#i just had an ear infection the last few days

[artielotl]

sometimes i love healthy anxiety because i find such creative ways to link symptoms together

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[lowkeyremi]

(Implied female reader!!!!!)

Secret!boyfriend!sero who agreed to keep your relationship on the down low since you two are both heroes in training and it’s better to not let your romantic relationship get in the way of school and hero work.

Secret!boyfriend!sero who sneaks into your dorms in the earlier hours of dawn as to not get into trouble with teachers. He usually visits you for sweet, cuddle sessions or a chill movie night. He’s always so hesitant to leave your side when four am arrives.

Secret!boyfriend!sero’s friends and your friends have no idea the two of you are together. They all just think you guys are hopeless, pining idiots. (Well… a few are onto you guys)

Secret!boyfriend!sero who seriously struggles with keeping your relationship a secret. He wants to shout to the rooftops that you’re his beautiful girlfriend. He wants to give you kisses in public and hold your hand.

Secret!boyfriend!sero always tests the waters, seeing just how much he can get away with before you scold him or before people start to get suspicious. He’ll always sit super close to you, letting his knee brush up against yours. If you guys are all in the common area watching a movie, he’ll rest his arm behind you and even graze your shoulder with his fingers.

Secret!boyfriend!sero who gets super moody when some guy from a random class shows interest in you. Obviously, he can’t tell the guy off, because of the secret, but it’s pretty obvious to you when he’s upset.

“Heyyyyy, [name]! How’s that toe infection you had? Has it healed yet?” Sero asks, placing a hand on your shoulder, whilst you were mid conversation with the random guy.

The guy’s face scrunched up into disgust for a brief second, before changing to something more neutral. “I’ll see ya later [last name], I, uh, just remembered I have a support item I need to go pick up!” The guy runs down the hallway within seconds.

“Really Hanta, toe infection?” You cross your arms and glare at him in faux annoyance. Honestly, you think it’s kind of funny how these random boys go running for the hills, whenever Sero says you have some “infection” “disease” or something of the sorts.

“It’s better than last week when I said you had an STD.” Laughter bubbles up in your throat just thinking about the look on some guy’s face when Sero told him you had an STD. Luckily, the whole situation was dealt with before getting too out of hand. Sero ended up getting in huge trouble for saying that, because the guy went around telling everyone in school.

Secret!boyfriend!sero who cannot get enough of you in private. He gives you millions of kisses that he has wanted to give you throughout the day. He always cuddles you tight and whispers to you how beautiful you are.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” Sero whispers into your ear.

“You never stop thinking about me, idiot.” You giggle quietly, before turning around to face him. He’s laying in your bed with you and he absolutely loves it, everything reminds him of you, the sheets, the way you smell, even your blankets and plushies too.

“Yeah, I know, but I really couldn’t think of anything besides you today. When you were hanging out with Eri, I kept thinking about what our little family will look like one day.” He confesses to you. His cheeks are burning a soft pink and he looks you straight in your eyes.

His confession makes you melt almost immediately. You cup his face and place a gentle kiss onto his lips, which he gladly accepts.

“Good grief Hanta, you’re gonna cause my heart to burst. I love you so so SO much.”

After the war, you and Secret!boyfriend!sero finally decide to tell the group about your relationship. Some of your classmates are genuinely surprised, while others claimed that they knew you two were too close to just be friends.

Secret!boyfriend!sero who brings you up any chance he gets. His friends are sick and tired of hearing him talk about you, but he doesn’t care.

“Never have I ever kissed someone…” Denki blurts when it’s his turn, only to add, “on the lips!” Seconds later.

Bakugo takes a shot of hot sauce as well as a few others.

“Losers! Could never be me because-”

“We get it, Sero! You’re dating [name]!!” The blond basically says what everyone is thinking.

Boyfriend!sero who shows you public displays of affection. That doesn’t mean he stops appreciating you in private, because he still does like the champion boyfriend he is, but now that the two of you are public, he loves to do things such as hold your hand, give you kisses, and when you’re in the kitchen area he’ll rest his head on your shoulder. The only thing that you vetoed was sitting in his lap. In private sure, but in front of all of your friends? Um… you don’t think sooo.

Boyfriend!sero who loves you so damn much and would sacrifice his life for you. He’s sure that he’d never be able to find someone else that he loves, the way he loves you. That’s how important you are to him and he knows you feel the same way.

Thank you mha movie for giving me this burst of motivation.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites without my permission, thanks!

[munsonfamilyband]

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the “bandage” but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had “commissioned” from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

“Mom….”

[totheblood]

i still hear you. (prologue)

PAIRING: post tlou2!ellie williams x reader

SUMMARY: ellie stumbles upon your self-run town after her life is destroyed, except there's more to this town then what meets the eye. and it seems like there is more to you too.

WARNINGS: 18+ mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x

A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3

WORD COUNT: 3k

"i still hear you laughing, but only for a minute"

Spring couldn’t come fast enough for Ellie. 

The cold still nipped at the exposed skin on her hands, ghosting the phantom limbs of the two fingers she was now missing. Everything was cold. The tip of her nose, her ears, and most importantly her heart. As she wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go, she knew there was one place she couldn’t go: home. 

Jackson was no longer a place for her. Joel was gone, Tommy thought she was weak, and Dina…Well, Dina wanted nothing to do with her. Dina had a lot she could blame Ellie for before Ellie left, but she never did. She stayed. And now, on top of all of that, Ellie had left one of the few people in her life who cared enough about her to stay. Spring could come tomorrow but it would forever be winter inside her. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she was going west. She couldn’t handle the harsh winters of the East Coast, and Wyoming stopped feeling like home before she left for Seattle. She thought about staying on the farm and living out whatever short life she was going to have there, but staying in that home painted with memories of “what ifs” would drive her crazy. 

So she packed enough supplies to last her a few months if she hunted her food and headed to the West Coast. The first few days were silent, she only encountered a few infected and found shelter in abandoned buildings. She lived off of expired food she found in vending machines in old universities and occasionally sang herself to sleep. 

On her tenth day, she found a car that lasted her about 2 days. Once it broke down, she just kept walking. Over abandoned highways and thick forests, she just kept walking. On day 17, she reached California and stumbled upon an eerily similar set of walls. It looked just like the gates at Jackson, except these were concrete and better built. They were much higher, and the gates almost looked… automatic. 

Ellie was hesitant. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she definitely wasn’t looking for another hometown to destroy. She approached the large walls cautiously, with her hands up and slowly. As she walked closer she was screaming, “I come in peace,” over and over again. She was almost 50 feet near the gate when she heard a girl's voice shout, “Don’t come any closer.”

She stopped in her tracks as the automatic gates began to open. Ellie expected an army of people with guns blazing, just how it was when she first arrived at Jackson, but when the gates opened there just stood you, grounded in all your glory, and a gun aimed right at her face. She wanted to laugh, but that just seemed sexist. 

Instead, you pressed forward, unwavering, with your gun aimed right at her. She didn’t step backward, or even breathe, she just stood there until you were close enough to her to make out all the freckles on her face and the slit in her eyebrow. 

“Who are you?” you spat at her.

“Ellie,” she breathed out, her hands faltering a bit. 

With your hand firmly wrapped around the cold metal of the gun, you inched forward again, pulling back the slide, a metallic click echoing in the silence. The gun was loaded, and you were letting Ellie know that you weren’t afraid to shoot. Her hands stiffened again. 

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was tough and the look on your face was enough to send Ellie running for the hills, but it also made her want to crack a smile. Your nose scrunched up as you spoke, and your lips were somehow not chapped in this weather. But Ellie didn’t smile, she was sure if she did you would put one right between her eyes. That much she was sure of.

“I-” Ellie hadn’t thought this far. What was she doing here? “I’m just looking for a place to stay.” 

Your eyebrows creased as you gave her a once over, looking for any sign she was trouble. It was in your nature to search for danger, but she wasn’t raising any red flags. Except the fact that she made it here alone and unscathed, and was missing two fingers. 

“What happened to your hand?” you asked, tipping the gun slightly to her hand. A pained expression crossed her face, it was almost like she forgot that two of her fingers were quite literally bitten off, but that fight was somewhere shoved deep inside her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.

“Lost them in a fight,” she replied simply, there was no point in telling the full story. It’s not like you had the time. 

“You can’t stay here if you’re going to be trouble,” finally you put the gun down, resting your hands on your hips, giving her a firm look. Ellie would hand it to you, you were absolutely scary. In her mind, she knew she could take you, but she also wasn’t so sure of that.  

“I’m,” she sighed, lowering her hands slowly, “I’m done with that. I won’t be trouble,” and for the first time in Ellie’s life, she meant that. She was ready to start over. She knew the fighter in her would always be there, itching to come out but she had been fighting her whole life. It was time to give up. She had already lost everything. Or so she thought. 

Your face softened slightly before firming up again, your empathy peeking through like it always did. You looked her over again, sighing, as you signaled for someone at the gate to come. A man with short blonde hair trotted over, a leash in his hand. He looked kind as he offered a smile to Ellie.

“Old girl here is just gonna check to make sure you’re not infected,” he smiled, dropping the leash. Ellie’s heart rate picked up again as she watched the German Shepherd approach her slowly, sniffing around her as it circled her. You stood behind the blonde guy with your arms crossed across your chest. The dog found nothing and returned to the man, sitting down next to him, “Looks like you’re all clear!”

“Welcome to Mono City,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards the gate, walking in that direction. You were halfway there when you realized Ellie wasn’t moving. Turning on your heel again you stared at her, hand on your hip again. You had an attitude, Ellie thought, cute. “You coming or what?”

The small town sat on a large lake, glistening as the sun's rays bounced off the surface. Buildings were built close together, trees without leaves scattered on the walkway, and about a hundred people out on the street as she trailed behind you, earning dirty looks from half of them. Ellie scowled back. Ellie smiled when you introduced yourself to her, telling her your name and a few key details about yourself. She learned you served as some sort of mayor here, keeping everything in order, and that you were the person that people came to. She would be lying if she said that didn’t intimidate her. But all Ellie did was give you her name again and tell you that she was from Jackson, anything else she said would fall short. 

“How are you with your hands?” you asked, voice flat and simple. Ellie choked on her words, stuttering a response. 

“I’m, well,” she coughed, “I’m just okay with them now, since,” she shrugged gesturing to what she now called her ‘bad hand’, “you know.”

A wave of guilt crossed your face as you composed yourself, somehow already forgetting your previous interaction. You shook your head solemnly, cursing quietly under your breath as you stopped. 

“Shit,” you turned to her, eyes squeezed shut, “sorry, I’m so used to asking the same questions, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine don’t worry about it,” she gave a tight-lipped smile. Now, with the illumination of the buildings, she could see your whole face. You were pretty, that she was sure of, but it was a more down-to-earth pretty. A type of pretty that you had to take in. You had scars around your face, and a pretty big scar down the side of your neck. It almost looked like the one Ellie had on her arm. But still, scars and all, you were just nice to look at. 

“Well, just for that reason we probably won’t have you be on guard duty,” you stated, eyes flicking around her face, “do you have any other strengths?”

“Uhm,” Ellie had to think for a minute. She had never really been asked anything like this before. What were her strengths? Did she have any at all? She used to be good at guitar, but now she couldn’t play, and that probably wouldn’t be useful at all to anyone here. She was good at art still, something she couldn’t take for granted anymore. It was all she had. The scratched-out drawings of Dina, JJ, Jesse, and Joel were stuffed deep into her bag.

“I’m good at art,” she shrugged, “and writing, maybe.”

“Okay,” you smiled, showing off your teeth, making her warm a bit, “that we can work with. Maybe you can teach at the school.”

“You have a school here?” Ellie gawked. Jackson had a school but it was small and had maybe two or three teachers. 

“Yeah,” you turned to keep walking, making Ellie stumble behind you to keep up, “we have three. An elementary, middle, and high school.”

“Wow,” Ellie was in awe, “It’s not like a military school or anything?” 

“No,” you answered quickly, your voice tight, “It’s not like any of that shit. We don’t fuck with FEDRA here.”

Ellie would be lying if she said that wasn’t music to her ears.

“It’s just like a normal school except we teach a lot more practical things. Things we can use like, cooking, science, and English. Like reading or writing. Since you’re new you will probably start with the elementary school. We also have little extracurriculars and we’ve wanted to introduce art but haven’t been able to find anyone yet.”

“Oh, cool,” was all Ellie said as you both stumbled on what looked like a residential street. There were rows of houses, all that looked the same. There was a road, with cars parked on them and driveways with gates. Most of the houses looked about two stories tall, some had toys lying in the front yards and a few animals were roaming about, small cats and dogs. The porches had furniture on them, little couches and chairs, and as she walked she noticed some people outside with mugs in their hands as if they were drinking their morning coffee. The town looked like something she saw out of a movie, only something she could dream about. Her eyes were wide in awe as you rambled on about something but Ellie was honestly too entranced in everything. Here, in the middle of nowhere was a whole town of people living their lives, as if nothing had ever happened to them. 

“Ellie?” you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms over your chest. There was your attitude again, “are you even listening?”

“Y-yeah, I am. It’s just-”

“A lot, I know,” you sighed, “but you gotta listen, there are a lot of rules here. Rules that make this place function and if you don’t follow them, you could easily be kicked out.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, genuinely meaning it, “I’m listening, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you gave her a fake smile, turning to push open a gate to a nice house, “This will be your place.”

“Uhm,” Ellie stopped, not entering the front yard, “what do you mean ‘my place’? This is far too big for me.”

“This is the only size our houses come in,” you replied matter-of-factly, “you can just say thank you.”

Ellie blinked as she looked up at the blue house, that looked like it was built yesterday. It had a wrap-around porch and two white columns right by the entrance. The door was a giant white door with a gold handle. This was nicer than any house she’s ever been in, and way too big for one girl.  

“Thank you,” Ellie replied, still awe-struck, “this is just so nice.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, fishing around in your bag for something. You pulled out a pair of keys, and handed them to her, “Here’s your house keys. You don’t get a car quite yet, that’s something you have to work your way up to, but there is a bike in the garage. Spring is around the corner so it will get warmer and you should have your car by next winter so don’t worry too much. My house is right across the block, but I’m usually in the City Center if you need me.”

She wrapped her right hand around the keys, tightening them in her palm. She watched as you searched through your bag again and pulled out a little device. 

“This is your walkie,” you took a deep breath, “Try to find me before using it. It’s usually only used for emergencies so just be mindful of that. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you to work, so you have time to get settled in today. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie smiled, her voice sounding a little bit breathless.

That night Ellie settled into her new home. Well, she tried to settle into her new home but kept shifting around in every seat and couch, like she couldn’t find something to get comfortable on. She examined every part of the house, picking the smallest room for herself and shoving her backpack in the closet. She took a bath for the first time in months, washing all the dirt and grime off of her. Left in the shower was a bar of soap that looked like it had been handmade and unused. It smelled so good she almost took a bite, but instead chose to use it how it was meant to be used.

As the sun began to set she stepped outside, watching the activity on the block and smiling to herself. Everything just seemed so normal, but with the state of this world this town was certainly abnormal. From her window she could see you in your front yard, feeding a pack of cats that slipped through your white picket fence. She smiled to herself as she watched one rub against your leg, and your gentle hand coming down to pet it. She continued to watch as kids passed your house, waving to you and running back to their homes. 

The next few days were uneventful. Ellie found herself getting used to teaching young kids, always laughing when they asked about her missing fingers. It was out of her comfort zone, but she was around JJ enough to know what kids liked. Her voice always got so high-pitched when she spoke to them, and they liked being chased around the room. On her fifth day of working, a kid ran in screaming, “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” with a chicken scratch drawing of his family. He was so proud that all Ellie could say was “Good job, bud!” and ruffle his hair. He left with the biggest smile on his face.

But now, Ellie found herself at the city’s most popular bar, with the other teachers who wanted to congratulate her on her first week. Della, who invited Ellie out in the first place, made a toast to her, clinking her glass with Ellie’s and taking a long swig of her drink. Ellie took a sip of hers too and fuck, this shit was strong. 

She felt human again, laughing with people her age in a bar and old music playing. She was almost having a good time until a song came on that reminded her of Joel. It was like her whole demeanor changed and everyone could tell. She excused herself from the group finding a small corner to sit on and finish the rest of her drink, hoping maybe it would make her forget everything. But then, the bell at the front door rang making Ellie look up to see who had entered. 

There you were in all your glory, tight shirt on and hair completely loose. It almost looked as if you were wearing makeup. Ellie must’ve been staring too long because she blinked and you were standing in front of her. 

“See you got yourself a drink,” you laughed, voice making Ellie’s cheeks turn pink. She was… really drunk.

“Yeah, I could get you one too,” she slurred a bit, goofy smile spread across her face. She watched as something odd crossed your face and now she was worried she said something wrong, “I just mean, like.. you know… I mean like as a thank you.”

“Right,” you sighed.

“For my mansion, you know,” she shrugged and you giggled. You giggled and it went straight to her head. What was she doing?

“You haven’t been paid yet,” you smiled back at her, now moving to sit down, “and it’s okay, I don’t drink unless it’s a special occasion.”

“What? Meeting me is not special enough,” she teased, knocking her shoulder with yours. Her eyes scanned your face, your smile reaching your eyes as you giggled again. Her stomach sank again. She wasn’t so sure if this was just the alcohol anymore, she felt like she was 12 and crushing on Riley again. 

“No, it’s special,” you reassured, “Maybe, I’ll drink when you decide to stay.”

“Who said I’m not staying?” she questioned sitting up.

“Some people don’t,” you shrugged, smile fading. Ellie’s brain wanted to make it better, make you laugh again, or shit do anything to put the smile back on your face. 

“Well, I’m gonna,” she said gently, so only you could hear her, “I need to get my paycheck.”

You laughed and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with you. 

“I’ll get that to you,” you smiled, “and we don’t use paychecks.”

“What’re you gonna pay me with?” she smirked, “I know some other ways you can pay me.” Then the same look from earlier crossed your face and she cursed quietly to herself, muttering an apology. 

“No, no,” you said, like you were about to let her down gently, “I just try not to get… involved with anyone since…” your voice trailed off.

“Since?” Ellie questioned, but as you opened your mouth to speak the group from earlier made their way over, noticing your arrival and screaming your name. She watched as you got up, hugged everyone and started chatting with them, leaving her with her drink and too many questions. 

There was one thing that scared her though. She knew you needed someone who could stay, and the only thing she was good at was leaving.

[holdmytesseract]

Safe Haven

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl threatens to lose his grip and gets swallowed by the trauma he experienced in the Sanctuary, you try your best to catch him and being his safe haven he desperately needs.

Warnings: quite some angst, fluff, insecurity? mentions of scars, injuries and torture, nudity, FEELS, FEELS, FEELS

Set in Season 7!

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This story is based on an idea from @erebus-et-eigengrau . I hope you like how this turned out, lovely friend! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °��• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Daryl?" You spoke his name in a quiet voice as you took the archer's hand slowly and carefully in yours. His fingers twitched, but didn't pull away from your gentle hold. "Do you trust me?" Your voice was just above a whisper; so afraid to scare him off or make him feel even more comfortable than he probably already felt.

Tainted, yet still incredibly beautiful blue eyes met yours, as Daryl lifted his gaze; peeking through long strands of sweaty, greasy chestnut brown hair which hung in his face. You patiently waited for an answer while your thumb had absent-mindedly started to caress the rough skin on the back of his hand - an attempt to provide him some comfort and reassurance.

The archer started to nod; merely noticeable, but he did. "'M trustin' ya," he added quietly; voice even more raspy than usually. Hearing those words leaving his lips caused your heart to skip a beat. Sure, you and Daryl had been a thing for quite a few months now and deep down you knew that he had been always trusting you. Unless he'd have never opened his heart for you. But nevertheless was it wonderful to hear.

You nodded, "Okay." gently squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. "Come with me?" Daryl nodded once more; wordlessly and let you guide him wherever it was you wanted to take him.

Your destination was the small trailer you - and now Daryl, shared in Hilltop. Crickets and some distant chatter from the other residents was all that could be heard alongside yours and the archer's steps through the grass.

You led Daryl inside your home and closed the door behind the both of you - never letting go of his hand. Not even for a second. Cautiously stepping closer, you lifted your free hand to cup his cheek; feeling the greyish hairs of his beard tickle your palm. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut at your touch; a soft gasp leaving his lips.

Your eyes widened. "Fuck..." You cursed under your breath; knowing that you just did what you swore you wouldn't do. Unintentional or not. "Daryl, no, I-" You inhaled a shaky breath; afraid to hurt him. "I put that wrong. I don't ask you to tell me what... What happened there. I would never force you to do so. Never. It's entirely up to you. Your decision." You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. "A-All I wanted to say is... We need to give you a shower and fresh clothes... Your wounds... They... I don't want them to get infected. L-Let me take care of you, please?" Your gaze never left Daryl's; always checking in on him - on how he felt.

"My love... I won't ever force you to this..." you started; gently tracing the last remains of a bruise underneath the archer's eye. "Never, b-but-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt Daryl flinch slightly; a literal storm of emotions starting to rage inside his eyes - and you immediately realised that you had chosen the wrong words.

Daryl had escaped Negan and the Sanctuary not even a day ago and whatever they had done to him... Whatever he had experienced... You knew it was something traumatic. Something horrible. He hadn't told you. Not even a word - and you would never force him to do so. If he ever wanted to talk, you were going to welcome him with open arms and a sympathetic ear. You were his partner after all. You'd wait until he was ready to open up to you - whenever it might be. One day, one week, one month, one year - or hence, even never. All you cared about was his well-being and safety.

The archer swallowed at your words; seemingly giving your words a thought, before he bobbed his head in a small nod. "Y-Yeah, a'right," he whispered and turned his head only a few inches; just enough that he was able to press a feather-light kiss against your palm.

Another soft smile darted over your face and you retreated your hand from his cheek. Then you gave the hand which was still neatly tucked in yours a small tug; urging him on to follow you again - what he did.

The bathroom wasn't really spacious. Barely big enough to fit two people inside, but you had less and definitely worse. You wouldn't complain. Never. This was the end of the world after all. You'd take what you get and make it work.

Once again you closed the door behind the two of you, before returning to face the man you loved. "You trust me?" You repeated your question from earlier, now that he knew what you were up to - just to make sure. Your thumb worked gentle circles in the skin on the back of his hand.

It wasn't like you had never seen him shirtless or well, naked before, no. You did. That wasn't the point. But this right now... This was different. So much more... intimate. Perhaps the most intimate moment in your relationship so far, since you and the archer had yet to take the step of being physically joined. You, neither Daryl didn't want to just rush into things. You both agreed to take your time - which definitely proved to be the right decision, because you and the archer weren't exactly experts in romantic relationships.

Like before was Daryl's answer a clear 'Yes'. Giving his hand a last squeeze, you let go - much to the archer's dismay. His hand twitched - unbeknownst to you, as he held back the urge to chase after your hand - your reassuring touch, which kept him grounded.

Instead were hovering your hands now above his shoulders; fingertips grazing the plaid shirt he wore over the white t-shirt. "M-May I?" You asked hesitatingly; again afraid to make him feel uncomfortable, despite his promise of trust.

Nevertheless did it happen from time to time, that one would walk in on the other after a shower or while getting dressed to which you and Daryl got used to and normally were comfortable with. It had taken him quite a while longer than you, though, given the fact of how insecure he was. Not exactly about his body itself, but the scars which were covering it - a steady reminder of his abusive father and the traumatic past he had experienced. You felt absolutely honoured; heart aching with love, as he started to feel comfortable enough around you to be shirtless and even naked.

A higher declaration of love didn't exist. Not when your name was Daryl Dixon.

You squatted down and made quick work to untie the laces of his shoes. "Can you take off your shoes for me, love?"

"Y-Yeah," Daryl's deep voice managed to snap you out of your thoughts; giving you permission to help him. You smiled gently and shrugged the plaid shirt over his shoulders, down his arms; throwing it carelessly aside on the floor. Next was the sweaty, stained t-shirt he wore.

"Can you...?" You asked; gently tapping his elbows. "O-Or does it hurt?" Wordlessly, Daryl lifted his arms and let you pull the dirty t-shirt slowly and carefully over his head; leaving him shirtless - and the sight you were greeted with caused a gasp to leave your lips. His upper body was littered with bruises and cuts. Your heart ached seeing all his injuries; violently inflicted to the man you loved. You swallowed hard, "Daryl..." quietly calling out his name; voice filled with hurt. The archer lowered his head. "'S okay... H-Had worse," he muttered and definitely tried to downplay the extent of his pain - physically and probably even mentally.

You instantly shook your head. "N-No, it... It's not. They hurt you..." Tears gathered in your eyes, as your fingertips hovered over a particularly dark bruise on his rips. You didn't receive an answer. Daryl's eyes were still directed at the ground, but you could see that he was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You couldn't quite tell what was going on in that pretty head of his. Was it insecurity? Shame? Guilt? Fear? All of it? Whatever it was that had captured the archer's mind, you knew it wasn't good and therefore immediately tried to pull him out of this again.

Your hand found his again; fingers intertwining as you guided him towards the trailer's shower. You slid the creme-white curtain aside and opened the tap; hand underneath the water jet to feel the temperature. Once the water was pleasantly warm, you turned to face Daryl. "Water is ready. I, uh, I'm going to give you some space now, okay? Call me whenever you need me, yeah? I'll be just outside the door." You squeezed his hand and gave him another soft smile, before letting go and stepping aside.

Your tender voice urging to Daryl's ears seemed to do the trick. Slowly, he lifted his gaze; even more troubled blue eyes meeting yours, as he started to kick off his shoes, together with the socks.

Now there was only his jeans and underwear left. Hesitatingly, you reached for the button and zipper of his pants. Locking eyes with the archer once more, you silently asked for his permission again. When there was no objection, you continued and helped him step out of his jeans first and lastly out of the grey, absolutely uncomfortable looking briefs. A few small grunts left his lips; clearly indicating that his body was definitely aching and hurting - which gave your heart another jolt. And Daryl? Daryl didn't even do as much as flinch. His gaze was still directed on the floor; his mind most likely returning to wander down that dark path like minutes before.

You cursed yourself internally.

Space. The word echoed through Daryl's head like the ring of a gunshot. Well, it certainly felt like a bullet had pierced his heart to leave him aching and bleeding. Space... It was the last thing he wanted from you. Watching you walk away only caused to double the pain. He needed you as close as possible. You had been already too far away from him for the last weeks. He couldn't bear to lose you again - even if it was just for a few minutes.

"N-No, please... Stay. D-Dun'- Dun' wantcha to go," he whispered; voice strained and raspy. It caused you to stop dead in your tracks. Stay? He wanted you to stay? Your heart skipped yet another beat. You swiftly turned to face him once again. The expression on Daryl's face broke you. He looked so... lost. Desperate. Afraid. And once again, you immediately noticed that you had just committed another mistake.

How could you leave him alone after all he's been through; thinking he needed the space, when it was clearly written all over his face that he needed everything but space?

"Of course, I'll stay. If that's what you want..." You spoke in a compassionate voice; the gears in your brain turning.

"Do you feel comfortable enough for me to join you? T-That okay for you, o-or...?" You asked Daryl cautiously; not wanting to take this too far. But to your slight surprise nodded the man opposite you immediately. "Please..." That one word was enough.

You made quick work to shed your own clothes; leaving you entirely bare as well. Daryl didn't make a sound. Except for shy eyes travelling your now exposed body - and his cheeks flushed. You took his hand in yours again; unbeknownst anchoring him to you - to the here and now and not letting him wander off to the Sanctuary again.

With a soft smile, you gently tucked at the archer's hand; pulling him into the shower and underneath the pleasantly warm water jet after you.

He was visibly comfortable - and that was all that mattered.

The water was quick to get the both of you soaking wet; Daryl's chestnut brown bangs sticking to his face. You brought your hands up and gently peeled the loose strands away and out of his face; not missing the opportunity to caress his beardy cheeks. The archer just stared at you in silence and didn't even move an inch. He relied completely on you, as if he had lost the control over his own body. His heart in the palm of your hands.

"C'mere, sweets," your voice grabbed his attention - and the lack of warm water cascading down his beaten and bruised body. He blinked and took a step closer to you. "I'm going to wash your hair now, is that okay?" Daryl gave a confirming nod and within seconds had you squirted some shampoo on your hands and buried them in his curls; massaging gently. The man's eyes slipped shut with a cute grunt and groan of relaxation and satisfaction. You couldn't help but smile.

While you washed the archer's hair, he was fighting the urge to bury his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hands twitching to cup your hips - but he didn't dare to do so; too afraid to cross a line. He didn't want to do something wrong and push you away. It was a nightmare he wasn't strong enough to fight right now. Never - if he was being honest.

Once you had rinsed the brown mop of hair on his head, you moved on to his body - but not without asking for his consent again. You were even more hesitant and cautious in that regard, since touching his head and touching his whole body were two very different things...

"Dar... Will you allow me to..." You questioned him almost nervously; trailing off and kinda awkwardly gesturing between the bottle of shower gel and him. "I-I don't have to. Y-You can-" "I trust ya." And once again were - this time three - words enough from the man in front of you to jump into action; feeling a rush of love flooding your veins. He was trusting you enough to let you touch his body. Even in the vulnerable state he was currently in. It meant the world to you and you were determined to show him. You gave him yet another sweet smile and went to work; always making sure to capture his eyes now and then to make sure he was still okay with what your hands were doing.

Rinsing off the remaining soap, you got the first real close look of the tattoo on his shoulder blade and his scars, of course. You felt a pang of compassion and sorrow deep in your heart. Life had certainly left its marks on him. That much was clear. He didn't deserve this... All the pain. All the hurt. All the losses he had to endure. It wasn't fair.

You started with his soaping his upper body; feeling the bumps of his scars underneath your palm - what you didn't mind at all, of course. You had told him a hundred of times by now that he was beautiful to you no matter what.

Your touch was soft and delicate; making sure to not hurt him and being cautious about his cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, you couldn't prevent the shower gel from getting into the deeper cuts, which caused Daryl to hiss and you to repeatedly mutter the words 'I'm so sorry.'. Then you moved on to his legs and gave them a gentle scrub as well, before you went to rinse the soap off of his body again; starting with the front and lightly tapping his shoulder to signal him to turn around for you - what the archer did. Wordlessly - but words weren't needed anyway. Not between the both of you.

Returning the shower head back into its holder, you felt the overwhelming urge to give him all the love he deserved and slowly snuck your arms around his waist; pressing your smaller body against his back. Daryl flinched slightly at the sudden contact, but his muscles relaxed instantly again; knowing it was you and not just anybody. And yet he couldn't stop the gasp to leave his mouth when your lips started to trail a path of kisses over ever single scar and bruise; mapping out his broad back.

Until now.

Daryl's eyes slipped shut; a feel of love and comfort rushing through his veins - so much, it was overwhelming. It was like the connection he shared with you had reached a new kind of depth - in the most positive way. He hadn't felt this loved and accepted in years, decades even. Not before you stumbled into his life.

Daryl had felt like falling deeper and deeper; a dark hole sucking him in. It was like his body was present, but his mind still stuck in the hellhole Negan had caged him in.

Emotions exploded within Daryl; his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage with all the love it was feeling. He couldn't help himself but to turn in your embrace and press his forehead against the crook of your neck; not hesitating this time.

Now all he could feel and see was you. Even when he closed his eyes.

Sure, the archer's mind would still need some more time to heal, but you had caught him; kept him from losing his grip.

His sudden movement caught you by surprise at first, but then you just smiled and buried your hands in his wet curls, while Daryl's calloused, gentle hands skimmed over your bare back, sides and hips. But not in a sexual way. All the archer wanted was to feel you; needing to convince his brain that you were truly real - and his. Yes, it was the most intimate moment you and Daryl shared - and it was perfect.

Sure, sex was great, but that... That was a whole other level of intimacy. It was so much more.

You were so lost in the moment, that you didn't notice how your archer's tears mixed with the warm water still cascading down over your intertwined bodies, as he almost frantically held onto you.

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[macfrog]

jet

🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies

word count: 6.9k

main masterlist

Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.

It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.

You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.

You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.

Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.

He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.

Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.

“Infected?” you asked.

He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.

You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.

Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.

You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.

Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.

That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.

Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.

You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.

It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.

It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.

You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…

“Not much out here, is there?”

His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.

You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.

“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.

“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.

Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.

Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.

And you knew not to push him.

The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.

He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.

Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.

“You can lie down, too, y’know.”

He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.

“Joel.”

You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.

He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”

Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.

You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.

“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.

You shrugged. “So do you.”

“What good is both of us tired?”

You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.

Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.

You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.

It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.

Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.

“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”

You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.

“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.

Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.

You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.

You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.

He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.

Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.

He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.

Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.

You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.

He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.

And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.

Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.

He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.

You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.

When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.

You do that already, you told him.

‘s different outside. You don’t understand.

It can’t be any worse than in here.

You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.

You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.

Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.

His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.

He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.

Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.

You’re both good at getting each other…there.

Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.

It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.

It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.

Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.

“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.

“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.

“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”

He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”

He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.

That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.

“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.

“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”

Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.

Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.

“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.

He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.

“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.

He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.

He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.

“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”

“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.

“What’s your horse called?”

“She ain’t got a name.”

You tsk. “Bad owner.”

“We ain’t their owners.”

“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”

“What if something happens to them?”

“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”

He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.

You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.

It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.

Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.

He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.

“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.

“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”

The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.

He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.

“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.

“Just had to find somewhere better.”

“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”

He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.

“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”

Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.

You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.

His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.

“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.

“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.

“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”

“Mhm.”

You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.

You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.

Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.

Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.

“Want you to…want you…”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.

His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.

“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.

He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.

Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.

His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.

“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”

You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.

Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.

Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.

“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.

“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”

He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.

He blinks. Decision made.

“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.

And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.

You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.

“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”

You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.

He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.

Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.

“Since you don’t wanna listen.”

The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.

Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.

Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.

“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”

He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.

His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.

“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”

Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.

You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.

“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.

You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.

You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…

It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.

Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.

Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.

His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.

You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.

You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.

“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.

Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…

It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.

He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.

Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.

Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.

“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.

He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”

You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.

Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.

Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.

This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.

Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.

This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.

And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.

He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you’re proving that you’ll let him.

Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.

Probably, possibly. Definitely.

Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.

When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.

“Baby…” he whispers.

“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”

Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.

“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”

Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.

It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.

“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.

You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.

With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.

The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.

“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.

“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.

“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.

Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.

You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.

Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.

Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.

Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.

He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.

You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.

Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.

Before you know it, you’re sleeping.

Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.

The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.

It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.

You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.

His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.

You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.

He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.

Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.

His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.

“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.

“Horse’s name. Ghost.”

“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.

He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”

Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.

“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.

And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.

----------

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Live a Little, Give a Little ... More [Part 2]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Live a Little Give a Little part 1

Summary: you've got one last stunt in you before you retire to have your baby--will your mystery Baby Daddy make a final appearance?

Warnings: Breeding kink, pregnancy, exhibition, groping, public sex, public teasing, dub con, manhandling, rape-esc situation that may be triggering, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You keep waving to your camera even after it clicks off and stops recording. Leaning back in your streaming chair, you close your eyes. 

Well, you did exactly what you set out to do: gained a shit ton of views and earned a mega bonus from your subscribers, rating shooting up thanks to that little stunt you pulled a few months ago.

You peer down, drumming your fingers along the hefty bump that had grown in your belly since then. “Hope you’re a bit more responsible than me, kiddo,” you mumble, smiling softly as you stroke over with gentle fingers.

Getting pregnant was not exactly how you imagined achieving that feat.

In all honesty, the plan was never to fuck a stranger on a crowded train. You were on the pill, but STD and STIs were a thing, so the furthest you had genuinely planned with a few hand jobs and being groped by perverts. 

But the second you felt that man on you, felt his cock pulse in your legs, something else over took you. Your whole bodies shivers with excitement every time recalling that day. Trying to etch every single detail into your memory. His callused hands, the firm, broad chest and shoulders that easily could overpower you, his warm thick fingers dancing along your skin, the trace of his breath along the shell of your ear, each beautiful little grunt and groan echoing in your ear like a broken record. 

His massive fucking hung horse cock.

You’ve been fucked by big-dicked guys before. But to know how to use it so fucking well that you don’t need to be battered to a pulp just to feel it, is something that no man can compare to your handsome baby Daddy.

Slickness pools in your panties. At some point, your belly is going to be big enough that you won’t be able to touch yourself. But for now, as your hand dips into your underwear and gathers your arousal, you think about him. 

If he was here now, would he make you cum on his fingers before you could have his cock buried to the hilt in you? Tell you that you’re a naughty girl, so fertile and sweet for the taking? A cum hungry dumb slut who doesn’t know how to function without his seed filling her up at every conceivable moment. Make you watch yourself in the mirror cum like a whore from his touch as he promises to breed and brand you over and over again for the world to see. You bite your lips, feeling him hot on your skin, balls twitching with each pulse of his seed dumping safely into your waiting womb to take him.

The thoughts of the faceless, nameless man who impregnated you on a crowded train during rush hour brings you to orgasm much quicker than any toy or method you’ve tested. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, a slight grin tugging on your lips as you rub your pussy through her little quakes, desperate to feel complete again.

You come down from your high, sticky fingers tracing along your belly as you drift into your current situation, ironically brought on by your insatiable horny lust.

No, you didn’t intend to have sex with a stranger that day. And when you weighed the odds in the nano-second before he impaled you… I mean, even if you got an infection, so what, just this once? What OnlyFans streamer didn’t have a disease or two? (No, please don’t take that advice)

You got tested immediately afterwards, and thankfully everything else came back negative from your fun encounter.

It only took a few more weeks after that of peculiar symptoms to get tested for something else that, to you genuine surprise, was positive. 

The man must have super sperm to have blown past your supposedly unstoppable birth control, which hadn’t even failed you when you did that 5 creampie amateur gang bang porno last summer.  Maybe you were only an hour late in taking your dosage on time that one day, too drunk and more concerned about fingering him cum back into you, but still…

You went into shock for a solid week, not sure what to do. Sometimes even now you feel a little jolt in your tummy, and see your body changing, and it just keeps dawning on you that you’re actually about to have a whole ass child.

And you don’t know the father.

It’s both thrilling and horrifying shook up in a bottle of hormones and currently sitting on the edge of a cliff. You should scold yourself for how stupid you were, if only you actually regretted it.  Even if you’re about to be a single mother who cant explain a thing to your soon to be child about their daddy, you knew you were gonna love you baby. No doubts.

Besides, when you were more financially stable, you DID plan to have kids at some point. So what if it’s a little sooner than expected? Life is full of unexpected surprises! 

You decided after the baby is born, no more streaming. You were gonna get a more stable, (more cloth required) job and raise your precious kiddo on your own.

But a few teasing streams until then, just to milk those breeding, misogynistic, baby bump hungry men out there willing to throw money at you if you rubbed milk over your belly, would be worth those extra bucks before calling it quits altogether.

Still, it would be nice feel him just one more time…

-

Joel’s been watching your stream obsessively since that day you brazenly showed your pregnant belly to the world. He’s got notifications going off on his phone every time you upload something. 

Even with his cock in his hand, most of the time you just talk to your followers, answer their questions about your pregnancy so far, and about that day.

He sees the way your eyes glint, the corner of your lips curving into an unashamed smile as you retell details about him.

Sure, all the lonely fucks in the chat spam your inbox “that’s so hot”, “god I wish that were me,” “can I use your holes and breed you next? My bus departs in 30 mins ;)”

Honestly, who’s to say you aren’t pulling a total bluff? You’re a porn streamer; it’s your job to feed into men like his fantasies. Maybe you had fucked a dozen guys on the train that day, got pregnant from one of them, and only uploaded Joel’s session because it was the hottest? Maybe you were already pregnant, and you’re just spinning a scandalous story for your followers to hold on to? And who’s to say you don’t already have a cuck boyfriend or husband, who could have been filming or watching you two on the train that day from a different angle?

The thought of you belonging to another man, of the baby you “claim” to his being another’s makes his hand grip his cock tightly, teeth grinding down on one another while staring at your beautiful eyes and smile through the computer screen.

He drops a pool of spit on to his tip before sheathing it over with his hand, lubing his cock. You would usually end the stream with some tease:

“God, my breasts are just getting so sore,” you groan dramatically. You unbutton your blouse and reveal your naked cleavage. “Don’t even have any more bras because they’re getting so damn heavy!” You cup them and moan into the camera, relieving the ache while pinching your nipples. 

Joel licks his lips. He had gotten to know you (or the version of you on your stream) a lot more intimately thanks to discovering your blog. He spent hours studying every detail that he missed. Its one thing to have dumped his load into your exquisite pussy, but to be able to see your face, hear your unashamed moans, ogle your gorgeous breasts and body that he had been denied that day makes him yearn to have you one more time.

Your belly had grown just as quickly, drooping over your pelvis just a bit more than before. You’re not at full mast yet. He watches how you maneuver, maybe a little slower or more bulky than before. It fills him with pride, seeing how much you’re having to struggle with his child growing in you. At the very least, you can still reach to get a bulbous pink dildo in your cunt and flash the camera as you masturbate, crying out as you beg Daddy to breed you again.

Joel cups his balls with one hand while the other furiously works over his shaft. His stomach tenses, building towards his release with eyes transfixed on the way that little cunt still has enough room to fit that toy. He would know, you took him with very little prep. 

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” he groans.  Doesn’t care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your belly tightens as a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here!  If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

-

You stand along the train platform, anxiously glancing over your shoulder at the random passersby just trying to catch a commute. Some men have definitely eyed you in less than innocent ways already. It’s a cest pool of perverts today. 

You contemplate the biggest hiccup in your plan: You know the only chance you have to recognize him is from feeling his huge dick splitting you open again. Cinderella slipper style, if you will. You didn’t have a name, an address, any identifiable features—you wouldn’t even be able to recognize his face if it were right in front of you given that you never really saw more than a blurred partial reflection of it in the first place. That monster cock is the only thing that you’re betting your life on right now to find him.

But for the safety of your baby—you had 0 plans to fuck anybody today. And I mean it this time.

The wind from the train tunnels keeps riling up your frilly dress, the fabric now fitting a little more snug than it did before thanks to your baby on the way. There’s a sense of excitement mixed with disappointment steaming in your flip flops. No, you had no hope of actually finding him again. 

 But who’s to say you can’t still have a little fun, touch some dicks, get your tits squeezed and call it a successful career?

Rush hour got a bit crazy, and boy were the men just as in a hurry. You bit your lip and smiled at a man who brushed by you, his hand happily squeezing your little ass cheek through your dress. He seemed young, thin, definitely not your man, but his long fingers did feel nice, caressing your hips as he grinned to you as well. Swaying your chest in front of him, he peers over your cleavage. The two of you waited along the platform, the crowd shifting awkwardly around you waiting for the train. You twiddled your hair, angling your phone up so it could capture his hand gently caressing your lower belly. 

His eyes widen in surprise: your bump wasn’t entirely obvious under the skirt of the dress, still small enough to be concealed under baggy clothing but very obvious the moment you feel it or pull the fabric tight. You giggle as he eagerly stroked over your belly, and you can barely see the twinkle of a fantasy forming behind those eyes.

The train followed forward a little too soon, and the man got on without another glance at you. Probably his wedding ring might have had something to do with it, but no matter. You remained where you were.

When the cart rushed past again, the wind blowing your dress, you caught the eye of a group of two behind you. You winked at them, lifting your skirt scandalously to show off your bare ass and wiggle at them, before enticing them to follow you behind the stairwell. 

You propped your phone up quickly, conveniently cutting off from the neck up to disguise their faces before they too rounded the corner. One was a bit shorter, dark haired, maybe around 40s with a full beard. His hands were all wrong, not your guy, but you didn’t deter him as he stroked along your cheek and down your cleavage, pulling the fabric of the dress tight to see your swollen tits. 

The other man, tall and muscular under that tight shirt, blond and younger, pressed firmly along your back, the outline of his cock making you rub your ass along his crotch. You quickly reached behind you and stroked his stiff bulge while they pinched your nipple through your dress, held the weight of your pregnant belly and brushed their knuckles along your inner thigh. 

Their faces didn’t matter. Maybe they were your fans, maybe they were just some lucky pervs at the right place at the right time. Either of them could be your mystery man, while neither could be too. You try to brush off your disappointment with a flirty laugh, stroking both of them through their trousers as they breathed in your perfume and continued to touch your body. No, their cocks were all wrong. It didn’t feel this rigid or this plump, his tip was more bulbous than this, and the curvature is in the opposite direction.

You glanced at your camera, making sure you’re getting good angles of your pronounced body sandwiched between these two creeps. They didn’t say much, thankfully, and you didn’t care to talk. Your feed was blowing up, with them none the wiser at behind recorded.  It’s not until you peep again at the screen that you see a third man entering the frame behind you. 

The other guys shift uncomfortably at his intrusion, but you look up at lucky perv number three. You don’t bat an eye when he boldly put his hand between your thighs and slid up along your skin, thick digits grazing your wet folds. You hum contently. Oh, he’s here for the cake. You try not to go hazy, eying the cheeky bastard while being stimulated all over.

 His height was between the other two but that didn’t make him any less imposing. Broad around the shoulders with a bit of a soft tummy, but his denim shirt hugged those biceps so well. And he’s older too, much older due to the wrinkles under his brown eyes and the grays starting to take over in his curled hair and patchy beard—

Your brows furrow for a second, not enough time to process your thoughts before he’s shoving the other two men aside despite their protests and walking you back against the tiled wall, your bum resting on the metal bar there. His torso parts your legs perfectly, and you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. He only grins, something very knowing behind that look, a secret you feel left out from, and you’re about to call it all off until he rolls that massive THANG between his legs against your uncovered core.

You moan out in surprise, your head falls forward on his chest. He growls something out to the other guys, who end up scurrying away with their palms pressed on their crotches like scared dogs. 

“L-Look, mister,” you say, and fuck you should be trying to fight this harder. Especially with the jangle of his belt coming undone between you. You don’t want some stranger fucking you—again—that defeats the whole purpose of the tease! You could still shout for help, there’s plenty of other people just around the corner if he tries anything funny. And your baby, your health, your safety— “I don’t —I’m not in the mood for anything—penetrative. But I could satisfy you in other ways,” you huff, dragging your lower lip between your teeth.

He smirks again. His breath is warm, so close to your face you could almost kiss him. He feels so strong yet so soft, holding you securely against him, his hand cradling your belly while his tented cock pressed along your clit. Your hearts racing, beating wildly that you don’t doubt he can’t feel it against his own. Maybe he’s considering it, something willing yet still satisfying. You feel drunk off him despite only sampling the scent of him, not the taste quite yet.

He holds your gaze with his curved nose honing yours. Its intimate.

Familiar.

You should protest at least a little when he flips you around and bends you over. He’s got one hand protectively over your belly, making sure you don’t fall into the wall. You glance up, and the sight of your body positioned perfectly centered at your camera. Fuck—he knew where the camera was? Was he a fan watching your stream before he came over? Your shocked expression fills the screen as his torso and hips press against your ass, yellow dress flipped over your hips for his private view.

Your mind is reeling, unaware of the thick slap of his length against your folds—that jolts your attention. You know that cock…

He thrusts in all at once.  No voice escapes your parted lips to convey the cross eyed, fantastic, unbelievable, one in a million stretch that you had been missing for months, now filling you up to the brim and suffocating every available micro meter inside of you, and making you whole again. The same stretch, the one that’s making you cum on his cock right now, flooding your senes as arousal electrifies every nerve in your body.

The man behind you only chuckles, still getting the perfect view of your gaping mouth and furled brows reflected on the phone scream. he hisses lowly between his teeth as you continue to clench around his cock with your sweet wet little cunt. It’s like scanning a membership, and your body finally recognizes the owner of the shop. You pant harshly into the bar, walls convulsing over his thick length buried deep to your occupied womb.

The man that had placated your mind, your pussy and womb for the last 6 months, the man who left the best gift you’d ever received, the man right here in the flesh, that you had almost considered a dream were it not for the growing swell of his child in your womb occupying your delirium…

He leans over you, just enough so that only his lips are visible at the top of the screen, his voice ghosting along your ear: “Hi babygirl. Missed you. Looks like you have a little surprise for Daddy.” You feel his bear palms caress your swollen tummy.

Your lips curl into a delirious smile, lashes fluttering in blissful patterns of love as your entire being welcomes this man into the home he’s already carved out of you.

Even your baby nestled small in your womb wiggles excitedly at the recognition of her Daddy.

Neither of you look away from another as he begins thrusting into you, rocking your body back and forth along his member like the toy you’re so good at being.

He was amazing—no, better than before if it’s possible. Impossibly hard, long, thick and throbbing, all shoved up your pussy with desperate ruts, impaling your soaking pussy over and over again. You had to remind yourself, still lost like a love sick puppy in his eyes, that you were still in public, being fucked raw, pregnant, behind the stairwell of a crowded train station during rush hour. Nosy chatter echoed through the tunnel as the two of you humped against one another, partially clothed minus your genitals connected in a haze of passionate fucking. The phone in front of you is only forgotten, and you can only imagine the comments and tips blowing up at the fact that you’d actually found him.

Despite the openness, the vulnerability of your position, it feels far more intimate, just the two of you fucking to your hearts content. You’ll wonder later about the wondering eyes from trains beginning to enter the station and seeing the two of you in the blurred windows , but right now, you’d be ready to take his second bastard child right this second. 

Your handsome hero reaches past you and turns the recording off, flipping the phone down. If he’s going to have you again, really have you, it would be his own little private show. No camera. No show. He abruptly pulls out before spinning you around and nestling himself between your thighs again, his cock aligning to your entrance before sliding right back in. Right where he belongs.

“Oooooh shiiiit. Shit Momma, you’re so good at taking it,” he rasps into your neck. He presses a wet kiss along your throat, each thrust pushing you back but he holds you close and sucks you right into his grasp again. Your open lips hover over one another as he sets his pace again, his tip now kissing your cervix with each kiss of your pregnant belly to his naval.

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” He growls with an edge of desperation. “Tell me it’s mine.” Beads of sweat begin to form along the creases of his forehead, but he didn’t once consider slowing his pace. With the pay your ass jiggles at each slap of skin.

“It’s yours,” you cry. There’s no doubt. your heart screams with joy just as the knot in your stomach snaps. he grips your mouth with his strong hand as your head rolls in ecstasy, wailing out into his flesh with unfiltered moans.

Harsh breaths are forced out of his nose, his lips switching between a snarl and a grin as he nears his end. 

“Inside,” you hum into his ear.

He wasn’t planning on putting it anywhere else. With one final heave, he lifts you off the rail briefly, your weight balncing under his arms and your tiptoes on the ground as he bursts inside of you, painting your walls with his hot cream.

You both breathe in the polluted air. Distant echoes of the rafters rattling in the darkened caves ahead while footsteps rustle down the metal stairs behind the two of you. The breeze of the caverned tunnels cools the sweat along both your bodies. He hasn’t let go, still glued to you, holding you close as if you’d slip away.

You sit upright in his lap, trying to catch your breath. You survey one another, pupils blown wide yet calming. The two of you just giggle as your pants slowly sync together. His rough yet gentle fingertips stroke your cheek before brushing away the strands of messy hair that had covered your beautiful face, and for the first time, he can really get a full look at you in person.

“I’m Joel,” he says sweetly. He brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a gentle and long kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You shake your head and laugh, offering your name to him as well.

Although, at this point, with his cock still impaled deep inside, his baby growing in your womb— its safe to say the two of you are well past such a redundant formality.

-----

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[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader) Part 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Seek medical attention for infected bite wounds.

The first chapter

Shanks POV

Hongo tilted his head to the side while contemplating your last statement. His mouth opened and closed before asking  “Captain, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Shanks nodded, using his thumb to wipe away the tear tracking down the Omega’s face.

“Stay here, OK? I’ll be just outside the door,” Shanks said in your ear quietly, his stubble scraping against your cheek and earning him a shiver from you. Picking you off his lap with ease, Shanks set the Omega down on the unmade bed. You were still steadfastly looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact with either Hongo or himself. Shanks stood up and followed the doctor, opening and shutting the cabin door gently behind him to avoid startling you. 

“Are you keeping her?” the doctor asked, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Shanks hadn’t given it much thought in the short time he’d had the Omega on his ship. If Shanks was a better man, he could let her go back on suppressants while living in anonymity on a protected island. She’d made it years without being detected and likely could go back to doing the same. 

Or he could sell her and make a ton of Berri, maybe even equal to his bounty. This idea was dismissed as the thought of turning her over to someone who would traumatize her just as badly - or maybe worse - turned his stomach. Besides, the islands he protected were perfectly happy to supply him with whatever the crew needed. The Red Force was welcomed all over the Grand Line, Shanks had no need for more money.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” Shanks said, rubbing his goatee. The idea to keep the Omega for himself had growing appeal. Your scent had started to perfume the cabin and it was taking everything in Shanks not to rub his nose on your scent glands. You had a subtle scent of lily of the valley and cedar that Shanks found incredibly appealing. With his status, power, and crew he could keep you safe from anyone else who would seek to have you. 

“Well, you’d better decide quickly. If you’re not keeping her, we need to get her off the ship immediately.”

“How much time do we have?” Shanks asked, peeking back in on your still form again. If he didn’t see you breathing and blinking, he would have thought you a statue.

“Only four to five days, and that’s if your presence around her doesn’t initiate her heat sooner which it likely will. If you’re not keeping her, we gotta put her in the infirmary, brig, or somewhere where your and Beckman’s scent is weak.” The mention of Beckman set Shanks on edge, surprising both himself and the doctor. He’d been friends with Beckman for over twenty years and this was the first time he’d ever felt anything so negative towards the man.

“How much do you know about Omegas?” 

Shanks hummed as he recalled that he had read a few books over the years, but hadn’t taken a particular interest in Omegas. He didn’t think he’d ever find one and he wouldn’t want to spend a single Berri on buying one through the slave trade. He’d bedded hundreds of Betas and even a few Alphas which had suited him just fine. “I know a little but not all that much truthfully,” he stated while looking at you through the circular window in the cabin door. You hadn’t moved an inch, your gaze still trained on the floor, sitting in the exact position Shanks had left you in. He could only imagine what Kid had done to you to train you to such a sick level of obedience. 

“We’ve got to get to an island and dock for the duration otherwise everyone’s gonna be miserable, especially Beckman. You’re not gonna want anyone else around her either.” 

“How do you know she’s going to be in heat?” Shanks asked, genuinely curious.

Hongo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Doctor isn’t just a title, I went to a real medical school. I learned about all this and we need to get her ready. If this is her first heat like she’s saying it will be, it’s going to be intense.”

“What does that mean exactly? What do we need to do for her?” Shanks’s practical knowledge about heat cycles left something to be desired. He’d often glossed over those sections in manuscripts under the assumption that it would never apply to his situation. 

Hongo rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “If you’re keeping her, there’s a lot we need to do. First, she must bathe so I can tend to her wounds. After that, you’ll have to scent her. If you want the heat to go as smoothly as it can we need to erase any scent left from Kid and replace it with yours. That way she’s not searching for her old mate, even if they had a….bad relationship. We’ll need to get her soft, clean, unscented linens and blankets so she can make her nest. She needs to eat up - heats use a lot of the Omega’s reserves and she doesn’t have that much left. We need -”

Shanks cut off Hongo with a wave of his hand. “One thing at a time. First, let’s bathe her.” 

“After the bath, we’re gonna need Beckman,” Hongo stated.

“Beckman? Why?” Shanks was an Alpha too and stronger besides. Anything Beckman could do, Shanks could do better unless it took two arms. Belatedly, Shanks realized his feelings were the precursor to jealousy. He threw Hongo a frown before he carried on speaking in a sullen tone, “She doesn’t need him.”. 

“I’m gonna have to clean and dress her wounds,” Hongo explained.

“So? What does that have to do with him?”

“He’s gonna keep you from punching or trying to fight me. You’re not going to like watching me tend to her or hurt her, no matter if it's for her own good.” Shanks rolled his eyes at the doctor’s words.

“Pffff. It’s not gonna be like that, I can control myself. It’s not like she’s my mate,” Shanks scoffed.

“I’m getting Beckman,” Hongo stated, unmoved by Shanks’s self assuredness.

Your POV

You heard the Captain and doctor talking outside of the door but were lost in your own thoughts. You’d been off your homemade suppressants for a while but you had pointedly avoided thinking about the possibility of going through heat. You had chalked your rising temperature up to your wounds causing you to be feverish. Nuzzling into the cloak, you inhaled Shanks’s scent deep into your lungs. The velvety material and clean smell made you feel peaceful to the point of being a little sleepy. You ached to lay back on the comfortable looking bed and curl up into a ball but he hadn’t given you permission to. You wanted to pass and show that you could obey in case this was a test. Kid liked to test the limits of your obedience in creative ways and you’d learned your lessons the hard way. He would leave food out when you were hungry and punish you if you ate it, or leave out blankets when he’d told you to remain naked and enter his cabin randomly. So you sat even though you were bone achingly tired.

You tried to look about your surroundings surreptitiously while you waited. The wooden cabin was mostly tidy but well lived in. Clothes were piled on a lounge chair in the corner, a writing desk had letters, maps, and an inkwell on top, and a small bookshelf held a few tomes. A dark colored chest had more linens poking out of the corner while the bed you were perched upon was large and covered in fuzzy sheets and piled with blankets and pillows. You didn’t see any hooks or chains hanging from the walls, maybe the Alpha wasn’t going to shackle you to the bed. The room had the aroma of the Alpha and gave off the feeling of coziness, of snuggling under blankets on a cold night. It felt….homey.

The door opened and Shanks reappeared without the doctor. Watching the Emperor approach, you didn’t want to imagine his displeasure at finding you asleep on the bed when he hadn’t allowed it. Kid’s power was mind boggling to you and the Emperor had swatted him away like a fly. You would do anything to remain on the Emperor’s good side even if it was to your own detriment. You heard him approaching you and watched his sandaled feet stop in front of you. He didn’t stoop down to catch your gaze but you felt his hand land at the top of your hair. You winced, remembering all the times it had been pulled in the past. No pain came as Shanks just patted you and rubbed the strands of your dirty hair between his fingers.

“Hongo has to treat your wounds. We need to get you clean first though, yeah? And take these off too,” Shanks’ fingers left your hair as he spoke. He reached down into the cloak and pulled on the chain between the cuffs you were still wearing. Feeling the bed dip next to you, Shanks pulled one of the cuffs closer to his face to inspect the manacle. “Where’s the lock? They’re not welded shut,” Shanks noted. 

“Magnetic,” you said in your hoarse voice. Shanks’s face soured as he traced the smooth metal of the handcuff with his thumb.

“Ah.” Shanks seemed to mull your response over for a few moments before he commanded you to close your eyes. You complied immediately and heard crunching as the metal of your cuff fell off your wrists. You desperately wanted to see how the Emperor had gotten them off but you were waiting for his command. A warm and calloused hand rubbed your bruised wrist where the metal had been previously. “You can open them again,” Shanks said softly, running his thumb over your pulse. There were no weapons around and the Emperor’s sword was still sheathed within the scabbard. You could only guess the power he’d used to remove them. 

The door swung open and three men appeared, two carrying a metal tub filled with steaming water and the third with a bucket with toiletries. Shanks stood to put himself between you and the crew members, blocking them from your view. “Thanks, guys, just put it over there,” the Emperor requested, gesturing to the largest open area of the cabin. The men followed their Captain’s request carefully but a little water sloshed on the floor. Alarm shot through you at the sight of the water on the floor, and you hoped the Captain didn’t blame you or punish you for it. You nearly went to clean it but you hadn’t been told to leave the bed and the new men were still in the room.

“Is it time for introductions? I’m Lime -” one of the men began speaking in your direction.

“Ah, not now. Maybe later Lime Juice, sorry. Thanks for bringing the tub,” the Emperor said with genuine praise in his voice.

“No worries. Nice to meetcha Little Miss,” the man said easily. You didn’t reply. The men exited the cabin leaving only you, Shanks, and the piping hot bath. 

“Come on, then. Let’s get you in there while it's still hot,” the Emperor suggested. You nodded and stood up, shucking the Emperor’s cloak you’d been clutching.

Shanks POV

He shouldn’t have been surprised when you complied immediately, leaving his cloak on the bed and revealing your nude body. You’d been beaten into submission - if he told you to jump overboard he’d hear the splash shortly thereafter. His eyes raked over your form while you limped to the tub, noticing the bruising, the cuts, the marks he hadn’t before. Even in your currently broken form, you were breathtaking. Shanks’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch you but he stuffed his hand into his pocket for the time being, getting closer to aid your descent into the water.

“Why are you limping?” Shanks asked as you gripped the edge of the tub to lift yourself in. You froze in place, looking down at the water. Raising your foot behind you revealed a deep gash in the sole of your foot. Shanks crouched down to get a better look at the wound while capturing your foot in his hand. The doctor hadn’t inspected the bottom of your feet so he was sure Hongo hadn’t seen this one. The cut was clearly deliberate with how deep and uniform it was. Taking a deep breath to avoid swearing caused the tempting perfume of your cunt to hit Shanks’s nose. His first instinct was to hold you in place and run his tongue all the way up your legs till he reached your tantalizing pussy. Then he wanted to rub his nose up and down your slit until the scent of your pussy was all he could smell. Now wasn’t the time, you were shaking and tired and had a long way to go until you could rest.

“Ach. I wish you’d said something, are there any other cuts Hongo didn’t inspect?” Shanks said in mild admonishment. You licked your lips and nodded slowly. You were shaking, your shoulders hunched in to make yourself smaller. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not mad,” Shanks said quietly, putting your foot back down and standing up, regrettably moving away from the scent of your groin. He cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek repeatably in an attempt to soothe you. “I’m not mad, I just need to know where you need medical attention. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information, right?” You nodded, your hair obscuring your face from his view. “Where’s the other cut?” Shanks inquired while moving his hand to the small of your back.

You took in a deep breath and put your good foot on the tub, opening your legs to his eyes. At the very inner crease of your leg, where your thigh met your groin, was another infected bite mark. Shanks squared his shoulders and kept his face neutral. His first instinct had been to snarl at the offending sight but managed to restrain his response at the sight of you. Shanks saw your vacant gaze, shaking hands, and clammy skin and knew it would only make things worse.

“”S all right. We can let Hongo know later,” Shanks slipped on the mask of his affable nature as he spoke to smooth over the moment. “In ya go, Love,” Shanks said while picking you up by the waist and depositing you into the tub without warning. Shanks needed you in the water so your smell would dissipate before he lost control of himself. You hissed when your skin hit the water but otherwise made no movements. “Here you go,” Shanks said, handing you soap and a towel before dragging a stool over to sit near the tub. “You do your front, I’ll get your back.” 

You began lathering the washcloth with soap and warm water before you began rubbing down your arms and torso. Shanks maintained a steady one sided conversation while he started pouring water down your back. He was trying to acclimate you to the sound of his voice in an attempt to bring you comfort in what surely was an uncomfortable time. While lathering his own washcloth Shanks saw the formerly clear bathwater turning rust red with every swipe of your hands. As he began sudsing your back his eyes picked up faded scars he’d missed when looking over your more recent wounds. 

“I’m gonna wash your back now, ok? It’s hard to wash your own back and even harder when you only have one hand. There are more tasks than you’d think that require two hands, even beyond fighting or washing. Can you imagine how difficult buttons are to do with one hand? Or even tying boots? I have Beckman help me, that’s Benn Beckman, my first mate. You’ll meet him later, you’ll like him for sure. He looks gruff but make no mistake he’s a total sweetheart. He says that I milk it, and I do of course, but what’s the point of being a Captain if my first mate won’t hand feed me eggs every morning?” 

Shanks was acting casually but he noticed a miniscule shift in your mouth as he joked about Benn feeding him breakfast. You were close to smiling and Shank’s heart swelled with pride. He knew there was some glimmer of you buried deep within and he was going to bring you back to the surface. He finished washing your back and you’d washed your arms, torso, and legs but made no move to wash your hair.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, Love? I can if you’d like,” Shanks was trying to offer you as many simple choices as possible to show you that he wasn’t going to control every aspect of your life. You shook your head in response to his query. “Alright, go ahead then, almost done here,” Shanks said gently but to his surprise, you shook your head again. “No? I don’t mean to be rude sweetheart but your hair’s dirty, it needs to be washed.” 

“Cut it all off,” you rasped. Shanks tilted his head to the side, your request startling. Even male Omegas preferred long hair, it was simply a characteristic commonly associated with the dynamic. One of the most severe non-corporeal punishments an Omega could face was having a forced haircut. For an Omega to request a drastic haircut was unheard of. Your hair was long, indicating you’d been growing it long before Kid had gotten his hands on you even through your time being suppressed.

“Can I ask why?” Shanks questioned, picking up the soggy ends from the water. 

“Can’t be pulled,” you answered. You parted your hair in the back, showing a bald spot where your hair had been yanked out from the root. Shanks moved his stool so he was no longer sitting behind you but beside you.

“Look at me,” Shanks requested and you partially complied as you turned your head towards him. You looked at his chest but not at his face. “ Look at me,” Shanks repeated, this time with a Command. Not physically able to disobey an Alpha of his power, your widened eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d Commanded you to do anything, but this was important.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You may not always like what I do, but I will never harm you. Do you understand?” Shanks said softly while stroking your cheek with his thumb. He’d done that a lot, he mused. Something about you called him to take care of you, to provide for you physically and emotionally. You nodded. “I’m gonna have to hear you say it,” Shanks said, almost sorry for forcing you to talk.

“I understand,” you stated in your ruined voice. Unsure if his Command was completed you continued looking at him. Shanks smiled at you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. I’ll wash and brush your hair for you tonight. If you still want to cut it off tomorrow morning, we will. We can have matching haircuts if you want,” Shanks said, flipping back his own hair for emphasis. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of your lips as you nodded your consent to his deal.

Your POV

Your arms looped around your knees in the cooling water as Shanks washed your hair tenderly. You had been sincere in your wish to cut it - you never wanted to be dragged by your hair ever again. Shanks’s offer startled you since Omegas were often physically groomed to whatever standard the Alpha wanted regardless of how they felt about it. The bath had given you a lot of stress since you weren’t sure what to expect. Anything new, any deviation from the standard made you nervous since you couldn’t predict the outcome. It had been an all right experience but not as relaxing as the Emperor had anticipated. 

Shanks only had one hand but it didn’t slow him down when bathing you. He rattled on about whatever he was thinking about while you listened as he worked the soap onto your scalp and rinsed it. He was pulling the brush easily through your hair while telling you about a strange boy he’d met years before when there was a knock at the door. 

“Wait,” Shanks ordered in a tone more stern than he’d used when speaking to you. “Up, dear,” Shanks motioned with the hairbrush. The water dripping off you in rivulets left you exposed to the cold air making your skin erupt into goosebumps. Shanks quickly dried you off with a fluffy towel before he wrapped it around your body. After you were dried to Shanks’s satisfaction, he swapped the towel for a large purple robe, picked you up, and sat you on the chair by the desk.

“Come in,” Shanks said, sitting on the edge of the desk next to you. He took your wrinkly hand and held it in his own as you resumed staring at the floor. Three pairs of boots walked past and you heard them hefting the tub back out of the room.

“Blech, what’d she do? Bathe in mud?” one man said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongo replied calmly while coming to stand in front of you. He had his medicine kit again and you knew this part would be even less fun than the bath. Two pairs of boots stopped in front of you but you only recognized Hongo’s. The other male was also an alpha though not as strongly scented as Shanks.

“There’s a few more Hong,” Shanks said casually, stroking the top of your hand. “She’s got a cut on the sole of her foot and one on her inner thigh. Both need attention.”

“Alright, not an issue. Let’s get started,” Hongo said while setting his bag on the desk. “Over to the other side of the cabin,” Hongo ordered Shanks, who bristled immediately. 

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here,” Shanks said, keeping your hand in his own.

“No, you’re not. Go over there with Beckman. I don’t want to have to treat my own wounds in addition to hers when I stitch her up.” You cringed, waiting for the Captain to slap his subordinate but it never came. Instead, you heard a deep voice ushering the Emperor away from you.

“C’mon, Cap. ‘S for the best. We’ll be a few feet away and she’s a big girl, she can be apart from you for a minute or two.” You were guessing this was Benn Beckman, the first mate Shanks had told you about. Shanks whined in response but let go of your hand nonetheless.

“”M right here if you need me, Sweets,” Shanks reassured you as he receded. You didn’t protest but a part of you did wish Shanks was nearby. You didn’t feel all that comfortable around him but he was the person you were most familiar with. Hongo had been taking tools and liquids out of his bag in preparation for the procedures. After putting on a pair of glasses, Hongo snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

“It’s not gonna feel great, but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible, OK? Let’s start with your neck, I think that’s the most severe. Did you wash it in the bath?” He asked, using the stool Shanks had previously occupied. You nodded in confirmation that you had followed the doctor’s orders.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” You tilted your head to allow the doctor access to your neck. Even though you knew he was going to touch you, you still flinched when he made contact with your skin. “I’m gonna clean it and drain the pus. After I’m gonna have to stitch it,” the doctor informed you. You heard the sound of liquid moving and felt alcohol being applied to your neck. Not wanting to interrupt Hongo’s work, you stayed as still as you could even as the alcohol burned on contact with your wound. 

“See? Not even a single reaction outta me,” you heard Shanks say in the background and Beckman grunted in response to his captain.

After wiping down the area, you heard the clanging of metal as Hongo picked up a scalpel. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp pain as the knife met your skin. Based on other wounds you’d received, you knew the doctor was trying to be gentle but you still hissed as he cut into you and pressed on the wound.

“No, sit down. She’s fine -”

“I AM sitting down, but I just wanna go -” 

“No, stay put.” You heard Shanks and Beckman arguing on the other side of the room. Hongo was right to bring the first mate, it sounded like Shanks was having a hard time watching the doctor tend to your wounds. You wondered if it was from possessiveness, like Kid, or because he didn’t like watching you being hurt. You didn’t think about it for long as a sharp pain crowded out your train of thought when the doctor began pressing on your wound to drain the pus.

“Not much more, almost there. It’s a deep wound, otherwise I wouldn’t have to stitch it.” You whimpered as the doctor pushed even harder for a moment, then covered the area with gauze. You heard scuffling again.

“Let go of me Benn, I need to - I said stop shoving me!” Shanks’ voice rose with more anger in his voice. His scent was starting to bloom, filling the air with the smell of oranges and cloves in an unconscious effort to soothe you.

“One more time and you’re out of the cabin until he’s done. Stop talking and distracting everyone. You know it’s for her own good so Let Hongo work,” Benn huffed. You couldn’t concentrate on Shanks anymore because the doctor started to stitch. You closed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

“Ah, relax, relax. If you tense your muscles it hurts more,” the doctor chided you gently as the needle pricked your skin over and over. You relaxed your face as much as you could. You’d had stitches before and you were no stranger to pain but the bite was in such a delicate and sensitive area you couldn’t help as a few tears escaped your eye. Finally, you heard the words you were waiting for.

“All done, just snipping the end of the thread. One more moment and we can move on.” Scissors were brought close to your face and snipped the end of the medical thread. “Look straight ahead for me?” Hongo instructed you, facing you head on. You looked forward, your neck aching with the effort. “And turn to the other side?” You turned and saw Shanks smiling and waving at you despite being held against the wall by Benn. You dropped your eyes after a moment too long.

“So what’s next? Shanks said you had a foot injury? Those are a real drag,” Hongo said, trying to make light conversation. You nodded and crossed your leg over your knee to show the doctor the sole of your foot. Hongo reached out to pick up your foot by the ankle and peered closely at the wound with his glasses.

“Knife?” he asked abruptly. You nodded. “Accident?” You shook your head. 

“Punishment. Ran away,” you said quietly. Hongo hummed and tilted your foot. You used the extra fabric of the extravagant robe to cover yourself more as Hongo lifted your leg and placed your foot on his lap. Shanks growled lightly but otherwise made no noise.

“Luckily it’s pretty shallow. Probably hurts to walk but it should heal quickly. I don’t need to suture it but I am going to wrap it,” Hongo explained. He cleaned the wound and used long nosed tweezers to get a few pieces of debris out. The digging was uncomfortable and made you try to jerk your foot back unintentionally but Hongo’s grip was tight. He finished quickly and wrapped the wound in gauze and bandages.

“Next is the leg, right? Let’s see,” Hongo offered. Your mouth twisted as you thought of having to show the wound. You pointed to the bed and hoped the doctor didn’t think you were arrogant.

“Sure, go ahead and lay down if it's easier for you,” Hongo offered. He picked you up and you heard the Emperor’s rumble returning, making you ball your hands into fists.

“Oi, you’re scaring her Redhair,” Benn said as you were placed on the bed. The rumble stopped for a moment but quickly resumed as soon as you opened your legs to show Hongo the wound. You were covering what you could with the robe but Shanks only got louder as Hongo came closer to you. As his head dipped low to look at it with his glasses, Shanks’s loud roar made you cower. 

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Ben said, manhandling the Emperor out of the cabin. “I’m keeping this one outside. Let us know when you’re done. C’mon you,” Beckman said, still grappling with a struggling Shanks. You knew that if the Emperor really wanted to stay, no one on board could keep him out. You guessed that the Emperor was trying to allow Hongo to take care of you but the Alpha within him didn’t like the other male so close to you. You closed your eyes and willed this experience to be over as soon as possible. Hongo was touching your upper leg in a professional manner but the feeling of someone near your core had you near tears. This wound wasn’t as bad as the one on your neck since you had secretly washed it a few times. 

“All done. Good job, Omega. You did better than some of the men on board,” Hongo said before removing the gloves and putting his glasses back in their case. “You stay there, I’ll get Shanks.” No sooner had the doctor finished speaking than the door opened and the Emperor strode in, carrying a basket in his hand. You sat up and gulped, unsure how angry he would be. 

“Out,” he said to Hongo before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Hong. What I meant was, thank you. And you were right about Beckman, owe ya one.”

“Owe me a bottle of booze is whatcha owe me,” Hongo said, smiling easily. “Have her eat and go to sleep. Poor thing’s exhausted.” 

“Already on it,” Shanks murmured. He placed the basket on the bed as the doctor left, taking his equipment with him. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I took a bit of everything. The crew already ate dinner and those assholes left no leftovers. Well, we didn’t really know you were coming, but Lucky’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow. For now, here’s a little snack.” Shanks reached into the basket and pulled out some cheese, dried meat, grapes, crackers, and some nuts. “I stole a bunch of this from Beckman’s cabin, he’s got good taste.” You hesitatingly reached over to the slices of cheese, taking one in your hand. Biting into it, you nearly moaned. You hadn’t had fresh food in forever, subsisting on whatever Kid remembered to bring into his cabin. 

You ate a few more slices in silence, Shanks leaning back on the bed and eating some of the mixed nuts he’d taken. “You want one?” he asked, holding a grape in his hand. You nodded and held out your hand to take one from the bowl. “Ah ah. Open,” he demanded, putting the grape right in front of your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and Shanks popped the fruit in. You didn’t know why but you felt yourself starting to blush faintly. You were wearing the Emperor’s robe, on his bed, after he bathed you, and yet feeding you a grape made you feel embarrassed? You yawned after you swallowed, your eyelids feeling heavy. You wanted to rest but were still unsure if you needed permission.

“Aw, you’re tired? ‘S alright, we can eat more tomorrow. Drink a cup of water and we’ll be off to bed,” Shanks said, pouring water into a cup from a bottle on the nightstand. Handing you the cup, your fingers brushed against his. You drank greedily, draining the cup in seconds. “More?” Shanks asked but you shook your head. He quickly put the food back in the basket and set it on the floor.

“Lay down. You look so sleepy little Omega. Come on, right here next to me on the bed, it’s nice and warm, I’ll hold you,” Shanks cooed at you. Your lip wobbled at the suggestion but you held firm and didn’t cry. You’d spent many nights on the cold floor of Kid’s cabin, your chains pulling at your weakened limbs. Crawling over to the head of the bed, you laid down on your side on one of the fluffy, feather filled pillows. The Emperor covered your body with his heavy blanket and you burrowed down into its warmth while inhaling the rich scent of the Alpha. You’d missed being warm and comfortable at night more than any other luxury, even more than eating regularly. Shanks laid down behind you and pulled you close to his body, draping his arm loosely across your torso. 

“Good night, little Omega,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Good night, Emperor,” you croaked, already half asleep. One thought tickled the corner of your mind before you could succumb to sleep completely. “The other ship?” You’d felt the Emperor’s boat rock earlier but you were too focused on your circumstances to notice anything else.

“Hm? Kid’s ship? Dorry and Broggy cut it in half,” Shanks mumbled while running his hand up and down your ribs. You hummed happily and let sleep overtake you.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle

[jeysbvck]

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

-

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

-

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

-

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this. 

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

*

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

-

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

[xxblairexxss]

Fluffy child

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Word count : 2.1k

A/N : Not really sure about this one. Sorry if it’s not up to your expectation, anon!

Requested!

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"Baby, I need to go now!"

"Wait!" You yelled back and picked up your fluffy son in your arms before making your way to your boyfriend, who was all prepared to leave with his small luggage. "Teddy said bye!”

He cackled as you waved the fluffy hand while the cat was looking very unamused as he was forced to wear the shirt. "Where did you get that?”

It was a toddler size Ferrari shirt with the number 16 at the back that you ordered months ago. "From a random website! Isn’t it cute? He liked it!” You squealed and kissed Teddy’s cheek.

"I don’t think he likes it, baby. Look at the face. He’s definitely giving you a side eye.” You laughed at your boyfriend’s horrible attempt to copy the expression. "I need to go now. I love you."

"There you go.” Teddy rolled down on the floor as you crouched to place him down before wrapping your arms around Charles’ neck as he kissed you on the cheek. "I’ll miss you!"

"I’ll miss you more. Teddy, don’t get used to my absence; it’ll only be 4 days."

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"Yeah, definitely. I mean—" Charles’ attentiveness to the conversation snapped when his phone rang. A smile instantly lit up his face when he saw the heart emoji at the end of the contact’s name. He usually got a few pictures of Teddy, your cat, every day, more if he was away. There were more pictures of the cat himself than your pictures in his phone by now.

Scooting the chair a little further away from Lando and Alex, he swiped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear, anticipating your voice. "Hey, baby!"

"Charles, he's gone…"

He frowned, unable to catch the words. Your voice was shaking, and there were a lot of voices where he was currently. "Sorry, baby. I didn’t hear you. What was that?"

"Teddy’s gone…" 

He heard you sniffle and choppy breathing, making his hand itching to hold you in his arms right now.

"Charles, where are you going?” Lando called out after seeing the Ferrari driver stand up abruptly.

"My room." That was all he said as he left the table and made his way to the driver’s room, away from anyone else so he could hear you clearly.

Teddyy was a kitten you found outside a library back when you were a student. He came to the family at an early stage of the relationship. Charles always preferred a dog, but you managed to change his mind, or maybe he was forced to change his mind because wherever you were, Teddy would be by your side. Even in bed. So he never really got to say no to the fluff of cloud. He was very vocal and proud of being a dad as well. In fact, people would always ask him about Teddy more than himself whenever he bumped into the fans. It surely felt like Teddy was slowly taking over the spotlight.

You woke up yesterday morning and headed to the kitchen to do your daily routine, which was to feed your child. There should be a mini-race between you and him about who got to reach the kitchen first, and he would have blasted out his vocal chords to alarm the whole apartment that he required food right there and then, but yesterday was different. He was just lying down on his bed, looking so weak that you had to bring him to the emergency vet. You stayed at the vet for hours up until he got surgery, alone and unable to ring Charles due to the time difference. It was 2 hours after the surgery that the vet told you he passed away due to the stress that the surgery caused. You were told he suffered from a disease that could be infected by a virus that was hard to detect, and it wasn’t your fault, but it definitely felt like it. You haven’t slept; you couldn’t look at his blue-coloured glass bowl without crying, and you needed Charles.

He didn’t say anything throughout the video call, which lasted for at least an hour. You were filling him up with everything that happened with your puffy eyes, messy hair bun with your knitted cardigan, and looking like a divorced housewife who couldn’t move on from their cheater husband.

"I’m all good now. A little sad," You sniffed and wiped the tears with your oversized sweatshirt sleeve that was a little darker in colour from being used as a replacement for a tissue. "but I’m good."

Charles smiled, his heart swelling from seeing the way you tried to play it off just so he wouldn’t have to worry too much. “Are you sure you are okay, angel? I can stay on the phone longer. They don’t need me until 3, at least.” His gaze went to the top left of his phone screen. It was 2:57 PM.

"No, it’s okay." You brought the phone closer and managed a smile after seeing the way he looked at you. "Good luck."

"I love you, precious. I’ll probably arrive by midnight. You don’t have to wait for me, alright?"

You rubbed your eyes, nodding to his question before waving as he ended the call. The brown, printed blanket was back clinging to your body as you turned yourself into a cocoon and scrolled through pictures of Teddy while F1TV was airing on your television with just a few hours to go before the race.

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Everything had to make the loudest sound when he needed to be quiet. The sound of his shoe against the floor, which was usually silent as the grave, had to be the loudest ever at this hour. The sound of something shuffling against the floor made him whip his head as fast as he could towards the hallway, as soon as he closed the door.

"Baby?"

The shuffling sound came faster and louder as he made his way deeper into the dark hallway and stumbled back as you threw yourself against him. Too fast that he didn’t catch a glimpse of your body coming.

“F—you scared me.” He breathed out, and his arm went around your petite frame. He didn’t turn on the light because you often fell asleep on the couch, and he would hate himself for waking you up, but every sound in the dark would be connected to a burglar. He would have thrown a kick if he hadn’t caught the lavender scent from your body wash as you crashed into him earlier. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was waiting for you." 

The thumping sound filled the silence as he let go of the bag he was holding with his other hand as he held you when you started crying in his arms. "Baby…"

It felt like you had drained out every salty liquid you had left because you were dehydrated after soaking Charles’ black shirt with your tears. You were flushed red when he cackled at you as you apologised for the mess.

"You should change out of this." He jerked back as you tugged on the shirt.

"Don’t be silly. Baby, stop trying to strip me. This is an assault."

You tugged on it again. "Go and change! It probably has my snot on it."

"Okay, and?"

"It’s disgusting!" 

"Just tell me if you want to see my body. There’s no need to make up an excuse.” You rolled your eyes and left the kitchen while Charles waited for the linguine noodles to cook.

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"Is it done?”

You looked adorable with the puffy eyes and his hoodie, which seemed to be twice the size of your body, but Charles refused to say it out loud because you would turn down the compliment as if he were making fun of you. "It’s done, but it’s mine.” He had eaten earlier on the plane, but he didn’t have to ask to know you hadn’t eaten anything. He knew you from the back of his hand. He also knew you wouldn’t say no to your favourite food, butter pasta, so even when you told him you weren’t hungry, he still ended up cooking the food just because he wanted you to eat.

"Can I have a bite?” You wished he didn’t hear your stomach grumble.

Your phone was placed on your lap as he feed you a mouthful so as you leaned in, and he caught a glance of a recent picture of you and Teddy on your screen. He hadn’t really gotten to ask why or what happened because it didn’t seem like you were ready for it. All he knew was that you had to bring him to the emergency room because he wasn’t responding well, and that was it. "Baby, what happened?"

"It was my fault.” You sighed, frustrated with yourself, as you pressed the bottom part of your palm against your eyes to stop the tears.

Charles placed his hand on your waist, and you felt him keep stroking his thumb against it while you tried to gather your emotions. "I should have known something was wrong when he didn’t really want to eat his food two days ago, but I thought it was because of the new brand of food that I recently bought. I’m such a bad mom."

He took the plate away before drawing you into his arms. "You were the best owner any cat could ask for, baby. There are some things that are beyond our control. It wasn’t your fault. We even bought him for a monthly checkup. We did everything we could. You weren’t neglecting him just because you couldn’t detect his sickness early. He was looking fine even before I left."

"I miss him so much..." 

"I know, precious. I know." The screen of your phone lights up again from a light touch of your clothes. "How about you show me pictures of him that I haven’t seen?"

"Won’t it be boring?” You wiped your tears with your sleeves again as you went to your photo album and scrolled through thousands of pictures and videos of him throughout the year. "Have you seen this one?"

"Which one?" He pulled you closer as you laid on his chest.

"This one." You chuckled and clicked on the play button. "It was when I bought a new mouse toy for him, and he was so excited that he fell off the bed from chasing it."

He was listening to you attentively until you asked to go to sleep. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept at all, even on the plane on his way back to fight the jet lag. He nearly fell asleep standing while he was waiting for the block of butter to melt against the pan, but it was worth it to joke around, to lighten up the mood, to lend you his shoulder, ears, and shirt to soak your tears with because as he stepped into the house, he knew he had a responsibility as your boyfriend. Sleep could wait; he would be happy to watch the same video of Teddy just from different angles a hundred times if that was what made you smile.

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Charles squinted his eyes as he caught you walking back to the car with a paper bag of fruits on your left hand and something fluffy on your right. The door to the shotgun seat was opened as you got in, and the fluffy thing you were holding meowed.

He had a lot of questions, but he didn’t know where to start. He thought you said you wanted to drop by the supermarket real quick to get some fruits, and he just had to wait in the car. What was supposed to be 20 minutes turned out to be longer than that. He even had to call you to ask why you were taking so long and if you needed his help, to which you said no, and now you brought in a fluffy, moving animal as if it were part of the fruits.

"Baby, what…did you buy?“

"Oh!" You let go of the kitten and took out the small packets of everything inside the paper bag. "I bought strawberries! Blueberries and some bananas. I also got some marshmallows!”

"And what is that?” Charles arched his brow, eyes on the kitten on your lap.

"Which one?" You tilted your head.

“That..?”

“Oh! It’s a kitten!” You beamed.

"Ah, it’s a kitten! I wouldn’t have guessed. Y/N, did you think you could sneak in a kitten in the car and I wouldn’t find out about it?” He was so lost for words that he ended up chuckling.

"I found Boo on the side of the street!” You picked the kitten up and booped on the nose.

"Who is Boo? It has a name already?" 

"Can we take her, please? Please, please! I can’t just leave her on the street. She was hungry too!” You cradled the kitten against your chest and tried not to make any eye contact with your boyfriend so that he would just accept his fate and drive home. “Look at the face! She reminds me of Teddy!”

"Well, she has a name already. Let’s just go home, Boo."

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If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to userbeaufort

James Beaufort x Reader

Title: Distracted

Synopsis: James and Reader have an argument after she feels that he is being too overprotective. She gets injured during a volley ball game and he comforts and apologizes.

Warnings: mentions of blood/wounds

Sorry if volley ball is described inaccurately in the brief moment it's discussed. Last fic for about 24 to 48 hours. Decided to take some time off to rest up. Sinus infection had gotten worse. My ears are plugged and hurt. I have about 8 to 9 more requests, so more is definitely coming.

The fight that they had was just full of nonsense. At least, that was in regards to Y/N’s own opinions. James felt as if he was in the right, only wanting what was best for his girlfriend. He just wanted to make sure that she was safe. He thought that he was being overprotective. Y/N thought that it was that with a hint of jealousy. It was known though that neither of them could come to agreement on what it actually was. 

“Can you stop breathing down my neck, just for twenty four hours?” Y/N raised her voice slightly, turning to look at James. He had been following her around, making sure that she was okay and safe. She felt suffocated though, that if he continued to stick around that she would die due to lack of oxygen. 

“I just want to know that you are okay. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Yea. It is actually, because if you stick around any longer, I might get arrested and charged with murder!” James paused his steps and stared at her. Confusion and slight anger was portrayed on his face. 

“What is your problem?” He asked. Y/N turned around, looking at him as if he just slapped her. And he might as well just have. 

“What is my problem? It’s you, James.” Now it was his turn to act as if he had just been slapped. James took a staggered step back, a look entirely of hurt and confusion the only thing to be seen on his face. 

“What?” Y/N had almost felt guilty, seeing the blow that she had just landed, even if she knew that all that he wanted to know was that she was safe. Instead, she had only stood her ground and raised her chin slightly in defiance. 

“You heard me.The problem is you.” James didn’t know how to react, and if they weren’t currently in the situation that they were in, Y/N might have felt proud to have put James in the state that he was currently in. “You’re suffocating me. I feel like I can’t breathe. I take a few steps in any direction and I’m knocking myself into you. And it’s constant, James. It’s like you’re being some possessive boyfriend. What’s next? You are going to start dictating who I can or can’t be friends with?” James did say anything. Honestly, he didn’t have much to say, so he only remained standing, averting his eyes from her gaze and looking anywhere else. His jaw clenched, but he knew that he couldn’t be mad at anyone but himself, even if he was angry at the current way she was speaking to him. 

“What?” Y/N questioned. “Cat got your tongue?” And just like that, James was gone, turning around on his heel and stomping down the hall. Y/N had felt nasty for the way that she had just treated him, but she also knew that she had to make her voice heard. She felt that there was no other way for her to have accomplished it in any other way than in that moment. 

—-

It had been a few days since the two of them had talked. Y/N had rightfully been angry and James himself had rightfully, even if he had deserved it, been upset and hurt. They had both mutually agreed that it was best to give each other some time to cool down and relax. The last thing that either one of them had wanted to do was come back and say anything that would be highly regretted. Not that Y/N didn’t already regret the way she snapped at James. She had honestly wished that she could just go back and choose a better way to have got about it. 

But the damage had been done, and the only thing that she could do now was wait until he had cooled down enough to talk.

In the meantime, Y/N had a volleyball game to prepare for in a few days, and she would be lying if she said that she was good to play. Even if it happened a few days ago, the argument was still fresh in her mind, and had been affecting her ability to focus well enough on the task of the game. 

No matter what happened, she could never stop thinking about him. 

Y/N had wondered if she should check in with them, considering their lack of conversations over the past few days. Her friends would easily tell her no and to let him stew in the moment. A few of them had even gone as far as to tell her to give him hints that she wanted to break it off, because it would quote, light a fire under his ass, unquote. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She wasn’t that brutal. However, she didn’t want to back out on her defense, knowing that her feelings were justified, and she didn’t want to do anything that might suggest otherwise. 

That didn’t change the amount of times that her finger hovered over the send buttons to numerous different messages. 

Im sorry 

Love you

I hope you are doing okay. Let’s talk soon. 

One of them consisted of just heart emojis. There were even times messages consisted of a mixture of those messages. 

Even as the volley game against a rival college was about to start, Y/N was doing just that. She sat on a bench in the locker room, biting her nail as she tried to make up her mind on whether or not to send the message. Y/N wasn’t even sure if he would show up tonight. 

I don’t know if you plan on coming to the game tonight. But I think we should talk soon. Y F/L/M initials 

She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair, finally pressing send. And then she waited for several moments, waiting to see if he would open and read it. When ten minutes passed and she was finally being yelled at for not being on the court yet, she figured that he was probably still mad at her. 

Y/N tossed her phone into her gym bag, leaving it at that. Which obviously, with the continued emotions only adding to inability to play the game. She should have told her coach, but yet, here she was, running out of the locker room and onto the court, her mind filled to the brim with thoughts and questions, and ultimately, him. 

The game though had surprisingly started out pretty okay. They were almost done with their first set when Y/N saw James walk into the gymnasium. They locked eyes momentarily, her heart fluttering. He showed her his phone, likely telling her that he had seen her message. But he still didn’t look too enthused. She swallowed thickly, turning back to the game when her name was called. The ball was just over her, and she jumped, spiking the ball over the net, scoring a point for Maxton Hall. 

As the team captain, she knew she had to keep her mind distraction free, but it was definitely easier said than done. They couldn’t do well if she wasn’t there. But even with that thought in mind, she still wasn’t doing well enough. Halfway through the game as a whole, everything in her mind, thinking about the argument, about him, and what might come of them after the game had gotten too much. 

She had the space and time to dive for the ball in front of her, hitting it up and over the net just in time before it hit the ball, none of the other girls close enough to hit it, They couldn’t take the risk. So she dove, and in the end, she almost wished that she didn’t. 

No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop herself from cracking her face against the floor. She laid there for what seemed like several minutes and wasn’t even sure if she hit the ball over the net. Instead, she heard the crowd murmuring silently, her teammates coming over to check on her. 

She lifted her head off the floor. Y/N saw the blood. She brought her hand to the left side of her face, feeling the wetness of the blood and gingerly touching the outline of a gash. Her head snapped up to meet James’ own panicked look. He was standing up from his seat, watching her, his eyes wide. It only took a few more seconds and her coach pressed a towel to the side of her head for him to come running down. Her ears were ringing by the time he made it to them. 

She watched as he spoke to her couch,  but her mind was so fuzzy that she couldn’t exactly find it in herself to make out what was being said. 

And then James was escorting her out of the school and towards Percy, where he was waiting for them. One arm was wrapped around her waist while the other was pressed to the towel currently on the wound. 

“We have to take her to the hospital, Percy. Nasty little cut on her forehead.” James spoke to his chauffeur as the two of them slid into the car. As the car got moving, the two sat in silence for several moments. 

“My phone is in my gym bag. Can you tell my parents where we are going?” she asked. He passed his phone to her, but as she grabbed it, he replaced his phone with his hand. 

“I want to say I’m sorry.” he spoke softly. Y/N looked at him in shock. “I shouldn’t have been acting the way that I was. It wasn’t right of me. I know you can look after yourself.” James turned his head to look at her. His eyes glanced at the place where the towel sat. 

“I should be the one apologizing.” His eyes snapped back to her. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I did. I know that you only want what is best for me, and snapping at you the way that I did wasn’t the best way to show my appreciation, no matter how mad I was.” Y/N explained. “I just hope that we can fix this and use it moving forward in our relationship as a reminder. That is, if you want.” 

“If I want? Just because we had an argument doesn’t mean you’re getting free of me.” He joked, a smile gracing his lips. “It’s only one of many that we will have in the coming future. Arguments aren’t avoidable.” Y/N gave him a smile, leaning into him. She went to press a kiss to his cheek, but he had turned his head enough to make her lips land on his own. They leaned into it, and Y/N could feel a cheeky smile grace his lips. 

When they pulled away, Y/N held his gaze. 

“Promise?” His cheeky smile turned into a soft one. 

“Promise.” 

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[kianely]

”LORD KNOWS, IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Leon saves you from the unlucky predicament you found yourself in when you decided to take a rewarding vacation overseas. He ends up liking you a little too much though, and not just in a platonic way. And naturally, you’re pretty love struck by him too.

iii. CONTENT — Mostly fluff, mentions of trauma (from what the reader saw while being rescued), mentions of Leon’s survival guilt, Leon’s smitten with you, fluff, tension and kissing at end, banter, he gives you a flip phone, work gathering, motorcycle ride, he finally gets a vacation, inaccurate depictions of the government, coercion to work for the government, RE4 Leon

iv. WC — 7.2k

You knew a lot. Too much. All because you decided to go abroad as a reward for finally getting a white-collar job. Your countless years spent in post-secondary education whilst having a part-time job paid off, and before you started your new job, you decided to indulge in a trip overseas.

You never expected to get lost during one of the tours, much less to find yourself stumbling across what seemed to be a ghost town that had a few…peculiar citizens. They told you to get lost when you asked for directions, and the one time you found a map plastered on a wall, it was an outdated one that didn’t even show the modern roads, no use in that.

That’s what led to your current situation. Somehow, you were lucky enough to make it out of there with the help of a particular someone. You never expected to board a helicopter in your life, you felt your stomach churn as you glanced out the window and reflected on what you had just been through.

All the thoughts revolving in that mind of yours were the freakish events and sights you had been an unwilling witness to. Ones that would undoubtedly throw you right into therapy, and have you tossing and turning in your bed at night like a scared child with a night light thinking a monster would seep out from their closet or underneath their bed. You would never set foot into a movie theater to watch a well-done horror movie ever again, all the things you had seen in the last couple of days topped all of that.

You wished you could wash and reset your eyes after all the mutated and downright monstrous creatures that flashed through your brain now and again. Hell, you now believed that every single urban myth or legend was a complete possibility, probably lurking out there somewhere. Every moving object just made your heart drop like from when limbs had reached out to try and grab or swing at you. You wanted to curl up into a little ball and be cradled by a parental figure, to be coddled and rocked back and forth until you fell asleep with no worries on your mind.

The murky fluids carried by the bodies of water in underground tunnels that were potent with diseases and infections were the same ones that had dried up on your once damp and soaked pants. You were damn lucky you hadn’t gotten an open wound anywhere under your upper thighs, how horrible would it be for you to escape and end up dying a day later from an infection?

The heavy gunfire and explosives left your ears physically hurting, you hoped the lingering buzzing noise would eventually leave. The only soothing sound you would hear throughout your utterly traumatic experience was the voice of a certain strong agent urging you to “hurry up” and “stay close behind him.” The same one that reassured you and checked up on you whenever the two of you got a chance to relax and take a breath, he would look you in the eyes and tell you that it was all going to be okay. And you believed him.

“You doing alright?” Ah, there was that familiar voice.

Your internal response? Absolutely not. But then again, you didn’t have the heart to tell the source of the question the truth. After all, Leon had been protecting you and had even taught you the basics of self-defense and combat moves for extra measure. All out of his own generosity, too. You had picked up on why he was sent to the site. You weren’t a priority to his job, not at all. Yet, he had gone through hell just to make sure you got out alive.

So, you resorted to masking your response with some sarcasm, by now, you knew he’d appreciate it. It felt like you had known him forever. “Peachy. I don’t think I’ve ever been better, you?”

You were still in denial, accepting everything would be too hard right now and you’d crumble on the spot. You were trying to think of anything else: your first meal after all this, maybe you’d need to buy new clothes now so a fun shopping trip was in order, Leon’s perfect face — no, not that.

Leon scoffed — the corner of his lips tugged up in response to your sarcasm. “It’s okay to tell the truth, y’know. You went through a hell of a lot more than you should’ve had to. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m fine,” you insisted, slumping against your seat and scratching the nape of your neck. Your mind was all over the place, you wouldn’t even be able to articulate all your worries without stumbling over your words. “I made it out without any major injuries, thanks to you.”

The only injury you had gotten were some cuts on the palms of your hands from all the times you had toppled down onto the earthy ground or wooden floors and had to use your hands to catch yourself and dodge…whatever the hell was chasing after you. The damn bastard didn’t even have a name. Your back wasn’t doing so well either, you definitely wouldn’t be able to reach your toes or stretch properly for a good while.

Leon sighed at your stubbornness, finding himself in you, he understood you better than most people could. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me for that. You did good and made it out alive. Plus…you did well at defending yourself, that leg strength of yours is no joke.”

His dazzling toothy smile stirred butterflies in your stomach. It felt genuine, a far cry from the close-mouthed smiles he had cast your way before. You wondered how he could muster up such a smile with that job of his.

You couldn’t offer anything more than an appreciative smile of your own as you looked down towards your lap, murmuring a small, “Guess so.” His praise made you feel a little light-headed, or maybe it was the gentleness within his gaze that had that effect.

He would’ve liked to hear those same words he just told you back during the incident of 1998, maybe even a small pat on the back accompanied by a “you did well, rookie.”

His missions involved so many casualties that it pained him, he had never grown desensitized to it despite his long years in the field. He’s too human for that, the angel perked on his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to be numb to it.

But you.

He managed to save you. And that was a couple fewer pounds that could’ve been slumped onto his shoulders — the ones that threatened to snap and give out on him from the years of massive and overwhelming guilt of everyone he had watched die. It didn’t matter that the two of you were essentially strangers, it would’ve crushed him if you had died on his watch. Through the short time you guys had been together, he had learned a lot about you.

Plus, he liked you. Romantically, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the meek and weak type. No. He liked mature people, those who could challenge his witty banter, who wouldn’t be clingy, and who could understand his baggage. You. You had spunk, the same kind he found himself yearning for in a companion when he went back to an empty home. He was fond of you, it made him wonder if he would be able to have you in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, whatever God was out there would grant him some mercy and give him what he wanted for once.

The helicopter had landed, and your leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiousness. Where the hell were you even at? You had nothing, not an ounce of technology or identification on you aside from your DNA and fingerprints.

Leon was feeling tense too, not for the unknowns but because he knew. He’d been forced to kiss the government’s ass and he was familiar with their way of thinking, they’d likely interrogate you, and if you had some use for them then they’d find a way to keep you around. He felt some solace in knowing that you didn’t display the same physical capabilities that he did, otherwise, they would snatch you up, train you into a machine, and send you out into the field in a couple of years if you made the cut.

Leon was the first to get out of the helicopter, extending his arm and offering his hand to help you. He knew you were feeling uneasy, he didn’t plan on leaving you alone to your thoughts. “Was this your first time on a helicopter?”

“Yeah, first time.” You gladly accepted his assistance, feeling the calluses on his skin as you cautiously got out. “Not how I imagined it to be like, but…”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you took it like a champ, no motion sickness or anything.”

“You must be used to flying all the time, right?”

Leon nodded, letting out a sigh before sharing his thoughts on the topic. He figured some honesty could go a long way. “I’m actually kind of sick of flying — planes, helicopters, everything. But if I ever get a vacation? I’m leaving behind a cloud of dust and making a beeline for Italy.”

“Italy, huh?” You made a mental note of that, for future reference. You just hoped there would be a way to keep in contact with him after everything was said and done.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go. Never have the time though.”

There was only so much conversation that could be held until you curiously took a look at your surroundings. You took a breath, feeling a bit daunted by some of the important-looking personnel whose eyes were boring into you.

“This place looks…pretty intimidating.”

Leon’s hand hovered over the small of your back so he could keep you close and guide you inside. “You’ll be okay.”

After that, the two of you pretty much got separated. He had to give a full report about the mission, and also explain how he had strung you along. The higher-ups had to run a background check on you and were going to monitor you. But he made you a promise, he’d come to see you when he was allowed to.

Leon always told himself he’d start minding his own damn business. You were well and alive, that should be more than enough for him. He didn’t deserve to indulge in someone who could make his life brighter, that was selfish. But, he so desperately wanted to have you in his life.

Whenever he got attached to someone, it all went south. But, he knew you were alone. He’d been in your situation — alone and with unimaginable baggage, a deadly mix. He needed to do something.

On the other hand, you were taken into questioning about what you had seen, and how the state of the town you had been visiting before everything went to shit. You hated having to talk about it, stammering over your words, and taking long pauses because it was too much. Broke down sobbing after one session. The denial phase progressively diminished, it was painful. They then transferred you to a more isolated area to monitor your physical health. They didn’t give a damn about your actual well-being, even if you had been injured they wouldn’t have tended to you.

You lost track of time, a couple of weeks had gone by.

You were a pitiful sight, all alone in a room with high-quality technology surrounding you — machines monitoring you just in case anything irregular popped up in your health that was connected to the bioweapons you had been exposed to.

But alas, the day finally came, and you could leave. You relished the clean clothes they gave you in place of the gown you had been required to wear for the monitoring. You sat on the twin-sized bed, gaze cast to the floor as you thought about what the future held.

Some gentle knocks on the door made you jump a little, your eyes immediately darting over to see who it was through the glass on the door. Leon. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked concerned, the knit of his brows made that clear.

Mustering up a small and weak smile, you beckoned him to come in. If there was one person that could bring you some solace, it was him. He would’ve come sooner, hell, he would’ve visited you every damn day you were stuck here. But he wasn’t allowed to under strict orders, not until the day you were to be released.

Leon entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bag of takeout in his free hand, holding it up for you to see. “The food here is pretty bland, figured you could use this.”

The sight almost made you groan, anything sounded more appetizing than the soup and packaged food you had been given the past few weeks. “God. Yes. Please.”

He chuckled at your reaction, setting the medium sized drink by your bedside before sitting down next to you. He opened up the bag and then handed you the plastic utensils, napkins, and the container.

“I’m glad you came, I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Leon knew how deafening the silence could be, nothing good came out of being left to your thoughts.

“I owe you a meal someday,” you told him as you began eating. “You have to pick though, I don’t know any of the restaurants around here.”

“I’ll be sure to make a list then. I’m paying though.”

“What? That’s hardly fair.”

“Shh, eat your food.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something under your breath, but you knew he meant well based on the lightheartedness of his voice. So, you complied.

Meanwhile, Leon was mentally brainstorming places he thinks you would like in the area — somewhere pretty, he wanted you to have a good time.

After you had finished, Leon let out a sigh and pulled something out of his pocket. A flip phone. He gave it to you. He wordlessly handed it to you.

Woah. What?

You cast him a curious glance before reaching out for it. “Uh, what’s this?” You knew what it was, but why?

“Well, your phone broke.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I saved my number on it already, so just give me a call if you ever need anything.”

Could a man be more perfect? A flip phone was simple, easy to call and all. He knew that you’d likely get an actual smartphone in a couple of days, but he was worried. He just wanted you to be able to contact him whenever and wherever.

You laughed a little, taking a minute to toy around with the buttons on the flip phone. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much, they’re pretty cheap these days.”

With the topic of technology brought up, you had the chance to ask something you had been mulling over. “So, how come I’ve never seen you on the news before? You’re like a knight or something.”

Leon was mildly amused by the sudden inquiry, humming softly to himself as he stirred up a response.

“Well, I’m not too sure people would believe a headline about half of the things I deal with. It’s pretty much kept undercover.” There was a lot more to it than that, but he kept it simple. “Plus, I’m just doing my job — it’s no biggie.”

“Bummer,” you sighed out, “you’d have tons of fans.” It wasn’t even a stretch. A man as attractive and heroic as him? With the size of his biceps? He’d be trending every other week, and some portion of the population would definitely have posters of him. A bit unfitting considering the contents of his job, but not unlikely.

“Would I? Why’s that?” The concept was foreign to him. Sure, he’d gotten compliments on his looks, but that was about it…nobody actively tried to pursue him. And the couple of times he had tried to ask someone on a dinner date, he got a no. He wasn’t insecure about it, though — the only people he had tried to ask out were people in his line of work, all the baggage made relationships and dating tricky.

His question caught you off guard, you knew the answer but you couldn’t say it out loud. “Well…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze before immediately darting your eyes away. “You know, just…”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His voice was one of humor, spoken through a chuckle — he wanted to know.

You let out a long exhale before recomposing yourself. “You look like you could be the heartthrob of the decade. And your personality isn’t half bad either.”

He was quiet for a moment. Now it was his turn to look away, attention now on his hands as he pretended to pick at some of the calluses. Eventually, he voiced his next question. “Would you be one of my fans?”

You snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah. With pom poms and all, maybe I’d even come up with a cheer or something.”

His lips tugged into a small smirk at that, one that was barely visible — he really liked you. “I’d be sure to take a picture to make it last longer.”

“You wish.”

“A guy can dream.”

The government could have very well sent you on your way out into the world when you essentially had absolutely nothing. But, you had some close ones back in your hometown, so, if you just suddenly vanished and your family panicked when they thought you were returning from a vacation…then that would make some things more difficult. The mystery of how you ended up in DC without any of your belongings would be concerning.

Plus, they looked into your file backgrounds. Intelligent, you had the brains, and now the knowledge of bioweapons. Surely, there’d be good use in keeping you around. Possible training to become a field operations support was in your future. They could kill two birds with one stone: gain another worker, and keep you close to the headquarters just in case you tried to expose what you had seen.

It was easy for them to do through blackmail and threats to hurt your loved ones if you didn’t comply with their orders of living in DC. They made you record some bullshit lie to your family as to why you were here.

They printed out all your personal documents that you had lost so you could get a job nearby and get back on your feet, helped get your credit card replaced, and that was it. Any physical cash you had was gone, but at the very least you did have enough money in your bank account to crash at a motel while you sorted things out.

Bastards, really. Yeah, at least you had necessities now, but it was purely for their own benefit.

The prices for even renting a place in DC were just… jaw-dropping. You’d have to search for a small place, and honestly, a car was the last thing on your mind. Having a roof over your head was the most important part. The good news is that with your resume and educational background, you bagged a job fairly soon — though it was nothing compared to the job you were supposed to have.

It had been months since the whole fiasco. You managed to find a small apartment, nothing fancy of course. That was for the better, having a spacious place all to yourself would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You were still very jittery: jumping whenever there was a knock on your door even when you were anticipating a delivery, needing the television on just for the sake of not being left in silence with your thoughts, and sleeping with all the lights on even if your electricity bill suffered as a result.

You thought you would be able to muster up the courage to go to therapy, but would that even be possible? It’s not like you could truthfully talk about your experiences. Even if you did, there’s no way anyone would believe you. And again, it was too much money.

By now, you had gotten a smartphone. But you never discarded the flip phone that Leon had gifted you. You used it to give him a call on a couple of occasions, but you never kept him for over five minutes, not wanting to disturb him for too long, you knew he was busy. Sometimes he didn’t pick up, but after a couple of days, he would return the call and tell you what had kept him from doing so: another assignment, long meetings, all that jazz. Even so, those calls always left you smiling for hours afterward.

Unbeknownst to you, the man on the other side of the phone was equally as thrilled. His pearly whites were always on display whenever you called him. Whenever he got back from work, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails. No matter how battered and sore his body was, your voice alone managed to make him feel all better.

The days blended in together, and oftentimes you found yourself asking what or who was your motivation to keep up with this routine. The only answer that immediately came to mind aside from your loved ones was him. Leon.

Washing the dishes? Hm, you wonder what kind of food Leon eats. Watching TV? Leon mentioned he liked watching movies when he had free time. Struggling with opening a stubborn jar? Leon could definitely open this. Typing a text message? Would Leon use emojis? Abbreviations? Maybe he was one of those people who texted slow as hell and only used their index finger for each individual letter. You should know by now, but the two of you only ever called, and never texted.

The point is, he was flooding your thoughts.

In your mind, you justified it by thinking the only reason you wanted him in your life was to repay him for all the help he had been. But, that was far from the truth. Not when the memory of him flashing you a smile was enough to make your heart do tiny flips or the way his voice was so deeply engraved in your brain that you longed to hear it all the time. And the way you started spending more time on your appearance, just in case you happened to bump into him somewhere — slim chances, but you’d take them.

And naturally, you knew you would feel safe and content with him keeping you company. What you would give to roll your eyes and scoff at one of his puns or lame movie references, or to maybe catch the glimmer of endearment in his gaze whenever it shifted to you.

Would you ever be able to love a man who didn’t understand what you had gone through to a degree?

The sensation of your smartphone suddenly vibrating in your pocket made you flinch and snap out of your thoughts — a frown tugging on your lips as you scrambled to pull it out and answer.

Oh boy, your time at the headquarters wasn't short-lived. And that job of yours? You’d have to resign soon. Seems like the plan to train you to become a field operations support was coming up. Your presence had been requested at a work gathering, collaboration and teamwork skills were essential. So with this event, trainees and recruits could converse with those who were more experienced, to break the ice a little bit. So you convinced yourself you had to go.

Here you were a week later — sitting inside a fancy looking room, moving your now empty cup around. You had been here for thirty minutes and you weren’t sure how much more small talk you could handle. If you were asked the question, ‘So, how’d you land this position?’ one more time, you’d feel physically ill.

Getting ready for the gathering had driven you insane, you took an entire two hours to get ready, mostly because you kept pacing in front of your closet, indecisive about what to wear. Assuming Leon was going to be there, this would be his first time seeing you in actual clothing that aligned with your fashion style, enough said.

You stood up, ready to go outside for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air from this otherwise suffocating environment. But as you looked towards the door, a certain man caught your attention.

There he was. Leon Kennedy in all his glory. When was the last time you saw him in person? A few months. So, why did it feel like you were seeing him for the first time again? You were blown away by his beauty.

He was talking to a taller man who was pretty hunky and had the body of an agent. You assumed they were good buds, seeing the way they patted each other and seemed to be having an interesting conversation rather than a forced one.

You had no idea how long you stood there, but it felt like only a couple of seconds since you were busy admiring him. Maybe he felt your eyes on him, because he eventually looked over directly at you and then dismissed himself from his friend.

Leon almost looked like a puppy as he made his way over to you, his eye-lit gaze set on you despite the plethora of other people he knew in the room. With a couple excuse me’s, he finally reached you.

You had a lot of time to think of a way to greet him, and yet your mind turned to mush the second he was near you. A simple hi, hey, what’s up? No, that wouldn’t suffice. It would feel forced.

“No offense, but this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.” You eventually told him, a sly smile forming on your face.

He placed a hand over his chest and scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Like a dagger to my heart.” After a shared chuckle between the two of you, he gave you a genuine answer. “It’s nice sometimes, gives me a chance to catch up with some people and nurse a drink. But generally? No, not really my scene.”

Before you could say anything in response, he gestured towards you with his hand. “You look stunning.”

“I’d hope so. Though, I think anything is a step up from what I was wearing when you met me.”

“Oh c’mon. You pulled off the look.”

How? He had witnessed you wearing dirty and muddy clothes with scrapes all over. You had definitely not been in the most presentable state. Though to be fair, he had been in the same boat — he did all the combat, so he ended up with ruined clothes and blood all over. Then again, his pretty face and killer body blinded you from those details.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just that charming,” You tried to come across as confident, but the giddy grin on your face in response to his compliment gave away just how much his words affected you.

Cute. Did he make you happy? Years of unsuccessful romance led him to believe that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a natural response to being complimented. But…there was a hopeful voice in his head that said otherwise. No no no, he was being silly. He saved you, he shouldn’t even be thinking about asking you to dinner. Shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look sitting across the table from him, with a glass of champagne in your hand and that perfect smile plastered on your face from the conversation at hand. He wanted to know you. And he knew he was a goner when he woke up one morning upset because he felt like something was missing — you in his arms, curled up against him.

“So, you’re a trainee now?” Leon knew you were going to be here, it was the reason he had unconsciously put more effort into his appearance.

“Yeah, it’s surreal to think about…it sounds stressful.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault. Things could be worse, I’m just glad I’m back on my feet.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Mhm. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to talk to you over your earpiece one day.”

Leon almost froze at that. The thought was appealing. Maybe he should feel selfish for thinking of this in a positive manner when the government had been responsible for the switch up in your life. Even so, he knew that his spirit would be boosted if he heard your voice giving him intel and instructions. Plus, how come you didn’t seem so upset over that?

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of my voice after all those voicemails I’ve left you.”

Ah, the same ones he replayed over and over when he couldn’t sleep. The same ones that managed to keep his post-mission loneliness at bay. The same ones that prevented him from getting a bottle of beer from his fridge and spiraling.

“I could never.” The nearly whispered answer gave away just how sincere he was. Not a quip, not even a tug of his lips.

It made your breath hitch, those three words made you melt like an ice cream left out on a hot summer day. How was it that everything blurred out except for him? The nearby chit-chatter, the blur of people moving around in the background, the clinking of plates and glasses — nothing mattered, nothing took your attention from him.

“You sound pretty confident in your answer.”

“I am.”

“How come?”

Would it scare you if he chose to be sincere? “It’s just nice hearing your voice, y’know, I don’t get many phone calls.”

No, he had to give you more, that sounded too casual. “And uh, they help me…make me feel like I’m not completely alone or lost in this world.”

“I’ll be sure to keep calling you, then.” You were being honest.

He became aware of the semi awkward conversation he had caused, Leon cleared his throat and gestured to the table with drinks. “Shall we?”

Mostly everyone had left after two hours, the only vehicle left in the parking lot was Leon’s bike. You got here through public transportation, you really had to get a car eventually. But, it was hard with your financial situation.

You let out a low whistle when you caught sight of his bike, it suited him, honestly. He took good care of it. “Sweet ride.”

It was his pride and joy, one of his only belongings that gave him a thrill and an escape. And he really wouldn’t mind letting you into that part of his life.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He could give you a ride if you were willing. He kept two helmets anyway, an older one just for nostalgia, and then a newer one. “Ever ridden one?”

“No way,” you laugh, you’re intrigued though. You meet his gaze and see that he’s smiling — and you manage to piece together what he’s offering. “No way.” You repeat incredulously as if asking: Seriously!? You’d let me?

“Way.”

He walked over to his bike and patted one of the helmets. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“What if I fall off?”

“I won’t let you fall off.”

Oh, what the hell? After all Leon has done for you, you trusted him with your life. You approached him, catching onto the subtle flame in his eyes. “Fine, I’m up for it.”

He knew the nearby layout of the area pretty well, so when you told him your address, he knew what route to take.

“Hold still.” Lifting the helmet, he made sure to put it snugly onto you, buckling the chin strap so it wouldn’t fly off or be loose. It made you feel some kind of way. He was so close. If you didn’t have the helmet as a barrier, you’d be tempted to kiss him.

He took a step back to look at you, unable to resist from mumbling out a small ‘cute’ under his breath. Somehow, you hadn’t heard.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. Why did his voice sound raspy all of a sudden? Leon then worked on putting a helmet on himself. Your throat felt dry as you idly stood by and watched, he always looked good…but the sight of him with a helmet on was something you could get used to. With his handsome face now hidden, your attention was drawn more to his body, you tried to not stare at the way his shirt fit tightly against his muscles. Then you realized your eyes weren’t all that visible due to the helmet and dark night. So…you stared.

He taught you how to mount and dismount the bike, he prefers to get on first and for passengers to get on afterward, and for you to dismount the bike before he did. Naturally, he also went over some of the rules for passengers, when to lean, to be cautious of stops, etc. He just wanted both of you to be on the same page. With some trial, error, and a couple of laughs over it, you eventually managed to get the hang of it. So here you were now, all ready to go.

“Hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to fall off or anything.” By now, he knows you’re used to his joking.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the sliver of amusement that slipped into your voice. “Very reassuring, Kennedy.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, you could feel all the muscle he had gained throughout his years of nonstop physical activity.

Leon was smiling underneath his helmet, feeling your body warmth against him. He never really thought he’d be able to have someone else on his motorcycle, especially not someone he had grown to adore so much. The feeling of your arms around him put his heart at ease. “Okay, here goes. Remember, if anything happens just tap me twice.”

At first, it was pretty steady — merely navigating out of the parking space and into the streets, stopping at some red lights, getting a kick out of the way Leon purposely revved the engine for you to hear, and the way you could feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed. It was a soothing pattern, one you’d like to feel more often, perhaps with your head resting comfortably against his stomach.

Entering the ramp to the freeway was an entirely different experience, the breeze suddenly increased tenfold as Leon sped up now that the speed limit was higher.

It felt exhilarating — a stark contrast to how you had felt when you were cooped up all alone in your apartment with nothing but silence. The loud engine of the bike roaring through the freeway drowned out any doubts or worries before they even had the chance to surface to your consciousness. It was so fast that the lights of the cars almost turned into a blur, but the nighttime made it seem so pretty. It felt good.

Honestly, it felt like you were there for hours when that was far from the true reality of a short five minute ride, your heartbeat slowed back down along with the speed of the bike as Leon cautiously drove in the lonely and dimly lit streets of your neighborhood, relying on your input to reach the specific building that had your apartment in it.

Once he finally parked, you got the chance to exhale properly — having been so caught up in the pretty night scenery and the fact you had just gotten a ride from none other than Leon S. Kennedy. You were reluctant to unwrap yourself from him but did so anyway. “Woah,” was all you could say.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Much better than the bus I take, that’s for sure. Life changing.”

With the short lessons you had gone over, you managed to dismount his bike, maybe checking him out a little as he then followed to do the same. He took his gloves off before making his way to you and working on taking your helmet off. The entirety of the situation felt oddly intimate, like a daily interaction a couple would partake in.

“You have a lot of trust in me,” he muttered that comment under his breath as if it was meant for the breeze to sweep away like a leaf. But you heard it anyway.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the guy who quite literally saved my life.”

He merely chuckled, now taking off his helmet. Leon didn’t want to delve into that topic. In his mind, he didn’t necessarily ‘save’ you, he didn’t want to take credit for your own mental and physical strength. The way you were so happy despite everything that had occurred…he admired you for it. He didn’t want you to spiral into the same loneliness and self-guilt that he had, he swore he wouldn’t let you. God, how he wishes he had met you sooner. Late was better than never, though.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” Dork. He didn’t even know which door was yours. It was sweet though, you led the way inside and up an elevator to your floor. Leon committed the way to memory, just in case he ever swung by in the future. He took a look around, making sure everything looked clean and safe, just a habit of his after his years in the force. It looked pretty cozy though, the halls were illuminated well, and everything was in great condition. Some of his worries were eased.

“Thanks for the ride, I had a lot of fun.” Honestly, you had a lot of things you could thank him for, but that would take you more than just a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to keep him since you knew he had to get home too. Internally, you hoped maybe the two of you could meet up — you liked being in his presence.

He brushed it off with a brief wave of his hand, “No worries.” He didn’t feel like you needed to thank him for anything. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched you open up your door. It was too soon. He didn’t even hide the fact he was staring at you, you turned around back around to face him, ready to say bye, and awkwardly get inside.

This was his cue to leave. In any other situation, he’d say, ‘I’ll see ya around’. But he hesitated.

You felt like you were burning up under his pensive gaze, wanting to know what thoughts were occupying that mind of his. Whatever it was, he clearly had something to say. You felt your hopes lift. “Leon?”

The fact is, he had something to ask you. Some higher entity had listened to his pleas and he had gotten a week off, his godsent vacation was finally here.

Like he had mentioned to you once, he wasn’t a huge fan of planes. Vacation or not, he tried to avoid them, there was nothing more reliable than his gorgeous motorcycle. But, he made an exception, and maybe he’d feel more at ease with you on the plane with him. Truth be told, if you said no to his offer, he wouldn’t even go on a vacation abroad, he’d probably just stay at his place.

He was feeling a tad bit doubtful. He knew that your life had been flipped since you had gone abroad for a vacation, so maybe you’d say no. Regardless, he had to ask now. He could be given another assignment at a moment’s notice despite being granted a break, and your training was going to start in a while. He couldn’t afford to not make his feelings known, not with the kind of life he led.

“Hey, listen.” Leon broke the silence that he caused — taking a deep inhale before he continued to voice his thoughts. “I’ve been due for a vacation for a while, and I finally got some time off. I’m planning on taking a short trip.”

“Ah,” you remember a similar conversation, how could you not? You practically memorized every bit of information he told you. You closed your door and leaned against it, not wanting to seem like you were in some hurry to get in. “Italy, right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling over the fact that you remembered that detail. “So, here’s the thing. I bought two flight tickets and booked a room for two. If you’re not busy or anything and if it’s not crazy for you to consider then—“

“Yes,” you responded immediately, like it was pure instinct, the word slipped through your mouth before your mind even had time to process it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline you still felt from the ride.

He grinned, letting out a huff of amusement. “I didn’t even finish—“

He cut himself off when he felt you cup his face with your hands, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin — like warm and cozy laundry straight out of the drying machine. His Adams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed thickly, feeling the tension rise when your lips inched towards his.

You were taking the opportunity, afraid it would slip from your fingers like sand if you hesitated for even a second.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes searched his. After a few seconds of keeping his arms by his side, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, coaxing you closer to him.

Leon felt weak to the knees, crumbling at the eye contact before his eyes flitted towards your lips longingly. Closer. He could feel your lips brushing against his, not a kiss just yet, but the contact was there and served as a complete tease.

“Okay,” he murmured out, warm breath fanning against your lips. He tried to keep his voice stable, but the close proximity was killing him. His hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “Consider a first-class window seat all yours then.”

“With gourmet meals and all?”

“Mhm,” he couldn’t think—he parted his lips in anticipation for yours. His gaze returned to your eyes, his own were half-lidded, looking like they might shut at any minute in preparation for the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t like being in planes?”

“I don’t,” he replied briefly, this felt like torture. His voice was low and rugged, eyes now closing and head tilting to the side slightly. “But with you by my side, it wouldn’t matter.”

God, he was perfect. You pressed your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands snaked up to gently hold the back of your head and keep you in place. He felt an influx of dopamine hit him right away, losing himself in your suave kiss — he was hooked on your taste, it felt like a drug. Like he’d go through withdrawals if he ever had to go without this sensation again.

One of your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling around the ends of his hair. It was soft, feeling like silk. Your nails brushed against his skin on the nape of his neck and he shuddered, feeling the remaining air in his lungs vanish. He could keep going though, he’d drown in your kisses and suffocate by the sweet taste and press of your lips without a single complaint.

If love was possible just by a single kiss, then Leon had just gotten struck by an arrow. It continued, kiss after kiss. It felt right. The final piece to a puzzle — the perfect fit.

Not having a death wish, you eventually pulled back for breath. His lips chased yours, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, only pausing when he heard your soft laughter, one that made his heart leap and his eyes open to meet your own. He pressed his forehead against yours, a smile ghosting his lips as he took the moment in. “We’re uh, pretty good at that.”

“Mm, I dunno.” You shrugged out, running your thumb against his bottom lip. “I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?”

It was a clear ploy to continue on with the kissing. He took the bait with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m game. Just do a countdown and I’m ready whenever.”

“Someone’s eager, here goes. One, two, three…”

[a-b-riddle]

tw: bondage. Body hair removal. A bit of torture? (imo it would be) teasing. This is just… idk. Weird. Just a blurb about ingrown hair and how Price would handle it.

Price told you when you first got together how he liked his women groomed. He didn’t shy away from it. The man knew what he liked 🤷🏼‍♀️

And that was some hair down there. Be it a bit of scruff or a full bush, he liked his women to have hair.

“Need something to keep that pussy warm while I’m away.” He once joked.

But you had thought it was just that.

A joke.

At least it was until you had shaved everything — and I do mean everything— to be a bit spontaneous and boy were you regretting it now.

John had refused to eat your pussy. At first you thought he was being a right prick refusing you until you felt the scratch of his beard against your very sensitive cunt. You practically pulled him up by his ears while he met you with a cocky “I told you so” look on his face.

You didn’t even like being bare down there, but his smug ass smirk had riled you up. You had insisted on keeping yourself shaved, making John’s eyebrow raise in a challenge. He had warned you what would happen if he wasn’t able to get his mouth on you.

Shame you didn’t listen.

Ingrown hairs and obvious irritation made you feel absolutely disgusting. It was perfectly normal, but the constant scratching like you were trying to relieve an itch from a veenirial infection wasn’t exactly… sexy.

You had passed through it. Making a vow to never do it again….

Until you did.

And John had warned you.

Which was why on the second day after shaving, he had tied you to the bed. You had prepared yourself for a proper fucking only to feel that tickle begin to spread the moment he secured the final cuff.

You didn’t know what a devious fucked you had married. Only John Price would refrain from eating your pussy (his favorite past time) in order to prove a point.

You were nearly in tears after thirty minutes of having the irritation flare up and nothing you could do to relieve it. To make matters worse, John was barely a few inches from your soaked cunt.

“Would love to get my mouth on you, but I don’t wanna hurt you like last time.”

“You won’t,” you promised. Pulling at the restraints. Angling your hips upwards to get closer to him.

“Warned you what would happen if you bothered your pussy again. No need to shave it down. I can see her juuuuust fine.” He teased.

“John, please.” Tears had began to spill from your eyes at this point. Not sure whether from the sexual frustration or the torment of not being able to relief the other ache from between your thighs.

“Promise me you won’t take a bloody razor to this pretty little cunt.” He practically growled, his breath hot against you. In that moment you would have never picked up a razor to shave any part of you if he had asked.

When he was finally satisfied with your pleading, he released you. Telling you when she’s a bit more covered and could handle it, he’ll have you sitting on his face. But for now there was a brand new exfoliation glove in the bathroom that he read would help.

You practically bolted out of the bed. No longer caring about coming six ways to Sunday. You had an itch that you definitely didn’t want John to scratch.

[angelicyoongie]

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

"Captain, this is a bad idea."

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain's decision. There's an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that's spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, "This is the fastest route."

"That may be, Captain, but it's not worth the risk. Haven't you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There's a reason it's called The Dead Man's passage!”

A ripple of murmurs flow through the crowd at the reminder, the passage's deadly reputation making it somewhat of a ghost story – a tale every seafarer hears at one point or another. You don't know much; the few crews that have managed the journey safely have been tight-lipped about their experience, their eyes left haunted. The part that has always baffled you the most about the stories is that the ships themselves always make it through the passage, fully intact and filled with loot, but their crews never do. It's like they all vanish without a trace, like they've just been whisked away by the wind – never to be seen again. 

The captain clears his throat, a sharp sound that cuts through the growing voices on deck, silencing them immediately. 

"We have no choice. If we continue on the intended route we'll run out of food and fresh water a week before we reach the nearest port. Cutting through the passage will save us valuable time. I would never take this risk and endanger the crew if someone had done their job properly." 

You glance to the side, catching the eye of the cowering boatswain.

He's young, far too young to handle such responsibility on his own. He's only just grown into his ears, the top of his head barely reaching the captain's shoulders. He was thrust into the position much too soon, but it couldn't be helped. The previous boatswain suddenly succumbed to an infected wound just a few days before you were scheduled to leave the last port. It left all of you scrambling to pick up the slack around the ship and the poor lad must've been forgotten in the mess.

You had tried to delegate someone to help him, but the captain had been firm that he needed to do it on his own, to build character. It's no wonder he wasn't able to calculate the needed supplies correctly, not when he was still grieving the loss of his mentor at the same time. 

You notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of the young boatswain's face, his skin flushed with nerves. You can't let the poor lad be punished for his sorrow, not when this whole predicament could've been avoided. 

Letting out a small sigh, you lower your head in apology, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've made sure everything was in order, this is no one's fault but mine." 

"I expected better from you, Quartermaster," The Captain's comment cuts deep, even though you know this wasn't your fault. "Very well. Seeing as you have placed our crew in peril, I doubt you will oppose the solution to the problem you have created?" 

You grit your teeth, dipping your head lower as you say, "Of course not, Captain. I apologize for speaking out of turn." 

Clenching your hands by your side, you try to focus on the hot sun beating down your neck as you tune out the captain's voice. Getting angry won't do you any good here, not when you've already admitted defeat. The heavy thumps of feet moving all around you tells you that the crew is already beginning to change the ship's course, listening to the captain's orders as he yells them out. You shake your head, stomach churning as you realize that no one dares to challenge him, even if they all know deep down that they're being lead straight to the deaths. 

You steel yourself as polished boots pause in front of yours, eye twitching as you look up and meet the captain's gaze. His solemn expression doesn't quite match the light tone of his voice as he leans in to say, "A hungry crew is a dangerous crew, Y/n. I don't think I need to remind you why that is."

Suppressing a shudder, you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that his little comment has had the intended effect, bad memories already swirling in the back of your mind. Instead, you stare him down, defiant as ever until he shakes his head and walks off in the direction of his cabin.

It's only when he's out of sight that you reach up to trace the raised skin on your throat, the jagged scar that greets you whenever you glance in a mirror. No, there's no reminder nor threat needed. You know first-hand just how desperate a person can become when they're feeling depraved of what makes them human. 

You swallow thickly, ripping your hand away from the old wound. There's no use dwelling on the past, there's nothing from that day that can help you now. 

The sound of the sails billowing out as they catch more wind jerks your attention forward, gentle waves crashing against the hull of the ship as it picks up speed. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the salty air and pray to whatever god that might be listening that you'll be able to make it out of the passage alive. 

The night has already fallen, the moon high in the sky, by the time you catch sight of the two large rock formations in the distance. Everything about the passage screams unnatural and strange, the two small mountains practically appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the sea. While they look to be on the smaller side, you know there's no way to sail around them. The waters are littered with reefs and strong currents, all traps that are bound to sink unsuspecting ships. You can make out the faint outline of a few of them on the horizon, their broken masts and half-sunken hulls serving as a haunting reminder that the only way past the passage is through it. 

You squint as you notice a faint glow in the distance, the light too obscure to make out properly on deck. You quickly make your way up to the helm, hoping the raised platform will provide a better view. 

"What's that?" You murmur, shooting the coxswain a worried glance.

"Ain't anything good, that's for sure," The man grumbles in reply. He tightens his grip on the wheel, eyebrows drawn tight as the ship steadily draws closer and closer. 

The faint glow grows brighter with each passing minute, more and more sources of light appearing all over the two mountains. You suck in a breath as the ship enters the passage, the area so tight it barely allows for two vessels to pass each other. The close proximity allows you to see the lights more clearly, and you're shocked to discover that it seems to be coming from huge white flowers sprouting from the mountain sides. There's something algae-like clinging to the base of the mountains as well, illuminating the edges of the passage like guiding lights, beckoning you in. 

The ship glides smoothly through the channel, the soft current carrying you all through the quiet water. Based on the stories you've heard you were expecting treacherous waves and jagged rocks that appear out of nowhere to throw the crew off-board, but there's none of that. In fact, there's nothing that points to this passage being dangerous at all, no signs of broken planks or fabric clinging to the mountain, no sunken ships visible below the surface. You can almost fool yourself into thinking that no other humans have ever sailed through these mountains before. 

As beautiful and untouched as the passage may seem, there is something terribly unnerving about the silence that has settled over the ship. The crew has gone completely still, like they're scared of breaking the quiet. Likewise, you can't really find it in yourself to make any noise either, your lips pressed firmly together as you anxiously scan the mountain for hidden threats. 

You've almost made it halfway through the passage when you first hear it.

There's a low hum, barely louder than the noise of the water breaking against the ship, that echoes between the tall rocks. You have to strain your ears to hear it at first, but the sound seems to grow with each gust of wind in the ship's sails, gradually increasing the further into the mountains you go. 

You can't make out any words, the language either too old or foreign for you to understand, but the angelic voice behind them makes your heart yearn. You can feel the melody wrapping itself around your heart, squeezing, as it roots itself in your ribcage, sorrowful tendrils clinging to each bone. 

"Come to the water."

The wind carries the whisper straight to your ear, caressing your skin like a warm breath, before it travels on. You jerk forward at the sensation, whipping your head around to locate where the voice could be coming from.

There's no one around you aside from the coxswain who looks to be lost in thought, mouth slack as he stares ahead. 

You glance down at the deck, frowning as you notice that more and more of the crew are beginning to abandon their posts. They're all migrating to the right side of the ship, walking on unsteady feet like they've been guzzling down barrels of mead. 

"Come to me."

You wince as the singing grows more intense, your breath stuttering in your chest in response to the voice that's so desperately calling for you.

You blink, eyes struggling to adjust, as the flowers and the algae on the mountains begin to thin out, taking their light away with them. As if that wasn't bad enough, a great shadow is suddenly cast upon the passage, the last of the illumination you had rapidly disappearing behind thick clouds as the moon is hidden away. 

You curse under your breath, mentally taking note of the lit oil lanterns hanging around the ship. There's ten, no– nine, but if you gather them all up and place them near the bow, maybe it'll be enough light to get the ship safely out of the passage? 

"I need to– hey!" You stumble back as the coxswain bumps into you, his eyes unseeing as he stumbles towards the stairs to the lower deck. A sudden drift to the side propels him forward, allowing him to slip out of your reach before you can grab his shirt and haul him back. 

"Shit," You hiss, only giving yourself a split second to hesitate before whirling around to grab the wheel. The wood has already begun to turn left without the coxswain's steady hands to lead the way and the ship groans as you hurry to correct it back on the right path. 

You keep a tight vise on the wheel, leaning forward to yell out for another crewmate to take over, when you hear the first splash. 

Hurriedly glancing down at the deck, the swaying lanterns provide just enough light to show one of the cooks climbing over the railing, his movements stilted and jerky as he suddenly flings himself off the ship. Your scream is caught in your throat, your eyes wide with horror as you hear the subsequent splash of his body hitting the water. 

What in the gods is going on?

Feet rooted to the floor and fear squeezing the back of your neck with a iron grip, you can only watch as the crew all clamber over the railing, throwing themselves off the ship one by one. The steady melody echoing between the mountains is only interrupted by the terrible sound of bodies sinking into the ocean.

Dread settles deep into the pit of your stomach as you realize there are no screams, no gasps for air, only silence – and him, the voice that's begging you to come rest along your brethren in the deep, peaceful ocean. 

"No," You wheeze, shaking your head to rid the fog that's has begun creeping in. You cling to the wheel, fingers slick with sweat as you try to keep the ship steady, ignoring the blur that has settled at the edge of your vision. 

"Captain!"

Hope shoots through your veins as you find your captain in the dwindling crowd, his bulky figure illuminated by the dancing lights as he stumbles over to the nearest crewmate, pulling them back from the railing. He pushes a few men back, his strength sending them sliding back to the middle of the deck.

You almost loosen your grip, ready to run down and help him, when he abruptly turns his back on them and jumps over the railing in one swift motion. He lands on the small ledge just outside of it, heels shuffling not to slip as he grips the banister with one arm. 

"Captain!" The scream rips out of your throat, carrying across the silent deck like a bullet.

The captain shudders as it reaches him, his body jerking back and forth like he can't make up his mind on whether he should jump or not. Horrified, you watch as he twists his upper body around to face you, his expression stricken as he meets your gaze across the ship. He almost looks like he just came out of a trance, his face drenched in sweat and skin grey with fear as he tries to figure out how he ended up at the edge of the vessel.

You can see mouth opening, his lips forming around the first syllables of your name when the angelic voice suddenly grows louder, the haunting melody reverberating between the mountains. The captain's mouth goes slack, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he once again succumbs to spell that was controlling him. The last thing you see as the captain lets go of the railing, is the serene smile that takes over his face, his eyes closing as he falls backwards into the ocean. 

Heart pounding inside your chest, you stare blankly at the now empty spot where your captain stood. You flinch, sick to your stomach, at the heavy splash that follows only seconds later. 

"Lay your tired body to rest." 

Your fingers twitch at the command, a little whisper in the back of your mind begging you to obey – to give in. You legs have started to shake, sweat sliding down your back in a steady stream at the effort it takes to resist the pull. 

Even as you struggle to gulp down enough air, your body in overdrive from the unfathomable things you've just seen, you still find your pulse quickening, panic flooding every fibre of your being as it finally dawns on you what's going on. 

You've sailed right into the territory of a siren. 

Perhaps you should have seen it coming – the tales of the passage all emphasize how it's only the crew that go missing, not the ships. You've heard whispers about creatures lurking in the deep ocean, of monsters that eat humans, but you never expected that you would ever encounter them. They were folktales, something you chose not to believe in to protect your own sanity as a seafarer. Now, you can only curse yourself for not trusting your instincts the moment you felt the unearthly atmosphere of the mountains; that you didn't have enough forethought to at least stuff your ears and tie each crewmate to their post as a precaution. 

Maybe it would've been enough to save the them – to save you. 

You cower against the wheel as the song grows so loud it causes your ears to ring, the voice promising peace and eternal slumber. It urges, demands, your body to move and you whimper fearfully as your feet take a step back against your will. 

You can't tell how much time has passed since the ship entered the mountains, it could be mere minutes or it could be hours – but as you peer into the looming darkness, you can finally make out where the passage ends and opens back up to the vast sea. The joy fizzles out before it can even take root, the sight in front of you filling you with a sense of glum acceptance. Even if you can see the end, there's no way you'll make it there. The ship is moving too slow, almost no wind making it past the tall mountains. 

Your head throbs painfully as the siren's whispers turns more insistent. You can feel the creature's wrath, how angry he is that you're still resisting him. The increased pressure behind your skull makes you groan, your vision going dark as you're hit with a sudden dizzy spell. 

Gripping the wheel, you're confused to find that the woods feels thicker, less polished, than it was only seconds before. You force your eyelashes to part despite the sharp pain it gives you, blinking furiously to clear your swimming vision. Your knees nearly buckle as the silent waters below come into focus, your body no longer on the upper deck. Dazed, you stare at the white knuckled grip you have on the railing, your feet tucked into the openings between the posts. 

"Oh gods," You whisper shakily.

You have no idea how you got here. 

The sound of a soft splash makes you turn your head to the side. Your throat runs dry as you watch the big circle of ripples that fan out from the spot where something dived underwater, the waves much too big to come from a normal fish. As you keep looking at the one spot in disbelief, one of the lanterns on the ship sway outwards, following the rocking of the ship. 

It takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing, the stale bread you had earlier that day shooting up your throat as the waters on the side of the vessel is lit up. The ocean is no longer the clear blue it was when you entered the passage but rather a murky red, saturated with what must be the blood of your crewmates. 

The sight makes you heave, tears springing to your eyes as the reality truly settles in. 

You're going to die. 

The siren – the predator – luring you all to your deaths, is clearly waiting right below, ripping everyone apart the moment they're submerged below the water. Even if the shock of the cold sea woke them up from their trance, they would have no chance to fight off such a vicious creature. You have no chance. The moment you step off the ship, you're dead.

You sob as the shock tapers off, the singing once again hitting you with full force. You can't stop your own body as you clumsily clamber over the railing, your feet moving without your permission. It's only when you hit the ledge that you find yourself able to jerk back, a moment of temporary control allowing you to plaster yourself against the banister. 

Staring down at the crimson sea, you find your mind going blank. You always expected to see flashes of your life pass by your eyes when faced with certain death but there's nothing. No happy memories to numb the inevitable pain of being torn apart, muscles shredded to bits as water fills your lungs. No echoes of the voices you adore saying that they love you and that everything will be okay. 

Instead, there's only the deadly quiet sea and the siren's taunting whispers urging you to jump. 

You eye the dark water, noticing a large shape moving closer just under the surface of the ocean. You mindlessly reach for the dagger on your hip, clutching it tightly in your hand even if it means you're only clinging on with one arm. If your death is unavoidable, then you're sure as hell not going down without inflicting a deep cut or two. 

As something begins to emerge from the water, the song that has been constantly ringing between your ears suddenly quiets down. Your skin puckers with goosebumps, all the hair on your body rising in fear as a head slowly rises above the surface. The siren's dark locks are one with the water, the long strands flowing into the ocean like spindly fingers. In the dark, there's no telling where it ends, as if the ocean is merely an extension of the creature itself.

Two pitch black eyes, as dark and deep as the starless skies above, lock onto yours the moment they rise above the surface. The flickering lantern doesn't offer much assistance but the poor light tells you that it has no discernible pupils, nothing to indicate that there's any life in them. It's like staring into an endless void. 

Despite the chill those eyes send down your spine, your feet willingly takes another step forward, like the mere presence of the creature alone is enough to entrance your body. You let out a pained scream as you slip, your shoulder popping loudly as you manage to grab onto a post, one arm working desperately to keep you from failing into the water below. 

"No, no, no," You whimper, gravity making it impossible to reach up with your other arm. You won't be able to pull yourself up even if you drop your knife, the small ledge above making it impossible to locate another post. 

You glance down as you dangle from the ship, your grip almost slipping out of fright as the siren's maw comes into view above water. His jaw is unhinged, hellish, mouth stretched way past that of a normal human. It's filled with rows of fang-like teeth, all stained with crusted blood. Terrified, you watch as the siren seems to simply pop his jaw back into place, like the fact that it was just opened so wide it was touching his sternum poses no issues at all.

The creature tilts his head, thinking, as he watches you struggle to drag yourself up. He swims closer, the movement so fluent it looks like he's just gliding through the water. Your arm is shaking terribly by the time he's only a few feet away from where you'll hit the ocean, your shoulder screaming with hurt from holding on for so long. 

Through the blinding pain, you see the siren reach out a webbed hand, his long black claws nearly the size of his fingers. He gives you a smile you can only describe as sinister, blood stained teeth on display and his voice melodious as he says, "Come, pet."

You can feel the thrall taking hold this time, your body willingly going slack one limb after the other. You have no time to think, no time to act, before your hand simply just lets go of the railing on its own volition.

In the second it takes for your body to fall, before your eyes squeeze shut and your body is surrendered to the water – all you can think as you spare the skies one last glance, is that the gods must be cruel if they can't even give you a starry night to look upon before you're torn apart by their horrific creation. 

Groaning, you slowly open your eyes. There's a dull ache at the base of your skull and every blink up at the pink-tinted sky only seems to make it throb more. The surface you're lying on is hard, terribly uncomfortable, and there's no steady rocking motion to soothe you back to sleep for a few extra minutes of rest. 

Something feels wrong.

It's only when your eyes have fully adjusted to the soft light that you're snapped back to reality, the distant sound of waves breaking bringing back the memories of the night before. You jerk upright, heart racing, as they come flooding in all at once. The crew, the siren, the blood. You jumped. You should be dead.

You force yourself to take slow, steady breaths, shakily inhaling air through your nose as you glance around. You can't afford to panic right now, not when you don't know where the creature is or when it might come back. 

The morning sun is just barely peeking over the top of the mountain that's blocking most of your sight, casting a large shadow over what appears to be a lake just in front of you. It's still dark, still dawn, on your side of the mountain and it makes the faint glow on the rocks all the more noticeable. You're too far away to tell for sure but you have a terrible feeling that it's likely the same flowers that you sailed past in the passage. And if you can still see them, that means you must be on the other side of the mountains you attempted to travel through. 

You're sitting near the mouth of what appears to be a small cave, connected by a large piece of flat stone that's jutting out into the lake. It's lined with clusters of big and small rocks, creating an odd border along the sides of it. The mountain around the cave is unnaturally smooth, the incline too sharp for you to even think about climbing it. No matter how much you stare at the rock formation that's surrounding you, you can't find a way out. There's no open space that would allow you to escape.

You eye the other side of the lake with a shudder, noting that it looks to be more rough there with a few ledges and ridges you can probably use to haul yourself up. The only problem is; you'll have to actually swim across the deep body of water first. It sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself eaten, though you doubt staying here is much better. The creature must've kept you alive and brought you here for a reason, and you're really don't want to find out why that is.

A pained gasp escapes you as you pull your right shoulder back. The initial adrenaline and panic when you woke up must've blocked out most of the hurt of your dislocated shoulder but now that it's starting to fade, it's coming back fast. The bone is still very much popped out of its socket, the area inflamed and swollen as you lightly touch it with trembling fingers. You swallow thickly as your arm begins to twitch, a burning spasm racing from your shoulder to the tips of your hands.

You bite down on your lip to stop your groan, tasting blood as the involuntary cramp continues. 

"Fuck," You wheeze, eyes glazing over as you stare at the rising sun. If you're going to have any chance of escaping, you have no choice but to fix your shoulder. 

You stuff the damp material of your shirt into your mouth, hoping it'll be enough to muffle your voice as you carefully lie back down on the stone. Years on the sea has taught you a thing or two and dislocated shoulders are a common injury when you're part of a crew that loves to brawl whenever they visit a tavern. You've seen the way they pale and yell when it gets adjusted and while you have no idea if the siren will be able to hear you scream – you'd rather not risk it. 

White hot pain pulses out of your shoulder as you extend the arm to raise it above your head, your vision blurring as you slowly reach for your opposite shoulder behind your head. It hurts, gods, it hurts, but you have to do this. You release a muffled scream as the dislocated bone finally pops back into place, cold sweat dripping down your temple as you tremor with pain. You lay there, harshly panting through the cloth in your mouth, until the hurt subsides to only an ache.

You wince as you push yourself off the hard stone, spitting out your shirt to release a labored breath. Your body feels battered and bruised, completely worn down from all the horrors you've been through in the past six or so hours. You have no idea if you even have enough energy to make it across the lake, the distance probably greater than it looks, but what other alternative do you have? 

Just as you're about to get off the ground, the sound of a soft splash echoes between the mountain walls. You jerk, heart skipping a painful beat in your chest as you frantically scan the water. You freeze when you notice how the surface is rippling much closer than expected, only a third of the lake between you and the waves that are parting around a dark shadow.

Out of instinct, your hand falls to your hip, searching for your knife. Your fingers only grip around air, the smooth handle nowhere to be found. In your panic, it takes you a second too long to remember that you held it as you fell from the ship, the knife probably lost somewhere at the bottom of the passage.

You scramble back on the rock as the creature's outline becomes visible, hands reaching out blindly behind your back for anything that can be used as a weapon. 

You falter, blood running cold, as pale arms suddenly reach out of the water, planting themselves square on the edge of the rock. The siren heaves himself up without any issues, resting his back against one of the larger stones that's lining the flat extension of the cave. Water drips off his body like sparkling crystals in the morning light, giving a healthy glow to his otherwise almost sickly white skin. His long black hair hangs like a curtain in front of his face, the strands reaching far past his back, dipping into the water. 

Patches of scales litter his arms and abdomen; a long fin running down the length of his spine. You find it hard to believe your own eyes as you stare at his stomach, at the area where the creature's human-like qualities disappear completely and transitions into that of a fish. His tail is long and thick, dreadfully similar to a serpent in the way it undulates on the rock as the water slowly evaporates from its scales. The slight movement allows the sun to dance across the siren's tail, showing off the iridescent glow that was hidden by the dark night. The sight leaves you transfixed, hues of colors you've only seen in the sky shimmering across his body.

Your attention is only stolen away when the creature raises one of his hands, his webbed fingers and pointed, long nails looking like they've been dipped in black ink. He runs his claws through his hair, parting the long locks that've been hiding his face.

You jerk back, swallowing thickly, when you find that the siren is already staring in your direction. His eyes are just as dark and emotionless as you can recall from the night before, two endless pools of black. The lack of a discernible pupil is unnerving, it makes it all that much harder to tell just where the creature is really looking. Long lashes frame his haunting eyes and the perfect slope of his nose leads down to the plushest, red lips you've ever seen.

You feel yourself pale as he opens his mouth, those horrible sharp teeth becoming visible as he calmly says, "Your knife is long gone, human." The siren dips his head slightly, looking at the way your hand is still resting near your hip, desperate for the familiar comfort of your knife. 

What?

Your mouth parts in disbelief, brain slow to compute the fact that the creature just spoke, out loud, with a voice that sounded eerily human and ordinary. 

"Can you not talk, pet? I swear I heard your sweet voice refusing me when the moon was high." 

"I-I can," You stumble over your words, tongue twisting in your mouth under the siren's watchful gaze. 

"Wonderful!" Something pleased passes over his face, his fin hitting the water with an excited splash. The loud sound makes you flinch, droplets spraying up on the rock just shy of your legs. The corner of the siren's lips quirks at your reaction, as if he finds it funny.

It reminds you of the way your crew used to look at street dogs, their expressions taunting and terrible as they made them do tricks for scraps of food.

It's cheap entertainment, they always used to tell you. 

You can't help but wonder if that's what you are – mere entertainment for the siren until he decides to stop playing with his food.

The thought makes you furious. The mocking twist of his lips gives you a sudden rush of defiance, your rebellious nature rearing its head despite the dangerous predator right in front of you. Perhaps there might have been some truth to what your captain always liked to say – you never quite learned when to back down and keep quiet. 

You breathe in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm your racing heart as you say, "How are you speaking a language I understand?" 

"Easy. Humans are simple creatures and so are their languages," He answers, cocking his head.

"What are you, then?" You blurt, "Parts of you look human and the rest does not. Were you cursed?" 

Like the flip of a coin, the siren's expression turns hard, offended, at the insinuation that he might be human. He jerks forward, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth as he lets out a terrible hiss. The sight sends all the alarm bells inside of you blaring, your shoulder screaming in protest as you collapse backward, using your elbows to drag yourself further inside the cave. 

"I am not a fragile human," He scoffs, turning his head to glance out on the lake. He flexes his tail to deliver another harsh smack to the water surface, the sound bouncing between the walls of crater. "Have you not heard stories, little human? Of creatures blessed with qualities of the sea and land?"

It takes you a moment to regain your voice, fear making it tremble as you carefully say, "Do you mean mermaids?"

"Correct, pet," He hums, "I see you're not completely hopeless." 

You dig your nails into flat rock, voice tight as you ask, "What about the singing? You.. you made everyone jump. I didn't know mermaids could do that." 

The siren looks wistful as tips his head back to face the sun. He closes his eyes with a small sigh, "Life becomes tedious when you stay in the same place for too long. I needed something new, so I left my brothers for colder water after hearing about these great big things that moved through the oceans there. Hm... I wonder if the ships have managed to reach them yet, it must be close to fifty humans years since I left." 

You blink, shocked that the siren is well over twice your age. He looks young, definitely not a day older than you, but you suppose creatures like him must age at a different rate. Clearly the world is much different from what you first thought – slow aging is likely the least fantastical thing out there to discover. 

"The ships lost their charm quickly," He adds, "But the humans on-board were fascinating. They called out to each other in melodies, both happy and sad as they sailed through my home. I was alone here at first, few of my kind dared to venture into colder climates, so the humans were all I had for company. It took me many human years to reshape my throat but I eventually learned to mimic their sounds. After that it was easy to learn the most common tongues that passed through my water."

"One day a ship of humans heard me singing and came looking for the source instead of passing me by – that was when I realized it was a wonderful way to lure you in. Your species have always been much too curious for your own good," The sun catches on the siren's teeth as he grins, highlighting the rows of fangs lining his mouth. 

You shudder, stomach turning at how easily he speaks of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he must have murdered over the years.

"Many moons passed and I grew tired of playing with my food. I found a sea witch – awfully slippery creatures – that gave me part of her magic, making it possible for me to enthrall humans from a greater distance. She was of great help, quite tasty too." 

You can only stare at him in silence, lips pressed together tightly to hold back the acid burning at the back of your throat. 

"I believe you humans created a name for me – to ward off others from crossing my path," He cocks his head, expectant, as he sends you a side-ways look. 

"You're a siren," You whisper, pulling yourself back another inch.

"The one and only, pet," He purrs. "Though, I would prefer that you would utter my real name over something made up. Try saying Seokjin for me, little human." 

You'd rather force your shoulder back into its socket a hundred times before complying to a monster's wishes, but it isn't exactly a request you can refuse.

 So you grit your teeth, forcing out a stilted, "S-Seokjin." 

Disgust curls deep in your stomach as the siren's tail once again quivers back and forth, seemingly pleased with your acquiescence. 

You look across the lake at the unmoving mountain, mustering up the courage to ask the question that's been at the forefront of your mind ever since you woke up. "What happened to my crew?" You ask weakly, "Are any of them still alive?"

"No."

The answer comes easily, no hint of remorse or guilt in the siren's voice.

You can feel your nails ache and splinter against the rock as you scrape them across the surface, desperate for something to hold on to as you say, "Did you ... Did you eat them?" 

"Of course. Do you expect me to starve?" Seokjin replies impassively, "You humans hunt your food too, I've seen how you use those rope contraptions to gather up fish." 

You knew there was little chance of other survivors, but the confirmation still feels like a shock. Your vision swims, hot tears burning your eyes as unwelcome images of your crew – your captain – eaten by the very creature in front of you, flashes across your mind. 

"We don't hunt other humans! Nothing this close to our own species!" You cry, voice rising with anger as grief twists itself around your heart. Your crew might not have been much, but they were still the closest thing you had to a family – a home.

Seokjin looks unmoved by your outburst, bored almost, as he says, "Pet, this is how the ocean works. Do you lecture fish when they eat their smaller brethren? Species do not matter. It's either kill or die here." 

"Then why am I alive?" You ask, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat.

The siren seems to perk up your question, scales glistening as he straightens up against the rock. He finally turns his head to face to you fully, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "See, little human, now you're finally asking the right thing. I find you fascinating – I haven't had a human pique my interest in many moons. I want to know how you managed to resist me for that long, why my thrall isn't as effective on you. What makes you so different from all the other humans that have jumped so willingly into my water?"

A foreboding sense of unease washes over you as Seokjin speaks, every muscle in your body tensing with fear. The siren wants to study you? The only way he can do that is to continue to use his thrall - his voice - and make you do things you do not want to do. He can force you to present your limbs for nibbling and you'll be none the wiser until it's too late. 

"I don't know," You shake your head, "I-I didn't even know you existed until last night!"

"How disappointing," Seokjin clicks, the flicker of emotion on his face once again melting away to nothing. "Well then, pet, as expected, it seems you will be staying here until my curiosity is sated."

"What?" You clamber to your knees, gripping them tightly to keep yourself from doing something as humiliating as bowing – begging – the awful creature in front of you for an ounce of humanity that he clearly does not have. 

"You can't do that, I can't stay here!" 

"Then jump in the water and see how long you last," Seokjin once again flicks his strong tail, the harsh smack sending a tremble down your spine. 

The siren's lips part into a something akin to a twisted smile, his blood speckled teeth making you sick as he hums, "Your thighs look delectable, little human, and I am quite prone to an early morning snack. So unless you want to watch as I eat you alive, you better stay put."

There's a minuscule quirk to his brows, a challenge, as he watches you absorb his words. Seokjin doesn't wait for you to give him an answer, your stunned silence more than enough for him. He doesn't spare you another glance as he pushes himself off the rock, effortlessly jumping back into the lake. It only takes a few seconds, a couple of strong flaps of his fin, before he disappears from view and his dark tail is nowhere to be seen.

You find yourself frozen to the spot, unable to move as you stare mindlessly at the spot Seokjin entered the water. The harsh ripples dancing over the surface is the only proof you have that you haven't lost your mind, that all of this is actually real. 

Pressing your hands to your face, you finally allow your body to break, to mourn, as you release pained sobs into your palms. Everything hurts. Your body, your mind, your heart. You have no idea how you're going to escape to the mountain on the other side, and even if you do, then what? The siren can just use his song to lure you back down. 

Seokjin has made the situation very clear. You can try to cross the lake and dive straight into your own grave, or you let him do what he wants. Either way – you fear it won't take long before the siren makes good on his promise.

You don't doubt it'll amuse him to make you watch as he tears you apart, piece by piece.

a/n: hello folks!! we are once again diving back into the TCS universe, only this time with seokjin as our lead mermaid! what do you think about him and his siren powers so far? this will likely only be a two part series, with more yandere behaviour and some smut in the final chapter, so if you enjoy the story so far please let me know! it’s really motivating to hear your thoughts and read your comments (and reblogs help a lot)!! 

the final chapter will likely be posted in july if there’s enough interest for it 🧜‍♀️

in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖