#joel miller x you x ezra prospect

[gingerlurk]

RAW

Joel Miller x f!Reader x EzraProspect

Out of universe. Out of character. Out of my damn mind. 

Rating: 18+ explicit MDNI – mfm, no-outbreak!Joel Miller, menace!EzraProspect, established relationship (with Joel), pair of consent kings, porn without plot, cuckholding (not really), ass slapping, tit grabbing, a touch of breath play, ass play, rimming, unprotected piv x 2 (be safe), self-pleasuring (reader & Joel), spitting x 2, a little hair pulling (only description of reader is having hair to be pulled and caressed), biting, cmnf (both men stay mostly clothed while you are naked), creampie, we’ve got a cock-drunk reader I think, maybe even a squinty breeding kink (I surprised myself there), aftercare, it’s implied Ezra is your ex (you’re cool though), he has both arms, he also has a variety of weird nicknames for you I dunno, Joel just calls you baby, Joel carries you but he’s just so strong, you know? Appearances from Frankie Morales, Javier Peña and Din Djarin. 

Look it’s just… look. Let me know if I should add any others, cheers!

Word count: 4.6k

AN: Interrupting my own Mandalorian-obsessed programming to share this self-indulgent, pure unadulterated filth. I don’t know what this is. It came to me as I was lost in an acute migraine haze and it just feels like it needs to be out of my head to bring me any kind of peace.

Honestly just a way to get me through the holiday sads at this point.

These are standalone characters, and I have thots for the other three PP boys mentioned at the start. So we’ll see how tortured I am by those/how this one goes and they may turn into follow-ups. Enjoy?!

--

He's not your first choice. He's not even your third.

But fuck, Joel wants this and you're seeing your options get shot down one after the other.

Frankie is an outright no – positive Joel is just gonna kill him the moment he lays hands on your body. Unwilling to listen to your assurances, your assertions that it wasn’t even your idea to begin with, he doesn’t relent from his refusal. 

Lifting his cap to run fidgety fingers through his hair, the gorgeous pilot turns you down with regret in his dark, sweet eyes.

Javier Peña, the sex siren incarnate, also shakes his head.

‘Don't get me wrong, hermosa,’ he croons, leaning in close. ‘I'd fuck you three different ways on three different days, no question.’ He lifts a brow, pouts. ‘But not with another man present.’

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he says, ‘If I can have you all to myself, you call me.’

All breathy as he saunters away, you file that for later. Maybe once Joel has had his fill of this little venture, he'll be feeling generous to such a request.

And Din. Well, the mysterious perennial traveller is off overseas somewhere and no one knows when he'll show up next. Bust there. 

So it is with a little apprehension in your chest that you text the man that, as you know all too well from your wild days at uni, is up for just about anything.

The message has barely landed on read when he calls.

‘You crave defilement as your beasty man watches, do you?’ Ezra snarls into the line. ‘Want me to do it? Raw? Want him to bear witness to the things I know I can get you to do and scream?’ His voice buzzes in your ears and makes your belly thrum.

‘That's quite the prospect.’

With some brief explanations he barely even pretends to need, a date is set and you hang up with a shaky thumb to your screen.

It’s shaking again along with the rest of you as you tug the door open on the tap-tap-tap Ezra places to the glass. His half side smile turns to a lascivious grin as he sees you, eyes tracking over you – head to toe. They flick to Joel, who stands at the base of the stairs with arms crossed and jaw locked.

‘Evenin’,’ your guest greets as you wave him inside. ‘We ready for this arrangement of ours to commence?’

In answer, Joel turns and climbs the steps. Ezra looks at you with a smirk.

‘Not a talker, is he?’

‘You know he isn’t,’ you reply.

Nothin’ to say to that so you gesture and he follows. Up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Joel has already taken his position – seated in a dining chair dragged up from the kitchen, facing the far side of the bed.

Your heart flutters at the sight. At what you’re about to do.

Ezra steps up to stand beside you, where you’ve come to a stop on the opposite edge of the double-queen. 

He hisses in a breath. ‘Now, we discussed this on the phone but I am keen to confirm, with all parties here and present, that – in your words – no act, motion or gesture is strictly off the table tonight. Is that right? No glarin’ slips? In this moment, right here?’ 

‘There is the one rule,’ you say. ‘It’s a firm one.’

Ezra turns to you, raises his arms and skates a palm across each of your shoulders. It makes a sizzling path on your skin.

‘Now that small detail has not left my awareness, dear,’ he says, melty pools of want in his gaze. ‘Be most assured. Anything else?’

‘We have the safe word,’ you say, getting antsy. 

‘Mmhm, I remember that too, don’t worry,’ he replies. ‘But,’ a nod to Joel, face serious, ‘with those taken wholly and – may I add, justly – into account. To confirm?’

Joel’s jaw ticks. He looks to you for a moment. As you nod, so does he – shifting his gaze back to the man standing next to you.

‘Excellent,’ Ezra turns and gives you a thorough leer, a Cheshire grin. Eyes seizing your insides with the intent behind them. ‘Then, I would say that the next pertinent steps are for you to remove every single stitch of clothin’ adorned to your body and get on that there bed.’

You do as you’re told, shucking off top and skirt but pausing with a little trepidation at bra and panties. Ezra has to make a little ‘go on’ motion before you shed those too and – fighting the butterflies erupting in your belly – climb across the quilt.

On hands and knees, you look up and lock eyes with Joel. He’s bent forward, elbows on his own knees spread wide, gaze intent. You feel Ezra behind and a covetous grip on your thighs tugs you closer to his side of the bed.

‘So,’ Ezra murmurs. A hand lands on the small of your back, warm and large and calloused. ‘I admit I hold a curiosity that cannot be helped. And I must ask.’

The hand raises and lands with a firm smack on an ass cheek. You gasp a little and the momentum of the slap has you leaning toward Joel, whose teeth have bared just a little. He doesn’t move. The fingers behind you dig into your flesh, urge you back toward Ezra’s edge again.

‘It is a simple curiosity,’ he goes on. ‘It is only this: why?’

Another slap and, at your pained yelp, he carries on, ‘Why allow me this? This beauty who I imagine has known only your hands for the longest time? Why let me have her now…’ His palm soothes the burn of his flagellation. He waits.

Joel gives in to the slightest shrug.

‘Guess I’m curious too,’ he drawls. ‘I’ve explored every single part of this sweet thing. In’erested to see what another man’ll do with her.’

The low whistle over your shoulder is filled with relish. You hear Ezra suck in air between clenched teeth. Holding you firm, he rocks against your exposed rear, lets you feel the erection straining against his pants.

‘Every part of her, huh?’ he queries. Without warning, a huge arm wraps across your middle and slings you up. In a heartbeat, you find yourself pressed flush to his front, the rough fabric of his shirt no barrier to the heat radiating off his torso. He holds you so tight to himself, you can feel the thud thud thud of his heart between your shoulder blades.

The movement also causes your legs to twitch and you feel it. The start of your arousal leaking between your thighs. Another look at Joel, and his intense focus has you slippery and throbbing.

You breathe deep and wait, eyes now closed and listening only to two men breathing hard as well.

Ezra’s other arm moves onto you.

‘So I am given to be assured you’ve amply taken in these pretties,’ Ez growls. Both hands cup and massage your tits, bring the nipples to a standing attention. He waits. ‘Well?’

‘What d’ya think?’ Joel spits with a small head tilt.

‘Mm,’ Ez hums, nods into your shoulder. ‘Mmhm.’

Fingers move up, up, across a collarbone and to the base of your throat.

‘And here?’ he asks. ‘Have you known her here? Gifted her the dizzying sensations of restricted breath? Held her life, both gentle and savage, amidst the pressure of your digits?’

At that, he presses his middle and index fingers into the soft skin under your jaw and you feel it, just a little. Just the beginnings of light and airy pleasure pulsing in your head. His thumb strokes by your other ear.

Joel's own hands are clenched into tight fists, resting on his knees as he has straightened up. Almost primed. Like an animal ready to pounce.

‘Have you?’ The man with his hand around your neck presses.

With eyes growing hungrier, Joel nods.

That elicits a surprised little sound from Ezra.

‘Well,’ he turns his head and addresses you. The thumb engages and pushes down, in. Now you’re feeling it. Feeling it thrum from the crown of your head through your body and down to your cunt, which is decidedly dripping. ‘This bird may have flown my nest, but you took a little something learned with you, huh?’

You can’t move, can’t speak. Might just cum. Might just fucking cum and he hasn’t even touched you yet. So you just let your eyes roll back and hope Joel can see how much you love it. The choke stays light, your possessor seemingly interested only in taunting and testing. 

A tiny whine escapes your throat. Ezra lets go and you gasp a little, let your chest rise and fall as you suck in oxygen. 

Look to Joel again, feel an undeniable rush as you see he’s staring at the apex of your thighs. His shoulders rising and falling too, almost in sync with you. He can see it. You know he can.

Ezra is still holding you tight as your head lolls with abandon, falls onto his shoulder. 

Finally, finally, the hand that had been around your neck moves down. Down. 

God yes, please…

But he only barely cups your mound, doesn’t go anywhere near where you need it. 

‘And this?’ he questions unnecessarily. ‘And of course, you will have intimate carnal knowledge of this right here? Please assure me you know every single blessed millimetre of this holiest of shrines. I would be aggrieved were it not so.’ 

‘Yes,’ Joel rasps in a voice filled with fury and lust.

You can’t help yourself. You start to beg, ‘Pl- Please.’ Try to buck into his hand, for the contact, for just a little bit of friction to where you’re humming like a charged wire. But it backfires. He leaves your core and covers your mouth instead. Leans into your ear.

‘Ssh, my bird,’ he murmurs. ‘Ssh, do not fret. I’m going to take care of you.’

With a little shove, he lets you flop forwards, where you catch yourself on your forearms and bury your head between them, burning up.

With your ass still high, cool air only has a moment to make itself known before he’s drawn you close, presses himself against your thighs.

‘You impress me, Joel,’ he grits. ‘Joel, I have to say that you have indeed impressed me. And with now a… slight doubt in my conviction, I am keen to make the case there is a space within her you have yet to take solace.’

A large thumb lands between your shoulders and starts a path down your spine. It takes its time, feeling each vertebrae and letting you arch against the touch. Slipping over the sweat that beads on your skin. It comes to rest against the crease at the top of your ass cheeks. Oh god. He’s gonna--

‘So Joel, what of this?’ The snarl behind you is feral, frightening. ‘Have you made an expedition of—’

He doesn’t finish the sentence as his thumb swipes down and connects with your tight ring of muscle, presses firm there but doesn’t yet go further. 

‘Oh fuck,’ you twist your head to look back. He’s not looking down at you but up and over your head, staring at Joel.

‘Have you?’ he snarls again, making you clench.

You can’t hear or see Joel's response, but Ezra’s reaction is a look of pure delight.

‘Mmmm,’ he groans and moves his thumb just long enough to spit there before it’s back and massaging your entrance. Hot want coils in your belly as he teases and teases. God, you should have known he would really draw it out.

‘Please.’ Another plea escapes you, hitched and breathy. ‘Please.’

‘Who are you talking to, my pet?’ he asks, pressing just a little harder and leaning himself against you. You can feel his hard cock digging into your ass again. ‘To whom do you make this entreaty?’

‘You,’ you cry out. ‘You. Please, Ezra. Please, pl—’

He drops to his knees behind you and, without preamble, lays his open mouth over your asshole. Pressing hard before setting a furious pattern of licking and sucking – turning away only to bite and nip at the flesh on either side. 

The man works like he is trying to devour the universe. His tongue circles a few times before pushing inside you.

It’s unreal – a sublimity to get lost in. You let yourself sink into it. Keen and cry and buck back into him as he sets each and every nerve ending on fire.

He pushes your knees apart so you sink deeper and reach wider for him. Hands are gripping your ass to hold you open and it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to move on anytime soon, working lips and tongue and teeth across your seam and every inch he can reach.

You just can’t stand it anymore.

‘Can I touch myself?’ you gasp. ‘Can I—’

He withdraws his tongue from you with a chuckle. ‘Mmmm, what do you say?’

With a frustrated groan, ‘Please, Ezra.’

‘You do whatever it is your heart desires, sweet one,’ he grunts against you, going back to his ruminations. ‘I am quite content here.’

You’d had your face pressed into the linens of your bed, but you arch your head up to look at Joel while reaching between your thighs, stretching your shoulder to give yourself the space.

As you move, so does he. In time with desperate movement onto yourself, he leans back, undoes his belt and pulls his cock free, stroking its firm length as your fingers connect with your clit.

It’s an instant jolt of mind-numbing pleasure. The hungry bundle of nerves ready to blow. Your scream of ecstasy, echoing in the room, is responded to with a pair of deep, guttural groans. Ezra’s shoots through your body as it vibrates behind you. Joel’s rings in your ears.

The man in front of you nods, encouraging you on as you circle and work yourself. Watching his own pace, you match it and it’s not long before your mouth is locked open in an ‘O’ of bliss and you’re cumming. The wet suctioning sensation on your rear drives your orgasm along a straight and narrow rush that shoots through you so hard you’re screaming into the sheets.

As you start to be able to hear again, Joel is murmuring praises.

Huffing and heaving on the remnants of your comedown, you look up. He’s furiously fisting his cock, bent so far forward you could reach out and touch him. You don’t though, just stare with mouth-watering want, desperate to have him on your tongue and pressing down your throat.

With that thought, you rub and rub and rub. Push back, back, back on the mouth working you with a tireless appetite.

Reading your face, watching your every twitch and pulse – Joel waits for the perfect moment and-

‘Another,’ he grits out.

‘Fuh—hah!'

It comes for you with a ferocious force, taking over every muscle in your body and making you shudder with its savage intensity. Both men pause as you spasm and let a dozen tortured little ‘Ah’s escape you.

Barely able to lift your head, you twist it just enough to see the possessed demon that was once Joel – dark eyes ablaze and tendons taunt and straining on his neck. 

‘Fuck her,’ he commands. Pre-cum glistens on your view of the underside of his shaft. ‘Fuck her, now.’

Ezra pulls away from you with a slick gasp.

‘Okay, Joel,’ he says – his outer calm contrasted with Joel’s madness somehow the hottest thing happening right now. 

Ez stands, replacing his tongue with his thumb, which he pushes in to the first knuckle. At your pitched moan, he holds you there. Doesn’t seem at all bothered by your hand still working your clit as you feel the pressure of his cock’s head at your entrance. It slides through your folds and he uses his grip on your ass to guide you to back up onto him.

‘I’m going to fuck her now, Joel,’ he says, all hushed and lowly.

The motion of your hips moving back right as he – fierce and swift – bucks his cock hard into you punches the air from your lungs. The slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room. 

So full and stretching. The emptiness replaced by shards of excruciating pleasure. It’s too much. It’s just enough.

The space is quiet for a moment and you look round, see Ezra through your blurry, tear-stained vision. He seems paralysed, head tilted a little and mouth locked open. The only movement is the hollow of his throat dipping and peaking fast – the man’s practically hyperventilating. Sweat at his temples and eyes glassy and staring at nothing.

On your knees, split open by his cock, you wait and watch. After a moment--

‘Ez?’ you question.

His eyes clench shut, as do his teeth, and he takes several deep, dragging breaths.

‘A queen’s…’ he rasps out. ‘A queen’s cunt. That is what you have. Fucking… queen of cunt.’

And at last, he fucks you. One single draw back almost to leave you, then he’s slamming into you, making sure you feel every single thrust hit your ass and thighs. Convulsing your clit every time. 

He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, using the purchase to lift your head so Joel sees your face twisted with bliss. Your tits bouncing with each smack of flesh behind you.

You can tell he’s enjoying the view, rewarding your efforts with a gaze so hot and crackling, the sight might just make you c—

The penetration in your ass leaves you and you gasp as you’re hauled up and locked against Ezra’s chest again. So that Joel has a perfect view of his cock disappearing into you. Over and over. A perfect view of your pussy being abused by him.

The man fucking you senseless grabs hold of your wrist, lifts the fingers that you’d been pleasuring yourself with and sucks on them. He moans at your taste, appreciative and reverent, like you’re a pure miracle. Pushes your hand deep so he can cram his tongue into the webbing.

‘Mm,’ he mumbles, letting your fingers go with a wet suck. He spits over your shoulder so it dribbles between your breasts. ‘But you are divine, do you know that? Does he tell you? Makes sure you know?’

All hissed into your ear as he pumps and pumps. Fucking up into you with a freakish stamina you hadn’t remembered before now but is coming back to your pleasure-buzzed mind. 

‘Allowing me to take this perfect body apart, as I see fit?’ he goes on. ‘You are divine.’

It’s just a little annoying. How coherent he still is. So – tightening your belly and bearing down – you clench your cunt around him as hard as you can and are rewarded with a pained gasp.

You don’t think he intends to, but he bolts forwards and collapses the two of you onto the bed, sprawling out over you. There’s just enough time for you to grab a pillow and shove it underneath, tipping your pelvis into him. And it doesn’t slow him at all. Flat out on your stomach, he adjusts and takes the new angle inside you with glee, hips rocking into you so hard you jolt and slide back and forth.

He ruts your pussy like the deranged animal that he is. His belly presses into the small of your back where he drives himself down into you. Teeth collect a chunk of flesh by your shoulder and bite down. Fingers tangle and lock into hair to hold your head still, so that you can’t move and can only take it.

He finds your sweet spot, connecting the huge head of his cock with it over and over. He fucks you so hard that your clit is forced down onto a run of stitching in the cushion, and it rubs the tight bundle in perfect sync with the stimulation being exacted deep within you.

It’s intoxicating. A rhythm of ecstasy. A crescendo that is near unendurable. You fight it for as long as you can, wanting the sensations to last, but your body has ideas of its own.

Ezra moans.

‘She’s clenching up, Joel,’ he says with desperation. Babbling. ‘I can feel it. Joel. Can feel. I can feel her. I’m going to feel her- cum on my cock, uhhhnnn.’

It’s so intense you just moan and whine into the bed, twitching and writhing as fireworks erupt inside you.

Joel literally growls. It’s echoed by the man on top of you, who’s draining the sound right into your ear. You twist your head to see Ez. He’s looking up, face to Joel with an ecstatic rictus of an expression locked on his features as you flutter and clench around him.

‘Oh, fuh- fuck,’ Ezra, finally incoherent. ‘Fuc- cum—gonna c—’

‘Rule,’ you gasp. ‘The rule, Ez!’

In a heartbeat he withdraws from you, pushes himself up and you feel the hot ropes of his spend land on your back, your shoulders – maybe a little in your hair.

‘Fuck,’ he repeats, panting. ‘Uhhh.’

From where you’re sprawled, limp and fucked out on the mattress, two strong hands loop around your upper arms and pull.

You give a yelp of surprise as you whole bodily slide out from under Ezra, across the bed, off of it entirely, and you’re manhandled into Joel’s lap. He’s so strong and you’re so boneless, you’ve got legs either side of him and are being guided onto his cock in a matter of moments.

‘My turn,’ he rumbles, so impossibly low and wrecked.

Your spent pussy lets him slide home in one swift thrust. Hands glide across the cum spread on your back, push it back and forth for a moment before he’s holding your hips and lifting and slamming you onto himself. You grip his shoulders for dear life, the place inside you that Ezra had just been abusing roaring back to set a blaze in your entire body.

Hands falling off his shoulders with his force, you fist the front of his flannel instead as he pumps his thick shaft with you, uses you on himself. 

Thinking he’s going to just go and go until he cums, he surprises you. Changing his thrust, he pulls you closer and starts to buck up his own hips into you. One arm holds you to his chest and the other reaches around.

Oh my g—

‘So you really like this, huh?’ A thick finger finds your puffy, messy hole – opened up by Ezra’s attentions – and pushes in. Joel’s eyes roll back at the resistance. ‘God, it’s so… tight,’ he drawls, huffing into your mouth. 

He works the finger in and out, specifically seeming to enjoy the sensation of that initial breach. It’s different, and physically heady. You’re not long for it, and with a groan from Ez, still behind you – a muttered, ‘you see, Joel? Do you see?’ – you’re screaming loud again as you anoint Joel’s cock with your climax. 

And now he’s getting close.

‘Whose cock do you want?’ he demands, not relenting his pace for a single moment.

‘Yours,’ you say.

‘Who else’s?’ 

‘His,’ you whine, tilting a bliss-filled head back over your shoulder.

‘Mmhm, good girl,’ he affirms. ‘Whose pussy is this though? Who is the only one who gets to cum in this pussy.’

The finger slips out as he grips you hard for purchase, driving himself to his release.

‘Who? Tell me.’

‘You!’ you cry. ‘Joel, you. The rule is– hah- uh- Only you can. Only y– Joel.’

With the tiniest bit of muscle control left in your body, you grind your hips deep into him. The sweat and release coating both your skin lets you slide and push. So that when he meets his cliff’s edge and falls over it, the head of his cock is firm against your cervix and his cum soaks your walls. Both strong arms lock around your back and his face is buried in your neck, mouthing and devouring as he groans and groans.

It settles into grunts and gasps as his high rides itself out.

With weak, sloppy movements, you grasp either side of his head and bring it up to yours so you can kiss him, slide your lips and tongue and teeth together for a moment while he comes back to himself. As you part, you’re greeted with the most beatific smile.

Ezra appears by your side, pants zipped up but a fresh erection clearly tightening them again. You take this in then tip your head back to him with a hazy smile.

‘Thanks, Ez,’ you slur. 

‘My unequivocal pleasure, dove,’ he says, lifting the thumb that had not been buried inside you and swiping it over your lower lip. ‘Know that I’d ask to kiss you right now, but well…’ A lopsided grin and a lick at his own lips.

‘Yeah, nah,’ you say, mumbling whatever nonsense slips into your mind. ‘Next time, maybe.’

‘Mm,’ he groans. He looks at Joel as you flop forwards into that broad chest and feel arms tighten round you again. ‘Indeed. If you do feel your compersion arise again and wish to seek out my participation once more, I will respond with an enthusiasm most prompt.’

‘Thanks,’ Joel murmurs. ‘Can ya let yer’self out? Got some lookin’ after t’do.’

His attentiveness has you feeling all warm as you listen to Ezra’s footsteps move out of the room, down the stairs, and the front door open and close.

Joel sifts fingers through your hair. Nuzzles your ear. ‘Did so well fer me, baby,’ he whispers. ‘So well. Looked s’fuckin’ good.’

All you manage is an affirmative ‘mmmmm’.

‘You want a shower?’ he asks. ‘Can ya stand?’

You nod to the first question and shake your head to the second, tucked into his neck. He sighs with content and braces your legs against his sides, stands up with you firmly locked in his embrace. Carries you to the bathroom where he only sets you down, cock slipping out, when you can lean against the cool tiles. Stumbling a little, you use the toilet as he gets the water up to temp and undresses.

In the warm cocoon of steam, he cleans you from head to toe, washing away Ezra’s spit on your chest and cum on your back. The sweat and the tears. The mess on your thighs. Hands soothe across bite marks and finger grazes. Each one he checks, ‘this okay?’, ‘this one?’, ‘okay, baby?’. You nod and hum and get lost in this unique feeling.

After, he guides you back to the bed where he’d watched another man take you to pieces, settles you under the covers.

‘Hungry?’ he asks. ‘Thirsty?’

‘Thirsty,’ you mumble. ‘And tired.’

‘Okay, one sec.’ His warmth and shadow vanish for a little bit, and you’re fighting sleep as he returns with two glasses of water. Makes you drink the first and sets the second by your bedside before climbing in and cradling you against his chest – by which point you are dead to the world.

--

Uh, so yeah. Go about your day…

[genetics4life]

If your actions contributed to the mass exodus of Pedro boy writers in the past 48 hours: I hope your botox migrates, you wake up with a sore neck every morning for the next 10 years, and you get audited on your taxes.

[aurorawritestoescape]

Welcome to my Masterlist, lovely! I hope you’ll enjoy my work<3

Series / Collections

BAD BLOOD - step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: you want your stepdad and your step uncle offers to help

KISS KISS BANG BANG - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader (bank robbers AU)

Summary: Joel and you live a life full of risk, thrill and danger. Every day can be your last, so you savour every kiss and enjoy each other to the fullest. Can you survive this journey to your dreams?

PERFECT STRANGERS - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: What would you do if you met a perfect stranger? Someone who understands what you've hidden deep inside your soul. The attraction is instant. It's perfect. What if you don't want to be strangers anymore?

HEATWAVE collection - Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: They are horny. They are filthy. They are in love.

It’s a collection of one-shots following the same couple. Every story can be read alone.

A STEP INTO HELL - Stepdad!Joel x f!reader

Summary: after you move into his house, Joel finds himself possessed by the idea of having you. Trying to quench his lustful thirst he decides to get his hands on your nudes. To his surprise he finds something even better.

A collection of smutty stories.

One Shots

Hot shower -pre-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader pwp

Strawberries and cream- no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader DDLG

Sweet remedy - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader DDLG

A Villain’s Monologue - serial killer!Joel Miller x f!reader dark fic

The Helping Hand - post-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader somno

Keep On Your Mean Side - post-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader (written with @milla-frenchy) dark fic

Birthday Surprise - no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller mfm

Jacket -no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader fluff

The Burglary - burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller (written with @milla-frenchy) dddne, non-con

Flasher - flasher!Joel Miller x f!reader exhibitionism

Flower - post outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader dead dove, dark fic

Bad Girl - Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller (written with @milla-frenchy) dubcon

Morning Bliss - post outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader smut, fluff

Cockwarming Joel - blurb

Feed Me - Joel x f!reader pwp

His - dark!Joel x f!reader x dark!Tommy x m!OCs DDDNE NON CON

Always and Forever - post outbreak Joel x f!reader angst

Ribbon - Joel x f!reader pwp

Good Girl - Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

American Beauty -best friend’s dad Joel x f!reader part 2 Please, Sir

Take Me smut, angst

Swallow blurb, smut

Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York mfm

Pt 1 Table for three Pt 2 Who’s your daddy? drabble Get a Taste

I know better than to call you mine fluff, smut

Heatwave pwp

Sweet Cherry virginity loss

In His Arms QZ Joel

Hot for You - drabble

Fill Me Up

Going Down - Joel x reader, Frankie Morales x reader

Wallet Photo - dbf Joel

The Other Brother - twin AU Johnny Miller x reader, Joel x reader

MEOW! - pwp

A Step Into Hell - stepdad!Joel

Halloween Night - stepdad Joel Halloween special

✨ Craving You - Halloween writing challenge fic

✨ His Star - smut, angst

✨Joel drabble - degradation, sub/dom

✨The Funeral - Joel fucks you at a funeral / drabble

✨ Your Boys - you’re about to spend the night with the Miller brothers feat Tommy Miller

✨Harder Than You Think - Boss!Joel x f!reader- written with @milla-frenchy Non con, dead dove

The Party - dark!Lucien De Leon x f!reader non con

The Beast Within- dark!Ezra x f!reader dark fic

One Shots

The Visit semi-public

Surveillance voyeurism

Drabble based on a gif

Shaving Javi drabble

Steam

Series

The Hounds of Hell - Javi x f!reader x Steve written with @milla-frenchy

Summary: you meet two DEA agents in a bar. You drink too much and they offer to take you home.

Watching You - Dave York x f!reader voyeurism

After Watching you - drabble

Flat line - dark!Dave York x f!reader dark, noncon

Table for three - Dave x reader x Joel mfm

The Devil in Me - devil!Dieter Bravo x actress! reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Other Pedro characters

Addicted - Max Phillips x f!reader smut, angst

Destinies Intertwined - General Marcus Acacius x f!reader x Lucilla mff

The Hoodie - blurb

Going Down - Frankie x f!reader, Joel x f!reader

The Photo - you find Frankie’s photo / 580 words

Non Pedro characters

Sunset - boyfriend Billy (Skeleton Twins) x f!reader Boyd Holbrook character, smut

AO3 /not all fics are there

Joel Miller pencil drawing

Javier Peña pencil drawing

I saved her the last of us 2 edit

If I ever were to lose you Joel and Ellie tlou 2

Joel takes you out to dinner - moodboard

Pedro Pascal lockscreens 1 | 2 | 3

[magpiepills]

Bat Presents:

All content below is 18+ and not intended for minors.

Please do not copy, translate, edit, distribute or print my work, in whole or in part. Not for use with AI. This blog is the sole source of my writing. I am not on Wattpad, ao3, or anywhere else. Please read warnings at the beginning of each fic!

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Joel Miller

Only Teasing

Got It Wrong

Taurus

En El Mar

Into The Deep End

Put It In Coach

Made Me Love You (The Bangfest) complete

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Pit Stop extra

Plow

Downward Dog,

Butterfly

Another Kind of Hunger

Airtight

Austin, Texas On A Rainy November Saturday, 2002

Doin’ Time

Javier Peña

En La Calle

Escritorio

Hard At Work

Aquarius

I’m Not Really A Waitress

DIY

Sweet Tooth

Promises, Promises

Promises Broken

Frankie Morales

Honor And Obey

Say It

The Run

Once and Future

The Layover

Ezra

Sagittarius

Kill Shot

Not For Nothing

Code Duello

Coming soon ✨

Dieter Bravo

Here Today

For Her Pleasure

Lucky In Kentucky

But Baby, It’s Art

The Oasis

Marcus Pike

Misunderstood

Dave York

Strange Currencies

Gemini

Din Djarin

A Rite

Marcus Moreno

Girl Lunch

Same Time Next Week

Lucien DeLeon

Watercolor

Make Me

Ted Garcia

Vote For Ted

Silva

Divining Rod

Tim Rockford

God Speed

The Late Shift

Overtime

Mario (snl)

Game Over

Bonus thots

Javier Pena

Marcus Acacius + Lucius & Dieter

Under The Weather HCs

Manus Aureum

[netherfeildren]

Masterlist:

Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing! All works are 18+

Fear of God : Joel Miller x OFC

Summary : What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR-

A Joel infidelity AU

The Cassandra Complex : WIP: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: the creation of myth.

-OR-

the mandalorian / dark sider au

Busy, Dying. : WIP: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Fable of the Dog : WIP: Joel Miller x FMC

Summary: The sky is a glass mirror of blackened silver streaks, and you’re almost positive that all the stars in the Milky Way are visible from right here at this very spot in the heart of Wyoming. The sight makes your broken heart feel full and falsely mended.

And then there is Joel Miller, too.

-OR-

the cowboy/heiress AU

Pink : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The story of a son who won’t love you, and his father, who will.

-OR-

the father-in-law AU

Honey, Stomach, Mine : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you. 

She'll still come for you. 

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU 

One Shots :

bétteln : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : You really want Joel to give you a baby. You don’t really care what he has to say about it.

biéten : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary : Now that you have his baby in you, you’re Joel’s most special girl. 

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill! : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Greener Memories of Better Men : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them.

-OR-

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

I urge you: Bite me : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that.

Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too. 

With Mercy for the Disturbed : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Evermore : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The Thanksgiving AU

Meet Me in the New Year : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: The New Year’s Eve AU

10:05 PM : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you’re there to make him feel better.

How to Endure Ardor : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Notes On a Virtuous Affair : Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

At the Restaurant : Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Forfeiting My Mystique : Ezra x F!Reader

Summary: You're a girl made of golden gossamer, a work of art come to life, and Ezra, well, he's dedicated his life to collecting beautiful things.

-OR-

An Ezra Art Collector AU

[noisynaia]

Heyo… 💕

I have not been on here a lot for the last year or so, and I don’t know how many people are still interested in my writing, but I would like to get back to it. So, I’ve decided to open my requests again to get back into the groove. I don’t now if anyone is interested, but I would love to write again. I write for almost all Pedro Pascal characters and the triple frontier guys 💕

(I am also going to go through and edit Distant Suns and Dreaming of You, and hopefully soon get back into writing for both of them.)

[sixhours]

our endless numbered days

A continuation of the events in who knows where the time goes and reprise from the i know you by heart universe. This will make more sense if you've read those, but you do you.

This fic has everything! A dash of angst (forgive me, I can't write Joel without at least a little angst), nosy Tommy, a Joel/Tess interlude, family time with the kids, a slightly drunk Ellie, and two middle-aged dudes making out. What's not to love?

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 12k Tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel x Tess, Tess Servopoulos, Tommy Miller, idiots in love, Joel is bad at feelings, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), Cee is also a little shit (affectionate), fluff!, soft fluff!, a dash of angst because I can't help myself, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, happy ending, romance, soft queer dads being so soft, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: For @jessthebaker. <3 Merry Christmas from your AWLJM Secret Santa! You once said you’d read anything with these two, and you asked for Miller-family-in-Jackson shenanigans, so I hope this hits the right notes. Thank you for being such an avid supporter of this fandom and this series. <3

The title comes from the album of the same name by Iron & Wine, and specifically the song Passing Afternoon which gives me cozy Jackson vibes.

Joel wakes early, curled up against Ezra’s naked back. The other man’s ability to hog the damn bed is impressive–his arm hanging off the side, one long leg stretching to the opposite corner–but the chill in their room has Joel grateful for his closeness. They’d moved from the couch when it became obvious they were too fucking old to manage a night on the furniture, and his knees are still complaining, but there’s a giddy seed of happiness in his chest.

Outside, the fresh snow has gathered in drifts, wind-blown. They’ll need to shovel out at some point, and they’ll probably be called up to clear the town walkways later, but for now, Jackson sleeps under a pristine white blanket.

It’s a good day for pancakes.

Half an hour later, he’s donned his thermals under a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a wool sweater, built up the fire in the woodstove, and picked up their clothes off the living room floor. He’s working on coffee and the pancake batter when there’s a frantic knock at the front door.

Joel goes to open it, finds Ellie shivering on the porch in her pajamas.

“You have a key,” he grouches, ushering her inside. “The hell’s your coat, anyway?”

“Didn’t think I’d need either, you never lock it,” she says, stamping her feet to shake off the snow. She glances into the living room, squints at something. “Dude…I’m not gonna ask why there’s a pair of boxers under the coffee table.”

Oops.

“Good,” Joel says, keeping his back turned so she won’t see him blush. “Then I won’t ask why I found your damn bra in the couch cushions last week.”

“If you had to wear one of those torture devices every day, you’d take it off the first chance you got, too,” she shoots back, then looks over his shoulder at the kitchen. “Ooh, pancakes? Did I miss a birthday or something?”

“Don’t need to have a birthday to have pancakes.”

“Yeah, but usually they’re just for special occasions or Sundays or whatever.”

“Just seemed like a good day for it. Snow day n’ all.”

She peers at him suspiciously. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re just unusually chipper for someone who’s gonna have to spend the day shoveling this shit.”

Joel snorts. “Don’t remind me. D’you want pancakes or what?”

“Uh, duh .”

“Then make yourself useful an’ set the table. Think we still have some strawberry preserves left over from the summer in there, too.”

“Yes, sir!” she mock-salutes, heading for the fridge.

The first pancakes are ready to be flipped when he reaches across the counter to grab a spatula. He crosses Ellie’s line of vision as she’s putting butter on a small plate and suddenly she’s grabbing at his hand.

“The heck are you–oh.”

She’s staring, bug-eyed, at the simple gold band on his finger.

“What the–where’d this come from?”

She really does notice everything.

“Uh–yeah, guess we, uh…need to talk about that.”

She blinks up at him incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

Joel rubs at the back of his neck. “Well…we kinda–”

“Are you two–did you get engaged?”

“We mighta skipped that part…”

“You got married ?” she half shrieks.

“Uh–”

“And you didn’t tell me ?”

“I–ah shit!” Joel hisses.

Smoke wafts from the pan. He grabs the spatula but the first batch is a lost cause.

“I think what your surrogate father figure is trying to say is, it was a spur-of-the-moment lark, gem. Nothing planned, and certainly nothing we intended to keep from you.”

Ezra has appeared at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame in his sweatpants and a flannel that looks suspiciously like Joel’s. Between Ellie and Ezra, Joel’s wardrobe is slowly being co-opted into a family affair.

Fuckin’ communism.

“What he said,” Joel sighs, flipping the burnt pancakes into the trash and fiddling with the heat before adding fresh batter to the pan.

“Seriously?” she gapes, looking back and forth between them, settling on Ezra. “Oh my god, do I have to call you ‘dad’ now?”

“You don’t even call me dad,” Joel grumbles.

“Dude, shut up, I’m talking to my evil stepmother.”

“Been watchin’ too many Disney movies. Mornin’, by the way,” he say, smiling wryly at Ezra. “She knows, I guess.”

“Dude! Wait, who asked who? Did you get down on one knee?”

“He asked me, but the sentiment was mutual,” Ezra says. “And…no. Not exactly.”

Joel waits for the inevitable joke about his knees cracking, but Ellie is too entranced by this new development to make one. Small favors.

Soon he doles out the pancakes onto three plates and brings them to the table, dropping a kiss at Ezra’s temple before taking his usual seat.

“Huh. Still gross,” Ellie says mildly, prompting a revenge forehead kiss for her, too. She wrinkles her nose and pretends to push him away, but she’s grinning, reaching for the syrup. Like another child Joel adored, she pours the stuff over her pancakes until they’re practically swimming.

“Better not be wastin’ that syrup, kid.”

“You know I won’t,” she huffs, cutting into the stack and taking a giant bite before he can remind her to go easy. Practically eighteen and she’s still a tiny thing who eats like she’s starving. It’s a wonder she hasn’t choked to death.

“Sh’iz so fuckin’ weird,” she says, words muffled by her chewing. “Don’t you have to, like, register with the council or something? Say some vows? What about the cake?”

“Uh, no,” Joel says. “Don’t have to do any a’that.”

“Why the hell would you get married if you don’t even get to have a fucking cake?” she says.

“There used to be certain legal benefits,” Ezra muses. “In this day and age, it’s more a…show of commitment.”

“Right,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t need to be a big deal.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Ezra offers thoughtfully. “It’s a very big deal. Especially when you consider the history, the matrimonial bond for same-sex couples back in the day was a pretty sad state of affairs…and Jackson is the exception to the rule. I don’t recall FEDRA giving out marriage licenses to queer folk.”

“I don’t–I just meant…we don’t need to make a show of anythin’.”

“And what if I wanted a bit of fanfare, hm?” Ezra asks nonchalantly, gesturing with his fork. “The wedding of every little boy’s dreams? Flowers, champagne, a sparkly white dress–”

Ellie giggles. “Dude.”

“I could pull it off,” Ezra smirks.

Joel barely hears any of this. He fumbles for his coffee and tries to clear his throat.

“I–you–you do? I mean, do you?”

Had he fucked this up already? He’d been enchanted, dopey with lovestruck affection and not thinking entirely with his brain when he’d presented the rings. Truly, he hadn’t been thinking much at all, warmed by the fire and the thought of his future husband’s hand in his and then, well, everything had turned very–

“Awwwww-kard,” Ellie says through a mouthful of pancakes, and Joel shoots her a look.

“Kid–”

But Ezra is grinning, watching Joel get more and more flustered. “I’m pullin’ your leg, songbird. No fuss necessary on my account.”

Joel returns to his food, still nursing a seed of discontent when his thoughts are interrupted by slurping, Ellie having tipped up her plate, licking it clean.

“What!?” she says off his look, wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve. “Told you I wouldn’t waste it.”

“Raised in a goddamn barn,” Joel mutters, looking to Ezra for sympathy, only to find him doing the same thing.

“Waste not, want not,” Ezra chirps, and Joel doesn’t miss the wink he gives Ellie across the table.

They’re already ganging up on him. Christ .

Later, after Ellie has bounced out the door with a promise to help shovel, they’re dressing to go out and brave the snow, pulling on thick coats and gloves.

“Hey,” Joel tries. “I, uh…about the whole, uh, wedding…thing. If you wanted…somethin’ more...I guess I prob’ly shoulda asked, but I wasn’t, uh…”

He rubs at the back of his neck, feeling just as awkward and fumbling as he had the day they first met. Two years together and the man can still turn him into a bumbling idiot. He’s fuckin’ hopeless.

Ezra’s expression softens. “I genuinely had no expectations…ceremonial or otherwise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we can…if you–”

Ezra shakes his head firmly. “I’m certain. This,” he murmurs, reassuring him with a soft kiss. “This is more than enough.”

Joel is clearing the walkways in front of the Bison just before lunch when Anders walks by and claps him on the shoulder in passing.

“Congrats, man!”

It takes him several minutes to puzzle out what the hell he’s being congratulated for.

By the end of that day, enough of their neighbors have extended well-wishes that Joel knows Ellie must have talked to someone. Probably Dina, the unofficial Jackson town crier. When there was local news to share–and a couple making it official in their tiny community was exactly the kind of gossip that spread–Ellie and Dina were more efficient than a local news broadcast.

Tommy’s shit-eating grin the next morning at the stables is enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Heard congratulations are in order, big brother.”

“Ellie told you, huh?”

“Yup. But why the hell am I hearin’ about it from your kid and not you?”

Joel shrugs, smiles to himself. “Seem to remember you getting hitched without tellin’ me. Among other things.”

“You ever gonna consider letting me live that down?” Tommy asks cheerfully.

“Don’t reckon so.”

“Well, I’ll be the bigger man and forgive you,” Tommy says. “And I’ll do you one better and warn you; the girls are fixin’ to throw you two a surprise party.”

Joel groans, starts to open his mouth to protest, but Tommy holds up a hand.

“Look, you didn’t hear it from me. But don’t bother tryin’ to fight ‘em on this; Ellie’s invested and Maria’s always lookin’ for an excuse to lighten things up around here. I made ‘em promise to keep it small, but…”

He shrugs as if to say What can you do?

Joel huffs, tightens the strap on the saddle and tugs on the reins to lead Old Beardy out. Tommy follows with Justified, and soon they’re mounted up and riding through the gates.

“Gonna be a helluva week,” Tommy mutters. “Got half the crew off with that flu thing goin’ around. Think I’m on the damn schedule every day ‘til March.”

Joel grunts. “Yeah, me too.”

“Gonna make for a short honeymoon, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, urging his horse to pick up the pace amidst Tommy’s delighted laughter.

It’s an uneventful if slow ride, the trail soft and not yet packed down after the storm. They take out a couple of runners from a distance–can barely be called runners, though, forced to shuffle and stumble through drifts, making them easy targets. Tommy’s in a chatty mood, and Joel is content to let him hold up the brunt of the conversation, business as usual. They’re taking lunch after clearing the outpost just outside Wilson when Tommy brings it up again, the serious note in his voice immediately setting Joel on edge.

“Y’know I’m happy for you, right?”

“Uhhh…yeah,” Joel says, opening the logbook.

“Think Sarah woulda got along real nice with y’all.”

The thought doesn’t stir the same hurt it used to, doesn’t bring him to his knees with grief, but his brother’s doing that thing he does with his hands when he wants to say something and doesn’t know how. He frowns.

“Sure…”

“I don’t–uh…I mean, I knew you weren’t…y’know. Glad it’s…glad Ezra’s good. Good for you. Even if he’s not, uh…not who I woulda…I just–”

Joel fixes him with a blank stare. “Spit it out, Tommy.”

His brother rubs at the back of his neck. Joel tenses, waiting for some just-shy-of-homophobic remark, the kind he’s grown all too familiar with over the last couple years. 

You don’t look like the type.

Joel Miller? I never would’ve thought.

Although he’d really hoped never to hear it from Tommy, who, until now, had kept silent about his brother’s inclinations. As he damn well should.

But he remembers all too well where they grew up, and old habits are hard to break.

Tommy sighs. “Haven’t seen you this happy since…since Tess, is all.”

Hearing the name jars him, his pen stuttering over the page, marring his signoff. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feels the weight of the new ring on his finger acutely. Just like his brother, to poke at a sore spot he didn’t even know he had.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, slapping the book shut. “Thanks.”

“Sometimes I wonder what she’d make of all this,” Tommy says, chuckling, running a hand through his curls. “Communism. Fuck, she’d think we lost our damn minds.”

It occurs to him, probably two years too late, that Tess was just as much Tommy’s friend as Joel’s. Even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms by the time Tommy ran off with the Fireflies, the three of them had once been close enough to be called family.

“You ever think about her?” Tommy asks when they’re mounted up and headed back toward town. There’s an edge to his voice that tells Joel he knows he’s treading dangerous ground.

“Not much,” Joel says tightly. Truth be told, it was closer to not at all until today, but like hell he’s going to tell his brother that.

You don't bring up Tess, ever .

Seems like he did a damn good job of taking his own advice, for once.

“Huh,” he says, too lightly. “Well…I think she’d be happy for you, too, big brother.”

Joel grunts and says nothing, stares straight down the path in hopes of ending this conversation right fuckin’ now. It works, and Tommy’s usual chatter dies down to the occasional comment on their surroundings.

But the damage is done and a slow-festering guilt has already begun blooming behind Joel’s ribs at the mention of her name.

It’s a long, cold ride back to Jackson.

Tommy’s not wrong about the patrol schedule. For the next ten days, they’re on duty from sunup to sundown. Thankfully wintertime means they’re mostly uneventful rides, but he puts in a lot of miles, the kind of days that leave his back achy and his ass and hips sore. Most nights he comes home bone-tired, with just enough energy to eat something and shower before falling into bed.

For his part, Ezra waits up for him to make sure he has a hot meal, teases about becoming a “proper little ménagère, ” and threatens to find a frilly apron at the trading post to complete the look. Meanwhile, Joel just tries not to fall asleep on the couch…and fails most of the time.

All the while, riding the trails with his patrol partners, he has too much time to think.

And for the first time in years, he’s thinking of Tess.

Fifteen years as partners. Two months traveling together before they’d fallen into bed and swore to keep each other’s secrets. It was more than he gave anyone back then, but it had never really been enough.

She asked once. Just once.

And he’d turned away. Got shitfaced. They never talked about it again, but she still came home to their bed every night.

…not to feel the way I felt.

And it wasn’t like she’d asked for much. Certainly nothing as formal as a proposal or a ring or even a promise. Just his heart, shattered as it was, and he couldn’t even manage that.

Then it was too late. Made him promise to save who he could and sacrificed herself for him, for Ellie, for the hope of a future she would never see. She would never know what she’d done for him.

Her memory haunts him, nags at him, makes a home under his skin like a splinter. She’s there, hovering at the edges of his consciousness, a ghost in his peripheral vision. He sees glimpses of her on patrols, in the lurch of a small, slight woman in flannel, infected; in someone’s long, red-auburn hair at the stables; in a rough laugh amongst the crowds at the dining hall.

And then one night, he dreams. The kind of dream he hasn’t had in months, the kind of dream he used to have over and over, but this time it’s Tess instead of Sarah.

Tess, yelling at him to help her, goddammit, there’s gotta be something .

Tess, pulling back her collar to reveal the bite with one already twitching hand.

Tess, twisted and gnarled with infection, caught in a sea of flames.

He wakes sweating and panting with a scream stuck in his throat and her mutilated face burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“Joel? Wha-happened?”

Ezra stirs at his side, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says roughly, still trying to catch his breath. “Go back to sleep.”

Then there’s a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he lets himself be pulled down and pressed into the cradle of Ezra’s good arm. Soon his breath flutters the hair at his temple, slow and even, but Joel doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Five years earlier

“Shouldn’t have turned around,” Joel grumbles, hissing as he puts more weight on his bad leg. “We coulda made it.”

Tess looks up at him from under his left arm; he’s been using her as a human crutch for the last quarter mile.

“Sure,” she says drily, grunting as they take another uncoordinated, shuffling step. Behind them, black storm clouds are rolling in faster than they can walk and the wind has already picked up, whipping the first drops of rain hard enough to sting their cheeks. “You wanna get caught in this shit, be my guest, but I’m not gonna get soaked on your account, and you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

“Gonna be late. They won’t let us in.”

“Frank won’t care.”

“Bill will.”

 A dry chuckle. “Yeah, well…we both know Bill’s not in charge.”

They’d done the trip from Boston to Lincoln dozens of times without incident, but today, the raiders took them by surprise. It was rare to find a group so ballsy as to fuck with Joel and Tess. Their reputation extended well beyond the walls of the QZ, but apparently these folks hadn’t heard about them, or they were feeling brave, desperate, stupid, or some combination of the three.

All four men were now littering the side of the road about half a mile back, but Joel took a bullet to the calf for the trouble.

“Just a graze,” he’d said tightly, blood pooling sticky and warm in his boot, but Tess took one look at the damage and shook her head in disgust. They were a mile past one of their cache houses, and Lincoln was at least six miles down the road.

“We’ll get to the safehouse, get that bullet out of your leg, wait out the storm,” Tess said in a voice that suggested the decision was final.

It usually was with her.

The safehouse is an old hunting cabin off a logging road. They’d set it up as a cache years ago but hadn’t had much need for it given the proximity to Lincoln. The rain has begun in full force and they’re already soaked by the time Tess confirms the place is clear, Joel sagging against the side of the building to keep watch.

Once they’re safely inside, Joel collapses onto the cabin’s only piece of furniture, a decrepit sofa. Tess is rummaging around in her pack and pulls out the first aid kit– a box of cloths, a flask of alcohol, a needle and thread, a lighter, and a roll of duct tape.

“Pants off, Texas.”

He’s in too much pain for innuendo. Tess unwraps the makeshift bandage, already soaked with blood, and he slides his jeans down with a groan and a muffled curse. Then she unbuttons her short-sleeved button-down, stripping down to her bra.

“What?” she says off his incredulous look. “This is my favorite shirt, not gonna get it all bloody. On your front.”

He obliges, rolling until he’s face down on the couch so Tess can examine his leg.

“Huh,” she says. “Never gonna believe this.”

Joel grunts. “Try me.”

“Went clean through.”

“Lucky me,” he grits his teeth.

“You are,” she says. “Few inches off and we’d be having a very different conversation. Alright, might wanna bite down unless you want every infected in a half-mile radius finding us.”

“I’ll be fine. Just do it.”

The alcohol burns like a motherfucker, but at this point, the pain is barely a blip on his radar, more of the same. The stitches are a different story. He ends up grabbing his belt, doubling it up and sinking his teeth into the sweaty, sticky old leather as Tess finishes sewing up the wounds.

“Not my best work, but it’ll hold until we can get Frank to take a look. Pretty sure Bill still has a stash of antibiotics,” Tess murmurs, digging in her pack for a fresh cloth to wrap it. “Just gonna tie this. We have the oxy–”

“Ain’t tradin’ that for antibiotics.”

Tess huffs. “No, Frank won’t let him trade for those, anyway. But you might want the oxy later. Don’t know how long the storm is going to last and you’re shaking.”

He is; he hadn’t even realized it. He’s trembling and his skin is dewy with sweat.

“Shock,” he mutters. Not the first time he’s been shot, after all.

“Uh-huh. Alright, you can roll over.”

He does, with some difficulty. Outside, rain lashes at the windows, lightning cracks and fills the room with bursts of light. Joel shivers, teeth clattering.

“Shirt off,” she says. “You’re soaked, that’s not helping.”

He tries, but his fingers are shaking too hard to undo the buttons. She pushes his hands gently away and does them herself, urging him up to take the wet flannel off, then unzips his bedroll and tucks it around him. Then she places two white pills in his palm.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he grits out. These are the good pills and he’s thinking of all that profit gone to waste for a stupid fuckin’ graze.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, just wordlessly holds out the flask. The shaking is making his damn leg hurt even worse. He swallows the pills with a mouthful of booze exactly as she knew he would.

The pain slowly ebbs, replaced by a fuzzy, uncaring feeling he recognizes all too well. He’s drifting on that high as time spreads like liquid honey, faintly aware of Tess’ movements about the room–digging under the floorboards to examine their cache, replenishing their ammo, checking the windows and exits, still only half dressed. At some point, she lets her hair down, damp and darkened from the rain, and combs it out with her fingers. A shorter cut would be easier to maintain, less likely to attract unwanted attention, but it’s one of the few vanities she allows herself and he secretly loves it. It always smells like her, soft burnt gold and sweet no matter how many miles they’ve covered.

Eventually, she settles on the floor next to the couch, sipping at the flask with her gun at hand.

“Sleep,” she all but orders, and he does.

When he wakes, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. It’s night. The sounds of thunder and the roar on the roof overhead tells him it’s still pouring. Tess is silhouetted in the window, the orange glow of a cigarette moving in the dark.

His leg throbs and he can’t hold back a grunt of pain. The drugs have worn off, but he’s not going to take more if he can avoid it. She notices, though, and turns.

“Should get away from the window,” he says. “Someone might see the light.”

A deep inhale. “Not in this shit. Can’t see two feet in front of your face out there. How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” he mutters, trying to sit up, grimacing, hoping she can’t see his expression in the dark.

“Clothes should be dry,” she says, moving to his side, the smell of smoke wafting over him. Another rare indulgence, soothing her overtaxed nerves. She hands him the flask and he accepts it gratefully. Her hand is firm on his shoulder as she eases down to the floor.

“All’s quiet,” she murmurs, stubbing out the cigarette on a piece of foil. She leans her head back against his thigh and his hand finds its way to her hair, rubbing circles into her scalp until she hums.

“I can take watch,” he says roughly. “Let you get some rest.”

“You’re in no shape. We’re fine,” she says, then softens. “Was looking forward to one of Bill’s meals. Heard they found a contact and traded for a share of beef. Real steak.”

“End of the goddamned world and Frank’s still holdin’ dinner parties,” Joel mutters.

His hand drifts lower, callused fingers dragging over the back of her cheek, feels her smirk.

“He offered us a place.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Frank. We’d have our pick of houses within the perimeter. Share the work, share the supplies.”

“...and Bill’s alright with that?”

“I don’t think Bill knows.”

“What, uh…what’d you say?”

She shrugs, a non-answer. The silence grows heavy and he lets it lie. Often he doesn’t need to wait long before Tess takes control of the conversation, anyway, and he’s too stunned to find the words.

“I think Frank is worried about Bill,” she says softly. “What happens…after.”

After.

Frank has been sick for months. They’ve managed to trade for certain medications that help control the symptoms, but there is no cure, no coordinated treatment. The last time they made the hike from the QZ, roughly six months ago, Frank was no longer able to get out of his wheelchair.

“Can’t say I blame him,” she continues, frowning, picking at something on the floor. “There’s strength in numbers.”

Joel grunts, noncommittal. He’d rather have his leg amputated with a rusty hacksaw than live within ten miles of Bill.

“I keep thinking about it,” Tess says. “No more FEDRA, no Fireflies…no getting shafted on trades, hunting these assholes down–”

Joel blinks, wiping his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. This conversation feels like a dream, like it’s not really happening, and he wishes he had a couple more oxy so he could blame the drugs. Tess, the woman who had him break a guy’s fingers for shorting her three cigarettes–one finger for each. The woman who just murdered four people because they made the lethal mistake of shooting first. Tess– his Tess–talking about settling down.

“Can you even imagine?” she sighs.

He grunts again. She turns to look at him but he can’t meet her eyes.

“Aren’t you tired, Joel?”

Tired? Of course he is. His back hurts, his knees hurt, everything fuckin’ hurts. He hasn’t slept a day without booze or pills in years. But the hurt keeps him grounded, keeps him going, keeps him from feeling…everything else.

“So you wanna quit?” he says flatly.

“What is there to quit?” she scoffs. “We were never going to settle in Boston, we said it was temporary–”

“It’s been ten fuckin’ years.”

“Yeah, and we had plans, remember? Get out of the city, away from FEDRA. This could be our chance.”

“That was before. There were more of us. An’ Tommy…”

“Tommy,” she sniffs. “You really think he’s coming back?”

No, he doesn’t. Their once-weekly radio messages are growing further apart as they have less and less to say. The thought sets an aching fire in Joel’s chest and he takes a long swig of the whiskey. It burns the same, but at least it’ll get him drunk enough to forget.

“Look,” she tries again. “We go to Bill and Frank’s, we can retire. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind taking it easy for once. We’ve spent half our lives running, we’re getting too fuckin’ old for this–”

The windows flash, thunder rumbles, and he can see the lines around her eyes in harsh relief. He hates her for bringing this up, hates himself even more for the anger it stirs in him.

“Y’don’t retire from this,” he says. “That ain’t the world we live in.”

Her derision is palpable. “Just what I thought you’d say.”

He shifts on the couch, tries to stretch his busted leg and hisses at the stabbing, lancing pain. “What do you want, Tess? You wanna, what…plant a garden? Grow fuckin’ tomatoes? You can do that just fine in the QZ.”

“No, I–”

“You wanna spend the rest of your life drinkin’ shitty wine over hors d’oeuvres in Frank’s backyard like some post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart?”

He’s being cruel and he knows it, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Under any other circumstance she’d probably haul off and punch him and that would be the end of it, but she’s strangely subdued, almost melancholy. It’s unsettling, unnerving, makes his jaw ache from holding it tight, waiting for the strike that won’t come.

“I want to live , Joel,” she snaps. “I want more than this. Shitty fuckin’ apartment, living off rations, in lockup every other week for the dumbest shit. This isn’t a life! It’s fuckin’ purgatory.”

“I can’t do that, Tess,” he spits. “You get…you get what you get with me. I ain’t gonna settle down in some shit suburb an’ play fuckin’ house.”

“Just…fuck it. Fine,” she snaps. “Forget it. You’ve made your point. We stay in Boston.”

He takes another long, unsatisfying drink and silently begs for it to take hold, to take him past the point of caring. They stay like that, quiet and rigid in their anger, until the weight of her head against his thigh is barely there, until he can’t pin his thoughts in place long enough to let them sink their teeth in. He’s drifting and dozing when she nudges him awake.

“Move over,” she mutters, and he does.

She crawls under the blanket and tucks herself against his side. This is how they work–quick to anger, quick to forget. She’s warm and soft against his bare skin and he’s able to momentarily shut out the pain. Not just his leg, but all of it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Everything they did to get to this point.

She makes it easy to forget.

“You’re right,” she says softly, fingers skimming over his chest. “But��we can’t keep going like this, Texas. One of these days, our luck’s gonna run out.”

Later, she shucks off her jeans and briefs and straddles his hips. Her hair falls around him, featherlight and sweet against his cheeks, forming a curtain as their lips meet. She tastes of liquor and smoke and desperation. Tight and hot, blunt fingernails digging into his pecs as she rides him slowly, grinding down to hit just the right spot, using him. But that’s fine, she’ll get what she needs, what little he can give. A warm body on a cold night, another set of eyes on her six, the brains to his brawn. Two halves unable to make a whole.

Lightning flashes and she hovers over him like an angel, haloed by the light as she comes, and he follows her into the dark.

Present day

Two weeks after his impromptu proposal, Joel comes home with a spring in his step. He’s exhausted, just about worn down to the marrow, but he’s home for dinner and the patrol schedule has loosened up. He has two whole days off.

He’s going to sleep. He’s going to spend time with his kid. Maybe pick up his guitar for the first time in weeks. And he’s going to spend at least one of those days with Ezra, because it’s been way too fuckin’ long. 

There’s music on the record player and the smell of something cooking. He half expects to see a frilly apron, too, but no, it’s just Ezra in an undershirt and dark jeans standing at the stove. Joel stops in the doorway to admire the sight–bare shoulders and biceps, the dark curl of hair at the nape of his neck, the easy confidence in his movements.

“Hey,” he says in greeting, suddenly itching to touch him, to ground himself in the warmth of his body. He moves in and wraps his arms around Ezra’s waist and presses his cheek to his back. Home.

“Exercise caution, songbird, there are hot things afoot,” he says. “And a stew.”

Joel muffles his groan and mutters into the back of Ezra’s neck. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly charming, I agree. The stew should be moderately edible, if my culinary talents haven’t failed me.”

But Joel finds he isn’t much interested in the food. The sight of all that bare skin has him wanting.

“Supper can wait,” Joel murmurs, drawing his hands across Ezra’s stomach, his hip, swaying a little. “S’go to bed.”

“As much as I would love to indulge, I’m afraid we have social obligations,” Ezra sighs.

Joel pulls back, frowning. “No.”

“We’re due at the Bison in an hour.”

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “This what I think it is?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, turning around. “And it would be in poor taste to miss our own party. Go clean up so we can eat.”

“Thinkin’ I’m about to have a bad case of the shits,” Joel mutters, but he turns away and heads for the stairs. Poor taste aside, he has no desire to face Ellie’s wrath…let alone Maria’s.

Later, showered and dressed in one of his nicer flannels, he finds Ezra still in the kitchen doling out bowls of stew, a clean, pressed button-down shirt over his undershirt. The empty sleeve has been carefully tailored to Ezra’s form, no hastily tied knot or cut-off sleeve, and the color makes his dark eyes look even darker.

Joel swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Seems a bit unfair for you to look this good when I can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says, voice low.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but we’re still going to the party. Eat.”

He does, and the stew is more than edible, but he can’t eat much. He’s distracted and restless, finds himself irrationally jealous of Ezra’s spoon.

“Don’t forget to pretend to be surprised,” Ezra says, adjusting Joel’s collar at the door. “And try to enjoy yourself, hmm? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But you smash cake in my face at any point, you lose your other arm.”

To Ellie’s credit, it’s nothing fancy. Sure, they’ve turned the fairy lights on at the Bison and there’s a cake on the bar, but they kept it small–which, in Jackson, means only a quarter of the town. God knows they’ve earned the right to enjoy themselves and Joel doesn’t mind being half the excuse, even if it means blushing his way through a few awkward toasts.

He remembers his first wedding, not much bigger or more extravagant than this one. At least this time Tommy isn’t 15 years old and drunk as a skunk, vomiting in the ladies’ room because the men’s room at the Elks Lodge was out of order. His new bride had been vomiting in the ladies’ room, too–for a different reason.

This is definitely an improvement. In fact, he’s almost enjoying himself when Ellie sidles up to him, looking far too pleased with herself.

“How’s life with the ol’ ball n’ chain?”

Joel sips his beer. “The hell d’you come up with this shit?”

“Dina’s got us watching old episodes of Cheers ,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then she grins, gesturing to the room. “So, whaddya think? Not bad for a reception, huh?”

“Not bad,” he admits, hugging her to his side, relishing the way she hangs on for a second longer than usual. “Thanks, kid. But no more surprise parties or you’re grounded ‘til you’re 30.”

“Better not get married again, then.”

“Don’t intend to,” he murmurs, watching Ezra talking to someone across the room. He can’t see her face, but her hair shines under the lights and she laughs at something Ezra has said, and in a flash of painful nostalgia he can only see Tess.

She’d never asked for anything like this. Probably would have laughed in his face if he’d proposed, not that he’d ever been inclined to. But there had been a time when she’d suggested something more permanent. Something more defined. Something much like the home he shares with Ezra. And he’d turned away, unable to think he deserved to be happy after a lifetime of brutality.

When Tess died, he’d told Ellie not to talk about her, and then he’d locked her memory away with Sarah’s. But Sarah had come back to him, with time and patience and Ellie’s influence.

Tess hadn’t. And somehow, in the scant three years since her passing, he’d managed to keep her tucked away, secreted at the back of his mind in that dark, lonely place. Nothing but a shoddy stone cairn somewhere in Western Massachusetts to show for it. But something in him has reawakened, Ezra bringing it out in him, and now–

“Joel?”

Ellie is looking up at him with concern. He blinks, squints, and the woman turns so he can see her profile–not Tess, not even close. Her hair is too short, her laugh too modest, her nose too long.

But he can’t convince his damn heart.

“I’m–uh, I just–gimme a minute,” he whispers hoarsely.

He doesn't even realize it’s happening until the panic is on top of him, until he tries to take a breath and his ribs feel bound in iron. Abandoning Ellie, he makes it to the door, slips outside without his jacket, the cold air hitting his lungs like a bomb.

He leans against the wall in the alley, willing his lungs to inflate. They do, just not as fast or as fully as he’d like. Jesus, he hasn’t had one this bad in months. Not since before Ellie and he–

A hand between his shoulder blades, a familiar voice at his shoulder.

“Breathe, love.”

“Shit,” Joel croaks, half startled, half relieved.

“Our young prodigy sent me,” Ezra murmurs. “Said you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Joel can’t find the breath to answer, so he just nods.

“Should I be concerned?” Ezra is peering at him. “Are you chasing spirits, songbird?”

“Think they’re chasin’ me,” he rasps.

Ezra nods, draping Joel’s coat over his shoulders before his hand resumes its careful path up and down his spine.

“You know,” he says casually. “Normally one gets cold feet before they’ve exchanged rings.”

A laugh bubbles up from Joel’s throat–more a barking cough under the circumstances–but something in his chest relents.

“It ain’t that,” he mutters when he’s caught his breath. “Jus’...too much goin’ on in there.”

“Should we perhaps take our leave?”

“God yes,” Joel breathes. “Please.”

“Come,” Ezra says, threading his arm through Joel’s. “The merriment is for their sake. I doubt we’ll be missed.”

Joel isn’t so sure about that, but he lets Ezra lead him without protest, still trying to calm his heart. It’s a short walk and soon they’re standing on the porch at Ezra’s old house. He lets them in with the key Cee keeps under the mat.

“I suspect they won’t think to look for us here,” Ezra says. They shrug off their jackets and hang them in the hall, leave their boots at the door, and Joel feels a powerful sense of déja vu walking into Ezra’s office. The room is sparse now, most of the record collection having been moved to their shared house. There’s a plant in the corner on the pedestal where the record player used to be and a few books line the shelves. It’s less inhabited, less personal, but his memory fills in the blanks.

“I’m going to investigate the coffee situation,” Ezra says, leaving Joel with a pat on the shoulder.

Joel sinks into the loveseat across from Ezra’s usual chair. He hears him moving around in the kitchen down the hall, the sounds of water running. His head still feels fuzzy, but at least he can fuckin’ breathe. He closes his eyes, sags into the cushions.

Ezra comes back with two mugs and sets them on the coffee table, then moves to take his seat across the room before stopping himself. He glances back at Joel, smiles faintly. Not the only one having déja vu, apparently.

“Apologies. Old habits,” he murmurs, taking the seat next to Joel instead. “Drink.”

Joel does, relishing the warmth of the coffee despite the wood-like taste of the chicory. Ezra is watching him intently, his expression carefully neutral.

“It ain’t–it’s nothin’ bad,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s, uh…all this has me thinkin’ about someone I knew…before.”

Ezra frowns. “Your…wife?”

Joel shakes his head, realizing with a further pang of remorse; he’s never talked about her, never even said her name aloud. “That was before…Before. Tess was my…business partner. Back in Boston, we uh…we were…”

“Attached?” Ezra offers.

Joel snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, we were…together. More or less.”

Ezra leans back into the cushions, takes a long sip from his mug. Joel searches his face for jealousy or anger, any kind of sign he should stop. But Ezra has the almost infuriating ability to detach, and his expression gives nothing away.

“Ain’t a big story,” Joel mutters. “We worked well together. Survived a hell of a lot. It was kinda…kinda an unspoken thing. Happened without us meanin’ it to, I think. Spend fifteen years with a person…you get to know ‘em. We shared everything–the best and worst, I always had a partner through it. Guess it was kinda inevitable, but…but she, uh…”

“You loved her,” Ezra prompts softly. Joel looks down, realizes he’s taken his hand.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t. She was bit ‘fore we came out here. She saved my ass one more time, then she was gone. Told me to take the kid and…and make it up to her.”

“Which…you did.”

Joel nods, throat going tight at the thought. He’d saved Ellie, Ellie had saved him. He thought he’d done his duty to Tess, but now he’s not so sure. The ring on his finger feels heavy again, like a broken promise.

“I guess all this…just catchin’ up to me,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even say goodbye. All happened so fast. And then…then I had Ellie to think of. And Tess died…not knowin’ I…how I…”

He trails off, unable to continue. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Tess standing in the warm evening light of the State House, telling him to save who he can save.

“Lately…I keep thinkin’ I see her,” he rasps, swiping at his eyes. “Around town, on patrol…she woulda got along real nice here. Made a good life for herself. But she never got a chance.”

Ezra brings his arm up to cradle the back of Joel’s neck, guides him gently down against his shoulder so he can bury his nose in the crook of his neck, the earthy scent of his shaving lotion a distant comfort. He wraps his arms around his waist.

“She knew,” he murmurs against his ear.

Joel shakes his head, clutches at the fabric of Ezra’s shirt, presses his face more firmly into his collar.

“She did,” he insists, gentle but firm. “And I know this because I know how you love, I have been…the recipient of said attentions, and I’m certain that even in your somewhat emotionally repressed state–”

Joel shudders, a dry laugh through his tears. Somewhat emotionally repressed couldn’t begin to describe how closed off he’d been. But then, Tess had her own demons, her own hard, impossible shell. They were as bad for each other as they were good, so many times they were the salt in each others’ wounds. But over time she had warmed, loosened, become more pliant. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgiven herself, while he continued to wear his self-hatred like armor.

Ezra pulls back, looking at him curiously.

“Y’don’t know, Ez, you don’t–I wasn’t…like this,” he says thickly. “Was barely alive.”

“But you are now. What she saw in you was worthy, so you live for her.”

“Sometimes I think…I don’t…don’t deserve to.”

“Whether any of us is deserving is beside the point,” he says gently. “You’re here, so you live for the ones who couldn’t.”

Joel huffs softly and Ezra leans in, presses a long kiss to the furrow between his brows, resting forehead to forehead, sharing breath. There’s an ache in his chest with her name on it clamoring for attention, a grief mixed with shame and hope and all the leftover love that had nowhere to go until now. A rough thing worn smooth over time.

Wasn’t time that did it , he thinks dully.

When their mouths meet, it’s hard and frantic and needy, pent up desire and sadness, a need to prove something. It’s been too long and there’s been too much and he needs to forget, so he lets Ezra ease him back, knee between Joel’s thighs, both of them sliding down into the cushions.

“Aren’t we getting a bit…far in years…to be doing this kind of thing on the couch?” Ezra murmurs between kisses, lowering himself onto Joel with a groan.

“Weren’t complainin’…last time,” he grits out, just as Ezra’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, delves deeper, stealing both his ability to speak and his last coherent thought.

“Touché.”

Ezra’s hand fumbles between them, untucking his shirt. Joel growls into his mouth as his husband finds warm flesh, takes the meat of his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently, then soothes the bite with his tongue. It’s all desperation, a hiss as Joel rakes the shirt up Ezra’s back, rewarded with the warm expanse of bare skin.

They’ve barely managed to find a rhythm before the front door opens and Cee’s voice rings out in the hall.

“Hello?”

“Shit,” Ezra hisses as they scramble apart. “Just us, birdie,” he calls, jumping up with a blush of pink across his cheeks. He’s smoothing his hair back, subtly trying to adjust himself. Joel bites back a chuckle. Hasn’t been caught out like this since he was a goddamned teenager necking in his dad’s pickup.

He hastily tucks his shirt back in and follows Ezra into the hall where Cee is unwinding her scarf, hanging it alongside their coats.

“Saw the light,” she says, nodding toward the office, looking back and forth between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Ezra says, sounding as out of breath as Joel feels. “We simply required a moment of respite from the festivities.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she says with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I think Ellie’s telling everyone you two left to…y’know. Honeymoon.”

“Christ,” Joel mutters, ducking his head, warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Thankfully Ezra is quick to change the subject.

“And where is your gentleman friend this evening?”

She rolls her eyes. “‘Gentleman friend?’ Really?”

“Your…lover?” Ezra tries, grimacing even as he says it.

“Gross, please don’t ever say that again,” she shudders. “ Luke is on the wall tonight, but he sends his congratulations.”

“Aha. Well, I suppose if you’re in for the night, we should take our—”

“Actually,” she says, drawing out the word. “I skipped dinner at the caf…and I have everything for grilled cheese…”

Joel recognizes her doe-eyed expression. He’s seen it on his own kid often enough when she’s asking after something, but Ezra doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“Oh,” he frowns. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your dinner.”

“No, I mean–you make the best grilled cheese. Plus maybe I wanted to, y’know, spend time with you?”

Ezra shoots him a look. “Oh, I–I, uh–I’m not certain we’re exactly–”

“I could eat,” Joel cuts in, reassuring him with a nod, relieved to have the focus off his shoulders for the time being.

“Well, then…save the butter for your bread, birdie,” Ezra grins. “We’d be delighted to keep you company and share a meal. Let’s introduce my husband to a…family tradition of sorts.”

Which is how Joel ends up at the kitchen table watching Ezra and Cee working together at the counter. They banter and trade gentle barbs side by side, and Joel finds himself relaxing into it, happy for the distraction.

“When we first moved to Jackson, I couldn’t sleep,” Cee explains, scraping butter from a brick and dropping it into a pan to melt. “Had a lot of bad dreams. Ez was usually awake, too, so we’d meet up in the kitchen.”

“Cee neglects to mention that we were also half starved at the time. Access to a full pantry was an extravagance neither of us could have imagined…I suppose it’s no small wonder we sought solace in sustenance.”

It’s easy to see how the two made it together; they work as a team in the kitchen just as they must have worked together to survive outside the walls. But something about watching him with Cee tugs at Joel’s heart. Ezra has always been comfortable in his own skin, but with Cee he’s even softer, even more himself.

“Didn’t have much in the way of culinary experience between the two of us,” Ezra says, frowning in concentration while cutting thin slices from a small wheel of cheese. Cee begins peeling a clove of garlic. “But we had plenty of time on our hands to learn–isn’t that right, birdie?”

“Yep. Can you believe I’d never even had this stuff before?” Cee asks, looking over her shoulder and holding up the peeled clove, and Joel shakes his head. “I had no idea what I was missing. Anyway. Ez here got really good at making cheese sandwiches and that kinda became our thing. Bad dream? Grilled cheese. Rough day? Grilled cheese.”

“Sometimes it seemed that was the only thing I could get you to eat with any regularity,” Ezra says.

“Yeah, well…some days were bad ,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“But…it got better.” Ezra looks over at her, and Joel can hear the uncertainty in his voice. It’s a question as much as a statement.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “Yeah, it did.”

Joel thinks of his early days in Jackson, Ellie’s nightmares, the gun under his mattress. The constant fear he was failing her. How they picked up the pieces and turned them into routines, rituals, things to get them through the hard days. Built something from two patched-together lives. Found their people.

Movie nights or grilled cheese sandwiches, they figured it out.

“This is cool,” Cee says to Ezra as they bring the food to the table. “I almost miss having you around here. Almost,” she teases.

“I’m sure it’s much–”

“Quieter?” Cee offers with a smirk, and Joel has to hide his own with a cough.

“I was going to say ‘less lively’ but fair enough,” Ezra mutters, then softens. “I’ll make dinner for you anytime, birdie. Just say the word.”

The food is good, but the company is better. Ezra and Cee carry the conversation while they eat and Joel lets them reminisce, contributing the occasional nod or grunt of agreement. If Cee thinks he’s quieter than usual, if she notices his eyes are still a little red, she’s kind enough not to mention it. More than anything, he wishes Tess could be here, wishes she could have had this, too.

At one point, Ezra takes his hand under the table, sensing his need for an anchor. He answers his questioning look with a squeeze, soaks in the sound of Cee’s bubbling laughter and the adoration in Ezra’s eyes, decides there might be something to Ezra’s words after all.

He may not deserve it, but he has it all the same. Shame to let it go to waste.

It’s late by the time they take their leave, bundling up at the door.

“Thanks for the sandwiches,” Cee says. “And for, y’know, not forgetting about me now that you’re all domesticated and shit.”

“I could never,” Ezra says, enfolding her in a tight, one-armed hug, offers his usual departing words of wisdom. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

“What, like get hitched?” she says drily.

Joel urges him out the door before that can fully sink in, has Ezra stopping in his tracks and turning around.

“Wait–”

“Relax, Ez,” Joel mutters.

“Did you–she said–”

“Uh-huh, I heard what she said.”

“But–”

“C’mon,” he says, tugging at his hand. “S’too fuckin’ cold out here.”

Ezra relents with a soft grumble, one last worried glance over his shoulder. Joel bites his lip on a smile. That girl sure knows how to push his buttons.

“Thank you for…indulging me,” Ezra says after covering some ground in silence. “I confess I…I don’t think I realized how much I missed our time together. It was just Cee and I for so long…”

“She still needs you,” Joel says, nudging him lightly before taking his hand. “An’ I don’t mind sharin’.”

The night is bitter cold and the wind forces them to hurry toward home. Ellie, loud and slightly drunk, if Joel had to guess, is just turning onto Rancher Street as they get there.

“Dudes! You missed a great party.”

She stumbles a little, giggles, and Joel reaches out to steady her.

“You owe me, fuckers. I covered for you. Even saved you some cake before the rest of the vultures got to it,” she says, just this side of slurring as she hands him a bundle of waxed cloth. “It’s super fucking good.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “How much did you have to drink, kid?”

“Only three! Or wait…four, maybe? I dunno, Cat says m’a lightweight, whatever that means.”

“Three what? Fifths?” Joel asks incredulously.

“Just beer,” she wrinkles her nose. "Maria wouldn’t let me have the hard stuff even though I told her I can take it, that bi–”

“Gonna stop you right there,” Joel says, shooting Ezra a look over her head. Now it’s his turn to smother a laugh. “Remind me to thank her tomorrow.”

Ellie grunts and inserts herself between them, looping one arm through each of theirs for the short walk to the end of the street. She leans a little heavy on Joel’s arm, plunks her cheek on his shoulder. She’s running on beer and cake and probably not much else as they make it to the house.

“I’ll be right in, just, uh…gotta get this one settled,” he says to Ezra, handing him the cake.

“Hydrate, young prodigy,” Ezra advises her, and Ellie sticks out her tongue, follows it with a raspberry.

Joel walks Ellie into the garage room and she plops down on her bed with a grunt. Joel goes to the little standalone sink, fills a cup with water. By the time he places the cup on her nightstand, she’s already curled up on her side.

“C’mon, kid. Can’t sleep with your damn boots on.”

“Can too.”

Joel sighs and unlaces her boots, gently tugging until they come loose. She giggles, tries to help, only ends up kicking him in the arm, which makes her laugh harder.

“Wanna watch those space wars movies. Y’know, those ones with the robots? Are-too somethin’ and see-pee-oh.”

He cocks his head. “Y’mean Star Wars?”

“Yes! And the brother who kisses his sister,” she says, then laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Pew-pew, motherfuckers.”

“You’re full of it tonight,” he sighs, pulling the crumpled blankets out from under her and over her shoulders before kneeling by her side. “Think you need a bucket?”

“Nah,” she yawns. “M’fine.”

“Alright. Drink the water. I’ll check on ya in a bit.”

Before he can stand, her arm wiggles out from under the blanket and wraps around his shoulders, pulls him down into an awkward hug that melts him. He closes his eyes, holds her tight, drops a kiss in her hair.

“You’re goin’ soft, old man,” she mutters, but she’s still holding on.

“Uh-huh,” he says, throat tight. “Love you.”

When she finally pulls back, she smirks up at him with all the confidence of Han Solo.

“I know.”

Inside, Joel shucks off his coat to the sound of Ezra rummaging through the kitchen drawer. He’s unwrapped the cake Ellie saved, now slightly squished and sitting on the counter.

“Has our girl found the answers at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Found an attitude, more like. She’ll be fine, just needs to sleep it off. Still hungry?” Joel asks, nodding toward the cake.

“Ah. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” Ezra says, bringing out a knife and aiming to cut a slice.

“Ain’t we supposed to do that together?”

Ezra’s grin is a slow, sweet spread thick as buttercream. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They share the knife and cut into the cake, Joel’s hand warm over Ezra’s. It’s an impressive dessert by Jackson standards. Real frosting–god knows where they found icing sugar–and the center has a layer of strawberry jam. Joel isn’t much for sweets, but he takes a bite when Ezra offers. It makes his teeth ache.

“I know you said no cake smashing, but–”

Before he can duck away, Ezra has swiped a fingertip of jam and smeared it lightly across Joel’s cheek. His eyes flash with mirth as he leans in, meaning to lick up the mess he’s made with the tip of his tongue.

It snaps the band of tension that’s been simmering all night.

Joel turns his head before Ezra can finish his cleanup and crashes their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. His hands find the collar of his fancy shirt and holds him, walks him back until he’s crowded against the counter and licks into him, tastes the remnants of vanilla sugar on his tongue. He only stops when Ezra yelps, having almost knocked the remaining cake off the counter in an effort to brace himself.

“Shit, sorry,” Joel pants, half laughing, half delirious with it, suddenly lighter than he’s felt all week.

Ezra grins, tongue darting out to wet kiss-swollen lips before cupping his cheek, leaning in to nip at him. “I suppose I did say I’d make it up to you. You’ve always been a touch…impatient.”

“ I’m impatient?” Joel growls, pressing his thigh tighter to the growing hardness between Ezra’s legs to emphasize the point. There’s still strawberry jam drying sticky on his cheek. He doesn’t care. “Finish your damn cake, Ez. Let’s go to bed.”

So they do, curled up naked under the quilt. There’s the hint of something more, something wanted, limbs entwined and hands exploring as they share slow, lazy kisses. What started as a fire mellowed somewhere between downstairs and the bedroom, and the pull of sleep is strong, exhaustion settling heavy around Joel’s shoulders. The mind is ready but the body is unwilling.

“Sorry,” he sighs into Ezra’s neck when it’s clear they’re not getting anywhere.

“No rush,” Ezra murmurs, stretching out with Joel’s head on his shoulder. “There’s time.”

They stay like that for a while, Joel drifting on the verge of sleep while Ezra strokes his hair. He finds himself thinking of Tess again, of all the moments they missed because they were too busy scraping by. How this was all she’d asked of him, and he’d turned her away because he couldn’t imagine deserving such a life.

“Songbird?” Ezra’s voice is a low rumble in his chest, and Joel tightens his grip, nuzzles closer.

“Mmm?”

“The other morning over breakfast…when you asked me if I wanted…something more…”

Joel’s stomach sinks. “Yeah.”

Ezra hesitates and the silence only serves to tighten the knot in Joel’s chest. He feels the jumpy thrum of Ezra’s heartbeat against his cheek, waiting for him to deliver the letdown. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rich and close to Joel’s ear, a whispered confession.

“I have never…had this. Men with my proclivities didn’t have a dearth of options before, and that became even less likely after…well. The life of a raider does not endeavor itself to…romantic entanglements. Not to say I’m inexperienced, but in matters of the heart I am woefully naive.”

In the dark, Joel can barely make out Ezra’s features, feels the tips of his fingers carding absently through his hair, skimming the shell of his ear, warming the back of his neck.

“Which is to say…I’ve known my share of lovers, certainly…but not…love.”

It takes a moment in Joel’s near-sleep-addled state to fully grasp his meaning. “Oh…”

Ezra tips his chin up, almost prideful. “I had long ago come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worthy of…something like this. I’d made my peace with that. You spoke of not being…deserving…and I know all too well what that’s like.”

His voice dips low, tugs at the meat of Joel’s heart. 

“I don’t tell you this for pity’s sake,” Ezra continues. “Just to ensure you understand that I…this is…more than I could have hoped for, songbird. I don’t take this commitment lightly.”

Times like this, Joel wishes he was better with words. As it is, all he can manage is to grasp Ezra’s hand and hold on, press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I know,” he whispers. He’d been so caught up with his ghosts, he hadn’t stopped to consider Ezra might have some of his own.

Later, he’ll put on his sweatpants and boots and wrap himself in a robe and go outside to check on Ellie, peer in through the frosted glass pane to find her where he left her, curled in bed and sleeping soundly. But for now, he’s content to stay like this, wrapped in his husband’s embrace, sheltered from the cold.

Maybe they didn’t have to do it alone.

Joel wakes to a huff of breath against his shoulder, Ezra wrapped around him like a second blanket. He’s nuzzling at the base of his neck, tickling the hairs there, peppering his upper back with kisses.

“Songbird,” he hums, tightening his arm low around Joel’s hips, nipping at the muscle along the ridge of his shoulder, clearly hoping to finish what they started last night. In the light of day, with a good night’s sleep behind him and no plans for the morning, that looks all the more likely.

“M’awake,” Joel grunts, turning over, doesn’t even have time to open his eyes before their mouths meet, hungry and wanting. Ezra’s soft moan resonates between them, hips hitching slightly, already hard and pressed tight to Joel’s thigh. It’ll take a little longer for Joel to get there, but not by much.

“Do you remember when I first…had you in this bed?” Ezra asks, pulling back, panting slightly.

Joel swallows hard, nods, still dizzy from the kiss and blinking sleep from his eyes.

“How I took you apart on my tongue? Hmm?”

Ezra on his knees at the edge of the bed, Joel’s torso bared and his jeans around his ankles, in too much of a rush to fully undress, glow of the golden hour slanting through the window. The memory sparks a pang of longing so strong it physically aches, sends a groan rippling up from Joel’s throat and a pulse of heat through his gut.

The body is more than willing this morning.

“I remember thinking to myself…that I had never witnessed a sunset more beautiful…had never experienced the majesty of a billion stars in the bliss of night, or watched the arc of a dove across the morning sky…than when you reached the apex of your enjoyment.”

Joel can’t speak, can’t breathe, fixed in place by Ezra’s dark eyes and his husked voice as his fingers trace the hollow at Joel’s throat. Their noses touch, the last words felt as a featherlight brush against his lips as much as heard.

“And I thought…in my haze of pleasure…that I want to be the reason you look like that. I want to watch you come apart every damn day for the rest of forever. And I will be there to put you back together again.”

Anything Joel might have thought to say, inadequate as it would have been, is quickly swallowed by Ezra’s kiss. His tongue skirts the pout of his lower lip and then they’re sinking into each other, a consummation of Ezra’s unexpected vows.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes when they pull apart. “You stay awake all night comin’ up with that?”

Ezra arches an eyebrow, eyes shining. “Did it work?”

With an agility that surprises even himself, Joel growls deep in his chest and rolls Ezra under him, pinning his willing form with his weight. His mouth finds the hinge of Ezra’s jaw, the freckle behind his ear, the ridge of his collarbone. The want is back, that old friend, and he gives into it, lets it lead him.

Down, teasing the ridge of a pebbled nipple with his teeth, down, lapping at the hollow of his breastbone, down, dipping his tongue into the soft circle of his navel and swirling, eliciting a stifled gasp, stomach twitching.

“You know I’m ticklish, cher ,” Ezra huffs, and Joel grins, does it again just to make him squirm before soothing the overstimulation with a gentle, firm bite to the softness at the base of his stomach.

He drags his scruff along his Adonis belt, teasing him with the heat of his breath, the slick muscle of his tongue lapping, sucking a mark into the curve at his hip. He admires the flush on his skin where he’s bruised him, the red scratches his beard has left behind, revels in the lightly painful tug of Ezra’s fingers in his hair, urging him on.

When he finally takes him in, the familiar taste and weight of him on his tongue is almost as delicious as the sound Ezra makes. It’s a whimper, a breath of equal relief and anticipation, soothing the ache while stoking the fire. It’s a heady rush, that first taste, the salt-tang of him, an invitation to see how much pleasure he can wring from his body.

Joel looks up, finds Ezra watching him intently, hungrily, head cocked to one side, chest flushed and heaving. He has to admit, the view ain’t half bad, stokes the heat roiling in his belly, and he grinds down into the mattress to find some relief. He takes him deeper, traces the ridges and veins with his tongue on the way back up, revels in the broken sounds he draws from Ezra’s lips.

“Songbird–your mouth, divinity itself could–could not–ohhh–”

He cuts himself off with a moan as Joel’s tongue circles and flutters, as his free hand grips him at the base and begins a firm stroke to help things along.

When Ezra’s hand pulls away, seeking purchase in the tangled mess of their bedding, Joel grabs for it instead, reaches up to lace their fingers, resting them on Ezra’s stomach and lightly holding him down. The intimacy is almost too much.

“Oh, oh love, you–I’m–”

Joel pulls off, still stroking, teasing. “You gonna come?”

Another throaty whimper, back arching into it. It doesn’t take long, they’ve been dancing around this for hours. He watches as Ezra comes apart in his hand with a choked gasp, spilling over his knuckles and onto the wiry curls at the base of his stomach, a breathed oh oh yes oh , and the power is a heady, giddy rush.

Every damn day for the rest of forever, indeed.

He crawls up the bed and settles on his side, allowing himself a moment of smug self-satisfaction. He’ll never match Ezra’s eloquence or even his energy, but he can manage this. Have him blissed out and shuddering in his arms, gazing up at him from under dark lashes, rendered monosyllabic. Has him curling into him, lips pressed to Joel’s throat and mumbling in French, legs tangled, arm cinched around his waist. He can hold him through the come-down. Can love him the way he deserves.

There’s quiet in the aftermath, Ezra nuzzling tenderly at Joel’s throat. His voice is all grit when he speaks.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel smirks, absently rubbing the back of Ezra’s neck. “Like you needed a reason to talk.”

“You love it,” Ezra whispers, peppering small kisses across the ridge of Joel’s jaw.

“Hmm. Reckon I do.” 

Ezra’s ministrations at his throat become more urgent, the graze of teeth and lips and tongue. Joel’s cock kicks against his stomach as Ezra sucks at his collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slips between them and then he’s teasing with his fingers, stroking him without pressure, cupping and petting him until he’s aching. Joel watches, drowsy with lust, as Ezra gathers his own slick spill in his palm before wrapping it around Joel’s cock to mingle with his precome, easing his movements considerably. The sight is enough to make him shudder. He thinks he hears Ezra murmur something over the rush of blood in his ears, something that sounds suspiciously like waste not, want not , and Joel thinks there’s still plenty of want to go around.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathes into Ezra’s neck, and it’s a syrupy hot slide into the tight wet clutch of his fist.

Joel lets himself sink into it, lets the tension coiling in his gut unfurl and bloom as Ezra strokes him. He fumbles for something to hold, hand finds the meat of Ezra’s ass, the back of a thigh, hears a low chuckle in his ear as he gasps and pulls him close. Soon he’s panting into the warm crevice of Ezra’s throat, unable to form more than hollow sounds of pleasure and want as Ezra works him through it.

“Like that?” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and Joel can barely manage a nod. Somehow his lips find Ezra’s and it’s a long, broken moan into his mouth as he feels the band at the base of his groin tightening, tightening, ready to snap. There’s only the sound of his own heavy breathing and the slick slide of Ezra’s hand on him and then he’s pulsing, throbbing, falling apart with a cry.

They’re tender and warm in the afterglow, taking advantage of a rare quiet morning to laze in bed while the sun rises, but Joel finds himself distracted, that nagging doubt creeping in to fill the space created by their lovemaking.

“Tell me about her,” Ezra murmurs, sensing his disquiet. “Tess.”

He hesitates.

“You sure?”

Ezra kisses him softly. “Memory poses no threat to my affections, songbird.”

It should be awkward, Joel thinks, but the words come easily. She’s been at the forefront of his mind for so many days, it’s a relief to lay it all out.

And when he’s told him as much as he can remember, and the sun is much higher in the sky, Ezra strokes his cheek with his thumb and offers a simple truth.

“I have her to thank for your being here.”

And he does, Joel supposes.

For giving him one last kick in the ass. 

For insisting he carry her hope for a cure, a future, and a life beyond the QZ.

For giving him a daughter.

For giving him a second chance.

He cups Ezra’s face in his hands, kisses him soundly, and silently promises he won’t let it go to waste.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

....thots or drabbles w/ Carnie!Ezra? or Carnie!Joel ?? I feel like Joel would be a meanie. 😈 He'd probably be the head mechanic of the carnival and just angry and frustrated all the time trying to keep the rides running on old grease and a prayer.

Why not both? Both sound good 😈

Here are my headcannons/thots about Carnie Ezra & Joel - honestly this is like a fic outline 🤷🏻‍♀️idk lmao

Smut below the cut, 18+only plz! Does contain p in v, threesomes duh, not edited all mistakes are mine!

- Ezra has missing teeth (due to fighting not hard drugs) def smokes Marlboros, and operates the scrambler. He’s a smooth talker, very social. He joined a couple of years ago, still relatively new to the carnival scene

- Joel is the carnival grump. He’s been apart of the carnival for fifteen years, since he’s been with the carnival so long he’s like the head carnie. He has a delicious beer belly that hangs over his old, worn out jeans. Permanent scowl on his face except when he sees you. Pretty little thing like you, always batting your lashes up at him. He can’t help but crack a half smile at you while his cheeks heat up🤭

-When Ezra joined, he took a liking to Joel and befriended him even tho Joel did not say or act like he wanted to be friends.

-Now Ezra is a flirt. If you got a pulse, he’s interested. You and your friends looked scrumptious while you waited in line to ride. As you stood at the front, you were wearing a low cut tshirt. Noting the way his eyes stayed on your breasts, you made sure to keep your chest pushed out a bit more than normal.

-Joel operates the Ferris wheel. Now while you enjoy the more thrilling rides, you found yourself riding the Ferris wheel quite a bit. At one point you had a sucker in your mouth while waiting to get on. Locking eyes with Joel as you purposefully pulled the sucker out far enough and swirled your tongue around it to show him just what you wanted to do to him.

-You knew Joel was gonna be harder to crack. So you wrote down your name and number on a napkin and gave it to Ezra.

- he wasted no time texting you and made plans to meet up after closing.

- Off in the back, a good distance away from everything, you met Ezra and quickly found his lips on yours and his tongue licking into your mouth.

- his cock felt so good, he was so deep as he bent you over. Had you on your knees in the dirt, fucking you like an animal when you felt eyes on you.

- “Well if it isn’t my old friend Joel. Look at this pretty little catch I got us.” Ezra announces to the dark wooded area as he pulls your head back by your hair.

-With your head lifted up and your eyes adjust, you realize you’ve had an audience this whole time.

-Joel grunts as he looks down at his boots, kicking at some invisible stick before walking over.

-Ezra’s stopped his thrusts as you look up at Joel towering over you. You softly put your hand out and palm his bulge over his pants. Smiling sweetly up at him.

-Joel lets you palm him got a second before swating your hand away and hastily pulling himself out of his pants.

- “Stick ya tongue out girl.” Joel orders you.

-Looking up at him with wide eyes as you stick your tongue out as far as you can, Joel grabs the back of your head, leans down a tad and spits on your tongue,

-“keep that tongue out now” he tells you as he guides your mouth down to his hard cock. Sliding the tip on your tongue, in and out, a few times smearing his spit around before roughly sliding his dick in and hitting the back of your throat.

-You gag as he holds your head down and face fucks you.

- Letting out a little chuckle, “A most wondrous sight we have here under the moonlight. A sweet songbird making the most lovely noises just for us my good friend.”

- You felt so full with Ezra stuffed in your cunt and Joel in your mouth. The two found a good rhythm and quickly you found yourself tumbling down. Your orgasm hit you so hard you could feel your own juices leak out of you.

-Of course you came back the next night to see both men. This time they took you back to their trailer.

-Joel sat on the couch as you straddled him, taking his cock in your cunt this time. Arms wrapped around his neck, holding on tight as he thrust up into you.

-Ezra came up behind you, his hands holding your cheeks open as he licked your tight hole. Pushing a finger in.

-“ That’s it, gotta work ya open just for me.” Ezra left a trail of kisses on your cheek before biting down just hard enough you felt the sting.

- You let out a loud moan as he bit your ass cheek, the feeling of his finger in your ass as Joel keeps fucking you had you on edge of another hard orgasm already.

-That’s when you felt Ezra take his finger out and stand up behind you. Looking back at him, you watched as he spit in his hand, lubing up his cock. He locked eyes with you and just smiled as he stepped closer, rubbing the tip on your puckered hole.

-your eyes roll back as you realize what he’s about to do.

-He pushes just the tip and already you’re overwhelmed with how full you feel

-Joel stops fucking you so Ezra can fully push into you. Once he’s fully buried in your ass your practically creaming from the fullness

-The carnival is only in town for two weeks. And every day you spend it there and every night you go back to their trailer, getting fucked by Joel and Ezra.

-You cry the day they leave, you came very close to saying fuck it and running off with them but they talked you out of it. They wanted better for you. So instead you look forward to the carnival coming back to town ❤️

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐳𝐫𝐚

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x ezra (prospect)

genre: smut, filth filth filth, minors dni

word count: 3.9k (this was supposed to be 1k smh)

summary: you, joel and ezra spend the night together in an abandoned cabin during a snowstorm.

warnings: established fwb between reader and joel, dirty talking, voyeurism, male masturbation, undisclosed feelings, underwear being used as a gag, overall just messy smut, piv, rough sex

requested by @doctorliamsr

a/n: this is part of the dark hearted people'verse but it can be read as a standalone. Everything you need to know is in the fic, enjoy 🖤

AO3 | Series Masterlist | Playlist

Ezra smells dust. Nowadays that’s all he can smell. But the deteriorating cabin they had managed to take shelter in certainly wasn’t any help to his poor lungs. He can feel the small specks sticking to the inside of his lungs. He hears you in the kitchen, sounds of plates clicking together, and metal pans scraping as you move them around. Ezra doesn’t concern himself with what you’re doing. At least he tries not to. You’re meant to be nothing more than entertainment, a thing that he would need to turn away from soon enough. 

But being on the road for so long, trying to earn their trust— it’s hard to keep the line between caring for and using for nice and fresh. 

Joel isn’t much of a problem. He’s easier to push away. Ezra has no complaints with how the older man views him as; untrustworthy, dangerous, a person that should be put down before they attacked first. Ezra can see it in Joel’s eyes. The hatred. But he can also see something else, an anger in the other that is worth investigating. It’s the type of anger that Ezra could use for himself; the type of anger that needs a release. Ezra had no arguments about being on the receiving end of said anger. In fact, it looked like it might be fun. 

His fingers skim over the shelves, a thick coat of dust seeping into his fingers. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, the feeling of it makes his teeth grind. 

Lifting his gaze, he skims over the titles. Nothing really that interesting, mostly encyclopedias, some history books…

Ezra’s eyebrows raise when he comes across an old sketchbook. His interest piqued, he picks it up from the shelf. The cover of the book is made of thick, textured leather, worn with age and use. It is a deep, rich brown, almost the color of roasted coffee beans, and is embossed with an intricate design of vines and leaves. The edges of the cover are frayed and soft, as if it has been held and handled many times over the years.

He smooths the pads of his fingers over the surface. He feels every crease, every ripped edge. His pulse quickens, an immediate bond forming between him and this old sketchbook. He doesn’t even know who the owner of it was. With a soft smile, he opens the sketchbook. 

The pages creak and crackle beneath his fingertips, revealing a treasure trove of beautiful artwork. The pages are yellowed with age and dotted with small flecks of ink, evidence of an artist's hand. Each page is filled with drawings and sketches that span the entire spectrum of human emotion, from joy to despair.

The sketches themselves are incredibly detailed and lifelike. There are delicate portraits of people, captured in moments of stillness and contemplation, as well as bold landscapes and cityscapes that capture the beauty and chaos of the world before. Some of the sketches are unfinished, with bold, confident strokes of the pen giving way to lighter, hesitant lines that trail off into nothingness. 

His thumb traces over the lines that disappear, a sense of familiarity warming his chest. Without showing the others, he sneaks the sketchbook into his inner pocket. He might have some use for it later. At the very least he can stare at it when he’s feeling particularly lost. 

The open kitchen area is dominated by a large, rusted stove and a wooden table that has seen better days. Ezra’s eyes move around the wooden exterior, already taking mental notes of what can and can’t be used. The living room is sparsely furnished, with a sagging couch and a few broken chairs placed haphazardly around an unlit fireplace. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of wood and old smoke. Joel lays on the couch, Ezra can see his boots dangling over the armrest, his body too broad to be contained by such a small and delicate-looking furniture. 

Ezra sees a rusted axe leaning against the wall and a pile of old books and tattered clothes lying in the corner. The boarded-up windows are covered in thick layers of dust, and cobwebs stretch across the corners of the ceiling.

Outside, the snow falls heavily, piling up against the cabin's walls. It seems as though time has forgotten this cabin and the surrounding wilderness has reclaimed it.

“Should I light the stove?” you ask from the kitchen, drawing Ezra’s attention. The question isn’t directed at him, but an answer already lays heavy on his tongue. 

Before he can say anything, however, Joel beats him to it. A rarity. 

“Sure. How else are we suppose’ to eat?” 

“I found some cans,” you offer. “Peach and pineapple. Some tuna as well but I’m not sure if we should risk it.” 

“Let’s just cook the rabbits.” Joel answers, his voice sounding gruff and heavy with sleep. “I shot them for a reason.” 

“We,” Ezra corrects, prompting the twitch of Joel’s left eyebrow. “We shot them for a reason.” 

Ezra can’t help but head towards the couch, he stands above Joel’s head, staring down at the man trying to sleep. He gently nudges the couch with the tip of his boot and Joel begrudgingly opens his eyes, a snarl already forming on his lips. 

“Wouldn’t lighting a fire put us in danger oh macho man?” 

“In this storm, I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try and get us,” he grunts, closing his eyes once more. Ezra can see the crinkles of his eyes, the crease between his thick brows as he forces his eyes to remain shut. 

“Does that mean we can light the fireplace too?” Ezra teases, knowing that Joel probably checked the wood and that it was probably unusable.  

Joel doesn’t answer him, and his eyes remain shut. 

Rolling his eyes, Ezra turns to you. You seemed to be in a world of your own, struggling with the old stove and poking it with a rusty spatula. 

“Need help there little bird?” he coos, his feet bringing him to the kitchen.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you huff, but smile nonetheless. “But yeah. This thing definitely isn’t cooperating.” 

Ezra watches as you make a show of your struggle, as if he doesn’t believe you. Your delicate fingers fumble with the kindling. Something warm and sinister coiling in his stomach, he steps closer. He can almost hear your heartbeat, fluttering like a caged bird. 

"Give’em here," he mutters, his voice low as he reaches for the matches. Ezra allows his fingers to brush against yours. He almost groans at the jolt of electricity he feels, a sharp sensation burning him all the way up to his shoulder. 

With a flick of his wrist, the kindling ignites, and the flames dance to life.

Your eyes go wide, a brilliant orange flickering in your eyes. He can’t help but lean in, take a closer look. He’s sure you can feel his breath across your cheeks, warming you from the inside out. Sucking a breath, you pull back, your gaze falling to the rabbits on the kitchen counter. 

“Thanks.” 

“Always a pleasure to be of your assistance,” he answers, lips curling into a cat-like smile. “You two are helping me find my rather precious supplies after all. The least I can do is help prepare dinner.” 

Your silence speaks words. Ezra follows your lead, preparing the rabbit and emptying a couple of cans of peas to go along with it. It’s not as chaotic as it would normally be when dinner is being prepared. There isn’t much to do so your movements are more languid, a simple dance as you occupy each other’s spaces. He enjoys the dance. He enjoys the way you try to avoid him by not making eye contact, but he’s more observant than you and Joel give him credit for. 

He notices the stolen glances. He notices the way Joel stiffens on the couch, trying to catch on to what was happening, while still keeping his eyes closed. 

But by all means, he’s not innocent. Ezra's gaze lingers on your every move, taking in the curve of your neck, the gentle sway of your hips. He wants to grab you by the nape, push you down and fuck you right then and there. Unlike him and Joel, You have an unbridled need to trust others. He likes that about you. He likes that you listen and believe in what he says, despite what your partner in crime might think. 

Placing the pieces of rabbit into the pot, you turn to grab a spoon. 

Ezra feels it before he sees it— The accidental brush of your ass against his groin, your softness and curves forcing him to hold his breath. A hiss makes its way between clenched teeth. The two of them stay like that, your back to his chest, neither one of you daring to move. Your breathing accelerates slightly, the sound prompting him to further close the distance, his body towering over yours. 

Time seems to stand still in that moment, and he’s content to just stay like that forever. Frozen in time. Just like this cabin buried within the snow. 

The fabric of his shirt and pants are rough against his skin, and the feeling only serving to heighten the arousal coursing through his veins. He aches to fill you up, to feel the warmth of your body around him, to finally fuck you until you go stupid. His cock stiffens under his pants, eager to follow the path of his twisted mind.

He can’t help himself, his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You don’t stop, your movements slow as you allow him to hold you. He can hear the blood rush in his ears, his breath comes in shallow gasps. 

He can feel Joel’s gaze on them both, but Ezra doesn’t stop. 

He’s not a weak man, but he’s not that strong either. That he can fight the temptations

Ezra’s fingers move up your  shirt, gently tracing circles on your skin, his touch light, fleeting like every moment in this world was. He wants more than anything to kiss you, to feel your lips on his, to taste your sweetness. 

But he can’t.

Some part of Ezra wants Joel to get mad, to march over to the kitchen and bend him over. He wants to hear the older man growl into his ear, telling him to behave. Ezra’s heart races at the thought, his mouth filling with saliva not from the scent of rabbit but from the one that seems to despise him. He lets out a slow breath, his fingers twitching and burrowing themselves further into your body. 

Finally, you pull away, your movements a beat too fast, and panicked. 

A chill envelopes him without your heat. He ignores the tug at his heart, the ache in his lower stomach. Ezra turns to cook the peas, but in his periphery, he notices Joel still staring at them from the couch. His gaze is blank and unreadable, but there's something about it that makes Ezra's skin crawl. 

He turns away, focusing his attention on the food, but the moment has already been broken.

The flickering flames are nothing but small ambers warming the late hours of the night. The cabin is a spacious one, filled with rooms, but Ezra had decided to spend time by the fire, leafing through the sketchbook he’d found before dinner. It’s a pleasantly look through. Ezra had missed seeing other faces beside his and those who he was with. He’d forgotten how different people can look. 

He only looks up when the small dots of orange of the ambers also fade away. The cold of the night settles in and he decides to head to bed. They would leave in the early hours of the morning so it’s probably best to sleep early rather than later. Ezra winces at the way his muscles ache, the bottoms of his feet burning with the rough drag of his tattered insoles. He can’t wait to be rid of them. 

Walking through the dark hallway, he wonders where you and Joel are asleep at. Ezra, again, had notices that you and Joel are in some kind of situantionship—he suspects there is more to it— but you two never actually slept in the same room together. He presumes it’s part of the deal you two have going on. 

Ezra’s fingers graze against the worn walls, all the room doors seem to be wide open, not a soul inside. How peculiar. His lips part and he rubs his jaw, he’s in dire need of a shave. 

Once more, he checks the rooms. Nope. There wasn’t a single soul inhabiting these rooms. 

His heart races with the sudden thought that you and Joel might’ve ditched him, but then he calms himself. Takes a deep breath. With the snow laying as thickly as it did outside, it would be suicide to leave. 

So where the hell are they? 

He suddenly catches sight of a faint light in the distance. Intrigued, he quickens his pace and turns the corner to find a covered walkway leading to a small shed.

The walkway is made entirely of glass, with moss and ivy creeping up the walls, the panes reflecting the flickering of the moonlight. Ezra's eyes travel upwards, taking in the sight of the roof, which is covered in a thick layer of snow. The shed itself looks ancient, its wooden walls and door rough and worn.

When he reaches the shed door, he hears heavy breathing and soft moans pouring through the crack of the door. His steps slow. He knows what they’re doing. 

He knows that they’re fucking. 

His breath caught in his throat, he nears the door until he can peer inside. There’s a lantern dimly illuminating the room and he can see your bodies clearly from where he stands. You’re bare naked, hands hanging on a wooden beam for dear life with your breasts pressed against it. Joel looms behind you. Fully clothed, except for his cock that Ezra can see the base of every time the older man pulls his hips back. 

Stupidly, Ezra steps a bit too close, the tip of his boot nudging the wooden door ever so slightly. A creak echoes and Ezra stops breathing. Eyes glued to your moving forms, sweat glistening across your skin, he holds his breath and watches, waiting for one of you to hear him. 

Neither you nor Joel notices the uninvited visitor, too lost in the pleasure, in the warmth—in the act of it all. 

His cock twitches eagerly, growing under the confinements of his jeans. Licking his lips, he unbuttons himself and sneaks a hand down his pants, cupping his erection. The cold that littered his skin melts away, leaving burning ash and coal in its wake. A soft groan echoes in the back of his throat. His fingers squeezing the base, and moving up to swipe a palm over his weeping head. 

He hears your moans, Joel’s grunts. He can’t help it. The other man pounds into you with an intensity and desperation Ezra had only seen in animals. He thinks of the moment in the kitchen, what he thought of when you had your ass pressing against his clothed cock—how desperately he wanted the older man to put Ezra in his palace, how he wanted to feel that anger and hatred being let out against his weaker body. 

Heat builds at the end of his spine, he circles his cock with thick fingers, his lips parted as he comes even closer to the door. He can almost smell the sex and sweat clinging to your skin, he wants to get closer, wants to inhale you and burrow you into his lungs. He gives his cock a not-so-gentle tug, hissing as pleasure pricks at his skin. 

His fingers move faster, spreading the drops of precum over his length. His breathing becomes shallow and erratic. His balls tight as he watches the two of you. The moans and grunts coming from the two of you become a soft background noise, almost like background music to his own pleasure.

He can hear murmuring but can’t decipher the words. Not that he cares. Ezra’s hips stutter forward, every muscle drawn taut, he slides his hand along his length. Joel grabs at something from the side, underwear—your underwear, to be precise. 

His breathing hitches and his heart stops— he watches as Joel brings the fabric to your lips, your moans and words coming only as muffled noises, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

Ezra's eyes widen, his body shuddering. He can feel it, he's so close, but he can't bring himself to finish, not yet. He pulls his hand away from his now aching cock and takes a step back, away from the door. His erection still throbbing, he wants to—no, he needs to watch. This is a rarity, something he’s only thought about in the late hours of the night. 

He takes a deep breath, his heart still racing and his cock still pulsing. Gathering his thoughts, he takes a step closer to the door, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. He can feel his body heating up, his mouth going dry. Ezra reaches down, feels the weight of his balls, and rolls them over his fingers. He has to bite his bottom lip to not make a noise. His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, the pleasure burning him from the inside out.  

His other hand reaches for his cock, squeezing the head and giving himself hard, slow, strokes. 

Ezra continues to watch, mesmerized. Joel shows mercy and reaches for your mouth. The fabric is pulled away, revealing swollen lips and wet, skin. Joel thrusts harder, faster. His hips move with a frantic rhythm, his grunts becoming louder and more frequent. 

His chest aches, more precum dripping and making a mess of his pants. He hisses through his teeth. 

Ezra’s not sure how much longer he can hold on. 

“You realize he’s watchin’ us right?” 

He grips your hair and tilts your head back, lips finding a spot over the hallow of your neck. Joel bites into the warm skin, his chest trembling with a growl. Your thighs quiver, your insides desperately clenching around his cock. You do realize but you’re too far gone to care. 

And it doesn’t help that your brain purrs at you, telling you how much you’re enjoying Ezra’s hot, heavy gaze on you. 

“You like that he’s seein’ you like this? All fucked out barely able to speak.” 

“S-Shut up, Joel.” 

“You’re a brat.” he clicks his tongue, sharp and loud in your ear. “Takin’ the praise but not takin’ the punishment. That’s not how the world works, honey.” 

Joel takes you harder now, pushing you up against the beam, your body trembling as he drives himself into you. His grip tightens around your waist as he pumps into you. You feel the sweat dripping down your skin, your body for him to use. You clench around him, your cunt dripping down his length and wetting your thighs. A soft whimper parts your lips, the burn in your loins a stark reminder that you’re going to be feeling this tomorrow. 

“I’m startin’ to think you have a little crush on him, sweetheart. Not sure how I feel ‘bout that.” he grunts. “Or maybe you just wanted to rile me up with that little stunt—grindin’ your ass against him,” Joel presses into you deeper, coaxing a shout trembling in your chest. “You know how I feel about sharin’, especially with someone who’s out to get us.” 

“We’ve been on the road for a month. He’s safe. Stop being so paranoid.” 

He cups the back of your neck, thick fingers reaching both sides, he squeezes and pulls your head back. His lips touch the side of your cheek, movements slowing to a torturous grind. 

“It’s been a month and he’s making us go in circles. How the hell are we supposed to find his equipment after so long? He’s stringing us along for his damn pleasure.” 

A grin curls at the corner of your lips. You’re about to say something really stupid, but you can’t help it, you love getting under his skin, pressing his buttons. 

“You like him.” 

“I don’t.”

Suddenly you feel something dry being shoved between your lips. Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s your underwear, the one Joel had been so eager to rip away from you.  Joel clamps a hand over your mouth, his other hand drops to your waist, and blunt nails bite into your skin. 

“I’m sick of your yappin’,” he grunts, hips picking up the pace. “Just fuckin’ take it, I don’t need your needless observations.” 

You bite into the fabric of your underwear, muffling a moan as Joel drives himself into you. His hips thrust up, pushing him deep inside you, his cock stretching your walls. His grip tightens, drawing a sharp hiss from you. You’re so far gone, barely able to focus on anything besides the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Joel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “He’s probably touchin’ himself. Fuckin’ his fist as he wishes it was your sweet cunt instead.”

Your body quivers, a wave of pleasure crashing over you. The thought of Ezra watching, his eyes hungrily devouring you—another muffled moan seeps into the fabric, spit dripping from the corners of your lips. Joel’s thrusts become more desperate, more primal. His fingers dig into your hips, his grunts turning into a feral snarl as he slams into you.

The pleasure builds, every nerve in your body on fire. Joel’s hand tightens around your throat, his thumb stroking your clit as he continues to drive himself into you. You’re so close, your body trembling. With one final thrust, Joel pushes you over the edge. 

He rips the underwear away from your mouth, dropping it to the floor. 

You scream, your voice echoing in the night air. All you can think of is Ezra; the darkness of his gaze, the poetic lilt to his tongue—the way he’s probably fucking his fist just like Joel said. You clench, gushing around his cock. His fingers continue to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, lighting your fire again and again as his cock strokes your deepest parts.

“That’s it,” he groans, lips pressed against your heat. You tremble at the rasp in his voice. “You like it, don’t you? Being used by one while being forbidden fruit to the other? My insatiable fuckin’ whore.” 

He nuzzles your cheek and it feels like whiplash, but you lean into it, nonetheless. He’s right, you do enjoy it. 

Pulling out, Joel follows shortly after, his body going rigid as he spills himself over the curve of your ass. It’s hot and sears your skin, you wish you could feel that warmth inside, feeling it dripping out of you when he pulls away.  

You collapse against the beam, your body tingling. You’re sweaty and out of breath, but still, your eyes move to the door. You don’t see him, however, you do hear soft footsteps moving further and further away. 

You’re not sure which one of you left the door open, you or Joel. 

[pedroshotwifey]

A Real Man Frankie Morales x plus size!fem!reader - Frankie has you sit on his face. (1.2k)

Fucking Mine Dave York x fem!reader - You help Dave get out some frustrations. (839)

One Condition Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect) - You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition. (4.9k)

Cramped Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader - As you tried to explain, the two of you really don't fit in the cockpit. (927)

Bargian Javier Peña x male!reader - You and Javi play through one of your scandalous fantasies (2.1k)

Salty Sweet Javier Peña x fem!reader - Javi eats you out on your birthday---with a deliciously kinky twist (1.3k)

Better Ezra x f!reader - You join Ezra on his unscheduled break, not knowing you're in for the ride of your lifetime. (2k)

Good 'n' Deep Fat!Frankie Morales x f!reader - Fat Frankie can't be sated. (2.6k)

What Matters Older Joel Miller x f!reader - Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more. (1.9k)

Needy Sub!Frankie Morales x dom!f!reader - Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it. (1.6k)

Tease Sub!Dieter Bravo x sub!GN!reader x dom!Dave York - You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it. (2.4k)

Toeing the Line fwb!Marcus Pike x f!reader - Can you really just be "friends"? (740)

Stress Relief Pre-outbreak Joel Miller jacking off to some porn

Mini Skirt Javier Peña x fem!coworker!reader - You start thinking down on yourself---luckily, Javi's there to lift you back up. Nothing some praise and a good fuck in his office can't fix. (2.7k)

The Right Guy X-Men!Logan x f!reader - Logan tries too hard on a first date (mostly cute fluff with a smudge of angst kind of) (1.1k)

Song fic requests:

Haunted QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Haunted by Beyonce

Taste Ex!Javi x reader - Taste by Sabrina Carpenter

Requested Drabbles

Want some help on what to request? Try one of these links! (Make sure to specify which prompt list you’re using or I will assume it’s prompt list 1 :)

Prompt list 1

Prompt list 2

Prompt list 3

Prompt list 4

I am also willing to write for JDM characters (love me some Negan 🤭) , Oscar Isaac characters, Cassian Andor, Hugh Jackman characters (Logan is my fav) and Rick Grimes! Feel free to suggest a different character and I’ll see what I can do! ❤️

Small letter about the requests (basically saying that this is a safe space for all of you to request whatever you'd like!)

[pedros-husband]

You have a big ass

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell

javier pena: he loves a juicy ass so his eyes are constantly on yours, especially if you wear any of his 70's style jeans. he has no shame so wether your in the office, in town, or at home he will slap your ass or squeeze it. he especially likes it if your bent over someones desk trying to speak to them, he loves picturing how you'd look bent over his desk whilst he fucks you.

Joel miller: hes not into PDA so he'll only ever stare at your ass if your in public, but he'll still do it shamelessly. sometimes he'll let you walk ahead with someone else on patrol or by yourself simply so he can stare at your ass and they way your jeans cling to it, or the way yoour hips move at each step, making your ass jut out.

when yoru at home though, hes completely different. he has absolutely no self restraint when your in the comfort of your house and no ones prying eyes are on you. he'll smack, slap, kneed your ass, at every chance he gets, in the morning or evening thoguh he loves smacking your ass in the morning whilst you make coffee, making you stand up straight and let out a surprised snort, snapping you awake.

Javi Gutierrez: he’s a sucker for you in anyway possible and he loves praising you in any shape or form so he loves commenting on how much he loves your body, especially your ass. When your cuddling his hands will subconsciously move to rest on your ass, sexually and non sexually. If he’s feeling more frisky he’ll squeeze and/or slap your ass. He’s also a sucker for making you feel good and he loves eating you out. (I totally see him as a power bottom)

Marcus Moreno: he’s super cheesy and I can totally see him as that chest single dad so he’ll mostly make cheeky comments and jokes about your ass (In a cute way though) he totally loves eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so, because like javi he’s all for making you feel good and giving you the pleasure, because he gets pleasure from yours.

Ezra: he is a man of words and poems so he’ll go on long tangents about how much he just loves your ass or he’ll talk in great detail about what he wants to do to your ass/ with it. He also likes smacking your ass when you don’t expect it.

Din djarin: he’s not very touchy especially because he’s spent most of his life alone, but he’ll admire the way your armour/clothes cling to your ass. He loves watching you work or train in silence, he is so grateful of his helmet so you can’t tell that his gaze is almost permanently on your ass. When you do get more intimate or touchy he’ll mumble about how sexy your ass is and if he’s feeling particularly bold he’ll grab it and pick you up, punning you against the wall.

Frankie morales: he also is shameless in public so he’ll smack/slap your ass as a greeting or in passing. He smirks when you gasp and smack his arm, smiling at your angry blushing face. In bed/cuddling he’ll

Agent whiskey: he’s got no shame as well, in public, at work, or at home. He loves if you wear tight fitting jeans and if you do he looses all self restraint. If it’s in the office he’ll fully pick you up by your ass and onto his desk, he can and will take you at work, tequila and ginger are used to it by now and have earplugs for when you do it. He’s slap your ass as he walks by you as reflex, sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Silva: he’s so sweet and soft for you, but he worships you and your body so he’ll constantly mumble under his breath to you about how much he loves your ass, how it drives him wild. When cuddling on the bed/couch he’ll pull you into his chest by your ass cheeks and knees them softly.

Oberyn martell: everyone knows he’s a complete man whore with no shame at all. Hell fuck you all over the palace and in the garden. So sometimes he’ll slip out of meeting and duties just to watch you train, admiring the way your armour and underclothes excentuate your ass. Hell not necessarily slap your ass but he does like to knees it in his hands and watch as it goes redder with his touch. He also likes eating you out and holding your ass cheeks as he does so.

————————————————————————————

I didn’t include as many characters this time because this serves as more of a placeholder whilst I finish my main fic that hopefully should be finished soon. It’s already over 1.5k long and I’m not halfway finished yet 😅

[lincolndjarin]

sparrow's spectacles

a series of horror one shots based around different pedro characters. be warned, the dead doves are going to be remarkably inedible. installments will be tagged accordingly, all stories will be 18+ and dddne.

Installments (not in order of release dates) :

Music Box - Joel Miller x Reader

Fine Art - Javi Gutierrez x MovieStar!Reader

Avoir Elle Est Avoir Les Etoiles - Din Djarin x Bounty!Reader

The Greater Good - Ezra x Reader

Until That Boy is Mine - Dieter Bravo x Paparazzi!Reader

more information below the cut!

so so so, basically i've been working on this during my hiatus lol, most of these have outlines and drafts already written, they're all varying in length from little mini fics to longer one offs. i've been wanting to do this for ages, i offered it as like a follower celebration and nobody seemed super into it lol but i really wanted to write it so here it is lol. each photo is for one of the fics ;) but we won't know which is which until their released.

anyways this has been in the works for a while now so i really hope y'all enjoy it!! also spent several days trying to come up with alteration for that name. have i said that ro is short for sparrow on here?? god i hope so lol

dividers by @saradika-graphics !!!!

(hoping to have the first installment posted within the week)

[pascalsbby]

omg, I’ve been tagged by so many sweet people in posts like this, so I thought I’d make one too!!! these are all NSFW, 18+ - we all know I love a dirty joel.

please drop any other links/recommendations that you have 🤍

thank you to these writers for letting us escape our world into yours for a while, don’t know what I (or carnal!joel) would do without ‘ya.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

July 2023

against mr. miller’s truck (not named) @chaotic-mystery

any brat tamer! joel @chloeangelic

attentive (ezra) @the-ginger-hedge-witch

biéten @netherfeildren

don’t you see? @pascalisbaby

cool about it @sinsofsummers

polaroid (not named) @velvetmud-h0e

sharing is caring @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

a madness all-consuming @divinehedons

‘tis but a scratch @strang3lov3

side note: xtremely high atm so apologies for my mistakes 🤭 like for real I’m on another planet brb

[penvisions]

dev's drabbles {masterlist}

been dabbling in letting the words flow lately as a way to exercise mood and thots, so i decided to collect them all on one neat little post for y'all

Joel Miller:

joel's morning wood

out of date (set in the {garnish} universe)

early morning filth

wristwatch

Frankie Morales:

anticipation with frankie

slow and then fast with frankie

once more, with feeling (frankie morales)

coffee and candor (commission)

Ezra:

it takes two to dance with ezra

Javi G:

from grief to grace

[pimosworld]

Wip tag game

Thanks for the tag- @sawymredfox

rules: list the names/titles of docs in your wip folder + open your inbox to asks about them.

As much as I say I’m gonna focus on one thing at a time you will see that this is a lie.

Blue Hour (OIYCM)-Frankie morales x f!reader(series)

TTTB chapter 9-Dave York x f!reader x Frankie morales (series)

Sanctuaire-Joel Miller x f!reader x Ezra (one shot)

Sun and Moon chapter 3- Moon boys x f!reader (series)

Someone Like you-Santiago Garcia x f!reader, Joel Miller x f!reader (tba series)

No pressure tags- @beefrobeefcal @morallyinept @toobusyshrimping @magpie-to-the-morning @luxurychristmaspudding

[bambiiboop]

Hi yes hello even tho executive dysfunction is kicking my ass I’ve added Oberyn Martell to the list of Pedro boys I’ll take fic / blurb requests for.

So that’s now:

- Joel Miller

- Din Djarin

- Javier Peña

&

- Oberyn Martell

Once I’ve watched Prospect I’ll probably add Ezra to the list too 🤷🏻‍♀️

Requests are still technically open but you may be waiting a short while. Feel free to send stuff in though 💜