#blob's miller time

[pedge-page]

Do you think you'd be able to write me a little something? You don't have to at all, but I'm on my 3rd night in hospital recovering from what

Should

Have been a routine surgery but it went south and they had to splice me open from pelvis to just above my belly button.

What would Joel be like with a partner recovering from surgery? And even more having to help reader pee? Both of them getting turned on but can't do anything? (My night nurse is a really hot older guy that gives joel vibes so I'm STRUGGLING)

Notes: anon I am so sorry that happened to you! Even more sorry that this took so long, but I do hope you are recovering and doing better! 

Proper Medical Attention

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: piss kink, fingering, brief piss taste, reader had hip surgery, dry humping ish

 18+ ONLY

 - - - -

“Give me that god damn jello cup,” you command, extending your arm and making grabby-grabby hand gestures.

Joel rolls his eyes. His arms are folded across his chest, slumped in the uncomfortably plastic seat and metal frame of the guest chair under the window. “Ya ain’t supposed to have jello. Drink water.”

Dropping your arms, you frown. “I’m sorry, isn’t jello a fluid?”

“No, ‘course not. It’s—it kind of—more like—“

He fails his words trying to explain.

You snap your fingers anyway and point incessantly to the tray across the room with the jello cups.

He grumbles but follows your demand, handing you one.

“Can you open it pleaassee?” You pout.

“Thought it was just your legs that ain’t workin’.” He tears it open with ease then hands it to you. 

“You try getting double hip surgery.” You rub your hands together excitedly.

He looks around the tray. “No spoon…Do ya want me to feed it to—“

You tilt your head back and suck the squirmy blob out of the tube like a shot glass, tongue working it out perfectly until your mouth is just full of jello. You sucked it down like it was the best jello of your life.

“—Nevermind.”

“Thought you were supposed to have lots of fluids after surgery.” You slurp another one down before chucking it all Joel’s head, hoping he’ll take the hint to throw them away to you.

“You are. Jello ain’t a fluid.”

“Doc said it is.”

“Not all doc’s are smart,” He sasses you, throwing away the cups in his lap as well as the ones crunched in yours. “The nurse said ya ain’t supposed to have a lot right now since ya ain’t ready to use the bathroom yet. That’s why, dummy.”

“Psh. I don’t have to pee. That’s—“ you pause, suddenly realizing the your body hadn’t thought about the last time she had gone to the restroom. Now full of jello cups that, your body now decided is a liquid state, the urge to go is upon you.

“Oh. Oh Joel.”

“What.”

“Why—why would you do this to me.”

“I ain’t done—what are you—“ but he sees your knee curve inward under the white sheet, and your free hand go down between your thighs. “—oh no.”

You only nod embarrassingly. Sighing, you reply, “I’ll just call the nurse guy—“

“Hell no.”

“What?”

“It’s a guy!”

“… so?”

“So… I ain’t letting a guy help you piss.”

“I can’t go by myself!”

Joel crunches his fists. “Alright, I’ll help you.”

The nurse (the hot sexy one Joel doesn’t trust) helps you out of the bed, offering you a walker. He gets you all the way to the private suite door.

“I got it from here,” Joel budges in, stepping between the nurse and you.

“Are—are you sure? It’s really no trouble. I just want to make sure she’s—“

“Yeah I got it. Just help her down the seat an make sure she stays upright, yeah?”

He nods, and Joel gives him a curt smile before shutting the door, locking the two of you in.

Joel and your eyes fall upon the toilet seat.

“I can’t do this,” you whine, suddenly regretting being potty trained for the first time in your life.

 “We’re doin’ this. Otherwise mister pretty boy is gonna do it and I ain’t letting’ that happen.”

You walker-waddle yourself over to the toilet before backing up and positioning your rear to the seat.

“I gotcha,” Joel says, a comforting hand on your back to help you ease down into a squat. 

You were still a little numbed up from the surgery, so it was more uncomfortable than it was painful. You didn’t want to look at the sutures binding your sides together, instead concentrating on the sink ahead. You gripped the side handles for dear life. 

Finally, your bare ass touches down on the seat. 

“And we have landed,” he chuckles. He makes sure your papery gown is clear out of the slpash zone. 

“Your ass is still cute by the way.” He winks. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he was looking at your baby butt full on display in this stupid thing. “Think the nurse agrees?” You tease.

His good-natured humor quickly disappears in favor of a scowling jaw-grind. He folds his arms across his chest, looking between your legs.

It’s a little too silent right now.

“Supposed to go.”

“I can’t do it when you’re looking at me like that!”

“Like what? I’ve seen your hooha before, babygirl. Doc was more intimately inside you this mornin’ more than I ever been.”

“It’s not… that I just…you… you don’t see me pee!”

It’s one thing to be walking around the house naked for Joel, Joel eating your pussy every morning like his coffee and biscuit, and Joel playing with your folds on a lazy Wednesday evening.

But the man has never seen you go to the bathroom before! “It’s…it’s just different.”

“C’mon. Just—go!”

“Turn around!”

He tosses his hands up. “Fine!” Now facing the wall, he grumbles, “Happy?”

But you’re not. just his presence here is shaking you up. God, you had to go so bad a minute ago. Why can’t you just do it now?”

“Still awfully quiet back there…” he chides annoyingly.

“Give it a minute!” I’m gonna fucking strangle him the moment I can walk on my own.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pretending you’re at home, in your private little bedroom bathroom, with your comfy bathrug beneath your feet, and it smells like vanilla and lavender. 

You let out a breath, and begin to go.

Breathing steadily, eyes still closed, you don’t notice Joel’s ears twitch. Nor the way he shifts his weight from the left to the right, nor how his eyes keep wanting to glance behind him.

I mean, you’re going now, right? He can just… take a peak. Its not like… he ain’t seen fluids come from there before…

He turns his shoulder just slightly, head tilted to see you. the hissing sound between your legs immediately draws his attention down, and he lips part slightly to let out a silent sigh. 

You moan a little, feeling much better now that you were emptying a very tight bladder. Opening your eyes, you don’t expect to be met with Joel’s staring back at you.

“Hey! I said—“

But he’s not even listening: his pupils are blown wide, staring at the stream exiting your cunt and splashing below, his mouth agape as he licks his lower lip every few seconds. His biceps are strained hard against that slutty plain shirt, and you definitely don’t miss the way his pants look tighter around his crotch.

No. Fucking. Way.

Joel Miller has a piss kink.

It hurts to do so, but you spread just a little wider, now exposing your twitchy clit to his hungry eyes.

That gets his attention. He entirely shifts his body forward facing you again. 

“Damn. I really had to go,” you giggle, humming contently. “Joel?”

He swallows in response. 

Your eyes trail downward as he adjusts himself in his jeans. He gives extra care to palm his tent a little bit, though it’s not even subtle anymore with the way he’s still cupping and brushing his hard-on.

Your trickle lightens before stopping entirely.

It’s silent again.

“Um…could you…get me…paper...” You feel a little flustered just asking. 

It’s the way he’s looking at you. That’s all. That heat between your thighs? Just the warm piss dripping. that’s all. There’s nothing else wet happening down there. Yeah. That’s probably it.

He doesn’t go for the toilet paper roll. Instead, Joel gets on one knee, right between yours, and reaches his hand between your thighs.

“Joel!”

He cups your mound, growling when his palm and digits come in contact with your hot, wet center. “Baby…”

‘Its just—just—pee—“

“It ain’t just pee,” he snickers, his eyes low.

His finger flicks your nub a little, taking his time to drag then through your slick folds.

He can feel the distinct throb in your core. Everything about his touch is even more heightened than it normally is. And he touches you down there a lot. But for the both of you right now, it’s like it’s new territory all over again. Your fingernails bite the side grips just as hard as your teeth sink into your tongue. 

He can tell you’re holding in your moans. “Stubborn little thing, ain’t ya?”

“Don’t t-talk,” you squeak. 

He shrugs. “Looks like I ain’t the only one who enjoyed that show.” He grips his hardened jean-clad cock with his other hand, grinding his palm into it as he plays with your wetness.

“I—“

“Do you want to give me another round?” He sneers. He delves his fingers further, finally parting your petals. “What am I gonna do with ya? Can’t even piss without my help—“

On cue, you let out a little extra squirt you didn’t realize you’d been holding in. He groans, feeling the heat of your urine soak his palm completely as he cups you fully.

 Grinding the heel of his hand into your clit, you start to feel lightheaded.

Before you can speak, he dips his middle and forefinger into his mouth, humming at the tangy, salty, slimy taste of your arousal and liquid gold coating him.

You gape at him.

Smacking his lips a final time, he leans close, and the scent of your fluids just barely coats his lips. "Want a taste?" he holds his hand out to your face, still slick with his saliva.

Every bell in your brain says to be a good girl and suck them clean.

So you do: your tongue slithers between the cracks, sucking the pads in until he's clean.

He takes his cue, knowing he’ll be in trouble if you pass out on his watch.

“Time to clean up, babygirl.”

He wipes the towels between your pussy-lips generously, soft and careful.

“I could—have—done that—myself—“ you stammer. Your body is still alive with jitters, but your brain is struggling to process what’s happened

Joel washes his hands thoroughly before helping you back up and to the sink yourself. He stands behind you so you don’t lose balance.

You prop your elbows along the vanity, careful to avoid his gaze staring back at you In the mirror. 

The water rushes against your knuckles as you generously lather the soap through the cracks and under your fingernails.

You feel his lips brush against the back of your head. And even more prominent, the bulge that nudges your ass cheeks perfectly.

“How long?” He whispers, giving a peck to your ear shell.

“4.”

“I hoped you say days…but it’s weeks, aint it.”

You turn around, wiping your hands dry with the towel. he tears your down, holding you close so you can lean on him for leverage. 

His lust filled eyes look ready to tear you apart all over again.

“Months.”

He looks ready to have a heart attack.

“WHAT!”

“Doc said 4 weeks on the walker. 4 months to be cleared for rigorous sexual activity.” You toss the paper towel, grab your walker, and saunter out of there with as much sexy confidence as girl on a walker with her bare ass swaying on display can muster.

He follows behind you. “You think I’m losing here?’

Pulling the sheets, you backward scoot until your thighs are at the edge of the bed. He helps hoist your ankles slowly in the air until you can lay back comfortable.

“Just remember. When I take you home…you can’t get up and do anything without my assistance. Right?” Joel nods to the nurse, who came back to check on you.

“S’right! You’ll need careful monitoring for any movement during your recovery. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your meds.” He leaves the room.

You gulp, unwilling to see the devilish look in Joel’s eyes.

He holds one of your empty jello cups. “Wonder if they’ll ask me to help ya piss in a cup if ya get some kind of infection…” he ponders.

- - - -

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[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel run into Jackson's biggest threat.

Warnings: Violence, guns, minor character death, racist remakes, ageism (sorta), language mentions of slavery/ slavers.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

May 2024

The first thing Joel registers in the morning is how cold he is. He must’ve nodded off while keeping watch. The second is Louis, who is shaking him awake like the world was ending…again. 

“Get up, man!” 

“What’s wrong?” Joel mumbles, his eyelids peeling open to the unwelcome morning light. His back is stiff from leaning against the old porch’s support beams.

“She’s gone!” 

Joel follows Louis’ pointed finger to where the horses had been tied last night. Sure enough, one is missing from its fence post. 

“Fuck.” 

Your trail is easy to follow. The ground is soft from the spring rain and Pepper’s hooves have sunk into the Earth, leaving a clear path to wherever you’ve run off. Joel sighs as his own horse, Turnip trots along. At the very least, he knows you haven’t been taken from the cabin. If raiders had found you all last night, well, you’d all be dead in said cabin. 

“Thought you had it under control.” Brett huffs from Joel’s left 

Despite the comment being meant for Joel, Louis responds. 

“Women are unpredictable. Everyone knows that.”

Joel chooses not to comment. It’s true many women were unpredictable, not you though. Or well, Joel thought you weren’t. He could’ve sworn he had been getting to know you in the past months. Last night had been so perfect, laying next to him, smiling and laughing like everything was normal. 

You and Joel had switched with Louis and Brett sometime around 2 am. Joel had sat down next to you on the rickety front porch, eyes fixed on the treeline in case anything were to come out of it. When the hell had he fallen asleep? You must’ve slipped away sometime after 4 am, surely he had made it at least two hours? 

“Hold up. Look, two o’clock.” Brett points 

Joel’s eyes scan the woods, eventually landing on a motionless blob on the green forest floor. He flicks Turnip’s reins and moves towards the human-shaped thing, praying it’s not your lifeless body. Relief floods his system when he sees it’s not you but a dead infected. 

Louis jumps off his horse with ease, something Joel hasn’t been able to do in twenty years, to examine the corpse. A single bullet hole rests in the face of this Stalker, it’s a perfect shot, and Brett takes the time to point it out. 

“Let’s keep movin’. She’s close, I can feel it.” Joel says, his eyes roaming around, making sure there aren’t any more infected lurking in the bushes. 

They make it about another half mile or so before it happens. There’s a shout and then the crack of a gun. Brett shouts a loud curse as his horse panics. A searing pain rips through Joel’s shoulder, the feel of the bullet is unmistakeable as he reaches for the rifle he has strapped to Turnip’s saddle bag. A whistle sounds and before Joel can warn him, an arrow has made its home between Louis’ eyes. Joel’s hands land on the rifle, ready to pull it free but a deep voice has him stopping as Louis’ body falls from his horse with a thump. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

The cocking of a gun has Joel’s hands freezing. From above of all places is where they lurk. Three men, descend from the trees, dressed in dark green, mud smeared to their faces in an effort to blend in. 

“Get off the horses. Slow.” One of them orders. 

Joel lifts himself from his saddle, his shoulder burning as he does. Warm blood trickles down his skin and gets caught in the soft fabric of his shirt, the same shirt you were resting on last night. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says as his feet hit the ground, his eyes fixed on his gun that sits in his saddle.

Brett’s eyes are locked on Joel, he looks scared out of his fucking mind. Joel should’ve expected this would happen. He was at most 25 maybe 26. Too fucking young. 

“Let us pass, we’re looking for someone,” Joel says, his eyes fixed on the one who spoke first, he has red shoelaces. 

Brett looks at him, his eyes almost saying “Are you kidding? They just killed Louis, we need revenge!”. Revenge of course was the last thing on Joel’s mind. He needed to find you, fast. Who knows how many more of these tree-climbing fuckers there were. 

“These two look strong.” Red shoelaces says, ignoring Joel’s request. 

One of the other men gets in Joel’s face, his horrible breath nearly kills Joel’s entire sense of smell as he stares at him. 

“This one’s like…sixty fucking years old. He won’t be any good.” 

“Well, I’m not the one who shot that one in the fucking face, am I?” Red laces seethes, looking at the last man, who has his bow slung over his shoulder. 

“Don’t see why it matters, buyers hate the ones that aren’t white anyway.” Louis’ killer shrugs.

“They don’t want grandpas either, you fucking idiot.” Red laces says, shaking his gun at Joel, “How old are you?” 

Joel stays silent. He’s said what he wants. Whatever these men need young bodies for, doesn’t matter to him, he won’t be sticking around to find out. 

“Does it even matter? Let’s take them back, and get the boss's opinion.” The man with the bow says 

Joel’s mind begins to plot a way out of this. He can take at least two of them but the question is if Brett will be able to take out the third. Joel can see he’s shaking a bit, scared now that his friend has been killed. 

“We’re looking for a woman.” Brett’s shaking voice fills his ears 

Joel wants to punch Brett in the face. Why would he tell him that? He should’ve just brought Tommy, this naive fucker was going to get himself killed. Joel’s glare could probably freeze hell over as he tries to telepathically tell Brett to shut the fuck up. 

“A woman?” Red laces smiles, “We got women. Brought a nice looking in earlier, she’s got a nice ass.” 

It’s not you. Joel’s mind swirls as his eyes fixed on the path Pepper’s hooves have left. They lead further into the forest. It can’t be you they’re talking about. There’s the crackle of a radio suddenly, Joel doesn’t catch what’s being said, not that it matters since the one with the bad breath is slamming the handle of his pistol right into Joel’s temple, knocking him unconscious. 

You groan a bit as you stretch out on the ground. Your back protests as you try to rearrange here in this bush. The Walrus’ camp is only a few thousand feet from you. This bush conceals you nicely as you get a good head count on everyone. Counting The Walrus, there are two other armed men. You hadn’t meant to stumble upon their camp, you’d heard it, the laughter of men as you were riding through the trees, hoping for a clue of where Adam had come from. You hadn’t expected to find everything, just sitting here in the woods. 

The two men that work with The Walrus aren’t familiar to you. You wonder if there are any left from your time with him, perhaps Adam had been the last one. One of them listens to the crackle of a walkie-talkie, their patrol must’ve found something. 

You’re not sure where this patrol of theirs is all you know is that they hadn’t seen you, otherwise, you’d probably be sitting in the mud with the four other people they’re holding captive. Two young men, probably around Brett and Louis’ age, and two women are tied to trees. One of the women, her greying hair the only sign of her age occasionally calls out to the younger girl who has a dinosaur t-shirt on. You decide that they are mother and daughter and that they’re going to get out of their ropes first. 

Where the fuck was Joel? You swore he would’ve found you by now, he’d gone on and on about his tracking skills a few weeks ago, why hadn’t he found you yet? Your hands grip your rifle, could you take the three of them by yourself? Certainly not…of course you could pick them off from here. But, you wanted to see The Walrus, you wanted to get up close and watch him die, the same way you had with Adam. You needed it. 

You remain curled up here in your bush, hoping that you’d tied Pepper off well. You’d left here about a mile away, whispering into her mane that you’d be back soon. Hopefully, that wasn’t going to turn into a lie.

The loud whoops and yells of men have you fixing your gaze back on the camp and shock fills your system. Three more men have appeared, no doubt the ones who were on patrol. They drag two unconscious bodies with them, Brett and most importantly, Joel. 

Joel wakes up right as they drop him face-first into the dirt. His tongue tastes the ground below him as someone laughs at his misfortune. His head hurts a bit, nothing serious though, bad breath didn’t hit too hard. His focus was on his shoulder which was still slowly bleeding. It hadn’t hit anything major, Joel was sure of it, otherwise, he would’ve bled out by now. 

Joel pushes himself up, Brett who must’ve been hit harder has been left face down in the mud as their captors stare down at Joel, sneering, whispering their thoughts about him. Their guns remain pointed at him and Joel wracks his brain for ways to take them out without Brett’s help. He really should’ve brought Tommy. 

Joel looks at the other four people who look terrified. A woman and a teen girl are what catches his eye though. They’re clearly related, with similar facial features along with matching scowls as they stare at him. Joel’s been alive a long time though, long enough to see that they’re both terrified despite their best efforts to look at him with disdain. As for the men, Joel can’t quite place their emotions, he knows they’re not related though. All he can manage right now is relief, you’re not here. You must’ve slipped through their patrol somehow, maybe they were lurking in other trees when you passed through.  

“Time to meet the man.” Red Laces says suddenly, his voice giddy with anticipation.

A tent unzips and a man approaches, a long beard adorns his face, and greasy unwashed hair sits atop his head and when he opens his mouth to speak, Joel notices he’s missing two of his front teeth. No doubt about it, this is Adam’s boss.

Joel listens to your quiet voice as you explain who Adam is and what he did to you. Joel nearly gets up four times, ready to rip the man apart limb from limb. You seem so small and fragile, curled in on yourself under the blankets here on his couch as you talk about how you lost your beloved cat. 

“There was another man…missing two teeth who killed Loki and turned him into a fucking bowl of soup. He used to hurt me too, for fun.” 

If there weren’t five guns pointed at his head right now, Joel would be up and ripping the head off his toothless fucker for what he’s done. The thought of leaving you and Ellie behind has him still in the dirt. He eyes this “leader” the other men seem to respect. What was there to respect? The fact that he was a fucking psychopath who fed girls their pets and cut them up for fun?

“Oliver shot the other young one. Says it was an accident.” Red Laces throws his patrol partner under the bus immediately. 

“Fuck you, man. The brown ones don’t sell anyway!” Oliver defends himself behind obvious racism. What a fucking pig.

Joel looks at the leader and his missing teeth, he’s yet to speak, listening to the way his men bicker. 

“And you think someone as old as him will?” Red Laces argues back, pointing at Joel, “He’s got more fucking gray hairs than all of us combined!” 

Joel watches as Brett begins to stir, his eyes pulling open as his hand flies up to his temple where he’d been hit. A small groan escapes his lips as the one with the bad breath pulls him up and into a kneeling position, mimicking Joel’s current stance. 

“Now that we’re all awake…Let’s get some things straight.” 

Laces and Oliver stop their arguing, their boss's voice has them rigid as they shut their mouths for once. The boss turns to Oliver and even though Joel has just met this man, he can tell he’s angry. A deep frown on his face as he practically spits in Oliver’s face as he yells.

“I fucking told you! I wanted them all alive!” 

“I’m sorry!” Oliver cowers, “I didn’t mean to, I was aiming for his arm, I swear!” 

The boss grabs Oliver by the collar, shaking him as spit flies into his face, 

“Shooting them in the fucking arm is damaging the goods!” 

He whips around and gestures down to Joel, “Age doesn’t matter if they’re strong! You’ve cut into my profits…Who shot him?” 

Silence follows as their boss, whose face has gone red with anger demands an answer. Joel deduces that these men must be selling to slavers. He’d heard that in some areas communities used captive people to build their societies, treating the people they bought as literal machines. There was of course the second option as well, there was a flesh market down in Mexico he’d heard about years ago. Some gang that had been big back before the outbreak was now running the border and bought and sold people to be used for other’s pleasures.

Fuck…He couldn’t be sold off to some slaver somewhere. He needed to find you and get back to Jackson. This man and his group needed to die, he’d done too much to you, not to mention they’d clearly been planning to take Jackson for their own personal profits. 

Suddenly the boss is leaning down, a pungent smell of body oder and who knows what else assaults Joel’s senses as he speaks, 

“Who shot you?” 

Joel nods to Red Laces who seems to be nonverbally pleading with him not to rat him out. Of course, Joel doesn’t give two shits if Mr. Laces is punished, why should he? 

Red Laces is given a good right hook by his boss who threatens him, 

“If you shoot another piece of my cargo, I’ll sell you the next time we go down to Kansas, Got it?”  

Joel listens as he gives the same ultimatum to Oliver who begins to grovel and apologize for murdering Louis earlier. He looks at Brett who seems to be about two minutes away from pissing his pants. Joel nods towards the knife that sits tucked into the bottom pocket of the leader's pants. They hadn’t been tied up yet, this was their chance and Joel was going to take it. Brett shakes his head in fear and Joel shoots him a look. 

The leader turns back to Joel, satisfied with his speech to his men, 

“They said you’re looking for a woman.” He motions towards the woman tied to the tree behind him, “That her?” 

Joel remains silent and stares back at this stinking reeking sorry excuse for a human being. Joel could grab the knife if he just took a step closer. There was a pistol tucked into the front of his pants, Joel could easily shoot quicker than this man’s people. They were young, and unseasoned, the oldest, Laces was surely no more than 40. Joel was a better shot than all of them combined. 

“Quiet, huh? Whatta shame.” 

The leader turns on his heel, ready to go back to his tent. He takes a few steps before tossing his order over his shoulder,

“Tie the younger one up. Shoot the old man, he won’t sell.” 

Red Laces pulls his gun out from its holster and points it at Joel’s face. Joel’s thighs tense, it’s now or never. As if it’s in slow motion like some action movie from years ago, he lunges for the gun, ready to hit it out of his would-be killer's hands. 

Before his hands can make contact with the metal of the gun, the sound of a single shot rings out. At first Joel’s sure he’s a goner, that the gun has gone off and there’s a bullet in his head. 

Instead, a warm splatter of blood is raining down on him, and a metallic taste of iron fills his mouth as Red Laces drops to the ground, the top part of his head has been ripped open by one well-placed shot. 

You curse as your foot gets caught in a tangle of weeds. Nearly tripping over your own feet, you burst out of the bush. The one who was standing over him is dead, you’re sure of it. Your legs burn as you sprint towards the camp, rifle slung over your shoulder as you pull your beloved Colt Python from its holster. You cock your gun, you have to get to him. You’re closing the distance now, closing the distance between you and him. 

Between you and Joel. 

Next Part

Justice will be had for Loki the cat.

If you're reading this, please leave me a comment or reblog. It's lonely just getting likes on my fics. I yearn for your opinions and feedback.

Been feeling kinda down recently, I don't really know what it is. Oh well, here's a Joel pic from Pinterest:

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[c0renswet]

Would you be able to take a request for Scott from Twisters and a reader who is new to Storm Par? The plot and everything else can be up to you

omg yes ofc!! the “scott x reader who’s new to storm par” has been one of my favorite self inserts tbh

An Ego Problem (scott miller x reader)

this ended up being longer than i anticipated

warnings: swearing, scott being an ass (per usual)

a/n: this is my first time writing in a while so i apologize if it’s not the best! also writing for scott means i can use all of my fancy weather knowledge (i’m a meteorology major) and that’s very special to me <3

You aren’t new to storm chasing. You’d grown up in tornado alley— you were more than used to the hell that the sky unleashes.

Tornadoes don’t scare you, you’ve always been fascinated by their power; the way that the atmosphere is capable of creating something that can produce catastrophic damage in a matter of seconds. You were so drawn by it.

But, here you are, driving through the middle of nowhere Oklahoma, and you’re nervous. You don’t know the last time the thought of chasing made you nervous.

“Y/n?”

The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts and you blink, your head perking up.

“You nervous?”

Your friend Javi turned his head to look at you, eyes leaving the road momentarily. You’d known Javi since college, and you’d chased with him before, but you were chasing with his crew for the first time this season.

“Nervous? No.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze and managed a smile. You tried to keep from fidgeting, feeling more and more uneasy as you neared the gas station his crew was waiting at.

“You sure? You seem awfully quiet.”

Javi knew you better than anyone, it wasn’t hard to tell that you weren’t yourself. He knew that chasing excited you more than anything, it was weird for you to be so reclusive.

“I’m fine. Promise.”

You didn’t mean to be short with him but you couldn’t help it. Javi shrugged, not believing you but not pushing any further. You swallowed thickly as he pulled into the gas station.

Javi parked before shutting off the truck and hopping out. He opened your door, helping you out of the passenger seat. You stepped out and looked around. Storm chasers were crowded in the parking lot, preparing their instruments and looking at laptops. You watched the groups of chasers as Javi walked you towards where his crew was standing.

You turned to look at his crew as you were introduced. They were dressed in white button downs, Storm Par sewn onto the front pocket of their shirts, shirts tucked into their black pants. You’d never seen storm chasers dressed so neatly. They looked so professional— it was a stark contrast to the chasers around them. Even you could admit that it was a little… odd.

Javi told you where everyone had gone to school, who was with the National Weather Service, who had PhDs, this and that. You scanned the group until your eyes landed on the guy standing in front of you. He was tall, iPad in his hand, hat on his head, and sunglasses hiding his eyes. He was looking at you, the expression on his face serious. Javi said something about him going to MIT. You instantly felt intimidated by him.

“This is Scott,”

Javi put his arm around the tall man, but his expression never changed.

“He makes up for it with his beautiful, amazing personality.”

Scott gave an insincere smile before his face went back to his stern, blank expression. You wondered what his eyes looked like behind the veil of his sunglasses.

“So, y/n, where are we headed?”

Javi took the iPad from Scott and handed it to you. You looked at Javi before looking at the tablet in your hand. A radar image was pulled up, the colorful blobs of developing thunderstorms dotted along the screen.

“I, uh- um-”

You stuttered. Your mind couldn’t seem to focus, it was like you’d forgotten everything you knew about weather and storm chasing. You immediately felt embarrassed as you felt the eyes of Javi and his crew on you, but the feeling of Scott’s eyes focused on you made your cheeks flush bright red. He was standing close to you, too close—

“What’s wrong? Can’t read a radar screen?”

Scott’s voice rang out above you. He raised an eyebrow when you looked at him. He’d taken his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt pocket, his blue eyes bearing into yours. The condescending tone in his voice pushed out any embarrassment you felt.

“Excuse me?”

Scott looked at the iPad and looked back at your face, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

“Need help knowing what you’re looking at? Do I need to teach you how to read radar?”

You stood there. You knew he was trying to push your buttons, obviously testing you. You knew you were good, you’d been chasing longer than most of the people in this parking lot, but his comments stung. You pushed the iPad into his hands and walked away, not wanting to show your emotions in front of the crew.

It wasn’t long before Javi found you, standing on the grass at the edge of the parking lot, watching the sky. You felt his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t let Scott get to you. He’s like that with everyone, must be an ego problem.”

You chuckle at Javi’s comment.

“Am I riding with you?”

You didn’t take your eyes off the tall clouds that formed the building storms in front of you.

“Actually, no. You’re gonna have to ride with Scott.”

Your head immediately snapped towards Javi. You felt like the air had been taken out of you.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for today.”

“Oh.”

Your voice became small and you swear you could feel your insides coil up.

“Javi! Time to go!”

You heard Scott yell from the distance. You didn’t want to move from where you were standing, in fact, you wanted to run in the opposite direction. You wanted to get as far away from this place, and Scott, as possible.

“Sorry, y/n. It’ll be fine, just listen to what Scott tells you to do.”

Javi sounded sincere with his apology. He squeezed your shoulder as the two of you walked towards the vehicles.

———

You sat in the passenger seat of Scott’s SUV, Javi’s truck not far ahead. He hadn’t said anything to you, minus the grunt of disapproval when you got in the vehicle with him before the two of you pulled out of the parking lot.

Scott kept his gaze on the road, eyes occasionally traveling to look at the towering supercell that took over the sky in front of you. You watched his jaw move as he chewed his gum.

“So, how’d you start chasing?”

You attempted to make conversation, even though he intimidated you, you hated to sit in a silent car. Scott made a noise in his throat.

“I’m surprised you picked the right storm.”

He finally spoke. His tone was flat, just like the expression on his face when you’d first seen him. You weren’t sure how to answer.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what I said?”

That stupid, sly smirk played at Scott’s lips again.

“You have a lot of words for someone who isn’t calling the shots here.”

Scott scoffed at you.

“Not calling the shots? Honey, I’m the reason Javi has Storm Par. I’m the reason he’s able to do any of this.”

You stared straight ahead, watching a wall cloud lower just a few miles away. The rotation was evident and you tried to focus on the counterclockwise motion in the sky.

“Can you tell me what we’re looking at or do you need me to teach you that too?”

You could see Scott’s eyes move to look at you from under his sunglasses. The smirk was still on his lips, he looked so cocky.

“Wall cloud with rapid rotation. Supercell has a defined meso. Tornado is imminent.”

Your tone was serious, almost as stern as Scott’s. You wanted to tell him to fuck off, to pick on someone else, but you didn’t. You could tell you shut him up by the way his jaw clenched. His stare was fixed straight ahead again.

It wasn’t long before a funnel emerged from the wall cloud, condensation meeting the ground in a beautiful, perfectly lit cone. That was the perfect tornado, the tornado that made chasing worth it. For a few seconds, you forgot that Scott was in the car with you. You felt as mesmerized as you always had. It was peaceful.

———

Scott pulled into the parking lot of the motel you were staying at. He shut off the ignition and got out without saying anything, you were weary to get out but you did. You hadn’t realized just how tired you were until the drive back, you almost fell asleep in the car.

You got out of the SUV, ready to get to your room. You began walking past Scott, not in the mood to talk to him— or deal with him.

“Hold on.”

You felt Scott grab your arm as you walked past. He was strong and his grip was tight, almost too tight. You sighed and rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear what he had to say.

“The fuck do you want?”

You didn’t care that you swore at him, you figured he deserved it. You stayed in his grasp, afraid he’d only make it tighter if you did.

“You don’t like me.”

His blue eyes were focused on yours.

“How’d you know?”

You scoffed, wanting to laugh at how stupidly obvious his observation was.

“Javi made you out to be the best there is. He painted a picture of you that made you seem like you’re a saint. I can’t say I agree with that.”

Scott’s stern expression didn’t change. He was sharp and direct with his words and you felt yourself squirm.

“Well, I’m sorry that I think you’re a dick-”

“Uh-uh, honey. You’re gonna be on this crew, then you’re gonna have to learn to like me. After all, I’m the one who calls the shots here.”

Scott’s eyes looked over you before he let go of your arm. You watched him walk away, joining the other Storm Par members next to their vehicles. It was clear he wanted some kind of authority over you. You sighed, too exhausted to let him upset you. You walked off to your room, glad to be away from him.

An ego problem, you thought to yourself.

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests

[chdarling]

CH, do you have any book recommendations? I’ve been reading all the dark academia trying to find a vibe close to your series, but I’m coming up blank. Anything similar (or just your fave books!) would be amazing!

Oh man, I have the perfect book recommendation for you…except tragically I haven’t written it yet. 😭 Gimme ten years and I’ll get back to you. 😂

Jk jk. I have some real book recommendations that don’t just live as a nebulous blob in my brain. I wouldn’t say they’re like TLE (they’re SO MUCH BETTER 😭) but here are a few books I always recommend:

1. The Secret History by Donna Tartt - if you’re looking for Dark Academia, this is the sacred text.

2. The Broken Earth Trilogy by N.K. Jemisin - the first book is “The Fifth Season” and it’s one of those books I wish I could induce temporary amnesia to read again for the first time

3. Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

4. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

5. Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

6. The Girl With All The Gifts by M.R. Carey

7. Possession by A.S. Byatt, specifically for the academia vibes, if that’s what you’re looking for!

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers, which is not only one of my favorite books of all time, but is also hella dark academia, since it takes place at Oxford. The hitch is that it’s part of a series (the Lord Peter novels) and you absolutely cannot start with it first, there are several books you have to read first.

[joelsleftknee]

Part 2

pairing: Joel Miller!Reader | post-outbreak/ jackson era

WC: 2.6k

multiple part series: series masterlist

- part 1

content warnings: canon divergent obvi cause joel doesn't go golfing in this one, ANGST ANGST ANGST (literally wrote this cause there's not enough agnst to read out there), age gap (reader is around 28, Joel is 52), reader has hair and is shorter than Joel but no physical descriptions other than that, cute winter romance, bookworm reader, eventual fluff, eventual hurt/comfort.

(a/n): part 2 is here!!! thank you so much for reading! this is my first time writing here, so sorry if my formatting is kinda mid lol.

tags: @macaroni676 !!! :)

Joel half-heartedly untied the shoelaces of his leather boots before climbing the stairs to his room and getting in bed, pulling the covers up to his chin as the cold slowly seeped off his bones.

He spent all morning out on patrol with Harry, a twenty-something-year-old kid who’d joined Jackson just over a year ago. He had married one of the girls in town. Young and very pregnant, she had some coffee ready for both Harry and Joel before they headed out the gates.

As he sipped the hot drink, Joel couldn’t help the pathetic stab of jealousy that had him furrowing his eyebrows at the kiss on the cheek Harry received from his wife.

Harry had been in Jackson for such a short time, yet he had managed to build a life that seemed to make the damn Apocalypse worth living.

As for Joel… He tried to count his blessings. He really did.

He had Ellie, whom he loved more than anything. He had Tommy, and even Maria, who had become something like a sister to him.

But Ellie was building a life of her own, having recently moved into the garage and spending almost every day with Dina. And Tommy and Maria had each other.

Joel threw his arm over his brow, trying to block the shaft of sunlight that made it through the fraying curtains of his bedroom window.

Perhaps sleep would keep his mind off the pitiful downward spiral he was setting on. So he closed his eyes, lips parting with an exhale as he filtered off his thoughts. Exhaustion helped, and soon he was drifting off into an easy, weightless nap.

Joel’s rest was short-lived. Outside, excited squeals and laughter woke him about an hour later.

He grumbled against his pillow, pushing himself up on his elbows to try to blink away the sleep. He padded to the window, peering through the curtains.

It had snowed. In the past hour, Jackson had been covered in a thick blanket of freezing white. Now townspeople of all ages ran around making crumbling snowmen and snow angels. He spotted a couple of simultaneous snowball fights. If you could call the fluffy blobs snowballs at all.

He was scanning the crowd gathered downstairs all over the street, looking for Tommy.

Instead, he found you.

You were wrapped in a thick coat, head falling back in laughter as you watched Maria hurl a handful of snow at an oblivious Tommy, who turned around in shock, flakes clinging to his hair.

Joel closed the curtain, eyes catching on the books on his bedside table. The one you’d picked out for him a couple of days ago. And then two more—ones he’d found on patrol this morning.

He didn’t recognize the titles, but they seemed to be in pretty good condition. He’d initially planned to save them for later—a last resort excuse to go see you again. Still, he had scolded himself for even thinking that as he rode his horse back into the perimeters of Jackson this morning, lost in thought while Harry rambled about something beside him.

You were so young. And so beautiful. And so joyful and bright, that he felt that he was doing you a disservice by even staring at you for too long.

He was fifty-two years old, for goodness’ sake. Ancient in comparison. He was no better than a dirty old man. In fact, he was a dirty old man.

The realization hit him like a brick to the back of the head. He grabbed the books he’d found and stuffed them inside the squeaky bedside table drawer, slamming it close before darting downstairs. He pulled on his boots and his jacket, zipping it up to his chin.

Closing the door behind him, he stepped out onto a veritable winter wonderland.

“Joel!”

He turned his head to find Ellie jogging toward him, pulling a red-nosed Dina by the hand.

“Hey, kiddo,” Joel said, offering Dina a nod and a smile.

“Joel, you need to come to the hot and cocoa board game night,” Ellie started. “It’s tonight.”

Joel blinked, his gaze—unwittingly, of course—focusing behind Ellie and on the unnecessarily thick bright red winter coat you were wearing, still laughing beside Tommy and Maria.

Ellie waved a frantic hand in front of your face. “You listening to me?”

Your eyes met Joel’s. His heart jumped before he immediately looked back at Ellie, whose eyebrows were raised in amusement.

Joel missed the smile you flashed him.

“Did you fall off your horse this morning or what?” asked Ellie. “Tipsy Bison. Tonight. Hot cocoa. A game of Dutch Blitz. Get ready to be destroyed.”

Joel ran a hand over his face, fighting the urge to check whether you were still looking at him. “What time is this? You know I’m too old for these things.”

“Oh I know, you’re, like, a hundred years old,” Ellie said, earning a laugh from Dina, who added, in a stage whisper, “There’s also gonna be booze. Main reason I’m going.”

Joel scoffed, suddenly liking Dina more than he already did. “That might do it.” He pinched Ellie’s nose, who wrenched off his grip with a dramatic sneeze. “I’ll be there. But don’t expect me to be there all night.”

Ellie looked more than pleased. “I would never. You’ll have to go home and cry when I crush you at every game, anyway.”

Joel only shook his head, amused, as he watched Ellie drag Dina away.

Left standing at his front door, Joel’s heart almost stopped when he saw you walking up the couple of steps of his porch.

“Hey Joel,” you said, snowflakes clinging to your hair, catching the sunlight in an angelic aura.

“Hey,” Joel breathed, heart hammering inside his chest. “It snowed.”

What a stupid thing to say.

But you still smiled, chuckling as you said, “It did indeed. I actually came over because I heard from Harry that you found books on patrol today.” You looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I did.” Joel half-turned to go back into his house. “I can get them for you right now.”

You raised both hands, stopping him. “No need! You can bring them to me another time. I don’t want to expose them to the snow.” You gestured around you just as a shiver in response to the low temperature took over your body. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you smiled at Joel, and he thought it shined as bright as the ball of fire that is the sun when it rises every morning.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you continued, “for taking the time to find the books.”

Joel wanted to do a lot of things in that moment. Things like running his fingertips, calloused from years of playing the guitar, down your soft cheek. Things like running his thumb across your plump bottom lip, tantalizing him like forbidden fruit.

Instead, he nodded with an “It’s my pleasure, darlin’.” And before he could stop himself, he asked, “Are you going to the board game night tonight? With the hot cocoa.”

Joel gulped as your eyes widened. He had no business asking you, he realized. Would you catch on to his sorry crush on you? Could he play it off as just friendly fellow townspeople behavior?

“I’m planning to, hopefully,” you said. “Are you?”

Warmth spread in his core at the question, and his cheeks reddened in shame at the realization that he was so lonely that something so simple like this exchange could make his heart race.

“Ellie sort of bullied me into it,” he admitted with a nervous laugh. But suddenly energized by the prospect of getting to see you again, he added, “Though I figure it should be fun. Just somethin’ to do in this weather.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Tell me about it. I’ve been cooped up in the library the past few days, trying to organize things and restore some books. So I could really use a night off.”

Joel wished he could somehow get all your work done for you. Even though he had not one damn clue of what restoring a book entailed.

But you were too sweet and too soft to be stressed, he thought.

“Well, I’ll see you later Joel,” you said, bringing him back to earth. “And don’t hesitate to bring any clothes to me that mind need fixing, yeah?”

He nodded, recalling your deal. “I’ll see you later,” he said, unable to stop the timid smile stretching across his lips as he waved goodbye.

He watched you return to where you’d been standing, coming back to Maria’s side. Maria, who shot Joel a knowing smirk from across the street.

Not having even left the porch, Joel turned back inside, deciding he had had enough of the cold wind today. And, above all, wishing to hide from any eyes that could pick up on the slight trembling of his hands and the permanent red in his cheeks when he talked to you.

He was acting like a schoolboy. At the grown age of fifty-two. But he couldn’t help it.

Back in his room, Joel climbed in bed once more, in more age-appropriate fashion, shooting for a second nap to stop his mind from reeling through the hours until he saw you again tonight.

“Goodness,” you signed, resting your forehead on the pile of books on your desk that you were trying to classify.

After the snow craze had died down and everyone had gone back inside to their respective daily tasks, you came into the library to meticulously clean and dust off books.

Naturally, you’d been sneezing nonstop for the past hour, nose irritated from blowing it every other minute.

A box sat on the ground by your feet, containing many more books that the townspeople had donated, found all over their homes, tomes long forgotten through the outbreak. You had to go through those still.

You just wanted to be done.

The thing was, you loved your job. You had dreamed of working at a library, of living among books, before the outbreak even happened. It is nothing short of a miracle that you got to pursue your dream even after the world went to hell.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve gotten maybe a collective eight hours of sleep over the past three days. Maria keeps telling you to slow down, to take your time, and rest.

But you want this thing to work. And you’re going to work yourself to the ground if that’s what it takes. You’re hoping for a grand opening, even if the library and its books are already open and available to the public. You want to host a special event, nurture some enthusiasm for reading. Make it look cool.

You’ve had a few visitors ever since you opened the doors to your half-finished project last week. But with the weather and all, many prefer to stay inside instead of exploring what’s new in town. And you’ve pointedly asked Maria to not announce that the library’s open yet. Because you want that grand opening to be people’s first impression.

So here you were, at 10:57 pm, still paging through books, stacking tomes, and sneezing your brains out.

You wiped from your eyes the tears triggered by your allergies. Much to your dismay, you were already late to the board game night. You debated showing up anyway, but decided there was no point.

The reason you were going to begin with would probably be gone by them.

Joel Miller.

Tommy’s impossibly handsome, endearingly quiet older brother. One of your first visitors to the library. And someone you had been stealing glances at since the first time you saw him, almost a year ago, after your arrival at Jackson.

His hardened exterior and just the sheer size of him managed to draw everyone’s eye. You were well aware of all the other women in the commune who drooled over him, entrapped by the alluring danger that emanated off of him like a challenge.

But to you, he wasn’t dangerous. Sure, he was dangerous in the sense that he looked like he could kill any man in a matter of seconds. And in the sense that you’d heard of all his patrolling prowess. And of his many years of survival prior to his arrival to Jackson, the stories passed around like legends through town gossip.

But you knew there was more to him than that. Way more.

And you’ll be damned, but you wanted to know everything about him.

You were smart enough to know that you had plenty of competition. Because Joel was handsome beyond reason.

His rough features that softened when he smiled. The salt and pepper beard that made you go week on the knees when you saw him walking around town. His broad chest and shoulders—and the flannels that hugged him perfectly, so perfectly it was almost lewd.

You blew out a mouthful of air, snapping yourself back to the pile of work before you. You had no business thinking of Joel Miller this way.

He was beyond your reach. Mature. Experienced. Serious and reserved.

Much older. Old enough to be your father.

The realization had you closing your eyes and leaning back in your chair. There must have been something wrong with you because the thought made a desperate wave of warmth spread low in your stomach.

You had half the thought to put on the tight, long-sleeved shirt you had bartered for recently—funny enough, with the pathetic intention of catching Joel’s eye—and pulling up to the Tipsy Bison, down some liquid courage, and challenge him to a round of poker or something.

But you knew better.

You knew you would chicken out halfway through. And you knew there was no way Joel was still there. He had better things to do, you were sure. So even if he showed up to make Ellie happy and appease Maria, you doubted the hot cocoa and game cards would be enough to keep him for long.

Resigned, you returned to your books, pushing the image of Joel and his quiet smile away from your mind.

Joel left the Tipsy Bison at midnight. When the clock hit 12:01 am, he stood up from the table he’d been sharing with Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and Dina.

He had arrived early to the event. Both to have enough time to ease his nerves with the booze he disguised by pouring it in a mug and also just in case you’d arrive early, too. He sat facing the front door, and he watched it all night, waiting for you to walk through.

His heart raced every time a gust of freezing wind flowed into the room when someone walked in, expecting it to be you.

It was never you. And he felt like the biggest idiot in the world for having spent the entire night disappointed by your absence.

His mind couldn’t help but start making up reasons as to why you weren’t here. Maybe you took a nap and slept through the game night. Or maybe something had happened to you. What if you didn’t go because you knew he would be there, and you didn’t want to see him?

He had the brain to stop himself from wallowing into further dramatics lest he drive himself insane, but he could not help the false hope that popped like a balloon every time that door opened and it wasn’t you who walked in.

He waited. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spent socializing for so many consecutive hours, but he was grateful that the people he loved made it more bearable.

He won enough rounds of Dutch Blitz to secure at least a month of immunity from Ellie’s teasing, and he managed to wipe off the sad puppy look off his face for most of the night.

He had no reason to be disappointed, he told himself. It wasn’t like you owed him your presence. He’d just met you, for goodness’ sake.

That still didn’t erase the pang in his chest as he walked back to his house after offering some help with the post-event cleanup and sharing a cup of hot cocoa that Ellie convinced him to drink.

He had brushed his hair and put on the cleanest, most presentable flannel he owned. He even groomed his beard and put on some cologne that Ellie had gifted him when he turned fifty-two.

He’d felt silly watching himself in the mirror, knowing no nice clothes and no amount of cologne could change the truth of his age. Or erase the reality of how undeserving he was of a sweet light like you.

Still, he figured that, even after so many years of pain and grief, an ember of hope lived within him, fanned by the past two years of living peacefully in Jackson.

So he had hoped to see you tonight, hoped to indulge in the knowledge that there still was beauty in the world, and that you were the clearest evidence of that.

With snow crunching under his boots and his shoulders slightly slumped in defeat, Joel went home.

[joelsmochi]

closer

rating: E 18+ pairing: tortured artist!Joel x black!girly!f!reader summary: Joel hits a creative block with a mural, leading him down a road of discovery and intimacy in ways he's never felt before. warnings: au/no outbreak, unspecified drug use + marijuana use, unprotected piv, sex while under the influence, consenting adults!!! age is not specified but we can assume joel is mid 40s, brief mentions of death + abusive relationships, ooc!Joel (he is not the same person he was 1/2 pill ago…), third person pov but most of it is from joel’s perspective, very fluffy sex they may have said i love you wc: 5.3k a/n: Happy New Year everybody! This was inspired by Closer by Goapele and Prisoner by The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey plus I was thinking too hard about the time I ate an edible that had too much THC for me to handle and I produced whatever this is. Hopefully tortured artist!Joel hasn’t happened yet because I felt creative with this one…

masterlist

ᝰ

The frayed paintbrush relentlessly slapped against the concrete wall, coating the discolored brick in thick layers of different browns, reds, and whites. Opaque smoke blurred his vision, yet he only let it inspire the strokes of his hand, creating a beautiful image that wasn’t clear to him yet.

Before he knew it, the sun had set; he sat on his hard leather sofa, massaging the twinge that had settled into his wrist while his face wore a disappointed scowl. He was displeased with his progress, the blob that was already half dry on the wall of his loft.

A rumble snuck into his stomach, forcing him to stand up and absentmindedly walk into the kitchen area. However, his disappointment grew when he opened the fridge to find nothing suitable for a proper meal. As he glared at the half-eaten yogurt and scarce 24-pack of beer, he decided to go and get Chinese food.

He lit up a cigarillo to accompany his walk around the block and across the street, tossing whatever was left into a sewer drain just in time for him to open the door to the restaurant.

“Miller,” a worker greeted with a smile, “your usual?”

Unknown to him, the smell of his cigar caught the attention of a waiting customer. She waited until he was done chatting with the employee to ask, “Cream?”

He did a double take, unsure if she was talking to him at first. She was tall, maybe five foot nine or five foot ten, with big hair and brown skin, and dressed in something far too lovely for her to be eating Chinese for dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell like cream-flavored cigars,” she said, sounding amused.

He felt unsure of how to respond, not wanting to seem rude, watching her diamond earrings gleam from the low yellow lighting. He paid for his food and answered. “Yeah, just had one.”

“Black and mild or swisher?”

“Blacks,” he answered, growing a little uneasy from the stranger questioning him despite the mundane topic. 

“My favorite,” she boasted, earning another look from him after he put his change in the tip jar. “They’re much smoother.”

The man didn’t respond, only offering a tight smile in return. The pair stood a few feet apart silently, listening to people chattering and utensils clanking behind the counter as they waited.

She smelled like expensive brown sugar perfume and cocoa butter, a sickly sweet combination that tickled his sense of smell. Her scent was reminiscent of a freshly baked cookie a kid couldn’t wait to dive into. She was dressed in a lovely skirt and a prissy top paired with a mix of gold and silver rings and necklaces and bracelets — two colors he usually hated paired together, but somehow, she made it blend beautifully.

Her makeup was soft, or so it seemed. It wasn’t too heavy, but her eyebrows were bold, as was the line drawn around her vermilion border. He noticed she blinked slowly but held her eyes wide as if she anticipated something to happen.

The employee’s voice brought the two adults out of their daydreams.

“Beef and broccoli and chow mein?” They asked.

The artist waited kindly for the woman to grab her bagged styrofoam container before reaching for his own; he walked a few feet behind her, suddenly feeling bad for his cold demeanor earlier once they were outside.

“You want one?” He called after her before she got too far away; she turned around with a frown, confused at his offering.

He reached into his pocket and held up a couple of fresh cigars. She grinned, secretly desperate for a smoke. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she strutted back towards him. She strutted like a cat, one leg crossing the other.

She allowed the man with the messy hair the privilege of placing the stick between her plump lips, keeping her eyes on his as he watched where he was lighting.

She took a long drag, waiting for him to get his cigarette lit before asking, “What’s your name?”

His eyebrow cocked up, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was amused. But he answered anyway.

“Joel.” He sharply inhaled; she responded with her name and a smile, thick smoke spilling out from the spaces between her teeth as she gently exhaled. “You from around here?”

“No,” she said, “I like to travel. See new places. Find new things… Right now, I’m fixated on museums—art museums precisely.”

That piqued his interest. “Art? What kind of art d'you like?”

“Any art that speaks to me.”

Joel smirked at her answer as if it were funny. “Oh yeah? What speaks to you?”

Instead of her usual quick response, she pondered momentarily, trying to locate proper words to avoid rambling. “Suffering or excitement.”

He could only narrow his eyes at the vague response, but she spoke again before he could ask for an elaboration.

“You must like art,” she guessed correctly.

“I’m uh…” And there’s a long pause; the rhetorical shame of confessing what his job was had risen, but for what purpose? After a short internal debate, he finally admitted, “I’m an artist myself.”

Her eyes widened with excitement, which Joel found adorable. She asked him various questions: what kind of art he created, how long he’d been painting, his favorite creations…

He admired her interest in the subject and how she listened carefully and intently, clearly trying to understand as much as possible about him.

“How do you stay inspired all the time?”

Shit.

Joel’s mind ran blank for a few seconds, and he watched the woman’s face contort into confusion. She worried she’d brought up an unhealed wound and persisted that he didn’t need to answer.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Joel assured, “I’ve honestly been at a block lately…”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Do you do anything to help get over that?”

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of an appropriate answer, yet nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “Just wait for it to pass.”

“…Could... Could I see your art?”

For the first time, she seemed to be shy. Her teeth grimaced, and eyebrows crooked out of fear of rejection, but Joel was sure he was far more nervous than she was.

"Uh, sure..." He said hesitantly. "What I have at home is nothing special, but-"

"I'm sure it's beautiful," she interrupted. "I'm free right now if that works."

ᝰ

This was unlike him: inviting a girl he'd just met into his home. She had something that enamored him. What was it, he wondered with each passing minute, was it her beauty or curiosity? Was it the way she smiled or how sweet her voice sounded? He couldn't ponder for much longer as she had already begun complimenting his home.

"A loft," she said while taking in the brick walls of his home that were littered with several paintings that all seemed to be works in progress. "It's cozy." Joel watched as her painted nails gently trailed over the armrest of his stiff couch just before she reached up to feel a painting of what seemed to be a little girl.

His staring made the woman laugh, and while he could admit he was being a bit precarious, he just wanted to ensure she wouldn't mishandle that particular piece. She didn't. She just reached to stroke the texture meant to resemble the girl's curly hair; she touched it for only a moment before pulling away and turning around.

After realizing the painting was sacred to him, she asked, "Is that someone you know?"

His shoulders and chest rose as he sucked in a melancholic breath, and she couldn't ignore the sadness that swarmed his eyes.

The woman was satisfied with no answer and moved on quickly. "May I eat with you?"

Joel gave her a stiff nod, his thoughts still filled with the traumatic memories of the girl in the photo.

They sat quietly and slowly ate their food, the lack of heat from their containers making the meal invaluable. The silence comforted him as it felt much different than the cold silence he was used to. No. Her silence was warm and comforting... Like a mother caring for a sick or sad or sleeping child. She didn't offer any awkward glances or stiff smiles. She didn't hide her joy or her optimism despite his distant demeanor.

Her eyes weren't as big as they were just an hour ago. Perhaps the food made her sleepy, he thought.

"Where ya from?" He figured he should at least be a good host.

"Rockport. It's a small town in Massachusetts. You?"

"Born and raised here," he answered.

"Really?" She squinted at him while poking at broccoli with a fork. "Never wanted to leave?"

Shrugging, he said, "Thought about leaving, never needed to."

"Is that painting supposed to be the same girl?"

She pointed to the spontaneous mural partly done on the big red wall opposite to them. He looked at it, forming different opinions and thoughts on his work.

"No. Not entirely sure what that one is yet," he grunted. "Needed to paint something, but I can't quite figure it out yet."

"You should do a self-portrait," she suggested with a wide grin. "I'd love to see how you see yourself."

"Nah, if I did that, it'd just be a college-ruled notebook with a bunch'a scribbles in it."

She chuckled at his pessimism, gaining a confused look from him. "So? Maybe someone would see something between the scribbles."

"I don't like painting myself," he said firmly.

She couldn't care less about his seriousness; she saw his need for perfection and keeping busy with work. Seeing the distress on the average person's face wasn't unfamiliar to her; all she wanted to do was take it away.

"Your art is lovely, Joel," she spoke truthfully, "For what it's worth, I think you'd paint yourself beautifully."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, taking in her warm smile and gentle words.

"You're very kind," he admitted, "thank you."

The temptress walked and stood in front of the mural to admire the thick blobs of paint that were still tacky. She saw the vision but just as quickly saw the block.

"You seriously do nothing to help the creative blocks?"

With a slight frown, he shook his head to confirm. "Just try working on something else until I find my rhythm again."

"Why not? Why not music or movies or going outside for more than Chinese on a Thursday evening?"

Feeling a bit antagonized, Joel scowled at her. "I paint what's in my head, not around me."

"Maybe that's the problem." She sat close to him on the floor and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Maybe you've painted all you know, and you're stuck right now because there's nothing new inside that pretty little head a'yours."

"Flattery only gets you so far, sweetheart."

"It got me in your apartment, did it not?"

His scowl grew, and he felt no need to hide his annoyance from her.

"Just tryna help," she smirked.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly not," she simpered; she pulled a bag of ground weed from her purse and held it up for him to see. "Maybe you need Mary's help."

"You're fucking joking."

"It helps me," she said softly. "When I don't smoke, I'm a very anxious and shy person."

Joel's eyes fell to her hands, which were beginning to work the weed into a paper very carefully, watching her roll it precisely. "Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Mock me all you want, Joel, but I must say that even a couple of hits can make you feel ten times better."

"Not interested," he quipped.

"Well... If weed isn't your speed, then maybe..." She licked the paper shut and placed it on the table, then reached in her purse again for a bag containing different colored pills. "...ecstasy would be more fitting."

"You expect me to take drugs from a stranger?" He asked.

She leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm no stranger, Joel. I'm your inspiration."

He found himself laughing at her choice of words, not paying her any mind as she climbed into his lap. She placed a pill between the rows of her teeth and bit down to break it in half, offering him whichever half was smaller.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to... But it will help."

Her voice was so enticing that Joel was sure he was already high from the affection she persisted in giving him.

"Help me paint?" He asked, still not entirely convinced.

"Help you create."

Joel thought about it: he had nothing left in his life to live for other than his talent for painting, and he even felt that it was being wasted on unproductive days and constant disappointments.

For months, all he wanted was to create one last masterpiece and to feel proud of it. If all it took was to give in to some strange form of peer pressure, then that's just what needed to be done.

Almost an hour later, however, his worries about art were set aside.

With his head lying in the pretty woman's lap, he tried remembering why he had been so angry before. He let her stroke the curly hairs on his head and trace his lips over and over again.

"You're doing good," she cooed gently.

"You're very, um," he swallowed between his heavy breaths, "nurturing."

He noticed the woman's eyebrow shift upwards, and an amused hum left her mouth. "Hm. No one's ever said that before."

"Really?" Joel began to realize how dry his throat became. "Well, it's a compliment."

"Thank you," she giggled. "Thirsty?"

"Mmhm," he moaned.

Reaching over to grab the water bottle on the floor, she took a long sip as she felt parched before holding his head up to help him drink some. He felt her sticky lip gloss around the rim and found himself latching even harder onto the plastic container.

She let him drink as much as he needed before closing the bottle and helping him stand up, urging him to paint something.

He felt a wave of heat envelope his body, the hairs along his arms and neck dancing along his skin. He wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny, so he tried to hold it in. He followed her around the room and watched the ends of her hair bend and curl around her arms. She opened a few paint bottles, squeezing some onto his stained palette and holding the brush out for him. She couldn't help but laugh at the elation in his wide eyes; he was definitely in a much better mood than before.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, not bothering with the meaningless utterance of words and just giving into his need to kiss her. She wasn't surprised by the gesture, inviting his tongue into her mouth for more. She tasted the cigar on his breath and lips, ignoring how bitter it seemed.

The paintbrush smeared itself against Joel's elbow, causing him to jolt back in shock, only to laugh when he realized the purple-coated paintbrush was bending on its own. He took it from her hand and approached the wall, immediately getting to work.

While he worked and ranted about how the piece was "basically painting itself," she undressed slowly while prancing around the room and humming to some tune that found its way into her head. Joel saw the colors blend and separate, waiting for the wall to respond with where his next brush stroke should be.

The woman found herself looking at that painting of the little girl again. She was unable to quiet her curiosity.

"Is she your daughter?"

Her voice broke the string tying him to his work, and he stumbled around a bit before turning around and facing her with an asking face. He let his tools go and followed the sound of the siren, looking deeply into her wide eyes.

"She was my daughter," he admitted freely, something he refused to do as often as possible.

"Where is she?"

He noted how concerned she seemed and took it as an invitation to confide in her.

“She uh… She died ‘bout ten years ago.”

Joel felt her fuzzy arms weave around him, encompassing him with a sense of comfort. It was the first time he could talk about the tragedy without bursting into tears. Her lips pressed warm kisses into his forehead and temples as she attempted to bathe him in consolation.

He removed his head from the crook of her neck to look at her face. Her eyes, although appearing a bit lopsided, were still wide and curious, like she was still waiting for something. He tried to focus on just her, but all he wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to pai-

A shriek broke him out of his trance: the woman seemed surprised about the splatter of paint that got on her bare chest and arms. Joel blinked rapidly and tried to decipher what had happened between talking about his daughter and... Now.

Had time managed to escape him? Was he too out of it to realize that? And who put on the jazz music?

The brown liquid dripped down her body and hid her nipples; he found the motion fascinating. How happy she seemed to be coated in the cold dispense helped him feel more at ease and join in laughing with her. Her hair, frizzier than before, somehow gave the illusion that she was underwater. It just flowed so freely.

"You are a mermaid in the most beautiful depths of the sea," Joel shouted dramatically.

"Wh-what?" She giggled before smearing a finger-lengths of paint onto his forehead.

His hand absentmindedly poked the paintbrush into her collarbone, tickling her in the process. "You are free... And kind... Did you turn the music on?"

And she's giggling again. God, he couldn't get enough of that sound. She was a siren, manipulating him with her songs of joy and laughter.

"You told me to," she answered; only Joel took a few minutes to process it. She covered her hand in yellow paint, cradled his cheek, and let the print of her hand stick to his face as if she were marking her territory. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Joel," she said quietly.

Instinctively, he beckoned for her to close the space between them. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Her arms snaked around his neck as she looked at his aura and vented. "I was supposed to go on a date tonight with my ex-boyfriend. He wasn't the greatest guy. Abusive. Angry. But my parents love him, and they say he's changed, so... I wanted to try again."

Joel's drug-induced nosiness got the better of him. "Why didn't you?"

She sighed, a smirk daring to grow on her face. "I wanted to make him feel stupid."

He wrapped his arms around her waist at her wise words, holding her close as if she would blow away had he exhaled too hard.

"M'glad I met you too," he admitted. "Did I spill paint on you?"

"Just a bit, but it was my fault. You were in a daze," she admitted bashfully.

The pair took a few minutes to look at each other, feel their spirits, and soak up the serenity between the small gap in their lips.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Those words would have left Joel speechless in any other scenario at any other time on any other day. But he was high out of his fucking mind, and once his brain had fully processed her question, he answered with a short and sweet "Yes."

He waited patiently as the vixen undressed him, and she took her precious time; her knuckles grazing the wiry hair along his pelvis sent hot shivers across his abdomen before his jeans pooled around his ankles. Lifting his arms to aid in the removal of his shirt, he flinched and giggled childishly when she placed a kiss or two along his collarbone.

She gasped at the nails digging into her sides, his hands begging for more because his voice was too weak to. The desperation grew in his eyes, and he wanted to feel close to her. To feel all of her depths and shallows and curves and grooves. Her essence rendered him helpless. The smell of her perfume was even more sickly than he recalled, but all the much more sweet.

Their bodies danced onto the floor, bending and curling around each other like snakes.

"I was always afraid of this," he spoke as she worked her hand around him, not that he needed it. "Feeling close with someone. After my last... You know."

She smiled at his words, telling him with her eyes: I know.

"I was so scared to feel close to someone..." She admitted. "After him, I wanted to be left alone. Untouched."

"What changed that- oh, fuck," Joel moaned, feeling her wetness encapsulate him.

"Someone found me, ha-ah, hmm... And took care a'me, just like I'm doing for you."

Joel clawed at her back, reaching for her hair, but his arms were too heavy, with the quick rushes of euphoria soaring through his veins. Her moans and pretty little sounds coaxing him into blindness. He couldn't see her face, covered in the universe of her bangs littered with stars and planets, until she leveled her happy face with his. The shimmer in her glossy eyes let him know she enjoyed this just as much as him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever s-seen," he moaned.

Finally able to lift his arms, he used them to hold her face gently. He admired her refreshing beauty. She moaned something about how sweet he was, though it went unregistered to him.

All he could feel was her thighs flexing against his hips every time she rode down, and he felt his cock brush that sensitive sponge deep inside of her. Her hands pressed painfully into his ribcage, but he didn't mind. He loved that she needed him so much that it hurt.

She laid her body down on his chest, bringing her lips to his chin; he whimpered at the softness of her lips, his warm breath hitting her nose and making her body shudder. His mouth parted to stick his tongue out for her to lick and suck, which she did graciously.

He never knew his tongue could feel so ticklish or that having it licked would feel so damn good. It made his cock throb against her walls, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Her nails scratched his scalp tenderly, hips rocking back and forth, creating the perfect rhythm.

Her breasts dragged against the hairs on his chest, making some of the dried brown paint flake onto him; her nippled peaked, vulnerable from the friction.

Joel wrapped his forearms around the base of her spine and rolled over as carefully as his intoxicated body would allow. With hair splayed out, she looked so ethereal, like a walking painting herself.

Then, he noticed a bucket of paint sitting nearby and dipped two of his long fingers inside, dragging the white liquid down the valley of her breasts until he reached the peak of her belly. He noticed how her body reacted: all of the little shakes and shudders signs of appreciation made his heart swell.

His hand reached around her hip to grip her ass as he rested his body weight on her and enveloped her in more kisses. His hips rocked gently and slowly, careful not to hurt her. He wanted to feel her cum and hear her beg him to keep going.

To her, it felt like he pushed deeper with each thrust, begging her body to swallow him whole and allow him the grace of becoming one with her. Her eyes were so low, yet she was seeing more clearly than ever. Seeing his aura radiate off of his broad shoulders and tousled hair - it was a haze of blue and purple. But hers were shades of reds and oranges in his eyes, a fiery tyrant that bullied him with praise and adoration.

His nose tickled her chin while his lips made their way up to plant another kiss on her sweet, sweet mouth. The alcohol in her perfume singed the hairs along his face and nostrils, pilling the hairs on his arms.

"Harder, ngh- please," she murmured.

He saw her blown pupils roll gently beneath her eyelids as beads of sweat formed along her hairline. Her breathing was shallow and short. She was close.

Licking his reddened lips, he pushed her knees back until they were flush with her jawline and shifted his body weight from his knees to his toes, then changed the force of his hips without changing the rhythm.

She loved that he listened to her: harder did not mean faster, and he fucking perfected it. Almost like he knew just how hard to go.

Joel drove into her deep enough to make her cunt squelch and clench around his thick cock. He felt clumsy inside of her like he was tripping up over his own orgasm. He felt all of her ridges and curves, the smooth and the rough; everything intensified in a way that could only be described by the God he didn't believe in.

But she had him questioning that in the back of his mind. He would have believed that she was God herself if he wasn't aware of how high he was. She looked celestial, her mouth forming an 'o', and her hair sprawled around her shimmering face. Even with her mascara flaking and running slightly, she seemed so content, so pleased.

Joel's desperation to come inside of her was almost primal, instinctive... If her nails weren't digging so sharply into his forearms, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have been able to hold back.

He didn't ease up on her throughout her orgasm. Honestly, he didn't think too much about it. He never wanted right now to end. With a sense of ecstasy coursing through his veins, he managed to turn into something he tried so hard not to be. He craved her body, her kisses.

He pulled her into his lap before resting his cheek on her breast. He inhaled the musk of her sweat deeply, cherishing the divine woman she was. She felt as beautiful as she looked. She fucked just as sweet as she smelled.

His clammy hand ran over her flexed calve as she bounced on him. Her movements were sloppy from his tight grip, not that either of them cared. She was sure not to go too high or come down too hard, allowing her pussy to drip white remnants of her orgasm onto his balls. He licked and kissed and bit her tits as a submissive thank you.

She kissed the top of his hair, strumming her fingers along his scalp. "Joel," she moaned, "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he grunted almost instantly.

Raising his head to look back at her blissed out face, he pulled her even closer. His chin dug into her clavicle, but his neediness only made her laugh softly.

Joel's face twitched as his body proposed its orgasm, his dick throbbed roughly against her sensitive walls. She gasped, taking it as a sign to fuck him faster despite the burning in her legs. He winced at her arms weighing heavier into his collarbones but just clawed at her ass to power through the pain.

She placed a hand over his heart and pushed gently, forcing him to feel the thumping against his chest. He felt so much of his anger and pain dissipate beneath her touch, instilling love and peace in place of it.

"You're so precious," he whispered. A lovely smile rose onto her face, one that drove him crazy. He looked at her with big puppy eyes that threatened to fill with tears. She licked along her teeth and bit her bottom lip. "I love y-you..." He knew he didn't mean it and that she didn't either, but he missed being able to say those words. "Tell m- oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Tell me you love me," he pleaded. "Tell me you love me 'til I cum, baby."

"I love you, Joel.”

His eyes screwed shut, face falling into the curve of her neck.

“I love you, baby. I want you to cum for me,” she moaned, breathless from exhaustion.

His nails dug deeper into her flesh, he was clinging onto his climax as much as possible, wanting to wait long enough for it to destroy him.

“Oh, Joel, fuck!” She yelped. “I love you, I love you!”

And he broke.

His nails scratched lines up her back whilst he screamed into her chest. Her pussy throbbed against his sensitive cock from the arrival of her second orgasm, heightening his sensitivity.

A few tears shed his eyes at the closeness; Joel felt like he was falling into the Earth. He was so dizzy and confused, cornered by the affection clouding his judgment.

“I love you,” she whispered into his scalp, placing one last kiss before climbing off of his lap.

He hissed at the last stroke of her cunt but helped her lay down, using his t-shirt to prop her head up.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her head.

“You should drink some water.”

As soon as she said that, he felt the itchiness in his dry throat. He grabbed water from the table a few feet away and chugged as much as his stomach could handle.

“Will you bring me the joint and a lighter?”

Joel fulfilled her request and sat the water next to her, immediately looking back at his work in progress while she got herself situated.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you coming down?”

Confused, he looked down at her but saw that the colors weren’t so loud anymore. “Think so…”

“Take a few hits. It’ll help.”

He hesitated but sat down and did as she told him. 

“Thank you,” he said after briefly coughing and handing the joint back to her. “I think whatever that… Pill was actually helped.”

“If it wasn't the pill, it must’ve been the sex,” she teased, earning a laugh from him. She tapped his shoulder and pointed her head towards his mural.

ᝰ

A rough pounding woke Joel up from his slumber. He groaned, pressing the meat of his palm to his forehead and slowly sitting up before remembering the girl was still next to him.

He watched her sleep soundly, mouth slightly parted and a gentle snore creaking from her throat. The memories of last night flooded his mind, and while they were somewhat fuzzy, he remembered clear as day how it felt.

He felt most of his questions had been answered by something more complex than communication. It was frightening yet calming at the same time.

Her body stirring regained his focus, and he knew she must have been feeling the same tension headache as he was when she groaned before her eyes fluttered open. She squirmed from the cold air and looked up at the hungover man, smiling as she remembered the night before.

“Morning, Joel,” she said with a playful tilt.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Your head hurtin’?”

“Yep,” she grunted while sitting up. “Ever been to that café on thirty-fourth street?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll take you there for some coffee and breakfast. My treat,” she told him.

Her eyes landed on the big, dull wall that had been taunting Joel for weeks, only to find it was a brightened, complete piece of art.

She admired the woman's beauty and asked him without looking away, “S’that me?”

Joel smirked and reached for his boxers, standing to put them on.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” Joel kissed her head and walked away, leaving the woman alone to admire his masterpiece…

Her.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 22

Good lord y'all I am never doing a 2 week edition of the Spreadsheet ever again this is actually insane. Like this is the longest post I have ever made. There's like 35 fics on here :)

Anyway as always you can find the spreadsheet here and the masterlist of my recs (that is currently unupdated lol oops) here.

Recs below the Pedro!

Joel

Mothman Fever a one shot by @beskarandblasters

You meet a really hot guy at the Mothman Festival and almost hook up with him, then you meet him again at the Mothman Stakeout except this time he's not just Joel... he's MOTHMAN!!! This fic is so good. It's funny and hot and amazing. Lil element of sex pollen in there and ya know, my favorite, monsterfucking. Also the shirts reader wears had me hollerin'.

Deliver Me From Nowhere a series by @atinylittlepain

Joel got his sheep ranch in a sleepy Colorado town and decided to slow his life down finally. Delores comes speeding into it, literally, in desperate need of help. As of right now there's a prologue and chapter one out, but I've got a little insight into the full story, and just trust me. This fic is worth your time. It's soft, gentle, and sweet, but do not forget that Joel Miller is capable of so much violence. And he's a protector, a caretaker. I love the way the town feels like a character and the way Joel can't help but help her, and AGH. This fic, man.

No closer could I be to god a one shot by @proxima-writes

Okay so this is set in Jackson... you're the town preacher's wife and you are hooking up with Joel Miller. This fic is super hot. I fucking love infidelity fics and I love when there's a lil blaspemy and sacrilege in a fic and this is just such a good fucking example of that. And the ending is so good.

Guard Dog a one shot by @romana-after-dark

TW Dub con, but it's Joel not reader. Raider!Joel fucks with the wrong girl. Reader fucks Joel at gun point and like there's a gun blow job in there and he's so submissive and he's also obviously pretty into it? And then he's obviously very into it. This is was so unreasonably hot. Just like... oh my god? Joel on his knees and whimpering and begging to cum? Good dog…

Jizz Fingers a Joel (and others) series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

This is probably my favorite crackfic ever. A splorgimum (alien boy) from another planet can shape shift into anything you want and has various other special space boi powers that make hooking up with him a really good time. This so funny, like you will probably cackle out loud and have to find a way to explain what you're laughing at, but ummmm it's also pretty hot. And I refuse to be ashamed of wanting to fuck amorphous blob boy turned HBO Joel Miller. I mean have you seen what those Jizz Fingers can do?

Not so tough now, is she a one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Your cute lil raider group gets taken over by Joel's much scarier one. He needs to show your group that you are no longer in charge, and he chooses to ruin any authority you could possibly have by fucking you in front of them. TW NONCON. This is depraved and hot and terrifying. I loved the different ways the men in the group reacted too, from boldly participating to obvious disgust. Really shines a light on the spectrum of human depravity oof.

Oblivion a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

Your boyfriend's dad is a sweet older man who you go visit sometimes, bake him things, talk about photography... Your boyfriend cheats on you. So you cheat back and let the guy take pictures. He sends those pictures to your boyfriend's dad... and suddenly sweet old man Mr. Miller is not so sweet anymore. TW Dub con, you totally wanted Joel but this is not how you wanted him. This is really hot and a little scary and just FUCK Yes. This is so fucking good

Pillow Queen a one shot by @beskarandblasters

You watch a porn video while Joel is sleeping beside you. He wakes up while you’re watching it. You tell him you want to try that position and he calls you a pillow queen. You prove him wrong. One thing I love more than almost anything else is proving a man wrong lmao. This is so fucking hot it's unreal. That got rode within an inch of his life lmao

All I did was what I had to do a series by @corazondebeskar-reads

I'm not 100% sure why I read this because if someone pissed even in my general direction in real life I'd literally cut their dick off and feed it to them... anyway that is not how I feel about it in fic apparently. Your raider!Joel's little pet or whatever and a new recruit thinks he can make a pass at you. Joel pisses in your mouth right in front of him and then shoots the fucker in the dick. Then he makes it up to you with some overstimulation :)

truth or dare a one shot by @joelscruff

Mean scary neighbor Joel, fuck yes!!! Your friends dare you to "see how far you can get" with your neighbor Joel during a game of truth or dare. You go over there and end up locked in his garage. There's elements of TW DUBCON here, but also he does give you a brief opportunity to leave. This is brutal. He's rough and a little gross about it and it is so hoooottttttttt!!!! And then there's this bit with a flashlight.... anyway I also would ditch these friends since you literally disappear for god knows how long and they don't even bat an eyelash like???

Something wretched about this a series by @covetyou

This is gonna be a series, but so far I've only seen chapter one,,,, Wherein Joel is a drug dealer and you need pain meds for your dad who is very ill. He can't work so you don't have ration cards, but you need ration cards to buy pain meds so he can work to get ration cards. Viscious cycle. Thankfully, Joel is accepting other methods of payment. The main kink in this one is pussy spanking and is so delicious oh my god. Reader is shocked by how much she likes it, honestly I think Joel is shocked by how much she likes it.

Joel + Veracruz

A Lesson in Blackmailing a one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles  

No reader in this one! Just Joel domming comandante Veracruz and Veracruz liking it way more than he probably should. Joel is so fucking mean and Veracruz is a brat but he ends up just being a pathetic mess jacking himself off in an alley and I love every second of this.

Dave

Notes on Tutoring a series by @honestly-shite

Dave is your new music tutor and you are down real bad for him even though he's a major fucking asshole. You end up fucking him and then a lot of shit goes down and literally any other summary I can think of is full of spoilers. But this fic, y'all. Oh my god. The way Dave is characterized is so frustrating and so so good. It's perfect. Every detail that is slowly revealed about him is so perfect. The instrument(s) he plays, the music he likes, his background, where he's from, what went down before you met, all of it, is so perfect. The ending may possibly make you mad? But I liked it. I thought it made perfect sense for these two characters.

The Princess and the Duke a series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Originally just Murder Daddy Kinktober Day 3 prompt "Daddy please" and then followed up with Kintober Day 4 prompt "Risk of getting caught," this is now a series so I'm reccing it as such. And FUCK it is hot. Dave is very much still Murder Daddy but he's so soft and sweet for reader... I mean he's still a scary and dominate motherfucker, but it's hot and the fucking tenderness and vulnerability he shows with reader has me fucking reeling dude.

Din

Taungsdays, am I right? a one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You and Din get attacked by some sort of horny tentacle monster alien thing and it gives you both the fuck of your life, basically. The horny tentacle monster basically wants to fuck you both but also wants to you and Din to fuck. If you like tentacles and/or sex pollen and a lil m!receiving assplay, this fic is so for you. Also even though you didn't exactly consent to getting railed by a tentacle monster, you and Din love each other and are pretty sexually adventurous so it's a good time for everyone involved lol.

Bleed for me a series by @saradika

Din is the mand'alor and a vampire and you are his chosen one, the one he will keep to feed and fuck and whatever else... but you have a secret reason for even volunteering to be chosen in the first place... I'm obsessed with the world building, with the suspense, with the characterization. I'm in love with this fic UGH. It's so fucking good. Din is so hot and scary and perfect in every way. Reader is such a badass too like... girl that is a terrifying situation you have put yourself in. The plot twist is everything. I love thissss

A Place of Safety a series by The_InvisibleWoman (AO3)

Okay so you're a bounty and Din picks you up and he goes to take you in, actually does take you in, but something is just fucking off about the whole thing. And then there's a lil grogu situation, reclaiming the bounty and all that. He decides to try to find her somewhere safe to live and in the process he falls for you and you fall for him and it is so fucking sweet and beautiful and perfect and I love it so much. There are currently 34 chapters and it's ongoing and I am ravenous for this fic fr.

Whispers in the Dark a series by @kewwrites

TW NONCON!!! This is the darkest Din fic I've ever read. It's fucked up on so many levels, man. Read the warnings and be fucking careful because it's got probably 99% of all the triggers possible. Kew, baby, are you okay? That being said, I loved it. It didn't feel like it was glorifying Din's behavior or justifying it or anything. It was just a beautiful and painful representation of what a broken man is capable of and what it can mean for a person to be wrapped up in that with him. If you can handle it, you should read it. This one will stick with you

Frankie

A Fond Farewell a series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Angela has written something so beautiful and so painful. It's real, raw, and it fucking hurts. If you're looking for angst this is the fic for you lol. I really loved Frankie in this. I also really really adored Santi's character. This fic is gorgeous. It's one of those things where shit keeps getting in the way of something that should be easy and it makes you want to scream and cry and throw shit. It's also largely based on real events, which just makes it hurt a little more because Ang is my soul mate :')

Slumber a one shot by @write-and-buried

A filthy, lovely, consensual somno fic with a bit of squirting. Frankie is feral and he is so hot in this oh my god. I loved every single second of this fic. Frankie is so in love with you it's adorable and maybe a little gross. Which is just very Frankie. I've read this three times in 2 weeks.

Frankie + Tommy

Group Therapy a one shot by @beskarandblasters

we're pretending therapists don't have a code of ethics because holy shit this is hot. Frankie goes to therapy for his trauma and meets Tommy Miller (who says he looks just like his brother Joel). Frankie and Tommy both have their eyes set on one of the group's therapists. They ask you to go for a drink at the American Legion next door and it's not long at all before you've found a back room and then you fuck them both... Frankie is so soft and adorable through almost the whole thing and then he's fucking you and goes feral and it is so hot dude

Javi P

Drenched a one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Me and Ang had some brainrot about Javi P wherein we discussed the fact that we would let this man do things we have never let any man do before. This resulted in a beautifully wet fic where you get covered in spit and cum. And it is so hot.

Carmen: Darlin' Darlin' a series by @thesummerpetrichor

You're the ambassador's daughter and you get dragged to this weekend get away thing for the DEA and Javier Peña is there. What follows is flirting and teasing and getting fucked in public and it is amazing. I love the reader character so much. Fiesty little mean ass bitch that she is, she's just like me. This whole thing reeks of daddy issues, and again I say, she's just like me. This fic is so hot.

Video Games a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

Yes, I did in fact read the whole masterlist, don't look at me. DADS BEST FRIEND JAVI P???? I have never read a dbf!javi, I'm pretty sure. This is so angsty and hot and perfect. The way they dance around each other for literal years (yeah I'm pretty sure that's grooming, but I don't think it was intentional... moving on) and then finally they just crash together and it is so hot. The way he talks you through it and he's so tender and soft and perfect fuck. It's like the Javi from those scenes with Helena or Elisa where that asshole exterior is gone and that overwhelming tenderness you know he has in him comes out and just UGH. Perfection.

Off to the races a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

I told you. The whole masterlist. Anyway. In this one, you're a sociology student doing research at the embassy and you're relegated to the DEA offices where you go about making Javier's life a living hell. Eventually he caves and fucks you over his desk. And then it becomes a whole toxic thing that is just so perfectly Javi and I love it so much and also the smut is ungodly hot.

Murder Daddy Kinktober Day 5: Who Does This Belong To? a one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

dude... Javi kissed another girl and you want to remind him who he belongs to so you tie him up, get him all worked up, make him confess his sins, and then untie him and leave the apartment, where he is left to pathetically jack himself off and be ashamed of himself. FUCK this is so hot. I love bratty whimpering pathetic Javi.

Dieter

Candy a one shot by @secretelephanttattoo

Dieter takes you to a closed down carnival and you suck his dick in the house of mirrors and it is delicious. I'd like to go on random adventures with Dieter... *sigh*

Crumbs, sloppy seconds, and backwash a one shot by @chloeangelic

Dieter is not so great at the whole monogamy thing, and you know this. You're actually into this, which means you've gotten yourself into a toxic cycle of encouraging the behavior and then regretting it. I love how desperately they need each other and how much you can tell they care for each other. I really fucking love the ending. I love how it’s a bit toxic, but there’s little hints in there that Dieter is trying to be what she wants. AHHH I can't believe this is her first Dieter. 

Unwind a one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

You have a terrible day and you start your period and it's just awful. Dieter takes care of you and it is the sweetest most lovely thing. So fluffy and perfect and wonderful ughhhh I love him so much.

Ghost in the sheets a one shot by @proxima-writes

As a lover of shitty paranormal investigation shows, this was fucking incredible. Dieter is such an annoying little shit in his somehow endearing way and I love him. I loved all the ghosty bits and the flirting and the bickering and AGH. I don't think I'd be down to fuck in a haunted attic irl, but maybe Dieter could convince me lol.

Max Phillips

Lust for a vampire a one shot by @idolatrybarbie

You're a bartender at a vampire themed strip club and after your shift the whole vampire thing gets a little too real. Max is so hot and he fucking turns you and it's so good FUCK. I love the freakiness of the location he takes you to also, really adds to the vibe.

A Real Challenge a one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Oh my god? Max making you wear a plug to work and then making you push it out and then fucking you in a conference room and then making you fucking leave the office in a very embarrassing way that I won't spoil. I'm panting.

Oberyn AND Max Phillips

a court of fangs and foxgloves a one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Oberyn is the lord of a vampire court and you were turned in order to serve him, but you left, uncomfortable with the bond formed when a vampire lord turns you. You regret this decision and come crawling back and Oberyn makes your life hell about it. He isn't exactly ready to forgive you, but instead of killing you for being an insolent little shit he fucks you and his other little pet Max about it. Well actually he fucks Max and Max fucks you... semantics. This is hot.

Maxwell Lord

Working Overtime a oneshot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles 

Dismantling internalized homophobia one rim job at a time! Maxwell doesn't think he'll like getting his lil ass ate out but oh boy is he wrong. And his jizz covered desk is pretty clear evidence of that.

---------------

I'm not even gonna rec my own fics because this is unreasonably long lmao.

[cantsayidont]

"So each year, hoping he will return, we set an extra place at dinner...for Superman!"

In 1984, the 400th issue of SUPERMAN presented an oversize issue with a series of vignettes about Superman's future, illustrated by a selection of different artists (including Frank Miller and Jim Steranko, among others) and interspersed with pinups and little essays by artists ranging from Will Eisner to Moebius.

The story itself, mostly written by Elliot S! Maggin, is unusual, since unlike most "Imaginary Stories," it's not interested with Superman's future (whom he marries, whether he has children, etc.), but rather with his eventual transformation into a mythic figure.

The most interesting of the vignettes is this one, drawn and colored by Klaus Janson. The narrative captions aren't always very legible, so I'll transcribe them after each page.

"So did the legend wax and wane and wax some more across the ages until, inevitably, the career of Kal-El, the waif from a lost world, passed from the realm of legend into myth… And in the dawning days of the Sixtieth Century--the memory of Superman has passed from reverence to ritual…"

"Meet Riley Benedix-- Even to 20th-Century eyes Riley's mode of dress would appear eccentric… Worry not--there is an explanation. The hat, of course, is the stovepipe of Abraham Lincoln, who lived soon enough before the great age of heroes to be included among them… The eyes wear the distinctive spectacles of Woodrow Wilson, who made the world safe for democracy… The shirt is that of Superman, greatest of all heroes, who fought for truth, justice, and the American way… Over Riley's back is an Eisenhower jacket, reminiscent of the hero of D-Day… On his feet are the highwater boots of Kuhan Pei-Jing, who slogged through the ricefields of Asian negotiating to head off a Third World War in the 1990's."

"Every year Riley and thousands of other history buffs fly hopelessly outdated spacecraft to Arcturus…to the convention of the 'League of Supermen'--for costume parades, sales of ancient memorabilia, parties, and a bit of unabashed fun… Riley's father never understood fun…"

"We join the Benedix family on a night of the year that is different from all other nights…"

"That is a good question, Superman…which you will answer to your own satisfaction soon enough…but for now you are only relatively sure of where you have been. You learned, again, that when the powers you wield are awesome, then the forces that array themselves against you are likewise--when the pulsing blob of chaotic energy nearly entered a star-system close to Earth's…and threatened, but its presence, to skew the orbits of inhabited worlds… Suddenly, not only was the blob of energy gone--but so was the last son of Krypton!"

"Alone, in pain, he found himself swimming through space like a drowning man looking for a life raft…directing himself more through will and instinct than through consciousness--to the blue-green world that has come to be his home. As, not a hundred yards from where the Man of Steel fell…"

"Soon, the stranger opens his eyes, looks around, and wonders…"

"So young Riley Benedix does continue the story of this festive day for his family…and he is the only one who knows that one of the story's main characters is here at the table with them all! It is a story of the days when America was young…and a child who could change the course of mighty rivers came to Earth--to exemplify all that American had and would come to stand for! Some of the story is accurate…some is clouded by the folds of myth and time--but like art and greatness, it is all true!"

"The young man walks the man from four thousand years ago into the sea-breeze of the night, and… For every Miracle Monday after that one, Riley's family set an extra place as everyone else did…but every year through Riley's old age, the food on Superman's dish mysteriously disappeared during dinner! Of course, everyone thought it was a trick--that Riley always teleported it away…but only Riley knew that sometimes legends live!"

Miracle Monday is a recurring holiday in Maggin's Superman stories, celebrated the third Monday of each May. It's explained in Maggin's 1981 prose novel of the same name, in which Superman beats the Devil (in the form of one C.W. Saturn) with some assistance from a time-traveling 29th century historian named Kristen Wells and an unexpected last-minute save from Lex Luthor (who was a very different character in that era and whom Maggin generally presented in a relatively sympathetic light).

(The cover of the novel tends to imply that it's a novelization of the Christopher Reeve SUPERMAN 2, which it's not, despite the glossy center section with photos from that movie.)

Maggin, who was a regular writer of the Superman comics in the '70s and '80s, later returned Kristen Wells in DC COMICS PRESENTS Annual #2 (1983) and #4 (1985), which make reference to the events of the novel.

In any event, the Benedix family's Miracle Monday celebration is very plainly modeled on a Passover seder, with an empty plate for Superman taking the place of the extra glass of wine poured for the prophet Elijah. It doesn't appear they've left the door open for Superman, but his appearance at the open door is obviously intended to evoke that tradition.

There is a lot of Jewish-coded content in the Superman stories of the Silver Age and Bronze Age (from 1958 to 1986) — a lot more than in the Golden Age, unless you really strain, and MUCH more than in the period following the John Byrne revamp begun in 1986–1987, which pointedly did away with most of that stuff — and this is a particularly clear example. In that respect, it's notable that the Miracle Monday seder is expressly an Earth custom; much of what you can most readily identify as Jewish-coded in these stories is associated with the Kryptonian diaspora.

Regarding the story's narrative coda, it may be worth pointing out that while this story has Superman initially thrown through time by a mysterious space phenomenon, the "pre-Crisis" Silver Age/Bronze Age Superman could fly at superluminal speeds, and was capable of both interstellar travel and time travel under his own power. There were some complicated (and irregularly applied) rules about traveling to time periods in which he already existed, but Superman was capable of simply traveling forward in time and then returning to his own time more or less whenever he felt like it, which is how he was able to perform this little parlor trick for Riley. That was one of the abilities that John Byrne removed in the wake of MAN OF STEEL, in the effort to reduce Superman's powers and try to tie them to a specific set of pseudo-scientific rules.

[soft-persephone]

I seen your post about jake johnson fics but I've been too shy to request anything but the jake johnson obsession is so bad rn 😭

I recently watched "Ride the eagle" and omg I love Leif so much Jake is so fine as Leif it's insane so I was wondering if I could request a Leif x black!fem reader and honestly I don't have a specific idea I just want to read about Leif so you can do what you want with it 😭 but I wouldn't mind some hurt/comfort 👀

Sorry for the word vomit I just love Jake Johnson sm (and if you haven't seen ride the eagle I'll take a Nick Miller fic instead 😌) tysm I hope you have a wonderful day 💚

I’ll Follow You Into a Storm (I’m Sorry)

MDNI // rating: M // WC: 1.4k // masterlist //

AN: I’m happy to do a request for you! And very bold of you to assume I haven’t seen ride the eagle! Whatever level of crazy you think I am about this man, multiply it by 1,000 and that’s me!! I am not okay! I’m sure it’s a mental illness. But my pain is your pleasure! Please enjoy!!

The rain was pounding down. You could barely see anything. The heavy drops weighed your clothes down on your skin, adding to the weight of the guilt that sat in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t move. Your ankle throbbed like hell.

You kept your head down to keep the rainwater from getting in your eyes.

You just wanted to tell Leaf you're sorry. He was barely gone for ten minutes before you realized you were actually wrong and he was right. You didn’t want to wait any longer and leave him alone in the woods. You didn’t want him to live in a world where you were a fuck up for a second longer.

A bright yellow blob obstructed your vision, distracting you from your thoughts.

You looked to see Leaf in his big yellow raincoat looming over you. The lightning crackles as he wordlessly bent down and shouldered half your weight onto his, taking your arm and wrapping it around him.

The tredge back to the cabin was long, wet, and silent.

Your entire being grew heavier and heavier, making each step even harder as you limped alongside Leaf.

His presence made the weight on your shoulders worse.

“When most people storm out in an argument, ” He opened the door with one hand before keeping it open the rest of the way with his leg. “It usually means they want to be left alone.”

Nora barked at you both as you made your way inside the cabin toward the bathroom.

“I,” you licked your lips as he placed you on the edge of the tub, tugging your wet clothes off your body, “I wanted to apologize.”

He only looked you in the eye as he towels you down. His jaw tight, but nothing in his face gave away any emotion.

“I—“

“—you don’t believe me when I say I changed.” He interrupted you.

Padding out the bathroom he came back in his spare pair of jeans and no shirt, leaving his chest bare and damp as he handed you his only other dry sweater.

You loved to see him in it. You loved how the rich warm red tone brought out the equally as warm and rich brown in his hair and his beard. How it made him look as comforting and cozy as he makes you feel all the time.

“My mother died, I did the fucking list and called you like she said,” he shook his head before wiping his face with a hand, “you told me you wanted this. I gave you plenty of outs.” He didn’t say the rest of it.

He didn’t have to.

“I-I do want this. I do want you, Leaf. But you’ve always. . . I—“ you looked up at him, but he didn’t give you anything, he just stared at you.

“I haven’t been treating you fair. I’m sorry.”

He nodded his head. Plopping down in front of you by the tub, his legs stretched out in front of him. His bare feet and toes barely an inch from you. The ends of his jeans were torn and ragged over his ankles.

“Well, that’s a start.”

Your throat felt tight and you wanted to scream.

He was doing that thing he used to do. The thing you pushed him to do.

It was how he got in the days when you both were younger. Somehow your mom got brought up or even his, and he would get distant and never talk about it. How he never wanted to talk about it. He never wanted to talk to you about it or anything at all, and now that he was, you were pushing him away.

You pushed him away.

Tears rolled down your face.

“I keep thinking about you before. These flashes of who you used to be and. . . I got scared.” You sniffed.

He put a hand on your calf. Slowly rubbing it up and down your leg, not saying anything.

“I just got out of this long term relationship, and with that past and the past memories of you. . . They keep coming up.” Your voice cracked a little. “You’re so perfect now, and you talk about things and make an effort, but I’m not used to that from you, so I got scared and started demanding more. . . I started- I started acting like a bitch and I’m sorry.”

You hang your head down. Forcing your palms over your eyes to keep tears from falling and applying pressure to sooth something within yourself.

“Yeah,” Leaf Dragged his hands up your legs, dipping his head under yours, distracting you from your state of self pity, “you were.” He settled the palms of his hands on your back. Circling the warmth from his body into yours.

You slowly moved your hands from your face to see his. To face this cold exterior you brought out of him and upon yourself, but you didn’t get the chance. As soon as your hands were away from your face, his lips were on yours.

His beard scratched at the corners of your lips. Despite the warring and confusing emotions building up inside you a moan escaped you. Filling up the space between you. His lips were warm and firm against yours, grounding you and sending you spiraling at the same time. Your back arched as he swiped his tongue against yours in the way that you liked. Another sound slipped from the back of your throat. It was high and keening as it vibrated against you both.

“Come here.” Leaf murmured into your face as he broke the kiss. His voice a low pant as it fanned across your face. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist he pulled you into his lap, having you straddle him on the bathroom floor.

Sliding your hands from your waist to your ass, he pulled you flush against him, the feeling of his jeans on your bare skin made you hiss. He kept you there. Grinding your hips onto his, he dug his hands firm on your ass. You were definitely going to have little marks from his nails left in the morning.

He didn’t waste any time after teasing you, unbuttoning his jeans and thrusting inside of you with one fluid motion, filling the bathroom with a squelching sound as he stretched you out.

“Leaf.” You pant in his face, putting your forehead on his.

“Fuck, look how wet you are already.” He responded by exhaling through his mouth. A self satisfied smirk and sigh of relief escaped his mouth as it filled yours.

He lightly placed his lips on your forehead before placing his forehead firmly against yours.

“I know you're sorry.” He breathed into your mouth. His hands dug a little firmer into the meat of your ass and he set a hard and brutal pace, making you cry out.

You tried holding onto his shoulders. Your nails scratched his skin as you let out a particularly sharp sound as hips slammed into yours.

He started hitting that one spot and you couldn’t hold on anymore. Keening, you arched your back and collapsed into him. He buried his face into your neck. Washing the skin there with moans and pants as he quickened his pace, leaving you skin blazing with each sound and breath from his mouth. His thrusts as fast as they were hard.

You whined and he sunk his teeth into your neck, sucking hard. His beard scratches against you deliciously, raising a trail of bumps in the process.

“Harder!” you pant onto his back.

He slaps your ass instead, making you jolt and cry spill from your lips as you come.

He fucked you through it. His pace slows, but his thrusts were harder than ever, bruising your hips.

You whined, moaning as he kept fucking into you.

“ I’m sorry,” you mewled.

“I. . . know.” He punctuated with one final thrust as he came, filling you up in the process.

You both sat in silence, your chests heaving, falling up and down, slowing to match one another’s heartbeat.

He sat you up a little bit so he could see your face.

He smiled, cupping both of your cheeks and giving you one final kiss. Affirming his love for you with one swipe of his tongue, letting you know that it was okay.

That he was okay, and everything was fine.

If you’d like to submit your own request send me an ask or dm and I’d be happy to write something for you!! Thank you for reading and I hoped you loved it!! Especially you anon!! My precious baby!🥺

[pedge-page]

I'm new to ur page idk if this is done but I...I want Joel to piss inside a plushie....

Puddles - a Plushies x PK drabble

Notes: I've been waiting to write this one so here we go! Can read more plushies!Joel through Plushies Series masterlist, though they can all be read as standalone fics

Warnings: Pisskink!Joel, piss kink, Drunk!Joel, solo masturbation with a stuffed animal, yes he is pissing inside poor plushie, plushie fucking briefly

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He may have gone a little bit overboard when Tommy invited him for the crew’s so-called ‘happy hour get together’. He knew they all liked to go out and celebrate with a few drinks after completing a project, and this last one they just wrapped up for some posh client with outrageous requests was no different. 

Joel usually liked to skip out on them. First, because he didn’t want to know what these clowns might be up to when they get tipsy, letting whatever sober-less things go on follow his mind to the next job site. But also because he’s getting too old for that college level shit. Hangovers aren’t nearly as fun when you’re pushing well past middle age. 

But, he didn’t want to be home alone since you were going to be working late.

So, two beers turned into twelve and a few more various alcohol spiked beverages here and there, and boom. Joel’s swaying side to side along the sidewalk with Tommy guiding him all the way up the front door.

“You sure you don’t need me, brother?” Tommy asks hesitantly. 

Joel, with lolling eyes and a grin, confidently waves him off after successfully entering his key into the door after 6 tries.

He stumbles through into the dark alone, and the first thing that hit him is how badly he wants to curl up on your plushie filled bed. He thought about you all night; your shampoo filling his nose when you cuddle him, the smooth streak of your naked back when you finish a shower, the wet indulgence of your pussy when he eats you out.

He’s never going to admit it, but the man is clingy as shit when you’re around. And he’s craving some much needed plushie pussy time.

Shit, the alcohol is really swimming in his brain. 

And, he realizes, with a firm and shiver-some squeeze to his crotch, elsewhere in his body. 

Ironically, the bathroom is not what beckons him.

With a devious smirk, he instead tumbles into the bedroom. Through the moonlit drapes, a wave of beady eyed babies stare back at him.

“Hello freaks,” he chuckles. They probably miss you too. Honestly it’s really rude, if you think about it, the way you abandon your buddies here AND Joel all in one night? Atrocious behavior. Someone ought to teach you better.

“Daddy’s home."

He falls forward, his knees catching the edge of the bed. An array of colorful volunteers practically jumping up and down at his presence to be engulfed by the precious aroma of Joel Miller.

That’s how drunk-Joel is seeing it. In reality, if they could run for their fluffy lives, they would. 

A quick hand snatches one yellow blob by its neck. His eyes struggle to get a clear picture—whether from the alcoholic haze or the darkness obscuring his vision. Possibly both. The dark bill and flappy arms come into focus.

“Duck,” he muses to himself. “Bet ya name is Duckie, some shit like that. She ain't good with the namein.” He rolls the unfortunate one over to its back, inspecting its caliber. Its definitely older: matted fur smushed down in certain areas, lack of vibrant coloring, some faded and torn edged fabric on its bow tie. Bitty holes sewn up here and there with mismatched (and poorly seemed) threaded needle. Your college waitressing job used to be for a place called the Quavern, so this little guy’s gotta be your graduation farewell from that team.

“Well mister Quakers. You n' me gonna get to know each other real well right now. Got something I need ya to hold f’me,” Joel slurs. One hand frees the button of his jeans while the other begins to prod at a loose tear in poor DuckDuck’s underside. He pokes and prods and scissors a little too harshly with his sausage fingers before a tell-tale rip echoes in the room. “Oops,” he chuckles with very little guilt as he forces the hole a bit wider and palms his crotch a bit harder. 

Yeah, he gets hard when touching your stuffed animals. He can’t help it! With all the naughty activities you do with them, they’re practically hug buddies by day, sex toy by night. His mind feels foggy, but the building sensation along his lower stomach is the only thing churning his actions. With a few lazy pumps, Joel slots his mushroom tip at the cottony hole he’s made in the poor plush. He pushes through, groaning with his head tossed slightly back as dry softness envelops his pulsing length. 

“Shit—that’s it. Take it little guy.” He bites his lips and peers below, watching his dick penetrate the stuffed animal.

He knows he should put it down, sew it up, put it back, and go do his business in the bathroom like a good, well trained boyfriend. But then again, he knows how fucking pissed you’ll be if he defiles your plushies again. Then you’ll never leave him unattended at home, and that means more pussy drinking and rubbing on these fuckers for him.

Joel doesn’t even realize he’s pissing inside the poor animal until it starts to sag heavily with the weight and wetness coating his hand. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh,” he gasps with furrowed brows. As his bladder empties, the duck grows damper and darker, the fur and cotton soaking it up from the inside out until it’s dripping down his ballsack.  He thrusts inside a few times, the warm wet sensation making him choke out a curse. It’s not quite like your pussy, but the heat is better than nothing. He pushes it flush against his pubic bone, another rush of liquid hissing through and muffled by Mr Quack’s soft innards.

If he wasn’t so fucking wasted right now, he’d fuck it into oblivion. give it the good ol'Miller beating. Fertilize its eggs, if you will. But with his bathroom situation now relieved, Joel yanks the thing off and chucks it to the ground. His brain collapses just as he falls towards the bed, drowning in his own much needed slumber.

-

you shake your head and laugh, hands on your hips at the sight in front of you.

Joel’s out cold face forward in your bed. His jeans are loosely wrapped around his hips and his old tee still on, so if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, you’d assume the man was dead. He hadn’t even made it fully on the bed, his tip toes still holding him up on the floor and legs dangling at an angle.

A few of your stuffed animals had managed to crawl out from underneath him, scattered around when he most likely dropped onto the bed. You pick them up one by one: dusty Carly the Crow, the now famed Mr Oinkers (with battery pack turned OFF), Whiskers the Cat, and poor old Puddles the Duc—

Your disgusted screech has Joel sitting up so fast he nearly capsizes off the bed. The confused, hungover lump is met with his bewildered and screaming girlfriend who’s yanking him by the neck and wringing him viciously with as much might as you can muster.

“STOP—FUCKING—PISSING—IN—MY—PLUSHIES!” You roar with wild eyes and gritted teeth, choking him within an inch of his life. You shake his neck up and down like you’re going to hammer his head into the bed post. 

It takes him a moment, with wide eyes and hands wrapped around your wrists, before his gaze lands on the poorly discarded evidence of last night: a very overly yellow duck soaking into the floor boards in a puddle of liquid gold.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Chandra sees black hole jet stumble into something in the dark

Even matter ejected by black holes can run into objects in the dark. Using NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory, astronomers have found an unusual mark from a giant black hole's powerful jet striking an unidentified object in its path.

The discovery was made in a galaxy called Centaurus A (Cen A), located about 12 million light-years from Earth. Astronomers have long studied Cen A because it has a supermassive black hole in its center sending out spectacular jets that stretch out across the entire galaxy. The black hole launches this jet of high-energy particles not from inside the black hole, but from intense gravitational and magnetic fields around it.

The image shows low-energy X-rays seen by Chandra represented in pink, medium-energy X-rays in purple, and the highest-energy X-rays in blue.

In this latest study, researchers determined that the jet is—at least in certain spots—moving at close to the speed of light. Using the deepest X-ray image ever made of Cen A, they also found a patch of V-shaped emission connected to a bright source of X-rays, something that had not been seen before in this galaxy.

Called C4, this source is located close to the path of the jet from the supermassive black hole and is highlighted in the inset. The arms of the "V" are at least about 700 light-years long. For context, the nearest star to Earth is about 4 light-years away.

While the researchers have ideas about what is happening, the identity of the object being blasted is a mystery because it is too distant for its details to be seen, even in images from the current most powerful telescopes.

The incognito object being rammed may be a massive star, either by itself or with a companion star. The X-rays from C4 could be caused by the collision between the particles in the jet and the gas in a wind blowing away from the star. This collision can generate turbulence, causing a rise in the density of the gas in the jet. This, in turn, ignites the X-ray emission seen with Chandra.

The shape of the "V," however, is not completely understood. The stream of X-rays trailing behind the source in the bottom arm of the "V" is roughly parallel to the jet, matching the picture of turbulence causing enhanced X-ray emission behind an obstacle in the path of the jet. The other arm of the "V" is harder to explain because it has a large angle to the jet, and astronomers are unsure what could explain that.

This is not the first time astronomers have seen a black hole jet running into other objects in Cen A. There are several other examples where a jet appears to be striking objects—possibly massive stars or gas clouds. However, C4 stands out from these by having the V-shape in X-rays, while other obstacles in the jet's path produce elliptical blobs in the X-ray image.

Chandra is the only X-ray observatory capable of seeing this feature. Astronomers are trying to determine why C4 has this different post-contact appearance, but it could be related to the type of object that the jet is striking or how directly the jet is striking it.

A paper describing these results appears in a recent issue of The Astrophysical Journal. The authors of the study are David Bogensberger (University of Michigan), Jon M. Miller (University of Michigan), Richard Mushotsky (University of Maryland), Niel Brandt (Penn State University), Elias Kammoun (University of Toulouse, France), Abderahmen Zogbhi (University of Maryland), and Ehud Behar (Israel Institute of Technology).

[munsonsreputation]

splintered back in winter

joel miller x fem!reader

word count: [16.9K]

summary: Last winter, you nearly died at the hands of raiders during a supply run gone wrong. Joel Miller, head of scheduling, indefinitely barred you from participating in any more of them, as a means to protect you, not just from what lurked outside, but your own incessant need to provide even if it meant risking your life to do so. After a year of being at odds with each other, you and Joel finally throw caution to the wind and begin to unravel at the seams—this time, winter isn’t just about surviving, but mending what was always there.

warnings: no use of y/n, age-gap (joel's older than reader), mentions of blood and wounds, brief mention of sarah, cursing, mentions of physical violence (punches), two terrible communicators, smut, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap pls), joel's a soft dom (ofc he is duh!), aftercare, basically porn with plot!

Everyone in Jackson had a specialty. Teachers. Doctors. Builders. Cooks. The list goes on and on, with roles that contributed immeasurably to the functioning of the town, despite how some may carry more weight than the others. But no matter how big or small one’s role was in the community, everyone appreciated the efforts, for the town needed the collective help to preserve its integrity beyond the gates that closed it off from the rest of Wyoming.

And all you knew since your arrival was that the town was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. Something real. Somewhere safe. The one thing you couldn’t possibly bear to lose, for you didn’t know if anything would ever suffice the way this town had.

You weren’t a stranger to the cruelty lurking outside of the gates, spending a good portion of your life weaving in and out of the fallen QZ’s and deserted cities, just hoping to survive another day, until you finally stumbled upon Jackson.

They had taken you in with tentative, yet open arms, allowing you to adjust to the town you would come to call home before asking what it was you could provide. What you could give back to Jackson, not just for you, but for all its citizens. After all, the town belonged to everyone—those old and young, seasoned and novice—living for the hope of it all to make it to another day.

And so you were a supply runner, one of the most distinguished specialties the community was always looking to have more of, and it was just their luck that you weren’t just good at what you did.

You were great.

Reliable.

Confident.

Never coming back empty-handed even when something unexpected was thrown into your path.

Last winter proved that.

It wasn’t a part of the plan to stumble upon a group of raiders during a run all by yourself, and truth be told you didn’t want to kill any of them. But the second your presence was known, the moment you saw the greed in their eyes, the realization dawned on you that you needed to do what was necessary.

It had been hours since your expected arrival, and a few members of Jackson’s committee including Tommy, Maria, and Joel were waiting impatiently behind the gates. Joel suspected something went sideways, proposing a search party go out and look for you, but he’d been outvoted. His brother assuring him that everything was fine and that you always came back in one piece.

When they finally spotted you from a distance, a blob among the falling snow and dwindling daylight, they almost breathed a sigh of reprieve, but as the gates creaked open to greet you, and you drew closer, it all came crashing.

You were hunched over your horse, clothing tattered and blowing against the wind. A rope tightly wound across your waist, dragging duffle bags of enough weapons and ammunition to last months of patrol across the blankets of snow. The pungent smell of blood saturating the air before they finally took sight of it staining skin.

Protocol was ignored, Joel bolting to you without thinking twice.

He hauled your half unconscious body off your beloved horse Ivy, diligently clutch the back of your head as he laid you down and his brother dropped beside him, immediately going to undo the knot around your waist.

Joel’s eyes flashed over your face, taking in your appearance, searching for any signs of life. Your heavy-lidded eyes were barely hanging on, frost bitten lips parted with weak breaths, and your cheeks and chin daubed with dried blood. It was a miracle that you even made it back, but that optimism instantly seemed to fade when he spotted more blood, the steady dribble of blood trickling onto the frosty snow beneath you. 

With shaky hands, he tore through the rest of your shredded coat, discovering the deep incision on your abdomen, angry and throbbing, pooling with enough blood to make his run cold. His hands were coated in your near-death, transporting him back to that harrowing memory of his dear Sarah, reliving the greatest loss of his life all over again.

He knew the cost of hesitation and he wasn’t going to let it take you next. Lifting you back into his arms with a devastatingly rehearsed movement, he clutching you tight to his chest, rushing you to the infirmary paying no mind to the shouting voices behind him. 

He didn’t need to be told to know what you had done.

He had already pieced together the story once he saw the crimson and the baggage you pulled behind. 

He knew what you had done to survive. 

But most importantly, he knew what you had done to risk losing your life.

To Joel, you weren’t good. Not even great. Just plain reckless. Willing to put yourself in grave danger against god knows how many of those ruthless raiders just to make it back with a contribution without ever weighing your own chances of survival. 

He knew what this town meant to everyone, how much your recklessness would provide for everyone’s safety, yet he couldn’t look past what it meant beyond the surface.

You possessed a sort of recklessness that teetered the edge of selflessness, the one thing that would end up costing your life one day–and even if it wasn’t his place to care as severely as he did, he couldn’t let you go on. 

Since that last winter, Joel kept his sights on you, refusing to send you out on any runs or patrols, alone or grouped, even despite your argument that every journey beyond the gates was risky no matter what. All you could see was him punishing you, his all of a sudden authoritarianism taking away the one thing you could give to this place that fucking mattered.  

You didn’t understand why he was putting so much effort into controlling you, when at some point you were nothing more than a body to send outside of the gates to protect the community and him. 

Granted, you and Joel were never more than just strangers forced to interact scarcely. Joel made the patrolling and run schedules, posted them up, and only if you ever needed to switch, was when you talked to him.

And that was almost never.

But since his imminent shift in demeanor, you found yourself almost always at his throat, while he sat back silently, brushing you off like you weren’t even there, though you knew deep down his stoicism was crumbling with every hurtful word you threw his way.  

He enraged you.

You wanted to crack him open. To get a reaction out of him. The one you knew he was actively burying deep within him day by day. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d understand where he was truly coming from.

Why was he punishing you? 

Why Joel Miller wanted to keep you in a cage that made you feel useless to the community you knew you were obligated to provide for?

Luckily for you though, his authority didn’t last long into the next winter where the need for supplies grew.

Tommy had been a lingering presence in and out of Joel’s makeshift office, hinting at the abandoned hospital miles out that was stocked with necessities that would tremendously benefit Jackson and the influx of new individuals coming in.

Joel wasn’t stupid, though. He knew exactly what his little brother was getting at, trying to convince him to put you back on runs without twisting his hand and making him feel as though he had no other choice. It wasn’t working and Joel knew it was only a matter of time until Tommy would intervene, putting a stop to whatever power he held. 

He knew it was coming.

You were the only one who knew enough about the ins and outs of the particular route, what shortcuts to take, what possibilities you could run into. And with Jackson getting desperate to brave out the winter with as few hiccups as possible, he knew Tommy was going to put you on that run–solo or grouped it didn’t matter–but it was going to be you.  

It didn’t take much convincing from Tommy to get you on board, but he still respected his older brother and his position as head of patrols and runs. And so there you were in his quaint office, pretending Joel’s existence wasn’t real as you stared down at the shabby fading map with a pen in hand as Tommy listened and Joel brooded silently.

“The run will take a day and a half.” You explained, drawing a messy line across the paper, detailing the route, “Half of day one is traveling, alone. Then we’ll gather supplies, and clear whatever infected there is.” 

Then you circled a different spot on the map, fitting your eyes up to Tommy’s.

“Before sunset, we have to stop at this cabin. It’s a safe house. We’ll need to rest and so will the horses. The next morning we’ll make it back home by around mid-day.”

Tommy agreed without a second thought, and that alone made Joel’s irritation boil over. His brother had always had blind faith in these sorts of things and Joel never understood why he couldn’t be a little more skeptical, especially considering what they both faced together.

“What do you think?” Tommy wrung his head towards Joel, meanwhile you bit back the urge to say ‘fuck what he thinks.’

He looked unimpressed, jaw clenching and his broad shoulders standing stiff as his boots rocked against the creaky floors. The tension was palpable if anything at all. Whatever strain that lingered between you and Joel filled the room with something so suffocating, Tommy couldn’t wait to be freed. 

His silence was like drowning and you’d be damned if you let him take you under.

“It’s a good plan, Joel.” You spat sharply, pressing your hands against the desk, straightening your stance.

He only grunted, narrowing his sights on you, before he finally spoke.

“What happens if you aren’t out there alone? If there’s infected in that building? Or if there’s raiders in that cabin.”

His jab at your expertise disguised as concern made your blood boil, your self control withering by the second, especially when he brought up the raiders.  

Tommy was going to be thrown into the middle of you and Joel’s indifference whether he liked it or not. He was immediately regretting not dragging Ellie or Maria along to try to at least neutralize the situation or better yet free him of his developing migraine.

Whether you believed it or not, you and Joel were cut from the same cloth of obstinance, the kind of flaw that got the best of you both, the one that Tommy was going to need to put up with. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Miller?” You accused, shuffling across the room to where he stood, “I’m not incapable and you know that. Whatever vendetta you have against me, fucking drop it, Joel.”

His arms uncrossed over his chest, dropping to his sides as he flexed his fingers stiffly. You were damn near getting under his skin, and he had been so good at showing otherwise. He didn’t have any vendetta against you—it was tolerance, mercy, postulation—something you were too young, too reckless to possess, let alone see with your own eyes.

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable, but what you are is reckless.” He bellowed too loudly for your liking. “And I don’t need that type of recklessness out there bein’ brought back here.”

‘Or not making it back at all,’ Joel bit back. 

Without taking his eyes off your heated glare, he muttered to Tommy who was already burrowing his head behind his hands. 

“She’s not going on that run.” 

You furrowed your brows, lips twitching with anger, “The hell I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Enough.”

Tommy’s voice silenced the two of you, once and for all, slicing through the tension. 

“She’s going on that run with Jesse.”

Joel’s eyes widened, hands clenched into fists as he turned to his brother, ready to tell him he needed to know his place. Yet the younger stood his ground, shaking his head and holding his hand out with purpose, keeping both of you silent. 

“You’re still in charge here and she won’t go alone. It’s a compromise, and it’s final. Jackson needs this.”

‘Still in charge’ my ass, Joel thought, dropping his gaze down to the floor as his hands rested on his hips. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be pleased by the decision, happy to be finally getting your way after all this time forced to yield to Joel’s rules. 

“They’ll leave in a few days.” 

With that, Tommy didn’t stay any longer than he needed to, not trying to mitigate the feelings between you both, as he knew you both were too far gone to help. He stomped towards the door, grumbling to himself before letting it slam behind him. 

You and Joel didn’t say a word, and part of you wanted to antagonize him. Tell him that his old ass needed to find a hobby other than trying to control you.

But you didn’t. 

You caught the hitch in his chest, the way his scowl undoubtedly slipped into something almost insistent when he finally looked up at you. You wanted to ask what his deal was all of sudden.

But you didn’t.

He didn’t stop you from leaving.

Didn’t try his very hardest to explain where he was coming from because believe it or not, he too was in your shoes at one point in his life. Too confident for his own good. Too willing to lay it all out without thinking of what he would be leaving behind.

He knew you wouldn’t see it the way he did. He didn’t want to waste his breath expressing words you wouldn’t take to heart.

He didn’t. 

But he wasn’t letting you go.

Joel knew you were going to find out what he did before daylight. Before every run and patrol, you’d stop at the stables the night before, checking up on your horse Ivy and double checking the written schedules he always had posted up. It was only a matter of when and how angry you were going to be with him. 

And as if he could feel it coming from a mile away, your rage approached and suddenly the double doors of the cafeteria swung open and he watched you sweep over the room until your eyes fell onto his. 

“What the fuck, Miller!” You roared, making a beeline towards him. 

Ellie, who was sitting right across from him, wore a shocked expression, mouth moving to ask Joel what was going on, but before she could, your voice echoed through the room again. 

“Why’d you take off the run? And why the fuck are you going instead of me?” You demanded, slamming your palms against the table, shaking it roughly. 

He sighed, picking up his napkin as he ran it across his mouth, eyes moving across the room, seeing the concerned and taken aback faces from the others watching—waiting to see what he was going to do.  

“Let’s go outside.” He mumbled quietly, beginning to stand up. 

You shook your head, hitting the table once more, “No, I want to know right now! Who the fuck gave you the right to—”

“Outside. Now.” He growled, patience wearing thin, taking hold of your arm tightly.

You fought against him feebly, attempting to jerk your arm back as he walked towards the backdoors, pulling you behind him until the cold air hit your skin and he finally dropped his grip. 

“Do you get off on this? Punishing me for no reason at all?” You snarled, clenching and unclenching your fists, trying to control your anger and stop yourself from decking him right across the jaw.

“M’not punishin’ you—”

“Then what is it?” You demanded, cutting him off, “Why are you icing me out of the one thing I’m good at, Joel?”

You couldn’t miss the scoff he let out, as if he was laughing at you. Mocking you for feeling the way you felt after all these months. It fucking ticked you off.

“You think you’re good at what you do?” He stared down at you with a coldhearted gaze. 

“I think I’m great at what I do.” You rebutted, tipping your chin up at him. 

“You call making it back here, damn near falling off your horse while you bleed out, great?” His nostrils flared, arms tightening over his chest as he waited on your smartass remark he knew was coming. 

And so you jabbed a finger into his chest, voice filled with disdain and fury. “I brought back months of supplies that you and the rest of the goddamn commune use on a daily basis and I don’t hear them giving me shit about—”

His resolve snapped, gripping your wrist strongly as he leveled face to face with you. Through gritted teeth, his voice came out in rigid whispers, making sure only you heard every word he had to say. 

“You think you’re special because of what you provide here, but you’re too damn stupid to see past that.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by the mild ache around your wrists and his unforeseen reaction that you never thought you’d get.

But he didn’t stop. 

“These people don’t give a shit if you make it back alive or not. You’re. Replaceable.” His eyes bored through yours, forcing you to take every word like bullets on skin. 

You loathed the way he quickly made you feel so small, so unimportant. Embarrassment creeping into your chest, blood rushing towards your cheeks, and stinging blooming behind your eyes.  

There was regret in your bones for angering him, for driving him to reveal such a mean version of himself that you wished he kept suppressed. You wanted to strike back with words just as cruel, your mouth opening with a wobbly breath, yet you weren’t sharp enough to stop his turmoil. 

“You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for. Why is it you’re so eager to risk your life because I promise you it isn’t for them and it sure as hell isn’t for me.” He dropped your wrist as if he was determined to get away from you, but his words only drilled deeper. 

“Someone else could walk through those gates, just as great, if not better than you are, and no one would think twice about whether you made it back here with something to show for, alive or not.”

Your jaw trembled, eyes blinking, letting a single tear run down your cheek as you braced for more, but all that came was silence and the devastation of his words sinking bone deep. 

It stung, and what hurt the most was the fact that there was truth behind everything he said. You tried to breathe through it, clenching your fist tight ready to throw it his way, but you couldn’t do it.

The shame twisted in your gut, and more tears flowed without restraint. 

“F-fuck you, Joel.” You choked, voice barely a whisper, turning around and walking around the building refusing to let anyone else see you cry.

It was the first time Joel managed to wrangle any reaction besides anger or frustration out of you. But he hadn’t meant to make you cry, or let his words out with such crassness, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to break you. 

He fucked up, and he knew it. All he wanted was to keep you away from runs and patrols. For you to see that you were more than the work. He didn’t ever intend on making it seem like he didn’t care. 

He walked back into the cafeteria, aloof to the eyes that drifted back down to their plates or the whispers that wondered where you were. Returning to his seat across Ellie, he picked up his fork and poked at his food as if nothing happened. 

“Dude what the hell was that?” Ellie chided, nudging his leg under the table, getting his attention. 

He shook his head and shrugged plainly, brushing off her question and posing one of his own.

“You goin’ to see Jesse tonight?”

Her brows pulled together, and she nodded. “Uh, yeah why?”

“Tell him he’s off tomorrow. I’m goin’ on the run with her.”

He was thankful that Ellie didn’t throw 101 questions his way, simply nodding as they finished their dinner in silence and parted ways. He spent the night packing what he needed for the two-day trip, replaying what had happened in his head, wondering if he could ever right the wrong and make you understand. But there was no way, not when he was going to complicate things even more by leaving like this.

The next morning, with his gun and pack slung over his body, he saddled up Ivy, signing out without writing another name next to his, sneaking past the gates without causing a scene.

Joel would throw his life into the unknown before letting anyone, but especially you drown in it without care.

You sulked in the bitterness in the comfort of your own home, refusing to leave your bed until the sun beat too brightly past your curtains, forcing you to mope from room to room as you kept yourself busy. 

Sleep barely came to you the night before as Joel’s words echoed through your head like a record stuck on repeat. You tried to bury the shame into a pit deep down inside of you, attempting to brush it off the same way he probably did to all your venomous words thrown his way.

But it was impossible.

You’re too damn stupid.

You needa think deep down what you’re doing all this for.

It isn’t for them and sure as hell isn’t for me.

He was haunting you in ways that had you second guessing if Jackson was ever home to begin with. If all this time, this place was merely a facade ready to forget about you the same way they let you in. And if you really were replaceable like Joel made it sound, then what was the point of ever risking your life if it didn’t matter to anyone else besides your internal ache to provide?

Everyone had someone and yet you…

You had acquaintances–people you called friends and nothing more. But they had always had someone else. Someone they mattered to.

Siblings. Parents. Partners. 

You had no one, and Joel was right.

There was no reason for you to so willingly put your life on the line—there was no one relying on you, forcing your hand to succumb to whatever death lurked outside Jackson just to make sure they were well off. Instead, all you had was the longing buried deep into the vault of your soul–the thoughts of maybe one day, meaning something more than what you could provide, but just for who you were.

You had spent all this time thinking you were so important, only to realize that it was only ever significant to you. The role Jackson played as your only home made it seem as if you had to carry it on your shoulders, gamble your life in order to keep it in the palm of your hands, when in truth it was never yours to begin with.

Tears had spilled down your cheeks relentlessly, like a petulant child learning how it felt to be told ‘no,’ for the first time. And even though you wanted to hide away, pick up the backpack you stocked for what was supposed to be today’s run and leave Jackson behind—you couldn’t give Joel that satisfaction.

He deserved to know how much he hurt you. To know that even if you had no one standing in your corner of the way he had Ellie or Tommy, you had yourself, and you would be OK. 

At least you hoped you would. 

By the time the purple and pink hues began to tumble across the sky, you found the energy to leave home and grab dinner at the cafeteria. You were already dreading seeing the faces of those who witnessed your outburst yesterday, but then again the thought of Joel’s words–no one caring about you–made the dread seem miniscule in comparison. 

Rocks and sludgy snow croaked under each step you took, the winter breeze pushing past your layers as you approached the double doors, shoving them open as you kept your gaze on the ground. You picked up a plate, moving along the half empty trays of food, muttering out a quiet thank you as a few cooks spooned you whatever was left. 

Then suddenly your name was shouted across the room by none other than Ellie. You flinched, furrowing your brows as you looked her way, and took in her indecipherable expression. Before you knew it, she was striding over with urgent steps, lips pursing and breathing getting heavier as she neared you. 

You sighed, placing your plate down on the line ready to hear whatever she was probably about to throw your way in order to defend Joel’s honor. 

“Look whatever Joel told you, I don’t want to hear—”

“What are you doing here?” She cut you off sharply, her voice subduing the rest of the cafeteria with her anger and confusion–and just like her, you mirrored it.  

“Excuse me?” You blinked wildly, shaking your head at her, not realizing what she was going on about. 

“Yesterday, Joel told me that he took Jesse off the run. That he was going with you.” She gestured her hands in the air, signalling to her table across the room.  

You shook your head once more, baffled at her words that didn’t make any sense, until you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you saw Jesse stand up and reveal himself.

Right about now, he was supposed to be with Joel. He was supposed to be with him since early this morning, and he wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. 

Your blood ran cold, immediately twisting around and bolting out the building without a second thought. Voices shouted and footsteps pounded close behind you, but none of it was registering. Your mind was a blur, repeating the same harrowing thoughts one after the other, over and over. 

Joel was out there. Alone. On a route he barely knew. On a run too dangerous. 

You nearly knocked your front door off its hinges, ripping a thicker coat off the hooks and sliding your arms through it in a haste. You grabbed your pack, flinging it over one shoulder. Flipping open an old shoe box, you clutched your knife, sliding it into its protective sheath the securing it over your belt loops. 

Ellie stood in your doorway breathless as she watched on, there was a delay in her movements to follow your lead but she spoke. 

“I’m coming with you.” She panted, going to turn around and rush home for her things. 

“No, you’re not.” You snapped, stopping her in her tracks before she could even leave your porch. 

She whipped around quickly, voice ragged. “If you think I’m gonna let Joel die out there alone, then you’re wrong!”

Despite her scowl, you could read the tears starting to cloud her eyes, the way they filled with fear and hopelessness. Joel mattered to her, the same way she mattered to him. 

You understood what their bond meant–how important they were to each other, but you also knew you couldn’t let her follow down this path. Wherever Joel was, you knew he’d make it back to her, and it was your job to make sure she understood that.

“He’s not going to die, Ellie. I won’t let him.” You said firmly, stepping up and holding her by the shoulders. 

You took a breath, hoping your next words would be well received, despite the visible state of distress she was in. 

“I know you want to go out there for yourself and make sure he’s okay, but I’ve got this. If anything were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.” 

It was almost scary, the way she mirrored Joel’s mannerisms when he was at odds with his words and what he felt inside. It was that same shift you saw when Tommy left his office, leaving you two there alone, where you knew Joel wanted to say more but couldn’t bring himself to. 

You were going to tell him all about his and Ellie’s similarities right after you kicked his ass for doing something so stupid. 

“I promise, he’s gonna be ok.” You squeezed her shoulders again, offering a tight smile, a contrast to the panic you were feeling inside.

“Swear on his life.” She whispered. 

You didn’t hesitate. 

“I swear on Joel’s life, I’ll do everything I can.” 

She nodded once. 

“Go.” 

You didn’t waste another second. Sprinting to the stables and throwing a saddle over the first horse you saw. Only when you hopped on and gripped its reins, did you realize it was Callus–Joel’s horse. The gates opened with a high-pitched creak as you crossed over. Shouts belonging to Tommy who seemed to have caught onto what his idiotic brother had done, was trying to stop you. But before he could, you barked out a command to the horse, letting him take you away into whatever lay ahead as desperation seeped in. 

Making it to Joel and seeing him alive. 

His bones ached, exhaustion gnawing over every inch of his aging body that threatened to give out under pure fatigue and the added weight of the supplies he snagged hours ago. Still, he managed through, mustering enough strength as he dismounted off Ivy, securing her around a tree to rest up for the night. 

He tossed a ration of his food onto the ground, giving her cheek a proud pat, before stumbling the rest of the way towards the cabin in the distance, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence if someone was inside. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He sputtered under his breath, drawing his pistol out. 

As quietly as he could, he padded up the rickety porch steps, peeking through the dusty windows with his fingers hovered over the trigger reach to shoot. Thankfully, though, there was no one in sight thus far, prompting him to give the jammed door a stern push until it gave way. 

He had heard about the cabin in passing before you mentioned it in his office a few days ago. Back before the incident last winter, you’d often be cooped up there after long runs, needing a day’s break to recharge before heading back home. It wasn’t the prettiest or most homey place, but it made do with its lumpy couch and half-burned candles you kept stashed away behind the flimsy kitchen cabinets.

His eyes raked over the area, ensuring it was all clear, before lowering his gun and dropping the bags against the ground with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t been hurt, making it out of the hospital without a scratch, though his luck seemed to run dry as he was leaving. There was a group of infected on the shorter trail, forcing him to clear what he could before giving Ivy’s reins a stiff jerk and tearing back around to the longer route.  

Clearly it had been stupid to do what he had done, his body paying the price, finally collapsing against the frumpy couch and giving his limbs a rest. Leaving Jackson without telling a soul, especially Tommy, would come with consequences, but he knew he had his reasons–good ones–or at least he liked to think so. 

They’d probably put up in front of the council for trial when he returned, but if it meant steering you out of danger, then he could live with it. 

Selfishly, he didn’t care about the orange bottles filled with unknown medication or the expired vials of local anesthesia stuffed in his pack that would benefit the community he called home.

Something else was haunting him. Someone. You. 

He stormed room to room with shaky hands, snatching whatever he saw, yet the only thought racing through his mind was the fact that you had been in the same predicament on multiple occasions. Alone. 

Even as he exited the hospital unscathed, he couldn’t shake the twist in his gut. It only wound tighter as he bullied an infected’s head into the ground with his boot–his mind playing out a hundred different scenarios where you had been fighting not just them, but the unturned monsters. 

The raiders who almost took your life. 

The scary realization ate him up when he trotted along the route with Ivy in search of the cabin–that the near death experience you had wasn’t the first–it was just the one Joel had seen with his own eyes. 

The blood you didn’t have time to clean up. 

A fake smile you didn’t rehearse when you got past the gates to mask the ache in your bones. 

All of the hurt you had endured was not consoled in an empty cabin all alone before you made it back and pretended it didn’t exist. 

You had been relinquishing your safety each time you went out of the walls and each time you came back you weren’t held up by your strength, but rather what you had to show and give. 

It was a familiar feeling that Joel used to know well, the one that lived in his bones back when Jackson was just a figment of his fantasy. Back when living in QZ’s meant not knowing if tomorrow was promised and putting his life on the line to bank on another day. 

But Jackson was home now, and even when those fearful pains attempted to sprawl up through the pit of stomach, wanting to spread through the bones once tainted, he remembered there was more to life now other than survival. 

Ellie was his light, his second chance, and he’d spent every waking moment protecting her in any way he could, even when he knew she didn’t need it. He had Tommy, the pain in his ass brother that he was still so lucky to bicker with even at their age. 

And even though he couldn’t admit it out loud, for the past year Joel had you.

A lingering presence he couldn’t keep his mind off of. Constantly plagued by your insistence to step out of the walls that almost took you away, and most of all your plea to mean something again when all along you had meant so much more than you’d know. 

The moment he saw your blood pouring as you laid lifeless in his arms.

When all he could do was stand back and watch the doctor and nurses do everything, they could to bring you back. 

Every day he spent sitting at your bedside while you weaved in and out of consciousness.

Putting his foot down and telling Tommy and Maria he wouldn’t be sending you out to meet your death anymore. 

Even when you bombard him with ignorant fury and resentment for taking away what made you useful.

He knew what he was up against–not just the dangers that lurked outside waiting to claim you, but yourself, too. 

Your selflessness had morphed into recklessness that should have cost you, and Joel promised himself, even through all the animosity you held towards him, that you would never have to touch that feeling again. 

He needed you to understand that it wasn’t your responsibility to give so much of yourself to matter. That getting close to death on multiple occasions, whether he knew it or not, was a wake up call that you had a bigger purpose. That you were worth more than what you could risk and provide.

You deserved to be protected the same way you did for the town. You deserved to matter, even if you didn’t see what Joel was doing as such.  

“Quit it.” He muttered to himself, trying to fight away at all the guilt he had built up and was beginning to split him up at the seams. 

Sleep should have hurdled towards him, for he knew his body was begging for it, but all he could see was your face, as if it was etched in memory. And come morning he hoped it would be you greeting him at the gates even if you were wearing an angry snarl because at least then there wouldn’t be any blood split from you, no traces of a life almost lost, no risk taken. 

A piece that mattered ripped away. 

None of that. 

The sunset was ebbing away with each second that passed, clouds dissipating as a looming gray hue cast above. By now, Joel should have made it back to the cabin, and if you were right, he would have needed to take the long route back there.

You did your best to keep your breathing at bay, uttering words of encouragement as Callus continued steadily, as if he knew you were guiding him to his loyal companion somewhere out in the woods.

“Easy boy, that’s it.” You gently petted through his mane, seeing the cabin in the distance, slowing down in case anyone who wasn’t Joel picked up on your presence.

You weren’t as quiet as you thought, or maybe Joel wasn’t as deaf as he once was, but he picked up on the sounds just beyond the walls. The crunching of leaves and mush of snow that snapped him out of the fatigue he felt. He gripped his gun tighter, moving up off the couch and making his way behind a wall still in view of the front door, waiting for movement.

You spotted Ivy in your peripheral as you got closer, her body lax against the forest floor resting from what you knew was a treacherous journey. Joel had taken your horse, and yet even when you should have felt relief, you wouldn’t allow it… not until you saw him with your own eyes. 

You drew your knife out of its sheath, footsteps as silent as they could be under the leaves and twigs. Stepping up on the creaky porch, you squinted through the dusty windows, making out the faint flickers of orange flames from a lit candle. 

With one fluid push, you nudged the door open, stepping forward and holding your breath, hoping he was there. Joel squinted through the fog of exhaustion, thinking for a split second that his old eyes were playing a trick on him, seeing the familiar silhouette that was supposed to be back home, not right in front of him. 

He stepped out into view, and your eyes snapped to his. The two of you stood face to face mere feet away until your voices collided in the air. 

“The hell are you doing here?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You shared a wide-eyed look, chest heaving as you stared at each other. Joel lowered his gun, listening as you shut the door and let your knife clattered to the ground. Before he could say anything, you closed the space between you two. Footsteps heavy against the floorboards as your mouth twisted into a snarl.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” You roared, pushing at his chest, not realizing the way he winced at your touch, “What the fuck were you thinking going out all by yourself?”

“M’fine—“

Your palms met his chest again, this time harder. 

“It’s not fine, Joel! What if something happened? What if you got bit or… or if you weren’t the only one out there searching for supplies?”

He tried to open his mouth, attempting to tell you he had the same concerns just a few days ago that you seemingly brushed off, but before he could spit it out, you kept going.

“What about Ellie? Tommy?” You demanded, not missing the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of their names. “Do you have any idea how worried they are right now? How distraught would they be if something happened to you?” 

You shook your head at him, puzzled and disappointed at the fact that he would go as far as to risk everything he had just to spite you.

He didn’t answer.

He knew what he did wasn’t right–putting his daughter and his brother through hell once more, but he knew he had to do it…for the right reasons… for you. He couldn’t apologize for something he wasn’t sorry for, so instead he settled for something else. 

“You would’ve found me.” 

He spoke so sure of himself, as if the thought had passed through his mind more than once, a kind of statement that was completely unwavering. His sentiment caught you off guard, a clear look of disbelief covering your features as you stood there glaring. 

“W-What?”

He swallowed, arms crossing over his chest never letting his sights wander from you.

“If something did happen, you would’ve been in charge of the search party. You would have found me and brought me back home. I know you. It’s what you would’ve done.”

You stand with that sentiment for a moment, letting the scene play out in your head. 

What if you didn’t leave your home until the next morning? What if something happened, and he was out there all alone? What if he didn’t make it back at all?

Ellie and Tommy would surely be in shambles. The turn of events alone who have them acting on impulse, but you knew you wouldn’t let them, not in the distraught state they would be in. It’s the same reason why you didn’t let Ellie follow you, and it’s exactly why you left before Tommy could join you. 

If all those ‘what if’s’ played out so cruelly, would you would have done what you did just hours ago without thinking twice? The answer was so obviously ‘yes.’

Perhaps it was impulsive and hypocritical in itself, but Ellie and Tommy had Joel to hold onto, someone who was too important to lose even if they had good intentions of seeking him out themselves. 

“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as your lips pursed, “I would not.” You lied straight through your teeth.

Joel didn’t look convinced in the slightest, huffing out a strained, almost bemused breath of laughter, letting his eyes bore straight through you, as if he knew your every thought, spoken and suppressed. 

“I know you would because if you had done what I did, I’d do the same for you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his admission, but you couldn’t feign the feeling of warmth swarming through your chest. It was utterly stupid to think anything more of Joel’s altruism that he wore proudly on his arm despite his reserved demeanor, but you couldn’t help but feel as if he was showing you his cards–the hand he once kept hidden, now laid out bare for only you to see. 

You swallowed down the words that lingered on the tip of your tongue. The ones that wanted to ask him why he suddenly was beginning to level with you and why he couldn’t have done it sooner. 

Instead, you settled on something safer. 

The one thing you knew he needed to hear coming from you, because then maybe he would understand how lucky he was and how him doing what he did was pure stupidity. 

“You shouldn’t have done this to begin with,” you countered, turning your back on him as you walked away and picked up your knife off the ground. 

“You’ve got too much to lose.” You muttered, sliding it back into its sheath, undoing the button from your belt as you tossed it onto the dusty counter. 

His eyes narrowed at your figure as if he was trying to get deep into your thoughts and wonder why you were selling yourself short when both of you had too much to lose. He refused to let you think that, even if he did sign off on letting you come out here alone, it still wouldn’t change the fact that you were risking too much.

“And you don’t?” He shot back, almost accusatory.

You whipped your head around, a ridiculously obvious look on your face, “You know what, yeah, I don’t. I’ve come to realize that over the last twenty-four hours all thanks to you.”

“You really think that?” He argued.

“Don’t act so damn surprised, Joel. You said it yourself. Nobody gives a shit about me. I’m replaceable.” You mocked his gravelly voice, rolling your eyes as you watch him take it in regretfully.

A beat of silence passed, remorse permeating his face as he shut his eyes, recounting the events of yesterday that he seemingly buried beneath the fresh thoughts of seeing you here before him.

“I didn’t mean—” you lifted your hand in the air, silencing him with a long pointed look. 

“Save it, I don’t need your pity all of a sudden, alright.” You exasperated deeply, letting your hand fall against your side. 

Your eyes shifted past him, surveying the small living room where you had no choice but to bear the nightfall with him just a few feet away. There was no point in arguing with him any longer. All you wanted to do was sleep just so you could avoid him. His apologies would mean nothing at all, not when he was only saying it because he was forced to. In an attempt to brush past him, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to face him once more. 

“Joel, stop–” You griped firmly, though the desperation was unmistakable in your voice, coming off as begging as you tried to pull your hand back. 

The last thing you needed right now was a repeat of what happened back in Jackson. Not only did you have nowhere to run, but not a single fiber of strength left to hear whatever cruel words Joel had kept harboured for you, now ready to be unleashed. 

But the bitterness and the usual look of disdain never came. Instead, his fingers loosened just slightly, still firmly anchoring you to him, and there was that catch in his breath, a frown that meant more than just disgruntlement. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just—it came out wrong.” His voice came to you with a softness that hadn’t been heard before, completely taking you aback all over again.

“You matter, but you take risks–you live your life like you don’t.” His voice nearly broke, betraying himself as he pinched his eyes shut frustratingly. 

You stared at him, trying to search for an ounce of pity or deception that would’ve made you snap, but all you could find was him. When his eyes snapped back to yours, there was nothing but truth and even if you didn’t believe any of it personally, he deemed it true to him and that was enough to send you reeling. 

“You don’t think I don’t hear the end of it from Ellie and Dina?” He dropped your wrists, running his hands over the scruff of his beard, looking down at the floorboards then back up at you.

“Always beggin’ me to put you back on patrols and runs with them?” 

There was an apparent heat behind his words, not towards you, but the thought of letting you out of safety–out of his sight. 

“Then why don’t you let me?” You asked coolly, crossing your arms over your chest trying to get down to the truth this time, not provocation. 

“Because I know you’d throw your life on the line to protect them.” He spoke harsher than he intended to, sighing deeply, regaining his composure and swallowing hard, “To bring back whatever it is that the town needs.”

He faltered just slightly, as if guilt was eating him alive for knowing he too was the one who’d benefit from your 

He wasn’t wrong. There’d been many close calls before the one last winter. Runs with Jesse, patrols with Dina, even occasional ones with Ellie, where you throw yourself in the face of danger without thinking twice, perhaps forcing them to watch you die in order to save them and give the town what it needed. 

Before you could tell him, it was for good reason, especially to protect his daughter, he spoke up again. 

“But I already saw you once on your deathbed, and I can’t see you there again.” His voice pinched, refusing to consider the thought of you slipping away, even if it was only in mind. 

It never occurred to you–not until now–just how present Joel had been during the time you were in and out of consciousness, teetering the dead and the living. Somehow, without needing to hear him elaborate, you grasped the weight he carried from that day. How wound up he was had been seeing you in that state, that even now it still destroyed him, but that wasn’t you… not anymore. 

“I’m not made out of glass, Joel.” 

Your throat tightened, taking an effort to bring the words to the tip of your tongue and out into the open, because in that very moment, all you felt like was glass. Completely see through for Joel to read inside and out, to know your every fear and thought, to know you were in as much denial as he was. 

“You sure ain’t.” He huffed sarcastically, his hands coming down on hips as he shook his head and let his shoulders fall. “You have no idea what it was like for me. To… to know I was the one who let you go out there all by yourself because you were so sure, and not able to do anythin’ but stand there and—and hope you’d wake up.”

He went on before you could stop him. 

“I mean what the hell were you thinkin’?” His brows furrowed deep, staring at you with a look that you had seen before, but never with this much anguish tangled within him.

“The second you killed the last guy, you should’ve come back home right away. But no. You stayed back and took your time bagging all that crap instead of saving your goddamn self first.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the frustration and helplessness behind them, revealing something unprecedented to the indifference he always offered instead. This wasn’t the Joel who’d brushed you off or the one yesterday that yelled at you with no mercy–this was a cry for understanding, a last-ditch attempt for you to finally see where he was coming from all this time. 

You were at a loss for words, mouth parting, trying to figure out what you could say, how you could reason with his regard to ease the burden you had no idea had been carrying all this time. It wasn’t his place to care as much as he did and hide it all behind a facade he should’ve never put up, but he did it and you were willing to compromise. 

“We… we’ve all got things we’re not proud of. Guilt we have to live with Joel.” 

He barely let your sentiment hang in the air before his voice tumbled. 

“Yeah well, if you had died… if you didn’t make it back, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”

You never pegged Joel Miller as the type of man to drop down to his knees and beg for forgiveness for anything, let alone to some unknown God for almost letting you die. But there he was confessing to you like he had committed a sin so abysmal that he couldn’t bear to go on if death ever came close to you again–on his watch or not. 

All this time, he had been protecting you, shielding you from what you refused to see in the same light as he did. Even if it bruised your pride to admit, Joel had been seeing you. Truly seeing you from a distance and doing what he could, what he deemed right to keep you safe. 

To keep you from ever feeling like you needed to die to mean something. To keep you from leaving behind a place that was home without ever needing to prove yourself worthy of it. To just know that you weren’t going anywhere if he was around to save you first. 

Your lips began to part, a small croak pushing past them before you spoke quietly, enough for him to hear. “Would it help if I forgave you now?”

He blinked, standing still with eyes filled with turmoil, trying to decode what it was you were saying.

“If I forgave you for sending me out on that run even though I asked for it. If I forgave you for icing me out even though you had good intentions. If I forgave you for letting me go this long thinking no one cared about me.”

He inhaled roughly, shaking his head at you as if he was trying to dodge your words, unsure if he was worthy of letting himself be freed of the guilt, even by your words.

“You… You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He muttered, wiping a hand over his face, processing everything you just said. 

You had never been more certain. Never been more willing to forgive so easily because you both needed it. Not just him, but you, too. 

“No,” Your voice grew stronger, standing your ground as you stepped closer to him. “I know exactly what I’m asking for–what I need.”

His eyes leaked of hesitance, body tensing when you got close. Too close than you’ve ever been with the air as thick as it was between you two. There were barely any inches separating your bodies, the warmth of your shallow breaths fanning over his face flooding his senses before you spoke.

“You’ve been haunting me…making me think you were just out to get me all this time, when in reality you’ve been the only one seeing me.” 

He felt stuck, heart beating out of his chest, at a loss for words to tell you how wrong it would be to let himself show you just how much he’d been seeing you. 

“I’m right here, Joel.” 

It was all he needed to hear.

He crashed into you. Lips first then body. Large and calloused hands holding you to him as your mouths moved against each other, like your lips were finding a home they’ve been searching for all this time. Somehow, there was an effortlessness to the neediness you two felt, meshing together so perfectly that nothing else had ever felt so right. 

Your feet shuffled with every backwards step he took, dragging you with him across the cabin. Neither of you dare to pull away, even when the need for air became burning. All you two could offer were labored breaths as your hands carelessly undid the buttons of his flannel, while he roughly tugged on the zipper of your coat. 

A trail of your outerwear laid messily across the cabin floors, leaving you in a thin tank top and him in his gray undershirt. Joel collapsed against the couch cushions with a heavy thud, pulling you down with him on his lap. There was a pause in his kiss the second his back met the couch. He sucked in a sharp hiss, body tensing beneath yours just for a split second, but it was enough for you to detect. 

His hands went to pull you to him again, but you refused, eyes leaking with concern as you shook your head and let your hands roam across his body. 

“Are you hurt?” You were quiet but panicked, searching for any signs of injury, feeling stupid for not asking sooner, before all of…this. 

“It’s nothin’, just sore.” His features mellowed, running his hands through your hair in an attempt to soothe your worry, but his words only caused more unease.

“Do you have a hard time breathing? Did you take any painkillers yet?” You asked again, worried that he was hiding something from you because he didn’t want to bother. 

“Baby…” 

The word slipped out so easily, rolling off his tongue and reigning down on you as if he was bestowing a sacred title. You couldn’t pretend to be unaffected even if you wanted to, cheeks flushing and lips tugging up unabashedly. 

“M’fine, I swear.” He gave you a sure nod, opening his hand against your thigh, waiting for you to lace yours through his. 

Sighing, you thread your fingers between his, the feel of his thumb beginning to stoke along the curve of your wrist, grounding you to him–making sure you knew he was safe. 

Your eyes peered up from your hands, drifting to his face where you found his eyes studying you like he didn’t want to miss a thing. As selfish as it was, there was nothing more you wanted than to stay right there, despite the visible fatigue that was lingering behind his weary eyes.

You took your time and savored the comfortable silence, memorizing every wrinkle, every sunspot, every inch of his face that you never gave much thought to before. When you had your fill, certain that by the time you fell asleep you could picture it behind your eyes, did you finally stop being selfish.  

“We should probably get some sleep,” you whispered quietly, your free hand coming up to push his graying curls back into place, “You’ve had a long day and we’ve got our work cut out for us tomorrow too.” 

Joel hummed in agreement, but his fingers stayed tangled in yours, not daring to let go. He just kept on watching you, letting his thumb continue the comforting path over your skin–this time it was him who was being selfish. 

Just moments ago his body wanted sleep, but the second you walked in, it was you he craved. It had always been you, even when he tried to starve himself off and convince himself it was nothing more than him being vigilant. Fulfilling his duty by making sure you didn’t drive yourself into the ground because you put others first. 

When he boiled down all the irritation and anger he had once felt, he was still left with you. You had become part of him whether he liked it or not–always living in the back of his mind, deep within the cracks of himself until the truth finally clawed its way out. 

If he had haunted you, then you had certainly been plaguing him, holding him hostage to a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever set free until he had no choice but to. 

He needed you, and he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer.

His hands slowly loosened from yours, trailing up your waist, ghosting over the pulse of your neck, stopping just shy of your jaw, cradling your face between his palms.

“I don’t wanna pretend anymore…” He mumbled, shaking his head, coasting his thumb along your jaw, eyes burning into yours, “spent too long pushin’ you away and actin’ like an ass… but I want–need you.” 

Your chest tightened, air trapped in your lungs all while your heart raced and your blood ran impossibly hotter. Maybe it was desperation or quite simply the heat of the moment, but it swallowed you whole. His confession wrapping you up and keeping you there where, for once, you could just be.

He undid you and pieced you back together all at once, suddenly filling spaces that were once hollow but not broken–seeing and needing you was just enough. 

“I need you, too,” you whispered, leaning forward to close the space, pressing your forehead to his, lips ghosting over one another. 

“You came all the way out here for me, gotta say, you know how to make a man feel special.” A weak chuckle leaving his mouth, breathing fanning over your face. 

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders timidly, “just did what you would’ve done.” 

“That right?” 

Before you could think twice about the smirk on his lips, his hips shifted up, the stiffness behind his jeans pressing against your center. 

Your breath hitched, head thrown back while your hips move once then began to roll against his, needy for more. He took advantage of the skin calling out to him, pressing kisses up the column of your neck, letting you grind and seek out the dull pleasure that wasn’t at all ever going to be enough. 

“Want this off, sweetheart,” He nipped at your jaw lightly, his hands dropping to curl around the fabric of your camisole. 

There was a broken hum, an eager nod as you felt his fingers guide the garment up your body, leaving you in a basic black bra that was surely two sizes too small and no help to the breathlessness in your chest. But he didn’t seem to notice it, not when his eyes suddenly went somber, trained on a particular scar on your skin. 

It was no longer than a few inches, just a thin, fading line of skin that healed a shade lighter than the rest of your body, but nonetheless still apparent. Joel knew what it looked like before–clean cut, too deep, even more bloody. Just seeing it reeled him back to that winter, even when you’re in his lap, safe and well as can be–he still felt the weight of his guilt. 

“Joel,” you wrapped your hands around his wrist gingerly, leading his fingertips to the scar and keeping him there, “I’m right here… safe.” 

Your voice called out to him steadily, softly, trying to ground him back here with you, instead of his dreadful memories of your dying self that were swarming his thoughts. His fingers traced the skin, eyes never leaving it as he spoke something thick and rough. 

“It shouldn’t have happened to you.” 

He didn’t need to say it for you to understand that what he meant was it should have been him instead. But it was your choice. It always was, even when it was him signing off on letting you exit those gates–it was because you felt secure enough to go and he trusted you at one point. 

But even now, he couldn’t take place and you couldn’t let him blame himself any longer. 

“But it did.” You said, setting your hands on top of his, letting them splay across your skin, hiding the scar behind his palms, not wanting him to think back on those memories any longer. 

You then wrapped your arms around his neck, tethering yourself to him completely as his gaze finally softened when he saw your eyes locking onto his.

“It happened and I can’t go back to change it, but even if I could, I wouldn’t dare to because it means I’d risk leading myself to you.” 

Even when you looked at him so delicately, weary of his own emotional turmoil for something that happened to you, your voice remained sure and strong, like roots settling into the scariest parts of him and promising you weren’t going anywhere. 

His heart ached, this time with a feverish warmth that threatened to take his life just because he couldn’t fathom this–you–and the way you made him feel. He didn’t need to say much, not when his lips were already encasing yours, hoping you could feel all the things he wanted to say but wasn't quite strong enough to, just yet 

The message was received loud and clear, the two of you simultaneously needing more and acting upon it. Your fingers threaded through the messy curls at the back of his head, pulling him deeper into you just as his hands curved around your waist forcing your bodies flushed against each other, fitting perfectly.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” He mumbled, lips never straying away even as he caught his breath. 

He felt you giggle, then placed another kiss on his top then bottom lip, teeth grazing at his skin, “Trust me, death isn’t fun… I would know.” 

He rolled his eyes with another deep sigh, debating on whether he should scold or kiss you to quiet down your sweet laughter for a joke so vicious. He decided on the latter, relishing in the touch of your lips and the way your laughter died subtly with every part and glide of his tongue against yours. 

“Can I?” His hands hovering over the elastic of your bra behind your back. 

You hummed, pulling away to lean back on his thighs, giving him the perfect view. Your arms rested beneath the bust waiting as his fingers unclasped the closure with a smooth flick. The straps glided off your shoulders with ease and you helped pull the garment the rest of the way before tossing it to the floor. 

Joel sucked a deep breath in, palms sliding up and down the tops of your thighs, using whatever restraint he had left to resist the urge to lay you back and make you his. But he wanted to take it slow, to show you how much he cared and make up for the time that was wasted. 

“So beautiful,” He rasped, letting out a groan and throwing his head back against the cushions needing to shut his eyes for a split second, giving himself a moment to take you in. 

You couldn’t help but blush, a weak, almost shy giggle escaping your mouth at the thought of him being this affected by only a portion of your naked body. Deciding to coax your shared neediness, you brought his hands up to your chest, causing his eyes to snap open. He was momentarily stunned, unsure of himself, but not for long as he felt you practically melt under the newfound touch.

“God, baby.” He muttered, thumbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, giving them a gentle pinch. 

You let out a broken moan, hips jerking up instinctively into the hardening bulge beneath his jeans. Your sweet sounds and desperate friction egged him on, repeating the deliberate pinch and rolls watching closely as you began to unravel at the seams. You were shamelessly seeking out more, hips moving faster over him with your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Let me get this off you, sweetheart.” He spoke lowly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin, fingers running along the waistband of your jeans. 

You blinked, tilting your head down at him swallowing the dryness in your throat. 

“I-I can do them,” you whispered, attempting to catch your breath and fight the urge to rut your hips again.

Joel nodded, letting you take a moment to breathe and pull yourself together. In the meantime, he pressed chaste kisses to wherever he could reach before you shuffled out of his lap, standing wobbly between his spread thighs. 

He watched as you bent down to work off your boots first, nudging them off to the side before your shaky fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you gradually pulled them down, hips swaying naturally, lifting one foot then the other, peeling the denim off the rest of the way without breaking your gaze with him. 

He shifted, straightening his back against the cushions, while his eyes swept over the expanse of your skin, drinking you up, committing every inch of you to his memory. 

“C’mere.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back on top of him, needing to feel you close. 

You let out a short squeal, carefully placing your knees on either side of his hips, letting the thin and undoubtedly soaked fabric of your panties graze the rough material of his jeans head on. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself even more.” You chided, running your hands underneath his t-shirt feeling the warmth of his skin, moving the fabric up higher with every sweep of your palms. 

“Worth it.” He smirked, letting you guide the t-shirt off his body the way you wanted, until he had no choice but to tug it over his head, leaving nothing between your chest and his. 

You braced your hands against his sternum, gliding to feel the beat of his heart before connecting your lips once again. You learned quickly that kissing him nice and slow allowed you to really feel him. The dull scratch of his stumble against your skin, his hands mindlessly roaming across your back, the push and pull of breaths he took.

But nice and slow, could only do for so long, quickly turning urgent and messy. 

He took advantage of your desperation, giving the small of your back a gentle but firm push, rocking you back and forth over the tent in his jeans before your hips began to move on their own accord, resuming your earlier pursuit of pleasure. 

“Please.” You gasped, abruptly pulling away to stare up at him with frantic eyes. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He cooed, almost condescendingly, amused at the fact that you were already this wound up without him doing much. 

“Touch me,” you reached behind you to take one of his hands, guiding it to where you needed him most, “Need you to touch, right here.”

His fingers smoothed over the arousal soaked fabric, groaning to himself as he pressed his digits right over your clit, making you whimper. 

“I’ve got you.” 

He pulled his hand away to maneuver you into a more comfortable position. Cradling you into his side and letting your head rest against his shoulder, he guided your legs to sling over his thighs.

“This OK?” He asked, running his hands up to shin down to your ankle wanting you to be as comfortable as possible. 

“Perfect.” You nodded eagerly, leaning up for another kiss, thanking him for being so considerate even in the heat of the moment. 

When you pulled away, he nodded at you to lay your head back on him while he did the work. His fingers finally trailed up over your hips, sliding under the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to drag the fabric off your body and tossing it somewhere. His hand settled on your knee farthest away from his body, bending it just enough for him to open you up further and give him a complete view of your soaking center. 

“Jesus,” he choked out, his fingers gliding up and down the seam of your folds, torturing you slowly, “Need it bad, huh sweetheart.” 

You whimpered, nodding your head as your nails scraped down his chest, digging into his skin, asking for more.

“Gonna make it better,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your temple, “just let me do all the work and you feel good alright?” 

He didn’t waste any more time, parting your folds with his pointer and middle, dipping them into your heat and gathering your arousal, only to take it up towards your clit where he pressed down firmly and began rubbing slow circles. 

“F-fuck!” Your hips stuttered up, chasing his movements that felt like too much, and not enough all at the same time. 

Joel tsked, shushing you quietly as he used his free arm to settle you back down, holding you tight. 

“Shh, shh, relax.” He eased up just slightly on your bundle of nerves, helping lull you, “Need to take it slow, wanna make it last.” 

You wanted to tell him that there was no need to take it slow, not when he could have you for as long as you lived from this point on. But you could barely focus, let alone form coherent words as he murmured praises into your ear, picking back up the pressure of his thumb over your nerves. 

Your chest dipped with a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering shut while your fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps, anything to keep yourself from lifting your hips from where he wanted. 

“Feels good darlin’?” He asked, deliberately dragging his digits lower, sliding them into your core with ease, crooking them up before his thumb ghosted over your clit. 

“Just like–fuck–just like that,” you panted, tongue running over your lips, feeling yourself grow wetter. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” 

You didn’t need to open your eyes to tell there was a smile on his face, the feel of his hand giving your waist a squeeze where he held you still, while still keeping up his movements. 

“Been needin’ to feel this.” 

The cabin was filled with your moans and labored breaths, squelching between your thighs falling deaf on your ears as Joel dragged the pleasure on and on, not daring to tear his eyes away from such a sight as perfect as you. 

“Open those eyes, c’mon,” He commanded softly, his thumb stilling on your clit again, but his fingers still continued those deep strokes, “Wanna see those eyes when I tell you this.” 

Your eyes open, glazed over with pleasure, a whimper leaving your mouth seeing the content smile on his lips at your obedience. 

“Atta’girl.” 

You thought that was it. The praise dripping with heat and honey, enough to have you plunging past the finish line as your eyelashes kissed the skin under your eyes. But the action only made him grunt, prompting you to keep them open, for he had more to say that would completely unravel you. 

“Should’ve never let you walk away yesterday.” He said, thumb resuming their movements on your clit, but just lightly, enough to keep you focused on his words and the pleasure-something tolerable for now.

“Should’ve apologized and told you that I care for you.” 

“J-Joel, I forgive you. I do.” You stuttered, swallowing down a moan, hoping he’d believe you just as much as you did him. 

He shook his head, more so at himself, before continuing.

“You scare the shit outta me. Always givin’ so much of yourself without ever askin’ for anythin’ in return.” 

“You don’t know how much I think about you.” He admitted, fingers speeding up, dragging a new string of moans out of you, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“If you’re takin’ care of yourself,” he murmured, trailing kisses over your warm cheek. “If you know how much I want to protect you.” 

“Iknowiknow,” You babbled, leaning your head against him as your thighs shook when he prodded at the deep spot inside you, “I know n-now.” 

His eyes stayed glued to you, watching every word escape through your lips with extra effort, before becoming muddled with your moans. Nails leaving crescents across his skin anywhere you could grab him and anchor yourself to the feeling. Your pussy shuddering with every stroke and prod of his fingertips bringing you closer. 

“Should’ve told you sooner baby. You gonna let me make it up to you?” He crooned. 

“Yes, p-please…I will, I promise I–” 

“Let me show you how much you matter to me.” He stuffed his fingers impossibly deeper, thumb relentlessly orbiting your clit with more pressure now. “How it feels to be mine.” 

“I’m yours, Joel…please, I’m so close.” Your voice cracked, head beginning to tip back as your body gave in completely, but he wouldn’t let you fall apart without seeing it for himself. 

He threading his fingers through the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his. 

“Cum for me baby,” His lips crashed onto yours, the final catalyst that sent you over the edge as he pulled away, breath ghosting over your lips. “Give me what’s mine.” 

Only then did your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed with the intense pleasure that seemed to be never ending. Your limbs shook against his body, breathing deeply through the waves of euphoria that he kept you on. His fingers still stroking, rubbing, coaxing everything out of you, tethering you to him, watching your every move as you succumbed. 

“I–baby, I…please.” Your voice was weak, your body feeling equally weightless going limp against him.  

Your hands instinctively reached for his forearms, squeezing him tightly, needing more of him to help ground you through the shocks of pleasure still coursing through your nerves.   

“I’ve got you,” He murmured, finally dragging his slick fingers away from your oversensitive heat, cradling your body closer. “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” 

He tucked your face under his chin, kissing the crown of your head, letting his hands soothe over your tingling skin to bring you back down to the delicate place with him once more. Your breathing was still irregular, shallow puffs of air hitting his chest, feeling his heart pound over your lips where you pressed soft, mindless kisses, grateful for his tenderness. 

“S’ok, baby,” His voice remained soft, cooing more words of praise to you before guiding your face away, just enough for him to see you and know you were back with him. 

His chest tightened at the sight of your wet eyes blurring with a sheen of tears and lips swollen, flashing him a devastatingly sweet smile.

“Oh, sweetheart...” 

You blinked, laughing nervously as you felt his thumb swipe away at the tear before it could tumble down your cheek.

“T-that was nice,” you cleared your throat, voice still a little hoarse and spent all thanks to him. “Really nice,” you added, stroking your fingers over his stubble. 

He grinned, tucking your messy hair behind your ears, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You stared at each other, all dopey and lovesick, basking in one another like nothing else in the world mattered. It should’ve felt unnatural, a little odd for the two of you considering the state of your relationship just twenty-four hours before, but instead it felt familiar, something so intimate and complete without much labor to make it feel as such.  

You used your arms as leverage, wanting to sit back into the original position on his lap. He helped you, carefully holding you by the hips as you maneuvered only for you to let out a gasp catching him by surprise. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Joel.” You looked down half embarrassed, half amused, fingers trailing over the dark patch of your wetness that settled on his jeans. 

He followed your sights, shaking his head as he laughed and laced his fingers with yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a reassuring kiss over your knuckles. 

“Nothin’ to worry about, it’s for memory’s sake.” He joked lightly, easing you of any self-consciousness even after he brought you to a breathtaking orgasm just minutes ago. 

You shifted your hips against his lap, eliciting a groan from him, jaw tightening and his hands squeezing yours. He grew harder beneath his boxers, the tip of his cock begging for release behind the garment and his thick jeans, at this rate probably dripping with pre cum too. He could have easily flipped you over and given into what you both were needing, but he curbed the thoughts, letting you set the pace. 

“I can feel you.” You whispered, taking your time circling your hips lightly, core still overstimulated, but somehow demanding more, “Can we…” 

Your voice died with a hint of uncertainty, eyes shifting to his, hoping he’d read your mind and understand that you still needed him…you just didn’t know what to call it. 

Fuck? 

Make love? 

Neither sounded right to say aloud. You knew crossing this line would mean more than just a quick fuck, but you also realized it was too soon to call it love–though you were positive you’d fall, eventually. 

He rested his hands on your thighs, eyes boring into yours, trying to read your anxiety, not wanting you to feel pressured just because he was rock hard. 

“We don’t have to do any–” 

“No, I do,” you interjected hurriedly, shutting him up as he smirked at your insistence causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest.

You sighed, wringing your fingers nervously, shifting your eyes to his lap instead as you spoke. “I just haven’t… I want it to be good for you.” 

It was no surprise that an outbreak would leave getting laid one of your last priorities with survival being number one. But truthfully, it had been a long while, and even as natural as it felt to have Joel pull an orgasm out of you with his fingers, you hoped to God you’d be able to deliver something just as good for him. But before you could let the perturbation swallow you whole he laughed. 

You quickly shot your eyes up to his, watching the crow’s feet around the outer corner of his eyes crinkle, his chest rumbling with snickers, causing you to pout, wondering what amusement he got out of seeing you like this. He settled after a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief going to grab your hands once more even as you tried to fight him off weakly. 

“Sweetheart,” He started, rubbing his thumbs over the top of your hands, silently telling you to loosen up, “Do you know how close I’ve been to creamin’ my pants like a fuckin’ teenager?” 

His bluntness made your cheeks go up in flames, wanting nothing more than to hide away in the crook of his neck and laugh there, but he didn’t let you, cupping your cheeks and thumbing your heated skin. He was old enough to understand why you must’ve felt the way you did, but he too was devoid of anything as intimate for years. You’d already made him feel the tenderness and lust he once thought was over for him, and he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise. 

“You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ alright? It’s goin’ to be good because it’s with you.” He confessed, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips, making you smile as your heart rate began to pick up once more. 

“I wanna be on top,” you started, a new wave of boldness washing over you as he smirked and nodded. 

“I can do with that.” He hummed, leaning back just to get an eyeful of your naked body, pinching himself for finally getting to have you. 

“Here, I’ll–” You went to undo his belt, a mixture of excitement and neediness urging your motions, but before you could he stopped you, moving your fingers out of the way. 

“I got it, sweetheart,” he pulled the end of the leather through the buckle, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t need to lift a finger.” 

You giggled, tilting your head and raising your brow. “Hmm, cause I’ll be too busy lifting my ass, right?” You quipped.

“There’s my brat,” He huffed feignedly, pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it to the ground. 

You let out a giggle, moving off of his lap causing him to protest, only for you to drop down to your knees between his legs, pulling at the laces of his boots and tugging them off. 

“What? You said I couldn’t help with the belt, not stripping your jeans off.” You winked up at him while he grumbled, simply undoing his fly and zipper before letting you do the rest. 

He lifted his hips as you tugged on the waistband of his jeans and boxers His cock came into view, thick and heavy, tip glistening with pre-cum as it rested against his stomach. Your gut twisted tighter, heat growing hotter between your thighs as your mouth watered, eyes remaining fixated on his length. 

Your visible engrossment made him twitch, the hunger in your eyes causing his blood to rush and welcome the newfound attention. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling your fingers wrap around his shaft, barely able to cover him wholly even with both hands. You leaned forward, parting your lips, breathing warmth over his tip before you closed your lips around him gently, humming at the salty bead, salivating for more. 

If he had any more willpower, he’d let you have your fill. To swallow him down the way you wanted to–messy, slow, deep–but right now it was ebbing, and all he wanted to do was bury himself within you. There was no way he was going to let himself finish within the first minute of you getting him naked.

As if it pained him, he grimaced and cradled your jaw, pulling you off with a pop, and almost immediately you began to pout, mouth opening to tell him you wanted a proper taste. 

“Come back up here.” His eyes were glazed over with need, voice dripping with a gentle firmness as he offered you a hand, helping you lift off your knees and take your place back on his lap. 

“I’ll let you have it in your mouth next time.” He promised, placing a kiss to your lips in an apology, guiding you to sink your knees into the cushions beside him. 

You smiled, breath catching in your chest at the thought of ‘next time’ because it meant that Joel wanted to have you the same way you did him. Truthfully, there was no turning back, and you and Joel were both aware of the implications, too far gone in each other to think you’d be walking away from each other after this. 

His hands looped securely around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as your noses brushed against one another. 

“Take it nice and slow, alright?” He cautioned sweetly. 

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, kissing him once more before you pulled away and took a deep breath.

You brought your fingertips to your mouth, swiping them over your tongue, reaching down and curling your hand around him. You stroked him slowly, mixing together your spit and his precum, which you knew would help the slide. He stilled his hips, keeping from rutting up into your hand, letting you do what you needed to first. 

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, you guided him towards your entrance, the thick head notching inside of you with a stretch as you dropped your hips, settled down on the first few inches of him. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” you whimpered, thighs trembling weakly as your eyes flew shut at the sudden fullness. 

“Slow down, babygirl…breathe for me,” he steadied you carefully, hands squeezing your waist, letting you adjust. “Know it’s a lot, but you’re doing so good.” 

The sound of his voice was warm and guiding, reminding you there was no need at all to rush. Your head spun at the praise and guidance, using it as encouragement while you kept your eyes closed and took a deep breath in through your nose and held it for a moment. He hummed something that sounded like approval, spurring you on as you released the breath and sunk down to take more of him. 

A strangled moan left your lips, his cock already reaching parts of you that had been untouched for what felt like forever. And even as the fluttering walls of your pussy sent a tremor up his spine, he swallowed back his own grunt, gritting his teeth and setting his focus on soothing you instead of his frenzied pleasure.   

“Sweetheart, you gotta–” He spoke raspy and strained, but whatever he had left to say, never came as you blew your eyes open to meet his, all glassy and filled with ruin already.

“J-Joel,” you whined, grabbing harshly at his shoulders, trembling over nearly half of his cock, but already feeling split open and ready to fall over the crest of pleasure. “S-so full, already.” 

He nodded understandingly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, as he stroked your sides, hoping to calm the shivers that were dancing along your skin. He leaned up slightly, nudging his nose across cheek until he settled soft kisses along your earlobe. 

“It’s all yours baby, right sweetheart?” He murmured possessively, staking your claim over him before you could do it yourself–but he wanted to hear you, needed to hear that you understood he was yours now. 

Your lips parted with a breathy moan, walls clenching around him at the thought, before you swallowed thickly and nodded against him.

“Uh, huh… mine.” 

He grinned, satisfied with your response and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling your hot labored breaths against him. 

“So take it.” 

He snaked one of his hands between your bodies, using your wetness and circling your clit with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and your mouth drop open. The added stimulation helped distract you from the massive stretch, but not enough to send you over the edge just yet. 

“I know you can do it, sweetheart.” 

And somehow you did. 

You focused on the sound of his voice, shutting out all the tingling nerves and worries in the back of your mind, sinking down the rest of the way, and nestling his cock deep inside you. 

“S-shit, sweetheart,” Joel hissed, digging his fingers into your hips as his eyes dropped down to where you fully sheathed his length. “Fuckin’ grippin’ me so damn tight.” 

Your stomach clenched, walls clinging to every inch of him, carving out a new home where you’d crave him constantly. He couldn’t look away even if he tried, his eyes sailing towards your face and back down your body, reveling every gasp and shake not wanting to miss a thing. 

Your brows furrowed, finally testing the waters by rolling your hips in small circles, anticipating the first rumble of pleasure. But with him buried so deeply, relentlessly budging the spongy spot inside you, the small action stole your breath altogether, sending you toppling, slump against his chest.

“Oh my–fuck…toomuchtoomuch, Joel–”

“Hey, shh, relax for a minute,” His hand came down to the back your head, pressing you deeper into his chest, stroking your hair and feeling the way your walls spasmed around him uncontrollably. 

Joel hugged you close, letting you bury your face into the crook of neck where you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat racing just as quick as yours, yet still somehow sounding unaffected as he continued whispering words of solace, gently caressing your body like you were all that mattered to him. 

“I–I’m sorry…” You choked between a sniffle, not knowing exactly why you were apologizing suddenly, probably because Joel had spent more time comforting you through your pleasure without giving in to his. 

You needed to make him feel good. 

He grunted disapprovingly, kissing the crown of your head. “Baby, you don’t have to apologiz–” 

You attempted to lift your hips off of him, going to ride him the way you wanted to, but his hands immediately stalled your movements as you protested. 

“Joel, let me, c’mon.” 

“Sweetheart,” He shook his head, tugging your face away from hiding, staring at you all dark and tender.

“This is gonna be over before you even start,” He reasoned, rubbing the back of your scalp, wanting you to ease up, “You’re sensitive and she needs it gentle.”

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you now and I–” 

“Hey, listen to me,” His voice was stern though his eyes remained a softened contrast, “Feelin’ you around me is already you takin’ care of me. Now, let me take care of you at the same time. Deal?

“Okay...” you whispered, nodding your head as he kissed you deeply before lifting his back off the couch, allowing him to lay you on your back. 

You spread your legs, letting him bracket his hips closer, planting one foot on the ground to give himself leverage, while the other remained bent at the knee on the couch. 

“How’s that sweetheart?” His hands glided over your stomach, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses up between the valley of your breast until he stopped at your chin peering up at you. 

“B-better…” You breathed, palms meeting his right over your stomach and pressing down slightly, “I can feel you deeper I think.”

“Good,” His lips quirked up into a smile, nipping your jaw before leaning up the rest of the way and pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m gonna move now. You say the word and we’ll stop whenever you want, alright?” 

You nodded, connecting your lips as you wounded your arms around his neck, readying yourself for the first thrust of his hips. His hands slid up to your ribcage, gripping you there tenderly, pulling his hips back barely a few inches, before sawing back in. 

He swallowed up your moans, dragging his hips back once more, setting a slow yet thoughtful pace, stretching out your combined pleasure, basking in other another. With every thrust, the pleasurable sensation blossomed brighter within you, your legs spreading more, hips stuttering up not wanting to let him go far from where he belonged. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Nice and deep.” Joel panted against your lips, pulling out almost halfway now, then back in again, eliciting a soft cry from your lips. “So perfect for me…my girl, my fuckin’ pussy, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s yours…I-I’m yours, Joel.” You choked out, nails raking across his shoulder blades and down his back, “Please don’t stop, please, just–fuck!” 

“Keep fuckin’ you baby?” He teased, your whimpery moans agreeing with his filthy words, “Never gonna stop, sweetheart…promise. You just keep feelin’ good on my cock.” 

Your throat tore with a high-pitched squeal, Joel pulling out nearly all the way before driving back home, repeating the movement that had your legs trembling around him. The sounds were obscene, wet slaps of your skin nearly overpowering your moans, occupying the cabin. 

“Hear how wet you are?” He gritted, sucking in deeper breaths with every squeeze of your walls, “Pussys’ leaking all over me. She’s a sweet thing, alright.” 

“S-s-so good, you’re so deep,” You gasped, “M-more.” 

“Let me,” He guided one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing impossibly deeper, making you moan loudly.

“Fuck! Right there, p-please just like that,” You held him tighter, muffled words beating against his skin.“Don’t stop, please don’t–” 

“I won’t baby,” Joel assured you, maintaining the deliberately deep pace, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “Let me feel you, c’mon, give my cock some lovin’, let me feel you cum.” 

You crashed hard without even thinking twice, incoherent begging jumbled with your moans as stars flashed behind your pinched eyes. His movements didn’t falter, working every inch of himself within you, encouraging you to ride the wave of pleasure for as long as possible, reeling in the way your nails scratched down his back, pulling him tighter into you until your body went lax. 

Slowing his thrusts, he placed a chaste kiss to the inside of your knee, guiding your leg back down, allowing you some reprieve. He felt your motionless hands along his back, settling for weak grazes across the fresh scratches you left behind, while your chest rose and fell deeply. 

“Too much?” He rasped out, hands going to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to open and blink through the haze, “Need a break, baby?” 

You let out a shaky noise that told him ‘no,’ turning your head just slightly to take a deep breath in the out, repeating the action until you could bear to open your eyes, taking in the mouthwatering sight of him.

His hair was tousled all thanks to your grabby hands, sweat beading at his hairline, trailing down the sides of his face. His lips were as swollen as yours from the endless kisses you two had shared, and his eyes burned through you with fire, so strong yet delicate, needed to get close and finally feel the heat soar through you.

“K-Keep going,” you stuttered, still catching your breath, snaking your hands through his hair, gawking up at him hungrily, “I need it–I need to feel you…”

The realization washed over him, and you swore you could feel the twitch of his cock spur inside you, a restrained jerk of his hips sending his length somewhere deeper—right where you needed him to stick.

“Needa feel me extra deep, is that right?” He whispered, one hand splaying over your stomach, groaning to himself when he felt the faint brunt of himself beneath your skin. “Need me to leave my mark, remind you who you belong to?” 

You licked your lips, nodding frantically. “Yes… I-I want that…I’m all yours, please.” 

He reached for your free hand, intertwining them as he bent to kiss your shaky knuckles. 

“I’m yours too, baby…never lettin’ you go.” He began to thrust into you again, pressing his hips flushed between your thighs, grinding deep and precise. “Promise.” 

It didn’t take long to have you breathless all over again, your legs moving on their own accord to wrap around his waist, barely allowing him any escape from your heat—just simple, heavy, deep strokes, that caused tears to prickle at your eyes, the blossoming happening all over again, and this time stronger than the last two he so graciously gave you.

“Joel–shit, I’m…” You gasped, crushing his hand tightly, your entire body beginning to quiver as you tiptoed to the edge.

“Just like that… fuck, darlin’” He hissed, throwing his head, feeling your walls close in on him impossibly tighter, like they were begging as much as you were for him. “Just keep feelin’ me… every goddamn inch baby..” 

You did more than just let yourself feel. But be all consumed by him. Giving in to a need that would never be satiated by anyone besides Joel Miller, not that there was anyone else who could suffice, anyway. You gave yourself to him wholeheartedly, the same way he did to you. More than just a feeling. A deep-seated care that would never leave, always within you wherever you strayed because Joel proved it to you.

His hand untangled with yours and before you could whine out of protest, one escaped thoughtlessly, the feel of fingers sliding over your mound, easily finding your clit and rubbing steady circles. Y

You were dangling over the edge, just waiting to drop.

“Oh… oh,” Your jaw went slack, voice so small, “Joel, please.” 

He cooed softly, infatuated with you beneath him, ready to give you his all. “Need to feel you fall apart one more time baby, let me see it.” 

“Cum with me,” you begged, snaking your hands through his hair pull him closer, letting him swallow and steal your every breath, “Please… I need it. Fill me up, p-please.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, body seizing up into his, walls clamping greedily, taking him right over the edge with you.

“Fuckin’ hell… oh, fuck,” Joel groaned, hips stuttering, grinding and pushing deeper, spilling everything he had to give you, as he reveled in your take.

There was a saccharine smile on your face, weak but still there. Cheeks stained with a warm flush as tears remained stuck in their path, littering the wisp of your lashes with faint drops, blinking up at him starry-eyed. It was a sight that made his heart ache—not haunting or plaguing in a sense, but chained to knowing it could only ever be you from that point forward, and there was no need to deny himself.

Quietly, the two of you came back down together. Hands lazily roaming the skin your fingertips could reach, lips resting, not kissing, just feeling each other be there, and your hearts settling into a shared thump.

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat,

“T-thank you.” You croaked out, reaching up with shaky hands to hold his cheek in your palm, not caring about the sweat trickling over your already sweaty skin.

He turned just slightly, chapped lips pressing into your pulse point.

“You’re… you’re thanking me for…” He tilted his back at you raising his brows with a smirk, still catching his breath, meanwhile you laughed weakly and shook your head. 

“That too, but mostly for seeing me… for showing me I matter.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for any of it,” He assured you, bringing his hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks, “and I don’t think I said it earlier…but I’m sorry everythin’.” 

“I forgave you already,” you replied with a smile, welcoming the feel of his lips on yours again as he kissed you so tenderly.  

Slowly, he helped ease your legs from around his waist, swallowing up your whines as he apologized lowly, shifting his hips back to pull out of you. The emptiness felt foreign, almost unbearable, but the faint trickle of your shared spent seeping out was a filthy yet pleasant reminder that you two were stuck together.

He reached down, picking up his discarded t-shirt, bending down to catch a better glimpse of the mess, holding himself back from wrecking you some more.

“So you’re just going to let me ruin all your clothes at this point?” You shivered with a laugh, watching as he carefully swiped the shirt between your thighs, cleaning up the mess between your thighs.

He looked up at you, kissing the inside of your knee. “Got a whole drawer at home waitin’ for you,” He winked, making you roll your eyes as he tossed the fabric to the floor after cleaning himself up too. 

Carefully, he maneuvered you off your back, sliding his body against the cushions to take your place, before setting you inside his side—your warm naked bodies tangling snugly to brave the winter night.

“I’ll take first watch so you can rest darlin’,” Joel whispered, running his palm along your shoulder blades while you traced random shapes over his chest.  

You rocked your head against him slightly, whispering loud enough for him to hear.

“We’re safe out here.” 

It was loaded, both a promise to take and a question for him to answer.

“Yeah, we’re safe, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, eyes falling shut effortlessly, the sight of you still fresh behind his lids. “I’ve got you. Always, got you.” 

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

a/n: i'm horny and ovulating, im sorry!!! thank you to my love, Effie for proof-reading and unapologetically encouraging my delulu for dilfy joel 💕💕

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[mevolve]

Task Switching is Killing Your Focus — Here’s How Lists Fix It

Ever feel like your brain is constantly buffering?

You sit down to reply to an email, a Slack ping pulls you into a different task, a calendar reminder goes off, and before you know it — you’ve started five things and finished none.

This isn’t a personal failure.

It’s task switching, and it’s silently draining your productivity.

In this guide, we’ll explore:

What task switching is and why it’s not the same as multitasking

How it impacts your focus, memory, and energy

Why to-do lists are a scientifically backed solution

How Mevolve’s todo feature help you break the switching cycle

Let’s take your brain off shuffle mode and put it back in control.

What Is Task Switching?

Task switching is when you move your attention between multiple unrelated tasks — jumping from writing a report to checking notifications to responding to messages.

Unlike multitasking (doing two things at once, like walking and talking), task switching involves switching attention between cognitively demanding tasks — and it has real costs.

Research Says:

According to a study by the American Psychological Association, frequent task switching can reduce productivity by up to 40%. The brain doesn’t actually multitask — it rapidly toggles, and every switch demands time and mental energy to reorient.

The Cognitive Cost of Switching Tasks

Each time you shift gears, your brain undergoes a “switch cost.” This includes:

Decision delay: A few seconds lost refocusing

Error increase: More likely to make mistakes

Mental fatigue: The more you switch, the faster you tire

Memory interference: You forget what you were doing more often

Ever opened a browser tab and forgotten why? That’s switch cost in action.

Why Task Switching Feels Productive (But Isn’t)

It gives the illusion of progress — you feel busy, your brain gets micro dopamine hits with each new start, and you think you’re handling a lot.

But in reality:

Tasks take longer

Quality drops

Stress increases

Satisfaction decreases

This is sometimes called “attention residue” — when part of your focus stays stuck on the previous task even after you’ve moved on.

How To-Do Lists Fix Task Switching

The antidote to chaos isn’t doing more — it’s doing more intentionally. When done right, lists are more than memory aids. They are focus amplifiers that rewire how your brain handles work.

Here’s why they work:

1. Externalize Mental Load

Your brain can only hold around 4–7 items in working memory at once (Miller’s Law). A list moves pending tasks out of your head and onto paper (or screen).

This frees up cognitive space, helping you stay present with the task at hand.

2. Enforce Task Boundaries

A clear to-do list helps you see tasks as blocks, not blobs. It gives you permission to say:

“Right now, I’m doing this — and only this.” This structure combats the blur of back-and-forth.

3. Reduce Decision Fatigue

Every time you decide “what next?”, your brain spends energy. A good list pre-decides your next move.

Less deciding = more doing.

4. Encourage Batching

When your tasks are listed by type or tag (e.g., “emails,” “calls,” “writing”), you can batch related tasks together. This reduces context switching and increases flow.

Think of it as “deep work blocks” built into your day.

5. Track Progress Visually

Crossing off a task releases dopamine. It’s satisfying. It builds momentum. It keeps you going even when motivation dips.

Mevolve’s To-do System: A Task Switcher’s Best Friend

Mevolve isn’t just a basic checklist — it’s a focus-oriented productivity engine.

Here’s how its To-Do List feature help reduce task switching:

Smart Lists & Hashtags

Tag to-dos, create filtered views so you only see what matters right now — not 20 unrelated things.

Reminders & Deadlines

Set gentle nudges that bring tasks back to your radar — instead of bouncing between apps to remember them.

Offline Access

No distractions. Use Mevolve even without WiFi to stay focused in low-input environments.

Daily Agenda

Get a daily push notification with your top priorities — so your day starts with clarity, not clutter.

The Mental Shift: From Reactivity to Intentionality

When you move from chaotic switching to structured doing, you don’t just save time — you reclaim attention.

You stop:

Reacting to every ping

Starting and abandoning tasks mid-way

Ending the day feeling scattered

And you start:

Working with intention

Feeling in control of your priorities

Finishing what matters most

How to Structure To-do Lists That Actually Reduce Switching

Just writing tasks down isn’t enough. The structure matters.

Use these tips:

1. Start With a Verb

“Email Sarah about feedback” is clearer than “Sarah.” Action triggers action.

2. Use the 1–3–5 Rule

Plan:

1 Big task

3 Medium tasks

5 Small tasks

This avoids overload and sets realistic expectations.

3. Use “Now, Next, Later” Boards

Segment your tasks so you only look at what’s current.

Science-Backed Bonus: Time Blocking + To-Do Lists = Gold

Pair your Mevolve to-do list with calendar blocks using the integrated calendar sync (Google/Outlook). This creates dedicated time windows for each to-do, helping you stay in flow.

You’re not just listing your intentions — you’re scheduling them.

Conclusion

In a world of pings, tabs, and infinite distractions, task switching is killing your focus. But you’re not powerless. By organizing your day with intentional to-do lists — you reclaim your brain’s bandwidth. You stop reacting. You start executing. Because productivity isn’t about doing more. It’s about switching less and finishing more.

[day-day-mon]

Why do I read indie comics?

I've always felt like an outsider. I think I felt the outsider mentally behind the creation of the X-Men, Spider-Man and Batman.

Maybe that's why I loved their cartoons from the 90s. When I was a teen I fell out of love with them. What I found instead was the original text.

Their comic book origins. I read the first few issues of X-Men and loved the wackiness of vanisher and the blob. Just a couple of teens trying to do good.

I read Batman, the dark knight strikes again. Again more wackiness with both on the nose and metaphorical political commentary. Frank Miller's art entranced me. His simplified shapes and insane colors caught my full attention.

Throughout my life I read lots of random Spider-Man comics. First it was the ultimate Spider-Man that captured my attention. I loved how young and stupid he was. I felt so connected to Peter Parker. Through my research of comics I found Steve Ditko and fell even harder for the original Lee and Ditko Spider-Man run.

It was super hero shenanigans with Archie comic romance and drama sprinkled on top. The perfect formula. Ditko's costume designs were amazing and Lee's dialogue made the comic feel hip and time less.

I read indie comics because i think it's a window into someone's mind. Unfiltered. They aren't making money and yet they still have to tell their stories.

That's pretty dope.

[when-i-was-a-kid-1]

Chapter 1

Coldness, that was all Derrick could feel in this dark empty space devoid of any features, yet strangely its size was akin to his house. Suddenly, dark swirling pools of blob formed in rapid succession and cluttered around his 5 years old body. They slowly creep and cling onto him until he was fully covered in it. He tried to scream for help but was quickly silenced and suffocated under all that weight-

“Honey? Earth to Derrick? Are you spacing out again?” A familiar woman’s voice called out to him, and as Derrick’s vision gradually switch from darkness to the cozy environment of his home, his mom’s concern face came into view and grimaced when she couldn’t elicit a reaction out of him. Hating to disappoint his mom, Derrick quickly shook his head and forced a smile despite what he just experienced. Though it seemed to satisfy his mom as she stood straight back up with a sigh and ruffled Derrick’s hair affectionately.

“You gotta stop scaring me like that buddy, now quickly finish your breakfast and pack up before school.” Derrick’s mom scurried out of the room holding a glass bottle and he was left all alone again. As an obedient boy, he obliged to do what his mom asked of him, it was the least he thought he could do as a son. 

Once they arrived at Derrick’s elementary school, his mom glanced at him from the rear-view mirror, “Try to have fun in school, I will pick you up at the playground as usual at 5, ok buddy?” Derrick nodded his head and inaudibly got out of the car to mentally prepare himself for another dreadful day of school. Until his inner thoughts were disrupted by someone tackle hugging him from behind, “HEY! Ready for Ms. Miller’s nagging?” To which Derrick let out a light scoff and continued walking without replying to his friend. 

He snickered and patted Derrick on the back, “Man, you used to always jump whenever I do that, now it’s like you aren’t scared of anything!” This triggered Derrick’s mind back to what happened this morning, he had been getting more of these “episodes” that rendered him petrified, so other things didn’t seem as frightening anymore. 

.

.

.

Another school day had passed, another homeroom detention because of his inability to pronounce words properly despite trying his best, though everyone assumed he had a mischievous motive, which now led to a solitude afterschool stay in an empty classroom. The doors abruptly revealed the very person who put him in such position, “Derrick Wilson, why did you fool around in class again?” Ms. Miller sternly inquired. 

“I… d-don’t m-means” Derrick stuttered the best he could without appearing as disrespectful again, but she interrupted him with a hand motion, “I’m afraid I have to contact your mother about this, it’s the fifth time this has happened.” In fear of his mom’s sporadic emotions, Derrick’s eyes widened in shock and exclaimed in a clear pronunciation, “NO!”

He felt his breath started to quicken, eyes blurring into an unwelcoming yet familiar darkness, he sensed he was going to “space out” again, so he did what his impulse told him to…

[docrotten]

THE BLOB (1988) – Episode 270 – Decades of Horror 1980s

“All I saw was an old man with a funky hand, … that’s all I saw.” Well, there’s a lot more to see than a funky hand! Join your faithful Grue Crew – Crystal Cleveland, Bill Mulligan, and Jeff Mohr, along with special guests Jeff Farley and Ralph Miller – as they get down and dirty and gloppy with The Blob (1988) and its special effects. [NOTE: Technical issues forced Jeff Farley to drop out early in the recording. Bill and Jeff rescheduled a later discussion with Jeff, which was spliced near the end of the original recording.]

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 270 – The Blob (1988)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! Click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Gruesome Magazine is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of Decades of Horror 1980s and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

Synopsis: A deadly entity from space crash-lands near a small town and begins consuming everyone in its path. Panic ensues as shady government scientists try to contain the horrific creature.

Directed by: Chuck Russell

Writing Credits:Chuck Russell & Frank Darabont (screenplay)

1958 Version: Theodore Simonson and Kay Linaker (as Kate Phillips) (screenplay); Irvine H. Millgate (story)

Produced by: Jack H. Harris & Elliott Kastner

Cinematography by: Mark Irwin

Make up effects designed and created by: Tony Gardner

Creature effects designed and created by:Lyle Conway

Selected crew members:

Jeffrey S. Farley (creature effects crew)

Ralph Miller III (blob mechanic: blob effects crew)

Special visual effects by: Dream Quest Images

Visual effects supervisor: Hoyt Yeatman

Selected Cast:

Kevin Dillon as Brian Flagg

Shawnee Smith as Meg Penny

Donovan Leitch Jr. as Paul Taylor (as Donovan Leitch)

Jeffrey DeMunn as Sheriff Herb Geller

Candy Clark as Fran Hewitt

Joe Seneca as Dr. Meddows

Del Close as Reverend Meeker

Paul McCrane as Deputy Bill Briggs

Sharon Spelman as Mrs. Penny

Beau Billingslea as Moss Woodley

Art LaFleur as Pharmacist / Mr. Penny

Ricky Paull Goldin as Scott Jeske

Robert Axelrod as Jennings

Bill Moseley as Soldier #2 (in sewer)

Frank Collison as Hobbe

Michael Kenworthy as Kevin Penny

Jack Rader as Col. Hargis

Billy Beck as Can Man

Jack Nance as Doctor

Erika Eleniak as Vicki De Soto

Jacquelyn Masche as White Suit #2

Julie McCullough as Susie

Daryl Sandy Marsh as Lance (as Daryl Marsh)

Richard Anthony Crenna as Soldier Outside Town Hall (as Richard Crenna Jr.)

Pons Maar as Theatre Manager

Portia Griffin as Gospel Singer

First, there was the original The Blob (1958), covered by Decades of Horror: The Classic Era #123. After that, there was the sequel, Beware! The Blob (1972), braved by the Grue Crew in Decades of Horror 1970s #63. Then came The Blob (1988), an updated retelling of the original as imagined by Frank Darabont and Chuck Russell and discussed by a previous 80s Grue Crew in Decades of Horror 1980s #126. 

Finally, the current 80s Grue Crew, having some contacts in the effects community, decided to do a deeper dive into The Blob (1988) with a focus on the film’s effects work and enlisted the aid of effects artists Jeffrey S. Farley and Ralph Miller III who worked on Lyle Conway’s blob crew. Ralph shares several mechanical devices used for blob manipulation and stories of the hard work put into the film. Jeff focuses on his work on The Blob, occasionally wandering to other aspects of his career, including Abruptio, his current release.

At the time of this writing, The Blob (1988) is available to stream from Peacock, Paramount+, PlutoTV, and multiple PPV sources. It is also available on physical media as a Limited Edition Steelbook 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray and as a Collector’s Edition [4K UHD] from Scream Factory. 

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film, chosen by Bill, will be Cannibal Ferox (1981), directed by Umberto Lenzi with special effects by Gino De Rossi. Yup. It must be time for a film initially banned in 31 countries.

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the Gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the Gruesome Magazine website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!