the couch each time. By you talking to him, he was distracted. Distracted from the crushing headache, the horrible tension that rose to his lips every time words were escaping from his mouth, the pain throughout his body. He would tell you what happened, when you came back, but only if you asked.

You returned with a small bowl and a rag, something to clean up his face (and anywhere under the clothes he may want cleaned). You sat down beside Joel, on the sofa, "Lay down." He looked confused, not really understanding what you had meant. Not wanting to waste anymore time with those open wounds leaking every so often, you grabbed his shoulders and forcefully (yet carefully) brought him down so his head was rested in your lap.

You could tell that it hurt Joel when you did that by the small grunts he had managed to let escape his lips. You didn't mean to hurt him, not at all, but you couldn't deal with any bickering if he decided to start now. "So, Mister Miller," You began, dipping the rag into the bowl, "How did you get your shit rocked so badly?"

He wasn't impressed by the way you put it, shooting you a quick glare, "Runners." Was all he said. Runners? How could runners do this to him? A million thoughts ran through your head, but you quickly cut yourself short. "Are you-" Joel knew what you were asking, was he bit? "No." He responded, a bit too quick, before continuing his short, yet descriptive, story, "Was with a few people ya'dunno, came across Runners out in a building, they all turned on me'n tried to get out." He paused for a moment, "Four'o them plus two runners on me, would've killed 'em myself if the runners didn't get 'em first."

You could tell Joel was hesitant to tell you, thinking you would see him as weak. No, far from that actually. You could only think highly of the man laying in your lap, for he's how you were thriving in this apocalypse. You brought the dampened rag to the gash on his cheek, he jumped as it was alcohol, and not water, "Don't beat yourself up too much for it," Joel flinched at the stinging sensation, "Your secret's safe with me."

Joel had crossed his arms, his hands brushing past your thighs. You felt as if they lingered too long, maybe it wasn't a passing matter. He's comfortable with you, you know that. This is what friends do, right? You had assessed the other wounds on his face, almost all disinfected completely. The bowl of alcohol now having a slight red tone to it.

After a moment, Joel broke the comfortable silence the two of you were in, "I shouldn't have came. Wastin' all y'ur supplies'n all." This didn't impress you, so Joel had earned a slight slap on his shoulder. "Just let me take care of you, god dammit. How many times have you done it for me?" He was silent after that, knowing. Countless times, after roudy street fights for ration cards, Joel had cleaned you up. Cleaned the blood from your face and stitched the deep gashes that would appear. You were only returning the favour, because that's what friends do.

"Plus," You added now, "we can just scavenge more stuff the next time we take a vacation from this place." If you taking out medicine for him didn't piss him off, this sure as hell did. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist, the wrist that was cleaning up his purpled lip. "Ya' ain't goin' out there, not now, not ever." You had shooed his hand off from you, brushing the comment off, "Can't protect me forever, boss. What's a little fun anyway?" You shouldn't have had the playful grin on your face, but you couldn't help yourself.

Joel could only give you an unhappy look, knowing that you couldn't be stopped with it, as much as he might've tried. He wasn't in the mood to fight you, he wasn't ever really in the mood to fight you. Joel had sat up without a warning, almost causing whatever was left in the bowl to go flying. This earned a whack from you.

"Uhm, ow." He muttered, maybe you shouldn't have done that, added to his pain and all. "Gotta get goin', though." He didn't want to say that, you could tell. It was the tone that he said it in. You could only meet his gaze for a moment, "Stay the night." When someone was hurting like this, how could you say no. How could you turn your best friend away, and let him go home, when he wasn't okay?

You weren't expecting Joel to agree to stay, or at least not cave in without any convincing. It was strange, really, he was acting different. It had to have been the drugs that you had given him, you thought to yourself, maybe it had something that made you nicer to the people you're close with.

You had helped the man up, and left the dirty rag on the table. That was tomorrow (well, when you woke up)'s problem. You took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, helping him walk better. You would mother him about his limp and legs when he was recovered. Joel was holding onto you as he moved in sync with you to your room.

Once you got there, you had let go of him. He looked at you for a moment, before turning away. "Can ya', uh, help with my shirt?" He asked. You could only nod your head, maybe a bit too quick for your liking. "Yeah, o'course." Then, following what you just agreed to do, you grabbed the hems of the shirt Joel was wearing and helped to slide it off of him. This is what friends do, right?

You tried your best not to stare, you really did, but the marks on his chest pulled you in. After taking a moment longer to let your eyes linger, you pulled away and helped him under the comforter. "I'll take care'o those tomorrow." You had turned to make your way the door, to sleep on the couch, to give Joel as much space as he could. He grabbed your wrist, though, before you were able to get too far from him. "Can you, er, stay?"

Joel wasn't looking at you when he asked that, he was looking anywhere but. You wanted to stay, really did you, but you felt like you couldn't. "Listen, Joel, I want to, bu-" You were cut off by him interrupting you, "Please." Please. Joel Miller doesn't say please. This took you almost by shock, but you tried not to show it. You only nodded your head, and moved over to the other side of the bed.

You could feel Joel watching your every move, but you didn't care at this moment. You removed your pants, but kept your shirt undergarments on. You would call today a day of victories, not for Joel, but for you. He had listened to you so much, and didn't fight it. You wish it was under different circumstances, but a win is a win. You knew he wasn't up to his usual par, but it still counted.

It happened with a blink of an eye. First you were hesitant to get into the bed with him, not wanting any mixed signals to be sent at the current moment, next you were laying right beside him, and his current good arm wrapped around your waist. If Joel was happy, you were happy. The sounds of rain made it better, made it more peaceful for Joel. He could relax, and take his mind off of the pain he was feeling. This is what friends do for each other.

—

flawless, the neighbourhood

[bluebeary-jay]

Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

[talaok]

In control

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel is the boss of a group of criminals in the QZ, and you're his little bunny everyone knows better than to look at, but Joel seems to have forgotten who's really in control, so you decide to remind him.

warnings: as always this is just porn so...smut| restraints (idk man he's handcuffed), teasing, f masturbation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, praising, pet naming, and lots of daddy kink of course

btw this is the third part to this but it can be read alone

It all started with one simple sentence.

"You do as I say, bunny, I'm in control here"

That's what Joel had told you last night when you were teasing him a little too much and his patience was running thin.

And sure... in the moment it was hot and made you comply immediately, but as you finally got ready to go to bed...those words echoed in your mind over and over, so much that you couldn't fall asleep.

The thing was that, yes, you did do as he said most of the time, especially when it came to the bedroom, but you did so because you wanted to, not because he had all the power.

Hell no. It was the exact opposite.

You held all the power.

the real power

And as much as you were certain both of you knew that, after last night... you couldn't help but wonder if he was starting to forget

And what do you do when someone forgets something?

You remind them, of course

__ __ __

You knew he was coming even before he opened the door. 

it was hard to miss the sound his boots made with each step. It always amazed you how every single part of him, (his walk, his talk, his demeanor) was rough, but all he's ever been to you was soft, well...except for the times where you didn't want him to be.

"I'm home" he called, as he closed the door behind him and took off his shoes.

You were practically vibrating from how excited you were.

"Hey there," you said nonchalantly as you walked into the living room.

And the moment he saw you- the moment he saw you he looked ready to faint and jump your bones at the same time.

You had put on those tiny white lace panties and matching bra he'd gifted you a little while ago.

Only that

"Did you have a good day?" you asked, biting your lip as you met him halfway, being that he was already stalking towards you.

"It just got a hell of a lot better" he murmured, wasting no time before taking hold of each side of your head and meeting his lips with yours.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, eyeing your outfit

You shrugged "I just wanted to surprise you"

He smirked, picking you up without so much as a warning.

"Well you did bunny" he muttered, in between kisses "Surprised me real good"

He was already hard, his cock was straining against his jeans and you could feel it right against your core.

"Been thinking about you all day, baby" he breathed, as his lips took hold of every piece of skin they could access "And then I come home and find you like this?" he smirked "You might just kill me one of these days, my heart it's not as strong a it used to be, I'm an old man sweetheart"

You giggled, a part of you forgetting your mission for tonight.

"You're not old daddy"

"No, then what am I?" he asked as he kicked the door to the bedroom open.

"Very handsome" 

A soft chuckle left his lips

"Well played" he kissed you, as he sat on the bed with you now straddling his lap.

You had put on a red lipstick and it was now smeared all over his mouth too.

His hands were on your ass, guiding you to grind onto him, and forcing a whimper out of your throat.

"god I love the little sounds you make f'me bunny" he groaned, "wish I could listen to them all day" he murmured as he took you by surprise, and in a matter of seconds you were pinned down beneath him, his whole body caging yours.

"Daddy" you whined, as his fingers started to graze against your belly towards the hem of your panties.

His hum was muffled by his work on your neck.

Oh how easy it would have been to just abort your mission and let him take care of you like you knew he was about to.

But a part of you, a part of you still wanted to see the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

and that part of you won.

"Daddy wait" you murmured

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, raising his head to look at you.

"I just- I want to take care of you today," you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

A smirk pulled at his lips

"Yeah?"

"yes daddy"

"And how would you like to do that?" he taunted

You bit your lip, hiding the grin underneath them "You'll see"

It took a moment for him to agree, but seeing how eager you were at the prospect he didn't have it in him to say no.

"alright" he nodded

A wide smile rose to your lips

"Lay down" you instructed.

And with a groan, he did.

His head was resting on a pillow, and his whole body was now at your disposal.

You took your time getting on top of him, and once again, you felt every cell in your body jump from the excitement.

You smiled as you let your hands explore his chest, still covered by an old flannel.

His hands immediately went to your waist, but you stopped him just in time.

"na-ah" you shook your head "no touching"

He cocked an eyebrow, but let you do your thing as you placed his arms back on each side of him.

Your eyes found his, and as you only found lust and restraint in his, you were sure he could see something else spark in the back of yours, so before he could have time to ask you what exactly that was, you started undoing his shirt, kissing any new piece of skin you uncovered, until his whole broad chest was on display, and his cock was painfully hard.

You stifled a laugh, if only he knew what was about to happen...

"Bunny" he groaned, trying to grind against you "you're killin' me here" 

"But Daddy" you pouted, starting to gently stroke his arms "I haven't done anything yet"

"Yeah baby" he chuckled, as you took hold of his wrists, slowly moving his arms above his head, and grinding onto him at the same time so as to distract him "That's the problem"

"'m sorry" you murmured, ghosting his lips "I'll do something now, close your eyes"

"Close my eyes?"

"yes daddy"

And if he hadn't been so completely hypnotized by you and the feel of you, he would have noticed the sound of metal against metal coming from behind him... but as I said, Joel was a bit preoccupied at the moment.

"Alright," he obeyed, closing his eyes.

Now was the time, so as quickly as you could, you wrapped each of his wrists in the cuffs you had hidden, and secured them, being careful not to make them too tight.

You already were gonna torture him, double torture would just have been cruel.

"wha-" his eyes opened immediately as he realized what had happened "bunny..." he growled, now a tint of anger in his tone "What did you do?"

 You bit your lips as you watched him struggle beneath you

One of your fingers went to trace his jawline, stroking his beard at the same time.

He really was handsome...

"I think you know what I did" you smiled

"take them off right now baby" he ordered "or I'm gonna spank that pretty ass of yours until every inch of it is red"

You could only smirk in response.

"Where did you even get these?" 

"I asked one of your men for a favor..." you explained, caressing his pecs

"Who?"

"Why?" you teased

"I'll need to have a talk with him"

You giggled "A talk... sure" you mocked, before bending down to kiss him, tasting all the frustration and arousal on his tongue.

"What's this about?" he asked once you leaned away.

Now was your time to shine.

"You think you're in control here?" you asked, looking him right in the eyes.

"Take these cuffs off and we'll see who's in control"

You chuckled, rolling your hips on his crotch and making a strangled groan flee his lips.

"no no now" you tutted "Here's how this is gonna work" you explained "I'm not gonna touch you... or make you feel good in any way, until I hear you begging for me," you said "Until you say please"

He watched you, his chest heaving with each deep breath he took.

"oh baby you're in so much trouble"

You smiled "It's easy really" you sweet talked "Just beg me"

He chuckled "You know I'm not gonna do that"

You faked a pout, even though you knew damn well that's what he was gonna say.

"That's too bad" you cooed, as you climbed off of him "'cause I'm just so wet already... and I was really in the mood" you continued, now sitting on the bed "so if you're not up for the job... I guess I'm gonna have to do it myself"

"bunny don't you dare-"

You didn't pay his protests any mind as you took one pillow and propped it behind your head as you lay down in front of him.

You watched as his eyes went wide with anger and his hands desperately tried to free themself.

"y/n" he called your name with a sternness you hadn't heard in a while.

He used your name only when he was really pissed off

"What daddy?" you asked innocently, as you slowly spread your legs, giving him a full view of what he was missing "you don't like it when I touch myself?"

You hooked your fingers in your panties, gradually taking them off until you could discard them on the floor with just a flick of your ankle.

"you know I don't" he growled again.

You smiled as you brought two of your own fingers to your mouth, and without breaking eye contact, gently started sucking on them, wanting them to get as wet as possible.

"mhh" you hummed, watching as he fought his restraints.

"You know you could stop this any time you want" you reminded him, unhurriedly bringing your fingers to your core "You just have to beg"

You waited for him to cave, but all he said was

"I'm gonna make you pay for this bunny" 

You let out a low sigh "that's not how you beg daddy" you scolded, starting to slowly circle your clit and causing a soft moan to leave your chest as you shut your eyes.

You could hear his heavy breathing as you started to go faster and faster, and when your fingers traveled downwards, finding your entrance, it was like you could physically feel the anger emanating from him.

You spread your legs even more as you sank your fingers inside of you, having to bite down on your lower lip to stifle an even louder moan.

"feels so good daddy" you whined, as you curled them into your g-spot "so good" you moaned, as he watched every single motion of yours, desperate and mesmerized at the same time.

You let your left-hand travel to your tits, reaching into one of your bra cups until your boob had spilled and you could stroke and grab at it however you wanted, heightening your pleasure.

"Don't you wish you were the one doing this to me?" you teased, as you continued fingering yourself.

Your fingers felt very diffrent from what you were used to

"I know you do," he said "I know those tiny little fingers of yours don't come close to my cock, and you know it too bunny"

"oh trust me" you moaned, fastening your pace just to piss him off "T-they do the job just fine"

"fuck" he groaned "bunny c'mon" 

And there it was, his tone had changed, it was softer now, more pleading.

"What?" you teased, your mouth open as you sucked in ragged little breaths "You want me to stop?"

You could feel your orgasm coming, your legs were stretching desperately across the bed as the sound of your slick cunt filled the room and Joel's poor ears.

"Yeah I do" he breathed 

"Are you gonna beg?" you asked, building your climax

"I know you want this cock baby" 

"That doesn't sound like begging to me" A wicked smile pulled at your lips, as your thumb reached for your clit, making you cry out.

"Oh fuck Daddy" you whined "'m coming" you quickened your pace "I'm-I'm"

"bunny don't even think about-"

but before he could get the full sentence out you were already moaning so loudly any words of him would have been just washed away.

"oh shit" you smiled through a sigh "that felt good"

"yeah? you know what would feel even better?" he asked, watching you crawl closer to him "having my cock deep inside that tight pussy"

"oh yeah that'd feel good too" you admitted, "but you know what you have to do first"

"bunny..." he groaned, as you undid his zipper and pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time before straddling him again.

Your cunt was dripping right onto his manhood, and you could see he was about to give up, so just to give him a slight push...

"whoops" you bit your lip, catching your still glistening fingers "I should probably clean these up shouldn't I?" you cooed, bringing your fingers to your mouth before abruptly stopping "Unless you want to do it..." you considered, offering him your fingers like they were an untouchable prize.

"You know damn well I do baby"

"Yeah?" you asked "All you have to do is say please"

"Bunny-"

"just say it Daddy" You grinded on his cock, making him groan louder than ever before "Just admit that you're not in control"

"fuck-fine" he sighed, making you smile so wide your cheeks hurt.

"please bunny" he murmured

"what was that?" you teased

"You're gonna make me say it again?"

"yes, and put a little enthusiasm in it too"

"or what?" he had the audacity to ask

"or..." you shifted on his lap, making him stifle a moan "I'm not riding your cock" you put simply.

"fuck ok, just- please bunny" he breathed "Please let me taste you, and please ride me, baby"

And again, you smiled wider than ever, as you finally let your fingers in his mouth.

He hummed loudly around them 

"who's in control, daddy?" you asked, retracting your fingers and finally taking his cock in your hand

"You bunny, you're in control" he said with no hesitation "Fuck, you've always been"

"Now that's what I like to hear" you giggled, before ultimately sinking down onto his shaft, moaning loudly as you did.

the relief that washed over Joel almost made him pass out, your pussy was squeezing him tight, shooting pleasure through every nerve in his body, and it took all of him not to come right there and then.

"oh my god," you whimpered, 

he was so deep you could feel him in your fucking belly

"fuck, you feel so good bunny" he groaned, as you started to bounce up and down his dick, crying out loud every time his cock hit that spot inside you that made you want to scream.

Your hands were firmly planted onto his chest, clawing at him like a cat.

"goddamn baby" he purred "you're so fucking tight f'me"

You could feel a bubble forming in your belly and you had to close your eyes as you started rocking back and forth, using his cock to stimulate your G-spot over and over again.

"Just for you daddy" you promised

"I know sweetheart" he groaned again "I know"

Your eyes were fluttering shut as your orgasm went to take over.

"Come for me sweetheart" he breathed, feeling your walls squeeze him even further as he lost himself in the image above him "'m right behind you" he said, pushing you over the edge.

Your mouth was open and your jaw slack as your climax spread inside of you like wildfire, and Joel... Joel couldn't hold it anymore at the sight, releasing inside of you with a roar of your name.

"fuck" you breathed heavily

"you done?" he asked, cocking a brow

"Maybe..." you smirked

"Bunny, you've tortured me enough for tonight, don't you think?"

"fine, you're right" you smiled "Let me find the keys to these things," you said, reaching to your nightstand and gently undoing the cuffs.

He groaned weakly as you freed him, massaging his own wrists.

You laid down next to him, and he took you in his arms, holding you close against him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, as you placed your head on his chest.

"Oh yeah" you giggled "did you?" you said, looking up at him.

His not-answer was more of an answer than he could have ever given you.

"You did!" you gasped "you liked it"

"alright fine... I might have liked you taking control a little bit" he admitted "but you cuff me to the bed one more time... and you're gonna regret it bunny"

You bit your lip "Is that a challenge?"

"You just try me..." 

[lincolndjarin]

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary. 

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark. 

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him. 

But you can’t.

So you don’t. 

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.    

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.  

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away. 

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle. 

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence. 

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from. 

Lose your leg or starve. 

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful. 

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge. 

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable. 

So there’s only one other option for you. 

You steal. 

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk. 

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching. 

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day. 

You need more. 

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea. 

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal. 

The only problem is your neighbors reputation. 

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time. 

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty. 

So you’d have to be careful. 

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area. 

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings. 

Lucky you. 

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process. 

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor. 

A revolver. 

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window? 

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear. 

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness. 

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way. 

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you. 

No one would look for you. 

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner. 

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all. 

He isn’t a terrible last sight. 

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.” 

Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you. 

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes. 

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed. 

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch. 

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit. 

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all. 

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all. 

Fuck. 

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh. 

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively. 

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?” 

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself. 

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?” 

A lot. 

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime. 

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes. 

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you. 

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising. 

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.” 

You told him you’d think about it. 

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help. 

And just like that, it was your idea. 

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after. 

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did. 

But he wanted nothing of the sort. 

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning. 

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before. 

He must like having someone to take care of. 

That’s how you explain it to yourself. 

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you. 

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was. 

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that. 

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was. 

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already. 

He had acted unsure. 

You know now that it was acting. 

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him. 

It was your idea. 

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you. 

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come. 

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning. 

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment. 

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet. 

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his. 

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed. 

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them. 

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg. 

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing. 

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs. 

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend. 

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go. 

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that. 

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them. 

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing. 

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister. 

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other. 

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one. 

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down. 

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall. 

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it. 

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about. 

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules. 

You keep Jackson moving. 

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms. 

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises. 

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule. 

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans. 

“Maria gets to go on patrol.” 

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls. 

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two. 

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work. 

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son. 

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work. 

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing. 

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists. 

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.” 

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.” 

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated. 

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother. 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone. 

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs. 

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to. 

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.) 

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks. 

It’s all exactly how it should be. 

Until she frowns. 

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol. 

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow. 

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.” 

Odd. 

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent. 

It’s a look of pity. 

As if she feels bad for even asking. 

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind. 

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one. 

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed. 

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different. 

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy. 

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light. 

God, you're tired. 

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday. 

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment. 

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams. 

It works.

Your dreams never feature him. 

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays. 

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

[keeshya6]

Worth the Effort

Joel Miller x F!Reader Insert

4.8k words

(18+ only. MDNI. To continue, please click "Read More" below.)

This fic is strongly inspired by the Raider Joel series by @toxicanonymity. My own take on him, of course, but Toxic's version of Joel definitely got the idea bouncing around in my head! Love your Raider Joel, Toxic!

If you aren't familiar with the series, you can find it here: Raider Joel.

This fic takes place a few years after the Cordyceps infection outbreak. I'm not entirely sure of the canon timelines for this time period, but this is canon divergent anyway. In my head it's before Joel gets to the Boston QZ, and Joel hasn't met Tess yet.

There is an element of dubcon to this, due to some glaring imbalances in the power dynamic. However, ultimately, Reader is a willing participant. So it's dubcon-ish.

This is meant as a stand-alone one-shot. However, depending on how ya'll like it, I could see turning it into a series of one-shots.

Please let me know you're thoughts! I hope you enjoy!

CW: Plot-what-plot?, plot-maybe-if-you-squint, dubcon-ish, power imbalance, gruff Joel, blow job, rough blow job, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, cum eating, breathplay, hair pulling, manhandling, D/s tones, dirty talk, tears, saliva, size kink, sexual acts outdoors. Please let me know if I missed any.

Edit: Part 2 is up now! What to Expect

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The snap of a twig is like ice water thrown over you. It makes your blood run cold with fear and your eyes widen as you straighten up from adding another log to the fire. You turn towards the sound, unsure of exactly where it came from, your breath caught in your throat, eyes searching the surrounding trees.

Other than the occasional sounds of a bird or small critter, it’s been quiet since early morning. So much longer than normal. You wouldn’t usually have started a fire before the rest of your group got back to camp, but it’s going to be dusk soon and the autumn chill will settle in. You figured it would be nice for them to have a warm fire to return to. Maybe some of the ones that don’t really like you would even appreciate it.

Not that you’re exactly looking forward to when they return. The leader, Phillip, always likes to ‘celebrate’ a successful run by leading you off to his tent. You play along, make him feel wanted, even if he’s about the furthest from your type as you could possibly imagine. Still, you’re not much good with a gun, so you’re no use out on their raids. You figured out a few years ago that you had to have something to offer in exchange for protection. You’ve gotten pretty good at stitching up gashes and cooking over a fire, but getting ‘friendly’ with the leader of a group like this one has been your best bet, and it's worked out alright so far.

Sure, definitely not the life you imaged for yourself but then again no one ever expected the world to end.

So yeah, you don’t look forward to them coming back to camp, but you also know you’re safest when they are in camp.

But if they were the ones approaching, you know they would be making more noise than whoever… or whatever… is out there right now.

Your eyes dart around the trees and you carefully back away from the fire towards the opposite tree line of the small campsite. Meanwhile you pull a small revolver from the pocket of your jacket, hands trembling and eyes wide.

The soft crunch of fallen leaves to the left has your focus snapping that direction, shakily raising the pistol. There’s an inhuman groan from beyond the brush and a terrified sob lodges in your throat.

Shit. Where the hell did an infected come from? This area has been clear for weeks!

A startled cry nearly tears out of you, though it’s cut off by the hand suddenly clamped over your mouth from behind, as you’re pulled roughly back into something firm.

“Don’t move or make a fucking sound,” an unfamiliar voice growls softly into your ear as the stranger’s other hand snaps out to snatch the pistol from your hands. He holds the gun out in front of you, his hand much steadier than yours ever would have been, as you freeze against him, mind whirling and eyes wide above the hand over your mouth.

When an infected stumbles into view beyond a large group of bushes you bite back another terrified sob. The unfamiliar hand stretched out before you doesn’t hesitate though, squeezing the revolver’s trigger.

You wince as the gun fires, and the infected turns towards you, only for the bullet to lurch its head around before it unceremoniously drops to the leaf strewn ground with a thump.

You, and the stranger you’re still pressed against, remain frozen for what feels like forever, listening and watching the trees.

“Looks like it was alone,” he says lowly, finally unwrapping his hand from across your mouth and stepping back from you, taking your pistol with him.

Trembling, you spin to face him, eyes widening again as you come face to barrel with your own pistol. Your hands lift into the air and you tear your eyes away from the gun and to the brown eyes of the man holding it.

“Please…don’t…”

Those dark eyes glance over you, hard and cold. “If you’ve got any other weapons on you, I strongly suggest you let me know and drop them right now.”

You give a quick, negative shake of your head. “I-I don’t. The pistol is all I had.”

His eyes leave you for a moment, darting around the camp before leveling on your face again. “Where is everyone else?”

“I…I don’t know,” you admit, daring to barely shrug. “They left early, to go find supplies. Left me to watch the camp. They…they’d usually b-be back by now.”

A relieved sigh escapes you as he barely lowers the pistol. At least you don’t have to look down the barrel any more.

His head cocks to one side slightly. “What’s this group look like?” he demands.

“Um…” you hesitate, biting your lip. Giving information to a complete stranger seems like a bad idea. You know Phillip will be pissed off if he finds out.

The stranger gives a faint snarl and lifts the gun again, making you anxiously pat the empty air between you.

“Okay… okay. There’s seven of them. Five men. Two women. The l-leader is kind of tall, bald, and lanky… like, like a skinny biker guy…”

He pauses and then nods, lowering the gun between you and straightening up to his full height as he looks around the camp again. “Well, they ain’t comin’ back. Took them out a few hours ago when they tried to jump my group. Sorry, Darlin’.”

That might be the coldest and most insincere “Sorry” you’ve ever heard in your life.

It takes a few moments for your thoughts to catch up with the news as your heart hammers and your eyes widen, darting around frantically. “Oh fuck…” you barely whisper.

The stranger studies you as dread settles over you and then, apparently deciding you aren’t a threat, he tucks your gun into the back of his pants and steps off to the side to kick at a couple of the sleeping bags laid out around the fire.

You don’t notice at first, your mind running rampant with the implications of Phillip’s death, but when you do notice you turn towards him with some measure of indignation. “Hey! You can’t just-”

The words lodge in your throat as he spins on you again in the middle of rummaging for supplies, the pistol materializing back into his hand, though he doesn’t bother to raise it. You also can’t help noticing that he has a rifle slung over his shoulder, so obviously he didn’t need your gun.

“I ‘can’t’ what?” he snaps back at you.

Eyes wide, you stare at him for several moments before speaking again, keeping your voice as calm as you can. “Please. This is all I have now…”

He huffs at you and looks down to kick at another sleeping bag. “Tough luck, darlin’.” His dark eyes lift to you again, brows drawn together in obvious confusion. “How did you even end up left here? Don’t seem much use to watch camp, if you can’t hold a gun without shaking…or much use at all, for that matter.”

You bristle a little at that, but then sigh. He’s not exactly wrong.

“I…do other things. Cook, first aid, wash clothes…other things…” Your voice trails off.

His head cants at you again and, for the first time, he seems to really look at you. Study you. In fact, his eyes drag over you and then he arches a brow, obviously guessing at what you’d left out.

“Oh really? ‘Other things’?”

Your cheeks flush with warmth, but you tick your chin upward slightly, holding your head high and narrowing your eyes at him. “Fuck you and your judgement.”

The first hint you’ve seen of any emotion crosses his face. Amusement. He smirks.

“Oh, I ain’t judgin’ you, Darlin’,” he says, crouching down to scoop up a can of baked beans that had been under a sleeping bag. His eyes quickly return to you as he straightens up again, stepping over to a backpack you hadn’t noticed before to tuck the can into a side pocket. “Difficult times and all that. Just got me wonderin’ if those ‘other things’ are worth the effort of takin’ you back to my camp with me… or if I ought to just leave you out here on your own.”

That sets your mind to reeling again and your haughty expression disappears as your brows pull together with concern.

What are you going to do now?

It’s your turn then, to really look at him for the first time. To study him.

Tall and broad. About forty, you would guess, with dark curly hair and a patchy beard, both just starting to sport a bit of gray. Plush lips. A strong, curved nose. You’re guessing the tan is natural, though you can’t see much of it given that he’s wearing a long sleeved, buttoned up flannel shirt and jeans with boots and a jacket. And then there’s those dark eyes that seem to pierce through you.

He’s handsome. You can’t deny that.

Then again. Does that matter, given your predicament? It’s just a bonus, really. At least, unlike Phillip, this guy is actually your type.

Biting your lip, you take a deep breath and let your eyes meet his once more. Your head slants and you let the faintest of smiles touch the corners of your mouth.

“I am good at the ‘other things’,” you admit.

That makes him laugh and you’re surprised to see a dimple crease his cheek. It’s not a mirthful sound though. If anything, it’s condescending.

“Oh, Darlin’. You’d have to claim that, wouldn’t you? To save your own skin?”

Biting back a retort, you manage to keep the pleasant smile on your face even as your thoughts jump through a few hoops to consider options.

Turning more fully towards him, you realize your hands are still held up and you slowly lower them to clasp behind you, consciously giving a slight arch to your back to accent the curves of your chest through your own jacket as you look up at him.

“Well, yes,” you admit, “but I could also… show you.”

He gives another chuckle, letting his gaze drop to your torso for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “No lingerin’ loyalty there, hm?”

Your shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “We weren’t exactly close. Plus, if they’re dead, what’s loyalty going to get me? Other than dead, too?”

He studies you again for a few moments, a smirk still touching his lips, before he nods in agreement. “True. So…” He pauses, his tongue tracing his teeth behind his lips. “...what are you offering?”

“Pretty much anything you want,” you say, keeping your tone as steady as possible despite your nervousness, “but only for you, as long as you can keep me safe.”

There’s another pause and then he chuckles darkly. “Oh, that’s a wide net, Darlin’,” he says, his voice taking on a rumbling note. “But I meant right now, to prove you’re worth the effort.”

You blink a few times, biting your lip and letting your eyes dance down his tall frame again. At noting the slight bulge at the front of his jeans that wasn’t there a moment ago, you barely manage to keep from smirking. You obviously have his attention, but his agreement isn’t close to secure yet. No need to get too confident.

Returning your eyes to his, you do let a coy smile tug at your mouth as you dare to slowly take a step closer to him, glad to see he doesn’t tense or lift the revolver again.

“Well… the offer is the same. ‘Pretty much anything you want’.”

It feels like it takes forever for him to respond, and he does by tucking the pistol into the back of his jeans again and stepping closer to you, closing the distance so you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. His hand lifts to adjust the strap of the rifle on his shoulder and you notice he’s wearing a broken wrist watch. Before you can even think to comment though, he reaches out to catch your chin in that hand, and he turns your head side to side, taking in the details of your face.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs start to burn and you slowly force yourself to inhale, all the while keeping your eyes on his.

“What’s your name?” he demands lowly.

You tell him, and then barely arch a brow at him to silently ask the same.

He hesitates while his eyes linger on your lips. “Joel.”

“Joel…” you repeat his name softly, after swiping your tongue out across your lips to wet them, forming the word like it’s something decadent.

His eyes darken and a faint smirk appears again after a few heartbeats pass.

“Oh… you do know what you’re doing.”

You can’t help returning his smirk and giving a faint shrug. No point in denying it.

Joel’s thumb brushes over your lower lip then, stopping in the center of it and barely pressing down, watching the tender flesh pillow to either side. Then those dark eyes lift to look around before coming back to yours and his voice takes on a slightly deeper tone from in his chest.

“How about you show me what this pretty mouth can do, Darlin’? We’ve got maybe half an hour before it gets dark. So you’ve got that long, before I head back to my camp…with or without you.”

You study his face as you consider, briefly.

There was a time when you would have been appalled at the thought of going down on a complete stranger, but like he said, ‘difficult times’. Besides, now that you’re close to him you can see that he at least tries to keep clean and doesn’t even smell badly. You could never claim the same of your now, apparently, deceased protector.

Maybe Joel is an upgrade?

That faintly optimistic thought lingers and you give a little nod of your head with another coy smile, letting your tongue trace over your lips once more. “Okay…”

With a smirk, Joel’s fingers give a firm squeeze to your chin before releasing it, and then he holds his hands out and down at his sides, his head tilting to the side.

An invitation to proceed.

Swallowing thickly, you take a deep breath and nod, hesitantly reaching out to him. When he doesn’t move to stop you, your hands slip under the edges of his jacket to touch his chest and then trace your fingertips downward. You can’t help noticing the muscles beneath the fabric, even where there’s a little softness at his stomach. It reminds you of working men you used to know, before the world ended, and briefly has you wondering what he was before that fateful day.

Pushing those distracting thoughts aside, you focus on the task at hand, your fingers deftly working open the belt looped into his jeans while you shift your weight and sink down to your knees, your eyes lingering on his face as you do.

The smirk on his lips lifts a bit, his tongue darting out over them as his hand cups under your chin again briefly. “Hmmm… lookin’ awful pretty down there, Sweetheart.”

You snort a faint laugh at him, which has him giving you a shameless grin that shows off that dimple again. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but at least he isn’t completely without humor.

When he releases your chin again you finally let your eyes drag down his torso to where your hands work open the front of his jeans. You find boxers underneath them and tug the jeans down just enough so you can reach your hand into the flap of the boxers and wrap your fingers around his hidden cock. Your eyes widen a little again as you carefully pull him free, a hiss escaping above you.

He’s only semi-hard but already impressive. Long and thick with a slight curve. Once he’s fully hard (and he’s hardening more just with your hand wrapped around his base) you have little doubt he’ll be larger than any you’ve taken before.

Well, shit, what have you gotten yourself into?

There’s a dark chuckle above you and you glance up at his face, finding his head canted to the side again.

“Think you can handle it, Darlin’?” he teases.

You blink up at him a few times and then smirk.

You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

So, in answer, you lean forward and nuzzle your mouth and nose against the underside of his length, eliciting a faint moan. You toss him a smile and he just quirks an eyebrow at you in return. Tilting your head, you mouth at him softly, starting just below his glans and moving downward, all without breaking eye contact.

You can't help noting that your earlier guess had been correct: he at least tries to keep relatively clean. His scent, while decidedly masculine -musky and earthy-, isn’t overpowering or dirty.

A definite upgrade.

Darting out your tongue past where he disappears back into his boxers, you lick at the tender skin where his shaft meets his sac. Watching his face as you do, you’re gratified by the way his teeth clench and a low growl escapes him.

With another coy smile, you let your eyes lower to focus your attention on his dick then, giving him a firm stroke with your hand before flattening your tongue and leaning back in to slowly lick a thick line from base to head, tracing a prominent vein along the underside of his length. The end of your tongue teases the ridge of his glans, before you continue to lick up and over the smooth, blunt tip. You flick your tongue through his slit, getting a taste of tangy, salty precum, and drawing out a rumbling hum from Joel as his cock twitches in your hand.

Glancing up once more, your breath hitches in your chest at the way Joel's eyes have darkened even more and you give a little start at feeling his fingers slip into your hair, his big hand cradling the back of your head. He urges you closer again.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he growls, “time's a-wastin’.”

You hesitate only a moment, finding yourself a bit enthralled by that look in his eyes. But the pressure of his hand increases and you gasp in a breath, snapping out of your stupor and nodding quickly, focusing once more with your heart hammering in your chest.

Wetting your lips with a sweep of your tongue, you part them to feed his cock into your mouth with one hand wrapped around his base. You have to open wide to accept his girth and your brows arch in surprise as you realize he's still growing harder in your hand and on your tongue, for the first few moments he’s inside your mouth.

Fuuuuck… He’s big.

You're grateful when he seems to finally come to full erection a few breaths later, feeling like steel wrapped in velvet. Much more and you might have had to spontaneously learn to unhinge your jaw.

Massaging the underside of him with your tongue, you draw his turgid length further in and hollow your cheeks around him. You give as much suction as you can as you take more of him, breathing through your nose shallowly.

The deep groan he gives is encouraging, as is the increasing pressure of his hand on the back of your head, pushing you further down on him. When his cockhead bumps the back of your mouth, making your gag reflex kick in and your body jolt, his voice is an unsympathetic snarl above you, between breaths that are getting more jagged.

“Better relax and take it, Sweetheart. You got…one shot at this…and tossin’ your dinner on me will be a…sure way of gettin’ left behind…”

You give a muffled mewl around the hard flesh in your mouth, earning you another dark chuckle. He doesn’t relent though.

Gulping in a bit of air at the last moment, you will your jaw and the muscles in your neck to relax, as he pushes past the constriction and into your throat. You can feel the tender skin stretch around his intrusion and tears prick at your eyes. Soon the rest of your body tenses, urging you to struggle, to fight for air. Your eyes flutter as you resist that urge, forcing your throat to accept more as he pulls you in, until your nose is nestled into the cotton of his boxers and pressed against the coarse hair underneath it.

He holds you there.

Every muscle begins to tremble as you fight against that instinctual imperative to lash out until your lungs taste sweet oxygen again. You look up at him, his towering form obscured as more tears fill your eyes, a few escaping to cascade downward.

And yet, with every ounce of control you possess, you hold still and accept.

A pleased growl passes Joel’s lips as he finally relents and lets you back off, coughing and gasping in air.

“Atta girl…” he rumbles.

Your chest heaves and more tears trail down your cheeks. Your blurred eyes lift back up to his face and, despite it all, you’re surprised by the thrill that darts through you at that tiny bit of praise.

But then his fingers are fisting into your hair again and he’s pushing your mouth back onto his cock.

“One more time, Darlin’,” he husks, “and then you gotta get me off.”

You whimper and frantically inhale again through your nose as he fills your mouth once more, your hands lifting to splay on his thighs. It takes conscious effort to just rest them there without pushing back.

He’s not nearly as patient this time, not only pulling your face down around his length but also flexing his hips to push into your throat faster. You gag again but somehow manage to get it under quick control as his cockhead invades your throat once more, cutting off an involuntary whimper. As he holds you in place this time, your head swims and your lungs burn, your fingers curl into fists against his legs, though you still don't push.

Instinct has you trying to swallow around him and he gives a loud groan.

“Fuuuck, Sweetheart…if your pussy is as wet and tight as your throat…you might be worth the trouble after all,” he grinds out.

You blink rapidly against the tears streaming from your eyes, startled by the heat that spears through your body at his vulgar words, despite the oxygen-deprived haze filling your head.

The next thing you know, you're coughing again, pulled off of his dick, desperately drawing in air. His fingers still hold cruelly tight to your hair as you try to catch your breath, though you’re somewhat glad for it, otherwise you might just collapse.

Joel leans down, his stiff cock bobbing heavily between his strong thighs, and reaches with his free hand to cup under your chin, saliva mixed with his precum dripping down it. He guilds your chin up to tilt your tear stained face his way, your lips parted as you pant for air.

“Hmmm…gotta admit, Darlin’, you look awful pretty…with those lips wrapped around my cock,” he softly growls between shallow breaths of his own, a smirk on his lips and a thumb roughly rubbing across your lower lip. “Sun’s almost down though…think you got it in you to make me cum?” he asks with a quirked brow.

You take a few more heaving breaths and then lick your lips, swallowing thickly with a slight wince. Despite the raw ache in your throat, you give him a coy smile and a nod. “Yes…” you rasp.

A cold grin crosses his face and he straightens up, stepping in closer again to let his cockhead bounce against your chin and lips. “Good girl. Show me what you can do.”

Blinking more of the haze out from your eyes, you reach up to wrap your fingers around his saliva slicked base again and guild him back into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks once more, you suck firmly and quickly begin to bob your head in towards his hips, stroking along his shaft and over the head with your tongue. Your hand moves in time with your movements, fisting him so every inch of his impressive length is stimulated, lips meeting fingers, more saliva easing the glide of skin over skin.

When Joel’s hips begin rocking forward to push a little deeper, you chance a glance upward at the top of one long stroke.

He’s watching you over the curve of his broad, muscular chest, which heaves as he shallowly takes in air, plush lips barely parted. Meanwhile he’s still holding your head with one hand buried in your hair, but he doesn’t try to take control of your movements again.

Oh no, he’s definitely going to make you earn his protection.

You redouble your efforts. Stroking your mouth and hand over him faster. Sucking harder.

His stoic facade finally cracks as his eyes flutter and then close, a loud, drawn out groan escaping. Tilting his head back, his hips begin to rock a little faster to meet the rapid glide of your hand and mouth, his cock throbbing on your tongue. Both of his hands are buried in your hair now, lightly tangled in the locks. He's still not trying to control your movements though; it's still all you doing the work to bob your head and meet his thrusts. They seem more like insurance, in case you change your mind.

Not that you will. You've come too far for that.

When his movements finally start to stutter with soft grunts filling the quiet clearing, you draw him in deep once again. Ignoring the ache it causes, you urge him over the edge, your hand and mouth squeezing around him.

Strong fingers suddenly twist in your hair so tightly that stinging pain erupts across your scalp from the pull, at the same instant that Joel erupts into the warm cavity of your mouth.

Hot ropes of salty semen coat your tongue and the back of your mouth. He holds you there, his length pulsing, giving a couple more shallow thrusts and emptying himself into you with a deep moan that can only be described as obscene.

Then, he’s looking down at you, eyes impossibly dark, skin flushed, panting for breath. A languid smile tugs up one side of his lips as he cups your chin again and traces the side of your mouth with his thumb, where the tender skin is still stretched around his dick, even though it is starting to soften.

His voice is breathy now, but no less commanding.

“Swallow.”

You slowly and carefully inhale through your nose as you meet his intense gaze. Then you tighten your lips around his softening shaft and swallow down his spend, feeling it coat your throat as it disappears.

A pleased hum meets your ears and Joel’s rough thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a streak left by your tears. With a nod, he takes a half step back, letting his dick slip free of your mouth with a lewd wet sound, before he releases your face and your hair.

He gives an upward jerk of his chin as he tucks his cock back into his boxers and zips up his jeans. “Get up.”

Still breathing hard, you nod and push yourself to your feet, briefly stumbling. As you find your footing, your eyes widen for a split second at the distinct feeling of slickness gathered between your thighs, no doubt soaking your panties.

You had been so focused on getting him off, that you hadn’t even realized just how turned on you were by the unexpected situation.

It's been a while since that happened.

Pushing the realization aside, you swallow hard, and wince again from the rawness in your throat. Wiping drool from your chin and red, puffy lips, you focus on the man in front of you as he finishes buckling his belt.

If feels like it takes him forever as your heart keeps hammering in your chest, waiting to hear his verdict on your…performance.

Joel’s dark eyes lift back to you and linger (you can only imagine how debauched you look), as his thumbs hook into the pockets of his jeans, his head canting to the side. The corner of his mouth twitches into another faint smirk before he turns on the balls of his feet to take a few steps and scoop up his backpack, slinging it onto the shoulder that isn’t occupied by a rifle.

Your breath stutters, brows pinching together, as a ball of dread drops into the pit of your stomach. Watching him pick up a pack of cigarettes from a sleeping bag and pocket them, your entire body tenses as your mind begins reeling.

What had you done wrong?!

Joel pauses and looks back at you over his rifle shoulder, his voice gruff.

“You’ve got five minutes, Darlin’. Gather up whatever you need to bring along. We're heading out.”

[justagalwhowrites]

Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015 

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands. 

You groaned. 

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?” 

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…” 

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.” 

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.” 

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder. 

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.” 

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!” 

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing. 

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you. 

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.  

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….” 

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you. 

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile. 

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him. 

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?” 

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.” 

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…” 

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?” 

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.” 

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.” 

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain. 

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep. 

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?” 

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.” 

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.” 

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.” 

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long. 

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves. 

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?” 

“No,” he said. 

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed. 

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?” 

His body tensed a little. 

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.” 

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching. 

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.” 

“M’fine.” 

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now. 

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you. 

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…” 

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!” 

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat. 

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.” 

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on. 

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray. 

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full. 

You’d never given him the antibiotics. 

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet. 

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place. 

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did. 

“What do you want,” he snapped. 

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.” 

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat. 

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp. 

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.” 

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead. 

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.” 

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it. 

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response. 

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown. 

“You needed…” 

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?” 

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.” 

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…” 

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him. 

“Joel…” 

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?” 

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight. 

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off. 

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…” 

“You’re hurting me, Joel.” 

He scowled but dropped your wrist. 

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?” 

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!” 

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own. 

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth. 

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too. 

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones. 

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…” 

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core. 

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.” 

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath. 

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him. 

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel. 

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever. 

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him. 

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes. 

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…” 

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.” 

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did. 

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…” 

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time. 

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?” 

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.” 

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?” 

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…” 

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…” 

“Joel…” 

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.” 

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss. 

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him. 

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…” 

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.” 

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…” 

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.” 

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his. 

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered. 

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.” 

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.” 

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again. 

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you. 

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours. 

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -” 

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…” 

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm. 

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you. 

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head. 

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was. 

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.” 

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged. 

[bumblepony]

Birthday Fic Recs!

So it's my birthday, y'all, and on this momentous day, I want to share my favorite fics from all my favorite authors and friends in this amazing fandom! Because you all are such wonderful people, and you've all inspired me to become a better writer, and I can't thank you all enough. So here is my list in no particular order. Some of these may be duplicates of fics I've recommended in the past, if so roll with it because I'm always happy to share amazing stuff again.

i know you by heart by @sixhours - Joel and Ellie settle into their new lives in Jackson but it's not the easiest transition. Thankfully Jackson has a counselor to help with that. AKA the gay TLOU/Prospect crossover you didn't know you needed.

A woman is a changeling by @treadlightlymydarlinggirl - (Tess lives) and what happens after!

back and forth, up and down by @lauronk - (more times ellie & joel barely missed each other in the qz)

our hearts are heavy burdens (we shouldn't have to bear alone) by @ameerawrites - Maria and Tommy's engagement story, a prequel to "Not Alone"

Fortunate Son by @hypnotisedfireflies - Maria Sinclair agrees to help Tommy Miller, a probationary resident at Jackson, with a life-changing opportunity.

Next of Kin by @probssomethingorother - The day Joel becomes a dad and how he deals with the sudden weight of fatherhood. Slight canon divergence where his wife dies instead of leaving. Big whumps ahead.

Mary Poppins ain't got nothing on me by @barlowstreet - Tommy POV again! This time, he's watching Ellie while Joel has surgery. Ellie is not fond of this plan.

collaborators by @becomethesun - Sam and Henry live. Adventures and found family bonding ensue on the journey from Kansas City to Jackson and beyond.

What Would Your Superpower Be? by blue_calico on AO3 - With a storm taking its toll on Ellie as they pass through Indiana, Joel reluctantly lets them stay with a family who stirs up pain he's tried hard to bury. Still, he knows how to be a good dad. He just can't yet see it.

Lost in the Woods by @cardigains - How digging up what's buried in the past brings about consequences in the present. (The Private Investigator!AU nobody asked for.) (I did! I asked for it! I'm here for it!)

Right Where We Belong by cauldron_zeta on AO3 - Frank has upheaved his life to move to almost the middle of nowhere. His closest neighbor isn't really a people person, but Frank has always liked a challenge.

just babes being dudes and flat on my face then back in the race and my cow, your cow, our cow by @ciaconnaa - Sorry this are all amazing and I just could not pick which one was my favorite!

Mute Joel by @captainredspade - An Ellie and Joel drabble that may or may not turn to something more in the future. It's based off the au idea of Joel being mute, and if he and Ellie met a different way than they did in canon.

Compassionate Friends by @mildredellie - Ellie & Joel meet at a grief support group they were both forced to attend.

cosmic oddities by @deervsheadlights - Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other?

Taste your beating heart by @finnelfin - Tess's traveling companions are keeping secrets. The Werewolf AU I never thought I needed.

in search of some hope by @dancingonmoonbeams - Tommy’s story, from leaving Boston to finding Jackson to him and Joel finding each other again.

show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time by @eedsknees - Cry to the Chest (featuring Ellie with endometriosis trying to ignore her pain until she can't anymore!)

Mother by @liveandletcry23 - The Millers have a demon problem.

expect(ing)(ations) by @penandinkprincess - (set about ten years after the original storyline) (ellie, now grown and married, decides she wants to have a baby so she can pass her immunity on to her kid)

Dinosaur by @femmefacetious - Joel and Ellie deal with some stupid cold temperatures and assorted shenanigans (the not-fun kind) in and around the town of...Dinosaur, CO.

we could walk forever, walkin' on the moon and what matters most by @boopernatural - I had to pick both because they are some of my favorites!

For Your Entertainment by @manicparadox - A strip club AU. Bill and Frank meet at The Bou-Peek where Frank is a stripper.

Future Proof by Capricordinary on AO3 - Joel is somehow transported into the past. He makes it his mission to find four-year-old Ellie, reunite his family, and find a safe place for them in the Wyoming wilderness

Most Likely Occupation by Joschmo on AO3 - Joel is a single dad working long hours in a difficult, painful occupation. He does what he needs to do to keep going, or at least that's what he tells himself. After the outbreak, things...escalate.

ily, imu, im sry (i love you, i miss you, im sorry) by @mariatesstruther - in which Joel and Tess haven't spoken for ten years, but are reintroduced for their daughters’ english project. Sarah and Ellie misinterpret the situation quite a bit.

To Have Loved Someone by Joels_revolver on AO3 - Ellie is stuck in a modern Jackson now and neither she nor Joel have any idea how to get her back. Ellie has no choice but to confront her demons, and Joel— Well, he has a few demons of his own to deal with.

dodors (and other birds) by @ketchupchipsaregross - How Tess and Joel accidentally restarted parenting in their 40s.

let all your damage damage me by @electricbluebutterflies - Assorted prompt fills and shorter ficlets, generally unconnected and variable ratings. Tess/Joel.

Of Artists and Architects by @emilylawsons - A Cordyceps-Free Tessjoel AU

creature fear by @marceltheshellwithflipflopson - The first time Joel protects Sarah from an infected, it changes his life forever. The first time Joel protects Ellie from an infected, it feels just like it did twenty years ago. Even if he swears up and down that the kid is just cargo.

I have to break this up. It's too big. So look for the next one in a little bit.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 4}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: Unexpected glimpses of your past allow for your softer side to be exposed. But it won't be the thing that alters the dynamic between your trio. No, you have something else planned for that.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), angst, dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, descriptions of a minor assault, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv, sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader gets violent, major injuries, dismemberment, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing, both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: ARE Y'ALL READY, but seriously, i hope y'all enjoy this chapter *minor spoiler but reader's singing voice is very much akin to ruby leigh from the voice contestant show

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

It’s early morning, when Tess seeks you out. The sun barely coming up and showing its form over the horizon, the sky swathed in deep oranges and golden tones that remind you of seasonal fruit.

Frank is sitting with you already, coffee brewed fresh and sweetened with frozen ice cubes of coffee creamer and sugar. A surprise you hadn’t anticipated but greatly appreciated as the man beside you refilled your cup time after time to ensure it was never truly empty. Conversation had been light, on the back porch where you had curled up in the wicker loveseat to try and get the weight off of your body for a few hours.

As soon as she shuffled through the door, Frank removed his hand from where it was tangled with your own and said he would get started on breakfast. Wanting to ensure you, all three of you, had a full stomach for the journey back to the zone. His way of taking care of you where you’ll let him, even now in the end of the world.

“Look, I know it may seem like I was playing some game yesterday…” The older woman breaks the silence, knowing your mind must be turning and overturning the events of the last few days.

“Just wanted to know I was meant to be playing along.” She’s not cautious, but there’s a tiredness and stilted manner to her sitting down in one of the matching wicker chairs. The cushion and pillow in the seat do little to comfort the unease you can see in her body. It’s as if she hasn’t slept, or that her sleep was restless just like your own despite the safe environment and almost now foreign amenities.

“I was being genuine with them, Frank…he’s reminded me of who I used to be. As I’m sure he has with you, especially sharing a past I’m not going to ask after. It’s your business and that’s your prerogative.”

“Sent your guard dog after me to listen into my conversation with him, not sure I really believe the sentiment.”

“Cane, you know as well as I do that he does what he wants.”

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that he reports back to you. Acts as if you two are the ones who run things. Conversations I’m not a part of.”

“We all run things, the three of us.” You’re glad for her roundabout honesty, though you know that it’s natural for rifts to divide people, for them to seek out those they are more comfortable with. That talking with someone you feel bonded with, a partner, a friends, is a part of life. That they both must have conversations going over things just as you do with her, though not as frequently.

“Yeah, looks like it from the outside, doesn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you two have gotten very comfortable with the way things are in the zone-“

“No more comfortable than you made yourself in my bed the other night.” Her eyes meet your own in a silent challenge, will you lie and cover up the fact you shared Joel’s bed, or will you be honest with the woman who does so on a regular basis. You don’t know Joel as well as she does, but he doesn’t strike you as the type to seek out attention or affection from other’s behind someone’s back. A cheater, he is not, though he has done many questionable things to survive. She doesn’t seem upset, at least outwardly, though you know it must strike a cord near her heart. The way you catch her gazing at him sometimes tells you more of her feelings than she ever has. And for that, you cannot fathom lying.

“That was a lapse of judgement. It had been a shitty day trying to move what little product I had. He didn’t fuck me if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I don’t care if he did, that’s his prerogative. I don’t own him, I don’t control him-“

“Wouldn’t matter if you did, he needs to feel like he’s got someone to look out for and you’re it. He would do anything for you, does do anything that you ask of him now. It’s me he has a problem with and I’m not entirely sure why he laid with me the way he did.” You try to soothe her as best you can, as best as you’re able to in the situation. She must know what she means to him, or at least what he’s able to with the damage and destruction he’s surely endured.

“He doesn’t have a problem with you-“

“Save it, I know he does. I know you do too, blatantly throwing us under the bus to make us seem like untrained dogs who only snap and bite at those that near us.”

“That was more for him, than for you.”

“And yet you still said it the way you did. It wasn’t appreciated.”

“I didn’t intend for it to hurt your feelings, I apologize if it did. I really am…appreciative of the way you’ve allowed us both to fold into your zone.” It’s obvious, the appeal she’s trying to make to you now. The same woman who had been at the table yesterday. A glimpse of who she used to be, but it bothers you how you can’t tell if she’s genuine or not, if it’s the same play you had been orchestrating with her the past couple of months.

“You came into my home to try and get intel on me before usurping me. Of course you’re grateful I folded you into the scene. You wouldn’t have had anything otherwise.”

“Not nothing, no. But I do realize it would’ve been less if you were getting a portion of the cut of everything we got on both sides.”

You only hummed in response. Aware that this conversation was taking turns you’d rather not delve into at the moment.

“We’ve all gotten comfortable, me included, you’ve given me the room to do so. But I talked to Frankie, he’s willing to convince Bill to agree to it. You’ll lead this one, you did find it after all and there’s no reason for my knowing him to effect that.” You don’t have to fear for someone lunging at you in the dark, for someone using a trade as a rouse to lure you alone to take advantage. Her intelligence and Joel’s strength have allowed you breathing room in the months of constant worry after your brother’s death.

“Joel will need to really be on his best behavior. He’s got his teeth bared because Bill does.”

“Then reign him in.” You meet her eyes, the worry you house at the rise of conflict that is all too real aimed her way but ever present in the way you didn’t have to say anything else. She nods once as you lifted your mug up and took a sip of the wonderful coffee Frank had been kind enough to keep full. “Mind him and lead by example. I will as well.”

“He doesn’t think poorly of you, if he did, he wouldn’t be insistent on joining you beyond the walls.” It’s hard to know how to respond, it’s almost default to fling insults with the older man, to taunt him and see if he rises to the bait, something he does in return. But despite it all, you would defend him should he truly need it and you only hoped he would do the same. You doubt he would die for you, but that was such a rare devotion these days.

“I suppose not, but…should anything happen he will still work with you. He…Joel is someone who needs someone by his side whether he wants to admit it or not. Like you said. And you would be good for him, protect him as he protects you. It’s…good you were willing to work with us.” It’s implied, the connection you both have with the man even if it feels different, looks different. The way she wishes for you to recall that should something happen to her. Infection, sickness, a trade gone wrong, a trigger-happy soldier, anything. She wants to ensure he won’t be alone.

“I swear to you, should something happen, I won’t throw him to the crowd waiting to tear him apart.”

“Thank you.”

“Tess, just- I have a feeling the scene is going to get worse before it stabilizes again. The cartons of cigarettes Frank is going to give us will help but, other things are bound to dry up.”

She’s quiet for a beat, taking in the way you reach for your mug. She’s watching you as much as you’re watching her. It’s not a stalemate, it never is between you two. She knows your penchant for comments on how things are going, the ways your mind works and overworks. Concerned about details and the intricacies of things whereas she’s focused on the entire scene or play. It’s a match, which allows for all things to be considered, working well with each other in the past year. She has to be aware of that, at least, even as tensions rise and perspectives are beginning to warp and shift.

“Cane, this- opportunity to do trade with an outside source, it could help prevent scavenges into the decaying city. You know as well as I do that things are getting harder and harder to find as time goes on. Hell, it’s already beginning to thin.”

“It is…” You agree solemnly.

It’s when you’re in the shower again, before you change into the clothes you had showed up in, that Joel seeks you out. Now washed and dried, folded atop the counter waiting for you. The door opens and closes without the call of a voice but you can hear the distinct steps of Joel as he stand in the middle of the bathroom. Hear the way he’s breathing a little harder than normal. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when you hear the hush of fabric and see the outline of him through the plastic shower curtain move to pick up the dress you had been wearing.

“Dress was nice.” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that washes over your skin much like the shower, though goosebumps sprout up despite the heat of the water.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Miller.” Sighing, you reach for the shampoo, the scent of sandalwood and amber wafting in the steam that fills the room.

“I’m bein’ serious. Looked good on you. Different.” The effect his words on you, his attempt at an actual conversation is one of heat blooming in your middle. He’s so goddamn handsome and it’s a shame he’s such an asshole, molded by the circumstances of the fallen world. He seems to take your words in stride, his mood nothing but calm as the shower continues to rain down on you.

“Everything seems to be different these days.”

“Can be a good thing, sometimes.”

“Can be.” You watch through the clear curtain, dappled with beaded water. He’s shrugging out of his dark green button up. The fabric hushing as it reveals his skin to you for the second time. His chest is dusted with dark hairs, the silver threading through it catching the sunlight filtering into the bathroom.

“Don’t mind, do you?” The clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants.

“Not particularly, no.” He’s already stepping into the stall, his broad body taking up what little room was left and crowded the space. But it doesn’t feel like he’s cornering you, it feels almost…intimate in the way that his eyes are taking in the form of your body slick from the water and foamed up bubbles trailing down where they drip from your hair. “Just didn’t think you’d be the one to seek me out next.”

Tangling his fingers into your hair, he dips your head back to wash the shampoo from the long tresses.

“There was no need for me to be so…biting last night. I don’t know how to do the whole- talking thing these days. And you have to admit, we don’t do much of that with each other already.”

“They’ll work with us, Frankie is a good man.” You reach for the shampoo again, reaching up with the thick liquid cupped in your hand to lather it into his bowed head. His hair is as soft as you always thought it was, thick curls dark with the weight of the water saturating it.

“Sharing a past with him helps, otherwise it would be a tense and slow start.” His hands are anchored on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you don’t dare to look down where you feel him soft against your thigh. The admittance of presence helping isn’t lost on you. He’s not one for praise and it’s intense with how close you are in the stall. You hear the apology for his previous words on the matter in his new ones. Though you are unsure if he believes them, you feel the need to but it is hard to tell as his skin touches yours and ignites your blood. “Tess may have set this whole thing up and he may have convinced Bill for the trades, but you are an asset.”

You hold your tongue, the question of ‘an asset or the orchestrator’ drowning from your mind as he noses along your collarbone, ducking his head further to allow you to wash the suds from his curls. As soon as he looks back up, you’re reaching to brush the water from his eyes, his brows, his scruff, watching the way it sticks to his silver threaded hairs and the memory of it against your skin makes pleasure and desire pool in your core.

His hands are turning your willing body around, and he’s firm where he bumps against the back of your thighs, the plush of your ass as you face the wall. And now you feel crowded, as he presses his front to your back, the way he hinges your hips to meet him, for the way he slips into you in one smooth motion for the first time.

But it’s not a bad feeling, it’s comforting being shielded from the rest of the world in this little stall, his body hiding you away and comforting you all at once. It’s a dangerous thought, even as it’s punched out with your heavy breath carrying a moan as he begins to thrust against you. Heat overtakes your senses, from the pleasure rippling through you to the flushed skin pressed to you to the still running stream of the shower. It consumes you even after you peak, after you feel Joel’s own sear into the backs of your thighs, panting breath matched by him as the moment winds down.

“You didn’t tell him your brother wasn’t alive. Just told him you found him.” He breathes into your shoulder, facial hair brushing over your skin to send tingles down your spine. It’s quiet, the way he seeks an answer instead of demands one.

“He doesn’t need to know.” Is your own whispered response, unable to rise to his words with a truth of your own, a vulnerability.

“Thought he was your friend.”

“He is, but he’s…he doesn’t need to know how things really are. He wouldn’t have let me leave.”

“You say that like he has control over you.” His hands are no longer gripping tight, caressing instead along your sides, feeling the dips and valleys of your body with no intention other than to touch. The urge to return the softness twitches your fingers where they are still planted along the wall for support.

“He doesn’t. But if he asked, I would listen. Because I respect him. Mutual respect.”

He parrots the sentiment back to you, as his large hands grip your waist once again to turn you around face to face. There’s something glinting in his eyes, behind the dark brown of them slowly. “An interesting thought.”

“It is.” You nudge your nose against his, breathing him in, the scent of you both mingling in the air.

And he’s suddenly slotting his mouth against yours, droplets raining down over you both as you surge up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, returning his kiss with earnest. It’s so different from what yo expected kissing him would be life, it’s not rough or biting, it’s almost heartachingly soft in how he pulls you close and touches his lips to yours again and again.

“He’s just so hard to read sometimes, you know? Like…I don’t mean to get too personal considering we just met but,” Tess’s voice carries from a room downstairs, the one you had been given the night before, the one you hadn’t been able to lay in and remain for the entirety of it. She had ducked into it with Frank after breakfast shared at the dining room table. While the eggs had been powdered, the meet hadn’t been and the taste lingers, mingled with that of Joel.

“You can talk to me about anything, the same sentiment for Cane applies to you. We all need friends these days, people we can turn to.” Frank’s comforting voice is genuine as you step closer to the open door without trying to alert them of your presence. Tess hardly opened up about herself, let along about the dynamic between her and Joel. All you ever got out of Tommy was that they were bonded in a way that he understood, shared losses, shared pasts. They would and have killed for each other.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what’s going on, relationships were hard enough before and now…”

“It’s hard for men like Bill and Joel to be honest with what they want, to let their guard down in different settings. You shouldn’t fault yourself if he was too on edge to be with you last night.”

“It’s not that exactly. It was more like he implied he was done with that entire part of…whatever we are.”

“Maybe he’s going through something he hasn’t told you about. He seems like a pretty private guy even if he does have someone like you to talk to and in his life.” Mind reeling, you recall the way Joel had spoken to you the other night. The implication of his words, of his wants, of who exactly he had his eyes on. And then this morning when he had all but rolled over to show you his willingness to give you credit and praise your work.

‘Don’t want Tess.’

‘Mutual relief.’

‘Then clear my head, be a good little lap dog for me.’

Your blood boils, bubbles thick in your veins despite the rather calm and sensual acts you had just shared with the man in question. The worry of him moving on from the woman at his side to yours, where there is more opportunity, more to be gained, more power to be had with the smuggling scene. It’s hard to read him, whether he is truly making a play, a switch. The idea that he is losing interest in Tess in favor or you too big a notion for there to not be anything else woven into the desire. Men tended to seek out those younger than them, though you didn’t think that was the only matter in this case. The thought sticks to the inside of your throat like fuzz, drying it up and making you clear your throat loudly as you approach the doorway head on. You’re determined to undermine it, should that be the reasoning behind his recent behavior.

“Frankie?” You finally step toward the doorway, brushing your hands down over the clean shirt to try and calm your nerves.

“Yes, darling?”

“Could I use your radio, there’s a call I need to make. To set up a smooth return to the zone for us.” You nod to Tess, who doesn’t meet your eyes. As Frank stands from where he was seated on the bed, he brushes a hand over your shoulder. He’s reaching for another box from the top of the closet, the shelf too high for you but easy enough for him. The box is labeled with your name, the real one and he takes a marker from his back pocket and crosses it out. Cane replaces it in that same, simple writing he’s adapted.

“Of course, I’m looking for something, but Bill can help you out.” Frank smiles at you, saying he’ll make sure to send an outfit back with all three of you, worried for the very real act of both Joel and Tess scrounging for their nicest pieces of clothing for the visit. First impressions still meant so much and sometimes it meant the difference between life and death these days. He was a good man, and you’re determined to ensure you can continue to find things he may need use of and build up your stocks should you need to trade for something far more valuable and harder to come by. He was a priority now.

One thing was for certain, you were done allowing Joel Miller to think he had more power than he did.

An asset.

It rings through your mind as you recall the way he approached you in the shower. In the touches burned into your skin, in the way his body moved against your own. He had been there, with you, after telling Tess no. That he didn’t want for the physical any longer with her and it’s dizzying. Trepidation simmers low in your abdomen, upsetting it as it twists the muscles and pulls them taut before they tremble. Akin to the pang of hunger but much, much stronger.

It was your zone, your connections, your reputation that allowed for the smuggling and scavenging to bloom opportunity and trade. You had worked up from literally nothing, having been forced into the zone under false pretenses. The network established by you and your brother after some time, scooped up by the jaws of another hungry dog searching for the next meal to feast on. Only this one wasn’t a simple meal that would fill your belly for a night, it was one that would bring meals day after day and you were done sharing it. Done feeling like an afterthought to the man who was Tess’s counterpart.

The radio is far more advanced than the one set up in the zone, the one that Abe was lucky enough to set up outdated and one of the more military focused models. The soldiers knew he had it, it was hard no to squash the thin string of hope it allowed for all the occupants to stoke as they tried to search for loved ones and family even so long after that first horrific day and all the others that followed.

Bill walked you through how to navigate the signal waves, how to tune it just right to get the ones wafting weakly from direction of the zone. He was still on guard, the gun holstered at his side and his gauging eyes still present. But you felt at ease with him, he was an extension of Frank. He was a good man, that much you were sure of, that much you knew. Frank would be well protected and provided for here, allowed a space to cling to the good parts of who he is. He wouldn’t have lasted in the zone, let alone the pretenses in which you had found yourself able to enter the zone.

��Echo 4236, do you copy?”

“Copy for Echo 4236. Rely your message.”

“This is Ammo 1342, I have an order for you.”

“Ready to receive order, proceed.”

“I need you to hit Building 42, Apartment 19 and 20.”

“Ammo 1342, isn’t apartment 20-“

“It is, proceed. Stash the contents in Building 56, Apartment 14.”

“Copy that Ammo 1342.”

“Echo 4236 signing off.”

Bill is watching you closely, one brow arched as he takes in the smirk on your lips.

“Working together means you guys contact Tess, heed her wills to trade.”

“So, you’re allowing them to think this is still the fruits of her labor.”

“For now. When the time comes, I’ll cut them out and let them be in charge of this trade and only this trade.”

"Just be careful." The sentiment behind his words is not lost on you.

“Before you go,” Frank is guiding you by the shoulders toward the front room the second you visible coming up from the steps of the sub-basement. Bill following behind at a slower pace, content to let Frank do as he wished, the barely contained excitement and sly smile on his lips telling the other man he was happy. The piano comes into view, set up already, dusted off and smelling of lemon oil cleaner.

“Frankie, no.” You don’t even give the man a chance to say anything, the book of sheet music open and waiting.

“Cane, please. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it done justice. Bill does his best, but…too low a tone for the song. This’ll be the last thing I ask of you to recall from our past and if you truly don’t want to, I’ll concede.” As he speaks, the others are walking into the room. Bill, followed by a curious Tess and tense Joel. The word ‘no’ in your voice summoning him where he had been on the back porch with Tess talking over the most likely items to get on the list Frank had written up.

You looked from the piano to him, trepidation obvious, as if the piano were a coiled snake waiting for you to step closer to strike you down. But he looked so soft, so much like the man you remember sitting and painting with for hours in a comfortable silence, the one who had always allowed you the room to create how you wanted.

“Just this once.”

The wooden seat is firm beneath you, and you roll your shoulders a few times, cracking your knuckles to loosen your body up. Taking a deep breath, you glance up from where your hands are hovering over the keys to the music written out. You don’t need it, of course, it was Frank’s favorite song. One you had sung to him at every opening hour of a show in the gallery. The first few pushes of the keys feel unfamiliar, but muscle memory takes over quickly and you’re licking at your bottom lip before parting them.

“Love will abide, take things in stride,” Your voice is smooth and soft, growing emotive and soulful, as it fills the silence of the room and intertwines with the notes of the piano. A hint of twang in your tone as the lyrics pull it from deep inside you, where you buried it long ago. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears as the last seven years flash in your mind.

“Sounds like good advice,” You belt out, pitching your voice around the words, allowing for them to surge and swell. “But there’s no one at my side. Cause I’ve done everything I know to try and make you mine. And I think I’m gonna love you for a long, long time.”

You don’t dare to turn around and glimpse the expressions on everyone’s faces, the song filling you up with something you had long forgotten. Your voice carries through the second verse, the third, and then the last cords of the song are echoing in the air as you lift your fingers from the keys. The final note wavering off and silence reclaims the room.

It’s the last thing before you all make your way outside, the sun bright and the breeze cool. Bill is walking alongside Joel, Tess up ahead with Frank. You linger, eyeing the canvas and paint accumulated in boxes around the porch. An agreement made between to the two men who reside here. One giving into the other’s indulgences in only the way a loved one does for their affections.

Rationale and reason for keeping such things for better uses, a means of survival should it come to that lost in the wake of making someone happy.

“Cane, I’m- I’m just so glad that you’re okay.” Frank is suddenly pulling you into an embrace, his hands cradling the back of your head as you instantly return it. His chest is warm where you bury your face into his shirt, just feeling him for a moment, basking in the touch of another you once spent so much time with. “Please, don’t be a stranger. I may not be able to come to you, but you come to me or radio should you need anything.”

“I’m happy you’ve found your person, found a little slice of what life used to be here. The zones, they aren’t, they aren’t a way to live.” As you pull back from him, you see the question in the depths of his eyes, obviously in the way he smiles sadly at you. He wants to ask you to stay and you almost want him to.

Your trio departs with a plan to contact in a week’s time, to set up the first trade of many.

It was obvious that your order had been followed through the second your trio had entered turned from the stairwell to the hallway. The doors leading into both yours and their apartment hang on their hinges, the wood splintered slightly as they wight down the remaining nails keeping them upright.

The second story just high enough to not give any clues away from the view of the windows on the streets. You had made sure to not include your signature of a paw print, not wanting to stir up trouble before felt the need to. The same one you had Tess and Joel stamp onto their portions of goods, always beneath the foil for cigarettes or the plastic bags of pills. Especially on the butts of guns save for the ones you all carried yourselves.

“Fuck, looks like we got hit!” Tess is caught off guard, rushing forward until Joel stops here with a forearm and a small shake of his head. He moves up ahead of you both, the gun tucked into the back of his waistband sliding into his palm as he pushes aside what remains of the doors to the two apartments you occupy.

“They got everything we had stashed away.” His voice is a low rumble, anger and frustration filling the picked over and damaged apartment. He’s already cleared it as you and Tess approach, moving onto yours to clear it as well.

“This is because you showed weakness by working in that whore house!” Joel roars, dark glare focused on you as he appears back in the hallway. A shove of his gun barrel against your shoulder raises your lips in a snarl of argument.

“What I do in my spare time has no effect on the business!”

“It does it people think you’re weak, submitting to them!” He digs the gun into your shoulder again, to punctuate his words.

“Then everyone would be going after you, with how obvious it is you drown yourself in pills and booze until you pass out every god damn night!” You smack the weapon away from you with enough force that he doesn’t do it again, instead it’s hidden back in his waistband. He’s anything but calm as he shouts back at you, no doubt the entire population of the hall is listening against their closed doors.

“That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then neither does my sparse visits to work somewhere that actually puts food on the table! The people we trade with don’t go there.” You step up into his personal space, the tension in the air thick and so unlike the last time you had done so. His eyes narrow, the brown of then shielded by the darkness of his pupils and the dim hall. The lights have been needing to be replaced for ages, your men following orders taking out the few that had remained working to make the scene.

“If they don’t, then the people that work for them do and tell them.” He doesn’t back down, his chest nearly brushing yours as he breaths in deep.

“Alright, why don’t- why don’t we all just take a breath. We had a good past couple of days, we can’t let this bring us down.” Tess is suddenly between you both, a hand on each of you to further push you apart. But you’re done. Tired and feeling too much after seeing someone who you never thought you would again mentally draining. You’re stepping around them both, their eyes heavy as they watch you walk over to your door.

“Oh, I’m not down about anything. Shit happens. Sometime tried to clean me out the second I took over the zone, it’s part of the game.” With that, you manage to shut the door as best you could.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, was wondering if somebody finally put you down?” The hair on the back of your neck rises as your skin prickles. You knew someone had been following you but you hadn’t expected it to be the man you last laid with the day Joel had caught you nearly two weeks ago. He was never one for conflict or conversation, but today he seemed willing to partake in both.

“Not that I owe you an answer, but I was busy.” Your eyes trace the way he reveals himself from the stooped doorway, the building is abandoned and boarded up. Deemed toxic due to the damage of fumes from the bombing that is evident just outside the walls.

This part of the zone is dilapidated, most of the buildings had been homes or independently owned and run businesses, but now it was the slums. The pleasure house is only a street away but that hadn’t been your intention of coming down here. It had been to retrieve some of the goods ‘stolen’ from you, stashed in an old building very few knew operated as a base for soldiers to reside in for their drug fueled days off from patrol.

“Feel like you owe me a freebie.” He’s bold to step in front of you in that moment, the street empty at the hour that closes the day in the zone.

“Not on your life.” Sidestepping him, you don’t expect him to reach out. He’s strong, his hands clasping in front of you as his front presses against your back. He’s overly hot, the scent coming from his clothes rotten and you thrash in his hold.

“Get her gun!” He’s shouting and you realize he’s not alone. There are four others now surrounding you, having slunk out of the shadows and alleyways. Someone makes a grab for it, where it’s holstered on your hip beneath your shirt. The fingers that graze your stomach are marred with ash and dirt, something you hope isn’t smeared into your skin. The man isn’t very focused, his eyes dipping to catch the flash of skin as he does so and you kick out at his hand.

The gun is knocked away from you the second it hits the broken asphalt of the street, the only weapon left on you is the knife tucked into your boot. But your thoughts are scrambled as your sense of gravity wavers, body suddenly pulled forward. Your forehead knocks into the ground, and you groan out at the feeling of rubble digging deep into the skin there.

“You fuckers!” You shout, hands reaching for the concealed blade as you feel a body pin you down. You don’t manage much as they’re suddenly held down, as are your legs. The feeling of the man above you and four more holding you down kicks your instincts into overdrive.

Surging up as best you can, you knock your head back as hard as possible. The crack of it hitting the man’s face is loud as is his cry of pain. He’s knocked off balance and into the two men holding your legs down.

Careening forward, you bite into the hand of the person putting their weight on your hands, teeth digging and tearing as he tries to pull away with a scream. He’s down and cradling his mutilated hand as you stand and brandish the knife you’ve finally got in your grip. Spitting, chunks of bloodies flesh spray onto the ground and you wipe the back of your free hand over your mouth, only managing to smear the blood further.

It slices into the skin of forearms and cheeks as the three men try to get you pinned back down and under their control with their ringleader tries to stall the bleeding of his broken nose and the whitening of his vision.

The man whose hand you bit reaches for the gun and he fires a shot that has everyone ducking. His aim had failed to help his friends but worked to your advantage as one of the men cries out at the bullet now lodged in his shoulder. The scene freezes, everyone completely caught off guard and you take the moment.

You’re reaching for the gun as he sits shocked and still, the metal rattling from how badly he’s shaking. Quickly forcing it from him and aiming it point blank, he’s slumped over and no longer breathing as you round on the others and fire three more shots.

The man who started all this is pleading, snot and tears running along with blood down his face. He’s spouting nonsense words of apology and to please spare him, that he’s learned his place and he won’t ever try to corner you again. But you don’t care. This man, this piece of nothing man had tried to track you down, to take from you, to assault you, to demean you. The knife in your hand sings for more blood but you’re shooting at him where he stands hunched over and holding a hand over his face.

He falls, hands flying to where his thighs meet his body as he whimpers. The pain of being shot in the groin too intense for him to muster up a scream. You feel a twitch of your lips as you watch him writhe and moan about on the ground, surrounded by the other men. But it’s not enough to soothe you and you’re bringing the knife down harshly as he reaches out to you for help he would never receive. His fingers scatter, and you feel the ease of your anger.

“Don’t come at me again or I’ll take your life too.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Telling them to make payments to you but I still have to go and deliver the goods? Do you have any idea what that makes me look like?” Joel’s voice is loud as his door creaks open, not completely repaired but enough to work for the time being. Something about him needing to find a certain type of glue for wood before he would complete the task.

“Excuse me?” If the blood staining your clothing or the tangled mess of your loosened hair catches his eye he doesn’t show it. Not even the cut above your brow or the stain of blood around your mouth and chin gives him pause and you realize he’s drunk from that and the loosely coordinated way he approaches you.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but now is so not the time, Miller.” You warn, adrenaline still coursing through your body and making you shift on your feet to face him. His steps are loud, the effects of whatever he took showing.

“You listen to me, you little-“

You use the arm he reaches out to grab at you and haul him over your shoulder. The breath in his lungs wooshes out at the contact of his back hitting the floor hard. Before he even has the chance to realize he’s been downed, you’re straddling his stomach and holding the still bloody knife to his throat. He’s more aware of himself as you meet his eyes, the pressure of the blade sobering him up almost instantly.

“You wanna see how I left him, you wanna see what I looked like putting the last fucker down that dared to come after me. Dared to put his hands on me when I said no. Bleeding in the street without his fingers or his dick?” The thump of the man’s detached fingers onto his chest pull his eyes down and away from your own. They widen slightly at the sight of them, the white of the bones you severed stark in the fixed light of the hall. “Try me, Miller, try me and find the fuck out.”

He’s silent, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. Chest heaving as he takes in the way you’re completely serious and focused on him. The knee you’re digging into his crotch painful for the force behind it and you see fear flash in his eyes. You take it in stride, feeling far more powerful than you had in months.

“That’s what I thought, go sleep off the pills you downed and report back to me tomorrow with payment or replacement.” He grunts as you shove off of him, his body stinging where yours had been on him, his neck feels cool where a few drops of blood form on the shallow cut where the knife had been.

The door shuts behind you, lock clicking in place. He stays there on the ground, heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes take in the cut off extremities you had thrown at him where they had slid to the floor of the hall. His stomach lurches at the thought of the other one you had mentioned and he’s surging up to empty his stomach onto the faded and worn carpet.

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