#tess my mother my love my life

[devnmon]

I wonder how Tess kisses. like does she just pull you in and go right for it or does she take her time feeling your lips against hers and slowly push yours against hers…

im just. so down bad and the need to kiss her lazily in bed rn is on my mind.

i mean. just look at her.

she’s so PRETTY. god i wish women were real

[vifilms]

❝ TASTE ME WHEN SHE'S KISSING YOU ❞

pairing. abby anderson x fem!reader x owen!pissoff

TASTE ME WHEN SHE'S KISSING YOU, being friends with benefits with abby is no easy feat, continuously finding yourself at odds with what you know is logic and a heavy heart but at tess and joel’s wedding, push comes to shove. putting you and abby between a rock and a hard place.

★ warnings y disclaimers. eighteen+, wedding!au, cheating, friends to lovers (kinda?), abby in a fucking suit, lowkey!mean abby, smidge of sub!abby, slight daddy!kink, angst + fluff + smut ps the whole trifecta, light bondage (r!tied up), fingering, 69ing, pussy munching, anal teasing, mean!abby, sub!reader, reader desc. feminine, anti-owen energy, lowkey mel slander.

wc. 21k+

hi guys! it's finally here! m'so proud of this one created with my love, @absfawn. this baby is our pride and joy, we had the most fun writing this together and hope y'all enjoy it as well. if you like it, let us know! feedback truly means a lot. anyways, happy reading!

Things have always been challenging for both of you. From the moment you met, friendship blossomed, sustaining for years, longer than Abby expected. She’s grateful for you but doesn’t know how you still tolerate her. An inkling can be found in the pit of her stomach, and every time her gaze catches you, there’s a hope that terrifies her. Almost a promise or a future she knows she wants but doesn’t think she can ever have. 

It’s been like this since the moment the two of you met. 

She remembers the first time she spoke of you, with Tess and Joel at the monthly dinner they had every first of the month, the light in her bright blues putting the full moon to shame. While Joel just chucked it up to a blossoming friendship, Tess could see something different — something bright. It shocked Tess even more when Abby brought Owen when she came to visit and not you. Her shine didn’t exist when Abby was with her boyfriend, but it did with you. Just a few months later, Tess met you, and she chucked when she saw how Abby couldn’t keep your eyes off of you. She constantly tended to you, ensuring you were comfortable, or the not-so-subtle hand rubbing your thigh sweetly. 

Joel was clueless about the behavior, but Tess could see it clearly as day. 

Tess had never seen Abby so full of joy, not since her mother had so tragically been taken away from her. 

Ever since her mother’s passing, Tess has been the one to take her under her protective wing. She was one of the very few Abby couldn’t count on, gracious to be there to hold her hand and wipe her tears when she lost her mother in her early teen years. As much as Abby loves her Father, the moments she misses her mom are more vigorous than one would like to admit. The specific way she would braid her golden hair or the tender kiss she would leave on her temple before she wished Abby goodnight. Her age didn’t matter; her mom never let her feel unloved from the moment she held her as a newborn. Abby’s curious eyes were all it took for mom to be enamored with her daughter. 

When her grades started slipping, and her absence at school became apparent, her soccer coach snapped her out. She let Abby talk about her mom when her Father, Jerry, was too weak to discuss the elephant in the room. Abby never blames him; she is the love of his life, and he mourns her every day. He looks at her bright blues, and the touch of green surrounding the irises reflects her mothers. She also talked about how soft spoken Abby is, how particular she is with her tidiness, and how she learned to braid her hair like her mother used to. 

Ever since then, the bond they shared nearly became unbreakable. 

Tess never had a child of her own, and she never could either, but with Abby, it almost felt like she was one of her own—the adoptive daughter she didn’t even know she needed but couldn’t imagine her life without. Even if Abby has to take a flight to see her, they never miss their Sunday afternoon call, where they catch up on the nonsense in both of their lives. 

It’s one of the most incredible comforts Abby has. She’ll treasure it for as long as she has Tess, her second chance at a mother’s love, she likes to call it. However, Abby couldn’t get away with hiding in the dark sometimes because of how close they were. Especially when she brought you over for the holidays for the first time. 

Two Years Earlier…

“I don’t know what’s going on with you and Owen or you and her, but don’t mess it up with her.” Tess mumbles as they watch from a distance. There you are, Joel, and you, her Father, Jerry, preparing Thanksgiving dinner. You look happy. It brings a delightful smile to Abby. It feels right, you being here with her, how easy all of it is except for why it’s so painfully not. 

“Yeah, I might be putting my foot in my mouth with this one,” Abby admits. She sips on the chilled beer you brought her a few moments ago. 

“Something is going on, isn’t it? Showing up with her instead of Owen is surely saying something.” Tess huffs out ironically. “Can’t imagine one like that is too keen on someone other than himself taking up time in your life.” 

“I suppose something is going on,” Abby says so quickly that Tess almost misses it. 

“Abigail Anderson.” 

“I know! Okay, I’ll stop it. I just—” She pauses to look at you, making an effort with her Father as Jerry’s probably telling you some old joke you’ve already heard three too many times, but you humor him. 

“You love her.” 

“I don’t—” 

“Don’t even, Abigail.” The older woman bites back. Abby opens her mouth to say a line of defense, but it says so openly that she thinks a fly might go ahead and make a home. 

Tess has always been a no bullshit kind of woman. She was never one to beat around the bush; she always directly called out Abby on her own shit. When it stunk, she would be the first to tell her. 

“I don’t have to tell you how this looks, do I?” 

“Nope. We’re crystal clear.” 

Dinner goes off without a hitch. There is roasted ham—the biggest ham Abby has ever seen—mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, beets, sweet potatoes, and her favorite—apple pie. Everyone digs in rather quickly. The Southern meal does wonders for the heart but silences the makeshift family. Abby can hear Joel moan as he stuffs his mouth full of potatoes. 

Her dad keeps the conversation light, asking where Ellie is. Apparently, her flight got snowed in. She missed the original flight due to not setting an alarm, resulting in oversleeping an hour past her flight. Everyone is quietly talking when you notice some gravy dribbling down her lips. 

“Here, Abs, let me get it.” Instead of using your napkin to clean up the mess, your thumb wipes it off her pink and pouty lips, doing it all with a sweet smile on your face. As if it had never happened, you dig back into your food. 

You miss it. 

Tess gives Abby a deadly look, her eyes bugging at the mannerisms. How close the two of you must be that Abby, who isn’t one for physical touch, let you do something so intimate and so easily at that. Raising her eyebrows as if to signal if it genuinely happened, Abby measly shrugged at Tess as if it was no big deal. 

The rest of the night, Abby was mindful of how close they got to you, but you seemed to really not give a fuck. After you were done eating, your head resting on her shoulder as you lightly engaged in conversation, the food doing its job, nearly subduing you into a small comatose. 

No more than a few hours later, you have a glass of wine as you sit next to Abby, joking with Joel as you rub the back of her muscular back. Drawing random patterns on her spine as she nearly moans from the tingles sent through your body. 

This is everything Abby wants at her fingertips; you are everything she’s ever wanted. The way you’re so soft, delicate when you handle other people, how when you comfort her, it’s the warmest she’s felt in god knows how long. She thinks of Owen and how he makes her feel, but it doesn’t make her feel anything at times, not the intensity she feels in the rapid beat of her heart each time she feels your comforting touch or your sweet voice dripping honey all over her. 

Life has always been in black and white — good and bad choices for her. 

But none of this seemed to be that simple. 

Especially since she’s the said person making the questionable decisions. Desperately, she finds herself forced to think of it each time Tess throws her a glance each time you do something entirely too intimate for a platonic, casual friend. Nothing about this is purely a token of friendship, but the only person questioning it is the woman who knows her like the back of her hand. 

The last night she’s there, her urges give in, especially when you’re begging for it. It’s not even thirty minutes since you went to the guest bedroom, separate from her own, and you’re knocking on her door. Your pupils are dilated, thighs rubbing against one another, your perky tits visible through the think tank top and pajama shorts you’re wearing. 

It isn’t long before you’re in her bed, deliciously placed on top of her with you, with your slick folds gliding against her. Even with as good as it feels, how close Abby knows she’s getting, the tight knot in her stomach begging to be released, she savors the moment. It’s a slight tick she has, watching you as you use her body to feel the euphoric rise. The headboard creaks as you roll your hips. Abby should care that someone might hear them, but when your pace increases, her body twitches, and she loses control, finding it difficult for anything else to cross her mind. The irresistible high Abby rides sends you into your own, your body collapsing on top of her. 

With the palm of her hands, she soothes your back, rubbing her hands up and down your spine, your body shaking from the orgasm. 

Maybe it’s the holidays or seeing you with her family. The words she desperately wants to say threaten to spill over her tongue. Almost as if you can sense it, your lips find hers as you reach backward to grab her hands, intertwining them with your own before pinning them over her head. A flutter fills the blonde as you kiss along her jaw sweetly before finding her lips again, telling her everything you know the both of you can’t say. 

’Cause the reality is Abby isn’t yours to hold, but the two of you will keep pretending like she is. You fall asleep cuddled into her frame, your soft breath grazing into her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Just like every night this happens, Abby can’t sleep. 

From a very young age, Abby has always been one to worry, keeping her up all night. Her mother had to convince her to take melatonin, which dissolves on her tongue just so she could get sleep throughout grade school. As the years passed, her life became more complicated, and the amount of sleep she got seemed to decrease substantially. 

Carefully, she untangles her limbs, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. She blows a puff of smoke, swinging back and forth on the porch swing, and the moonlight kisses her cheeks. As much as Abby likes to deny it, the holidays make her miss home, but she’s found another thousands of miles away that’s hard to give up. 

Of course, Tess can’t sleep either. 

She takes the bud from Abby’s grip and takes a hit herself. 

“You know these are so bad for you.” Tess shakes her head, the draw she has peeping through. 

“Not bad enough for you, huh?” Abby giggles as Tess rolls her eyes. If she looks closely enough, she sees the little thirteen year old mama’s girl before her eyes. The sentiment nearly makes Tess’ eyes water. It’s been such a long time since she’s seen the bright-eyed athlete this blissful. “Guess not, Abigail.” 

“Jerry was talkin’ about you and her after y’all retreated for the night.” Abby’s eyes quirk up, her body language becoming rigid at the mention of you. She tries to ease her nerves, taking another hit as she allows the cannabis to infiltrate her lungs, almost holding a candle to the insatiable addiction she has for you. “Oh yeah?” 

She passes the joint back to Tess as she takes another hit, blowing it into the crispy fall wind as it kisses the oak tree hovering over the house. Abby isn’t sure why it puts her own edge or why there is a need to protect you from any further suspicions. The status of her current relationship, the one she has with you, why Owen isn’t here with her, and why you are. It’s an answer she doesn’t really have yet.  

“Less arguing with her than Owen. It’s what he joked about, nothing serious. Unwound that neck of yours, thought you’d be less tense with all that creaking.” 

“Tess!” 

“What? I’m old, not deaf.” 

Abby can’t help the blush creeping up her neck, crawling to her freckled cheeks. She doesn’t want to smile or expose her feelings about you more than tonight, but she fails. It creeps on her just like you have. The only thing she’s sure of is it won’t halt anytime soon. This deep hole she’s dug herself in just gets her closer to hell, but sinning has never felt so euphoric. She feels it every time your sweet taste dances on her tongue or your giggle is so light it fills everyone in the room with joy. Her favorite has to be your smile. Abby swears she’s seeing an angel for the first time. 

“Just say it. If you can’t tell anyone else, tell me. You can’t tell her right now, or that girl will run in another direction, leaving you with that sorry excuse for a man by your side.” Tess huffs as Abby rolls her eyes. 

“He’s not that bad.” 

“He must be that bad if you’re hooking up with someone who isn’t your boyfriend, Abigail.” Abby’s mouth opens, and no words manage to crawl out as she looks at Tess with wide eyes. Sure, she was a blunt and honest person most of the time, but she could have saved Abby the trouble of being so fucking honest for just a moment. Just to save her already breaking heart. 

“S’not what it is—”

“No?” Tess cocked her head to the side, looking at Abby silently, almost as if she was trying to figure her out. “Then what is it? Just us here, Abby. Like I said if you can’t turn to anyone else and speak to them about whatever the fuck is going on, at least speak to me. Is that not what I told you years ago? If you are ever having a problem or an issue, you come to me, and I will do my best to help you.”

Abby lowers her head in shame or frustration—she has no idea which—and inhales deeply. “It’s s’not that easy. You think me sitting here, smoking with you, is going to make it easier? Because I won’t. I don’t know why you’re trying so hard.”

“Because I love you, and I don’t want to see you or anyone else hurt in the process.” She’s blunt again, but her serious face falters just a little bit when Abby nods slowly. “Abby—”

“You don’t understand. You don’t understand how much it hurts,” Her blue eyes pierce into Tess’s, and she feels her heart break piece by piece. “You don’t, you have Joel, you have each other, a love you share doesn’t always happen to everyone else. I won’t get a love like yours because m’just fucking up my life by hurting everyone who walks into it. Owen doesn’t even look at me the same anymore, and what am i supposed to do? Slap on a smile and act like that’s fuckin normal? And when he is fine? It’s not important enough for him to see. Being with her is something I haven’t felt or had before.”

“You either tell her you love her or you end it, s’’not right, and you know it. You’re just stringing her along.” 

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Abby scoffs and tugs at her hair with a soft growl under her breath. “You think I don’t think about that whenever I tell her to leave? Even though she can make my shitty night into something perfect? Do you think m’not thinking that the entire time? What do you want me to say to her? I love you, but I can’t ruin your life because I love fucking up mine?” She laughs, one Tess can smell is fake, and shrugs to herself. 

“Everything I’ve had, or had, gets taken from me, and when I find the one thing that m’here for, and I can’t do anything but see her behind closed doors, those stupid glances and smiles that make my heart feel like it’s going to rip out my chest? That’s what is fucking keeping me alive. Just to see her fuckin face, to see her smile, makes me feel alive. It makes me feel again.” Abby finally looks up at Tess, the walls she’s built up for years slowly crack. “You think I don’t know m’breaking her heart because I have no idea what I'm doing with my life right now? You're wrong if you think I don’t because I spend endless nights hating myself for it. No one will ever hate me more than I hate myself, Tess.”

For once, Tess is stunned into silence. Abby closed herself off from friends and family as she grew older, never opening up about her feelings and emotions. Even if people said it wasn’t a healthy thing to do, she never listened and kept at it. “No one hates you, Abby.” Her voice is quiet and cautious as she reaches for Abby’s hand, a hand that’s suddenly grown colder as the minutes pass.

“I hate myself,” Abby’s voice cracks, a younger shell of herself clawing its way out. “I hate myself and don’t know what to do.”

“You need to start being honest with yourself, Abby.” Tess smiled, reaching up and wiping Abby’s tears away with a soft touch. “How badly do you love her?”

“To the point, I can’t be without her.”

Abby’s body leans more into Tess’s touch the longer she wipes away her tears and rests her head on her shoulder. “Then you have to tell her, you know? I know the entire situation is a fucked up one, at best, but you’re still hurting yourself. I don’t want you to hate yourself, and I don’t want you to end up being hurt in the end. Do you understand where I’m coming from? That’s all I want for you, to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Abigail.”

“She makes me happy, Tess.”

“I know, Sweetheart,” Tess mumbles against her temple and brushes loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Talking and admitting things isn’t easy for you like it is for others. I know that, but you can’t keep holding in how you feel because you are scared to hurt the person who’s supposed to take care of you. We can see you aren’t happy with Owen, Abby, everyone can see it but you and him. If you love her and not him, you need to tell her. I’m here, I’m always here if you need that extra bit of help, but getting how you feel off your chest, to her, will do you good.”

Abby makes a sound between a groan and a huff before nodding against Tess’s shoulder slower than a snail slides. “M’trying. Everyday m’trying but it’s just so hard.”

“I’m not telling you to tell her about the day when you would throw a fit when I tried to brush your hair or would slap the scissors out my hand whenever you asked me to cut your hair; you don’t have to rush yourself, I know that people are hurting but you are also hurting, and that’s the last thing I want for you. Go at your own pace, but don’t leave it too late, Abby. People only wait for a certain amount of time.”

“What if I’ve already lost her?” Abby can’t help but insecurely ask.

“I don’t think she would still be happy to see you if you lost her, Abigail. The girl isn’t going anywhere, but she might if you don’t tell her how you really feel. I can see the way she looks at you, it’s the same way Joel looks at me, actually,” Tess laughed, slapping Abby’s head lighty when she playfully made gagging sounds. “Enough of that.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“As I was saying, she looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. If you lost her, she wouldn’t continue to look at you like that. That is all I'm saying. Given how shitty the entire situation is right now, I Can tell you that girl is not going anywhere. You just need that extra push to tell her how you really feel, okay?”

Abby lifts her head and looks at Tess, her eyes red and slightly puffy; a small smile appears on her lips before she nods again. “Okay,” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll try. Thank you.” The blonde sniffles.

“That’s what I’m here for, to make sure you stay out of shit like this,” Tess jokes while Abby simply rolls her eyes. “You’re the best thing in my life, Abby, I hate to see you so upset.”

“I thought Joel was the best thing in your life?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, you will always be my favourite person. Just think next time before something like this happens, for my sake. I’m getting older, you know.” She shoves Abby’s shoulder with hers gently and squeezes her hand. “I love you. Even if you have ruined my makeup.”

That has Abby on alert, her eyes widening as she looks at Tess to find the once perfect mascara smudged under her eyes. “Did I make you cry? M’sorry—”

“I give a shit about you, Abby. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt because you’re in pain, and sometimes I don’t know what to do to make you feel better,” She admitted softly. “If you think I can sit here and not cry when you’re telling me you hate yourself, then you are stupid. It breaks my heart to know you think so little of yourself. You’re perfect, you hear me? No matter what is happening, you’re worth so much more. You deserve so much more than what he’s giving you. If he’s the reason you think of yourself so little of yourself like this, I’ll park my foot up his ass.”

A wet laugh rips through Abby’s throat before she can stop it and Tess is just happy that Abby’s already feeling just a little better. “I would like to see that,” She giggled, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. “It’s not— I think I’ve just started hating myself over the years because it’s easier than loving myself. I don’t know, sometimes I don't think m’good enough for anyone so hating myself seemed easier, m’working on it, I promise.” 

“You’re good enough, Abigail. You’re more than enough. I don’t care if it takes me years, i’ll make you see how perfect you are. You deserve more than he’s ever given you. I just wish you would see that. She makes you happy, he doesn’t. You and her work. I only had to find you both looking at each other with that smile, and I knew. You can’t hide anything from me, ever. It’s impossible.” Tess smiled, a smile that Abby missed when she was always so serious.

“I love you,” Abby chokes out, voice slightly rough and raspy, but she gets it out. “I know I don’t tell or show you enough, but I do love you. I know that I don't say anything enough, but thank you, and not just for tonight. It has been for every night, every day, since I was younger. For never giving up on me when some days I really wished you would. Some days, you would look at me, and I just wished you would give up on me because I didn’t want to disappoint someone else I love.”

“You never disappoint me, Abby. You could never do that.”

“Not even right now?”

“You might have put yourself in a stupid place right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ve disappointed me. That’s something that you could seriously never do. You just need to think about what you want and do it. No more holding back. Take that leap and go for what you want.”

“I want her. I’ve always only ever wanted her, Tess.”

“Then stop crying in my arms and go get your girl.” 

— 

Two Years Later…

Abby, now more than ever, wonders if she’s truly become this malignant villain. Even with good intentions, she still manages a way to wreak havoc in your life — only wishing to be your savior but somehow ending up your heinous villain. The rose colored glasses covering your perfect, beautiful eyes, not being able to see what’s so clearly in front of you. 

For there is a day like today, where she can’t even stand to look at herself in the mirror. It’s a truly, unsettling, aching feeling that wells in her chest before it sinks to her stomach. Silently, she tells herself, this will be the last. You deserve more than this. 

She promises to end things with Owen, her long standing boyfriend, the needle in your spin. The needle in the haystack you need to pluck and throw into another dimension. Every time you bring him up, Abby closes herself off or redirects the subject. If there’s one thing she despises, it’s talking about him when she’s with you. She tells herself it doesn’t but the guilt consumes her, not for being with you but because she’s unable to give you what you deserve. 

Abby can’t quite stop herself from dragging her feet in the mud, the impending blow of her relationship with Owen is near but still halts. A safety net may be the cause of her hollow demise, but it’ll be there to catch her. 

You question why she needs him at all. 

Late night booty calls where she’ll have to make up some lie to Owen as she seeks the refuge of the nectar she craves on her salivating lips, how the insatiable blonde won’t stop until you’re coating over lips entirely, the sweet sensation dancing on her tongue as she swallows every drop. When she’s practically dying for a taste, you never say no to her, even if you should, you're not capable of it. Even if her intentions are well placed she still takes advantage of the situation. 

Abby wonders if it’s obvious how much craves for a moment of your undivided attention. Do you know how much you replay in her mind? The moans rivaling a symphony, the one she imagines as Abby gets off to the thought of you. Thick, long fingers stuffed in her cunt as she contemplates if you do the same. It seems you must when you’re calling her tonight, moaning her name softly as you beg her to come over. Even if she was just there last night, Abby would come running like a dog digging for their favorite bone.

As long as you asked, she will always come. 

It isn’t until after when you’re so blissed and fucked out, the guilt surfaces again, practically substituting the blood supply pumping through her veins. Hazy eyes clouded with lust and love look at her, the damn look always getting her in this bed with you. To no avail, it’s a cycle she created and enabled, the two of you too weak with need to break. 

Abby feels shame when she doesn’t let the love reach her eyes, the love that reaches yours every time you look at her. She’s envious of it. How open your love expands even when she’s done nothing but tangle you up in her web of lies and deceit. 

She’s only snapped out of her thoughts when you run your fingers through her golden hair, her blocked blues, void of any tell of what she’s thinking looks at you again, really looks instead of just staring off into whatever has her so tripped up. She tries anyway. 

“Baby, come back to me.” 

The pad of your thumb caresses her scarred cheek, delicately tracing patterns into her soft skin, but you know she won’t come back. Not mentally, not until there’s distance from what the both of you did. Until it happens again and this is where the both of you land again. 

“I don’t know—” You shut her up, lips locking with her even softer ones, pink and swollen from the past few hours. 

“Stop. Please? Would you just look at me?” 

“I am…looking.” 

“Baby?” You speak softly, so delicate it makes Abby nearly whine. The name of endearment, as soon as it falls, engraves your name on another piece of her heart. Each time you’re sweeter to her than she deserves, a little part of her is given to you. Abby isn’t sure how much she has left that doesn’t belong to you. 

Every bit of it is yours to have, even if you decide you don’t want it, her heart will always belong to you. 

“Yeah?” She leans into your touch, even if it’s just for a singular second, you pick up on it. 

“Can you stay tonight?” You plead as you crane your neck to look at her from a better angle, fully coming off your high, until it’s replaced with a new one. Every second you look at her it feeds the endless addiction you have for her, the drug you need more and more every day. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” Her voice is full of rasp as she agrees to your request. Then she uses her strength to pull you back on top of her. Your face rests against hers as you find warmth in the crook of her neck, smelling the familiar oak scent laced with vanilla as she runs a gentle hand up and down your spine. Even if you’re afraid this will stop at any given moment, you cherish the moment. 

Abby starts telling you about her day, all the stupid little shit, just boring no sequential errands she was running to fill her days. It’s strangely domestic, a side she doesn’t expose often. With you or anyone. The complaints about Abby’s stone wall are said often to Mel. How she’s nearly stoic these days, staying in the confinements of her own mind, watching as the world passes her by instead of living in it. 

What neither of them neglect to know she is, but it’s done in such secrecy the omission must die on your tongue. The dirty little secret you must protect like an oath you don’t remember swearing, but with Abby it’s all the same. 

You would do anything for her. As much as it hurts in the big moments when she can’t be here with you, it heals you when she’s in your bed, caressing your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Promises you want to believe, a complement of how pretty you are, or how much she misses you in the time you’re subjected to spend apart. It’s when you’re strong, when you want more but know you can’t have it so it makes you upset. Enough to the point where you distance yourself but ultimately this is where it always ends up. Not just for you, but for her too. 

“M’sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” You confess, easier to say it when you don’t have to look at her. 

“It’s okay.” Abby thinks you should just leave her, cut her out of your life, leave her broken and bleeding. It should be the penance she pays for holding so much time in your life. 

“It’s not. You wouldn’t do it to me.” Abby sighs but she wraps you up in her strong arms, pulling you closer to her, if it was even possible. “I do sometimes, it’s not entirely true.” 

As you stroke her blonde hair, running your fingers through the strands you ask her something, a terrifying thought that feels you with so much dread, your hands begin to shake. 

“Abby?” It isn’t the usual way you say her name, it’s void of emotion which makes her create a slight distance so she can look at you. You’re trying so hard not to cry, choking back the tears as but they start to slip, viciously without your permission. An instant, the girl below you starts wiping them away, doing her best to soothe you. “What’s wrong?” Laced with concern as you try to avoid her overpowering gaze, because if you do, you won’t get out what you need to say. You’ll fall into her, unable to find yourself, trapped in the abyss of the woman you love. 

“Just promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” 

“Promise you’ll be honest with me. Promise me if you get bored with me, if this becomes too much for you or if you decide it’s him and not me, you’ll tell me. I can handle all of this but I can’t handle being lied to or being shoved in the dark.” 

It doesn’t take her more than a second to respond, “I promise. You’ll always have my honesty.” Abby locks her lips with yours, you whimper in her mouth, so loudly it’s nearly pathetic. She tastes the saltiness of your tears, the anguish funneling beneath you. Truthfully, she doesn’t blame you. Two and a half years and you’re still here. Abby knows she doesn’t deserve for you to be but you are. With the wedding coming up and her going with Owen, your place by her side is insignificant, making you wish things were different. 

Abby tries to tell you how she feels through the kiss, without saying what she actually feels, what she’s always wanted to tell you but can’t. It’s too cruel to say when Abby can’t fully give herself to you. So, she holds you until you fall asleep in her arms and only then does she cry. Truly hating herself for breaking one of the only people she’s ever truly loved, splitting you into two the longer she contemplates on what to do. She hopes you’re deep in sleep, unable to feel the tears kissing your shoulder because if anything has pushed her to the brink, it’s seeing the love of her life cry because of what she’s done. 

— 

Two week later…

Thursday. September 2024. 

Abby couldn’t stop moving, the entire ride to the airport in the shared uber with you by her side. Indifference. It was too much for her to hyperfixate on so she focused on the dreary cloud as gray as her depleted eyes, void of the natural blue tint it once held. 

The ring on your thumb, an emerald stone, a gift from Abby for your birthday being constantly tapped with the blunt of your nail. There’s a craving Abby wants to satiate, a need bubbling at the service to link your fidgeting palm with hers but she can’t. 

This entire weekend she won’t be able to. Somehow, with the help of Owen’s oblivious nature, she convinced him it’d be a good idea to take separate flights due to her insane schedule which wasn’t not true. 

Just an exaggerated truth. At least that’s what she told herself. 

The ongoing fights with Owen, the pleading from you — rightfully so. It’s tearing her in two different directions. 

“Abs—” Your gentle touch lightly caresses her exposed forearm, “We’re here.” 

She’s pulled back into reality with a touch so light and warm, Abby swears she sees stars. Even when you’re upset with her, your kindness still extends, something she’s not quite sure what to do with. If she welcomes it, she’s greedy for wanting to have her cake and eat it too. On the other hand if she dismisses you to ease her guilty conscience, it makes her into the malicious monster she never wants to be. 

Abby carries both of your bags as you make your way through the airport. The only exception? Your personal carry-on you refuse to let her hold. She wants to question the action, but she lets it slip through the cracks. 

The line to board is outrageously long. Absent-mindedly, Abby’s head falls into the crook in your neck, her chest pressed against your back. She forgets she shouldn’t feel the right to. Not when she promises so much but always tends to go back on her word. 

Yet, you say nothing. 

A part of you knows that if you say something, or try shrugging her off, it’s going to end in one of you saying the wrong thing, in a place at the wrong time, but on the other hand, you could never deny her touch, or being so close to her. She was intoxicating, maybe Abby didn’t think so, but to you, she was all you wanted, all you wanted to be around. So when her body suddenly relaxes more against yours, and your hand wraps around to keep her up, her eyes, ones that were on the brink of falling asleep, snap open, you know she’s got questions. Many of them. Many you don’t have the heart of words to reply to. So you both say nothing, again. A silent action that holds everything. Abby doesn’t need to ask what’s going on in your head, the same way you don’t need to ask what’s going on in hers. You both already know. 

By the time you make it onto the plane, Abby feels even closer. So close that you can smell the pinewood body wash she used this morning, the smell of her mint gum she keeps chewing on when you got the uber. You were so caught up in your own mind, and your crazy thoughts that you didn’t even realize or feel the hand she had on your lower back, guiding you to where you were both seated. It was natural for her to do that when it was just you two. Keeping you safe, always having an arm around you just in case anything were to happen.jk 

Her touch always made you melt, she knew it, yet she didn’t stop herself from letting go.

“Do you want the window seat, or?” Abby left the question open, it’s the most she’s said to you all morning, her eyes did most of her talking whenever she would look at you, but even though you were somewhat upset with her, hearing her voice made you relax. “Babe” the pet name rolls off her tongue so effortlessly and gently that she doesn’t realize she’s done it, it’s only when your head snaps up to look at her, with your lips parted, that she does. “Shit, that’s, m’sorry. I know you’re upset with me right now—”

But you smile, maybe you laughed a little too, but she can’t focus when you’re smiling at her like that. “Abs, s’okay. You say it a lot, it was going to happen.” you reminded her, fumbling with your ring again, a nervous habit you’re convinced only happens around her. “I know you like the window seat, even though you worry me when you completely zone out looking at the clouds” you teased, poking her in the shoulder lightly.   

“Hey, clouds are relaxing to look at.” Abby shrugged, a cheeky smile curving up on her lips. “And i know you like being closer to the snacks when they bring them out, so we both win” She’s teasing this time, and you let her. “But you forget, you always make me buy you snacks before we go anywhere”

“I don’t make you, you offer to buy me them!”

“You still take them though, don’t you?”

“That’s beside the point, Anderson, you know i love my snacks. Nothing will ever get in the way of me and them. No matter what you say.”

“Not even us?”

The question had your heart aching and you hadn’t even sat down yet! Abby doesn’t miss the way you look at her and then away from her, like you don’t even know how to respond to that. She knows it’s too soon to be asking that, yet sometimes, her mouth runs before her brain can keep up with her. Something you did like about her. “Not here, Abby, please” your words came out as a whisper, eyes silently pleading at her.

“You’re right, m’sorry, again. I seem to be fucking up a lot lately, don’t i?” She smiles, but it’s one that doesn’t reach her eyes like all the other times. Because she knows if she keeps asking, looking at you like that, acting like this is normal, it’s going to break you even more. 

“You haven’t, you’re not, it’s just a lot, we can talk about it after, okay?” 

“After.” Abby nodded, the smile finally reaching her eyes. 

Hope.

For the most part, once you had both sat in your seats, Abby by the window comfortably and you, on the outside seat, already patiently waiting for the snacks, the blonde hadn’t uttered a single question that involved the pair of you. The one not long ago still lingered in your head, in your chest and it just consumed you. You were glad that she had decided to suddenly become quiet, looking out the small window in hopes she wouldn’t accidentally spill another question that had you pulling more away from her. 

She could handle a lot. Losing you was one she couldn’t handle. 

She knew she would lose you fully if she pressed too hard on a question.

Abby couldn’t afford to let that happen. 

Apart from the chatter of parents, and screaming children a few rows in front of you, Abby didn’t move a muscle. It was funny. Sometimes if she were focused, she would grind her teeth together, you would only know that if you’ve been around her long enough. You heard it one night. It was after a small fight with Owen, that she ended up at your apartment and you could hear the way she ground her teeth together from sitting beside her, but this time, not a single peep from her. Not even a flinch when one of the children screamed at the top of their lungs. 

She didn’t even drop hints that she knew you were looking over at her. Abby was used to your stare, used to the feeling of knowing when you would have your gaze on her whenever you had the chance that is, so maybe this was just her playing hard to get, but it still came as a shock that she wasn’t even phased. One second she’s missing you and your touch, to then not even caring about it or having it the next. After all this time, she was still hard to figure out, just like she was when you met her.

you’ll figure her out, again, if you have to.

—

Friday. September 2024.

The night, one that’s supposed to be happy and cheerful, doesn’t seem to be like that for Abby. Don’t get her wrong, she’s happy, happy for those around her, happy for those having fun, happy for Joel and Tess on their engagement. I mean, why wouldn’t she be happy for them? it was Joel and Tess, the same Tess that’s been there for Abby during a few, more like multiple, rough patches in her life, listened to her when she felt like anything she did wasn’t good enough, spoke to her about you, and how shitty she feels about not giving you everything you deserve. The same Tess that’s never let her down, but as she stands here, away from everyone else who seems to be enjoying it, cradling a bottle of beer in her hand, Abby wants to run. She isn’t sure why. All she knows is that the longer she watches the people around her, watches you, she wants the ground to swallow her whole, chew her up, and spit her back out.

Abby picks lamely at the label, easily torn away by the condensation of the bottle of beer, it’s all she can do at the moment. Owen seems to be interested in the topics Mel is bringing up. Any other night, she might feel her blood boiling in her presence but she finds herself otherwise occupied. The barstool she’s nursing supports her thighs, Owen’s cologne is so strong she almost finds herself gagging on the musky oak, the one she hates. It reminds her of you, ironically enough. 

You’re the antithesis of him. Abby couldn’t find one similarity if she tried. All hours for the rest of her life could be spent on this one task, yet it would always remain unfinished. The softness of your skin, putting the finest silk to shame. She thinks of your kind heart, the patience that extends to her in ways she doesn’t feel deserving of. On more days than she has enough hands to count, you’ve dropped your entire list of responsibilities for her. When there’s been no one else, there’s always been you.

Owen doesn’t even notice how her jaw clenches, the muscles constricting against the harsh grind of her teeth, the grim frown gracing her sunkissed face, or even the way her firm hand fists the glass so hard, Abby’s just a few moments waiting for it to blow. Part of her, however small it may be, wishes for the glass to pierce her sensitive porcelain skin. Maybe then you’d actually care instead of being lost in the shining emerald’s of Ellie fucking Williams. 

Abby wishes she crushed her skull the first chance she got.

Or maybe break her fingers.

She has an endless list.

One that seems to get shorter whenever she finds you. Her only reason is you.

Abby hates the way Ellie’s hands find refuge on your lower back, the same place she loves to place her own whenever she’s close to you. She doesn't know why the way your face and smile light up at something she’s said to you, tears Abby's heart into pieces. Just the way you look into Ellie’s eyes and laugh is like an arrow just got shot through her heart. So many promises she’s made you, and the longer the seconds and minutes pass, she feels like you’re forgetting all about them. Maybe she only has herself to blame. No, she knows she is the only one to blame. 

You weren’t even hers, and she was losing you to someone who had already taken enough from her. That scares her. It scares her with how far she would go for you. Just to see you happy, safe, and smiling. There isn’t a single thing she wouldn’t do for you. 

She’s scared to be yours, but she’s terrified to not be yours. 

Your eyes found hers like a magnet, almost as if you were trying to find her, and Abby’s heart flutters at the sight when you smile at her. A smile she has devoted months upon months of trying to bring out of you with her shitty jokes and silliness. The prior worries and doubts seem to disappear into the back of her mind, disbursing like an open fire that’s slowly burning out, and she gives you a small wave. A wave that has you waving her over, wanting her to be closer, needing her to enjoy herself.

“Abby, if you don’t get over here, m’going to drag you off that stool!” You yelled over the music, your giggle sending another flutter in her chest. Did you seem to forget Ellie? Abby thought as she placed the bottle on the counter and sighed deeply through her nose. 

Fumbling with her jacket sleeve cuff links, Abby’s eyes, one’s that you love to look at, stay locked to yours as she slowly makes her way towards you, a familiar look sparkling in those blue orbs of hers, and she has the nerve to fucking smirk one she’s close enough. The blonde looks over at Ellie, that harsh resentment bubbling back up, before looking at you again with her hand out towards you. No words, just actions being thrown your way. “How gentlewomanly of you” you grinned, placing your hand in hers and a soft gasp slipped past your lips when she pulls you right into her chest. Not even a sheet of paper could fit between you both. Abby didn’t care who was around, and who was going to complain about her dancing with you?

What you both don’t notice is the way Mel suddenly stops her conversation with Owen, who was mindlessly babbling and yapping on about whatever the fuck he was talking about and cocked her head to the side when she spotted you and Abby. How one of her hands was now pressed against your lower back, the other holding onto yours. Yours seemingly comfortably on her shoulder. 

Like you were so used to doing this with her.

“What the fuck are you looking at? I was trying to tell you—” Owens words get cut short when he, still oblivious as usual, turns around when he catches Mel’s stare, one that wasn’t directed at him, and his eyes land on Abby. His girlfriend. Who was way too close to you. Dancing like you weren’t in a room full of people. Like you want people to fucking know. 

He doesn’t even seem to catch the way she looks at you. The small grin on her face that, for you, holds so much more than just an expression. To the way, her fingers flex against your back with each step you make to the sound of the music playing loudly over the speakers. Not to mention, she way she lowers her head, lips grazing the shell of your ear so softly that you almost whimper against her. “This dress, s’pretty. You’re pretty” was all she whispered, and pulled away before you had time to respond. 

Your eyes, without your want, flicker to the people crowding around one of the tablets, and your heart suddenly drops, as does your shy smile when you lock eyes with Owens. A clenched-jawed Owen that looks seconds away from bursting into flames. “Abs,” you couldn’t help but mumble, body and brain refusing to look away from him. “He looks angry”

“We are only dancing. Nothing wrong with that” She growled, not necessarily at you, but at the entire situation. She can’t touch or hold you the way she wants to. Poor girl can’t even say what she’s already thinking, to you, without making a scene. “He’s not gonna do anything.” She states firmly. “He knows this night is important to Joel and Tess, and he knows their happiness is important to me. He won’t do say or anything to you” 

“But what about to you?”

“Then let him.”

By the time the words tumble from her mouth, you’re pulling both your hands away from her when Owen is suddenly making his way towards you both. The warmth and safety you brought Abby, being ripped away from her, had her jaw locking and eye twitching. “Abby” He smiles, although you know it’s fake. 

“What?” Her reply comes out somewhat slightly harsh which has him doing a double take and looking at you with angry eyes, again. Ones you were slightly getting used to already. “We were dancing here, you’re ruining it. Did you want something?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Is he fucking serious?

Blinking away her thoughts repeatedly, Abby can’t help but turn around to face her so-called boyfriend and raise her eyebrow at his question. “You want to dance? Now? After you’ve practically ignored me the entire time, only because m’dancing with someone else?” She didn’t care if her words came out mean and cruel. She only can handle so much. 

“I wasn’t ignoring you, Abs—”

“Sure as fucking hell looked like you were” The blonde growled, the sound of her teeth grinding together had you looking up at her with wide eyes, and before you could comprehend what you were doing, you wrapped your hand around her arm and tugged her. 

“Abby s’okay, let’s just go get some air, okay?” You pushed gently, silently hoping and praying in your head she would take the hint you were throwing and go. “We don’t need to cause a scene at their rehearsal dinner, please”

“What? Are you her guard dog now or something?” Owen can’t stop before the question slips off the tip of his tongue, with a laugh. Not even when Abby’s looking at him like she wants to kill him with her bare hands for simply thinking of such things. “Come on, Abby, i know you like to please people but—”

“But nothing.” Abby was quick to cut him off. “You know nothing”

“Why are you suddenly being such a bitch?”

Abby, who would do anything to snap at someone if she really wanted to, stepped back from Owen and raised an eyebrow at him. “And you wonder why i don’t want to suddenly fucking dance with you. Grow the fuck up, Owen. First, you call me a dog, then you call me a bitch. If anyone’s being a bitch, it’s you because you’re mad we were dancing. Doing nothing wrong” She replied calmly, but the way her hands were twitching at her sides, told you a different story. “i need some fucking air, this room feels like it’s going to suffocate me if i’m near you any longer”

Abby’s walking away before you have time to ask if she’s even okay.

Angrily eyeing up Owen, who’s now looking down at his feet awkwardly before looking over at Mel, somewhat pleading for her to say something, you can’t help but let out a gentle scoff. “Can’t even go and check on your girlfriend to see if she’s alright? What kind of ‘boyfriend’ are you supposed to be? Do we have to pay extra for giving a shit about her?” You laughed. 

“Oh fuck off, this is your fault!” 

You exhaled a deep sigh, his words stinging you in a way that hurt, but you didn’t want to show that it affected you, so you just smiled sarcastically at him. “Go wag your tail to Mel, m’sure she would rather see you than anyone else would, dick breath”

You hadn’t seen the way both of them looked at you like a deer in headlights. 

Abby was hard to find sometimes, most of the time she would disappear so fast that it was like she just went completely invisible. Other times, she would have simply gone home and never left her apartment again, but this was different. She wasn’t at home, and she didn’t know this place like the back of her hand. So surely finding her would be slightly easier.

Luck, or whatever they call it these days, must have been on your side as you found the blonde slumped on one of the benches, jacket crumpled beside her with her head thrown back and sighing deeply. Of all places she could have hidden, she chose to hide in the most obvious place. The fucking garden? “Usually when you’re mad, you’ve already drunk 3 bottles of beer and are having some kind of psychotic break” Your voice rang out, snapping her back into reality. “Are you having a psychotic break?”

“Does it look like m’having a fucking psychotic break?” She laughed. Deep and raspy. A sound that always has your thighs clenching together no matter the place or time.

“You’re pretty good at masking your emotions, so you could be” You shrugged, a small bite in your words as you placed yourself beside her. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Did you come out here just to piss me off? Because if you did, it’s working”

Your eyes found hers, and you couldn’t even stop the way your breath hitched in your throat at the lazy grin plastered on her face. “No, i came to check on you to see if you were okay, but him calling you a dog didn’t bruise your ego that much so i’ll leave if you want?”

Her hand reached out as you moved, her cold and rough ones grabbing onto your arm gently that you gasped at the action and pouted. “No. Stay, don’t leave, m’sorry” She apologized, suddenly feeling too vulnerable and scared. Too open. “M’sorry, i know you don’t have to stay, especially with how i’ve treated you. I don’t want to be here, s’all too much for me to handle. Being close to you, and not being able to do anything is driving me insane. I miss you” Abby admitted, thumb brushing across the skin of your knuckles. “I—I need you”

You don’t see the flicker of vulnerability or hurt in Abby’s eyes, you just look at her, trying to figure out her words. She didn’t expect you to chuckle. “You need me?” You repeated, shaking your head and scoffing. “If you need me, like you say, why do you push me away? Why do you never pick me? Why do you always end up picking a guy who doesn’t give a shit about you? A guy who would rather see you hurt, than happy? What does Owen have that i don’t, Abby?”

“Because m’scared ill fuck this up. Believe it or not, but you’re the only good thing i have, i can’t fuck that up. I can’t fuck you up. Do you think i don’t think about you when i’m with him? Because you’re all i think about, and it drives me nuts because i can’t do anything about it. I want you, i always want you, but i’m terrified you’ll realise i’m just not it. That i’m not enough for you. You’re the only thing i think about, but i don’t want to ruin you or what we have.” 

You create some distance, venturing off down the makeshift isle displayed in the front of the garden. Florals formed in an arch, bigger than you’d ever seen, didn’t really seem like Joel and Tess’ style, but it sure was beautiful. The pops of coral and different tones of pink rooted in a deep green. You find a moment of peace in the silence, not knowing what will be left between the two of you once the secret you’d been holding spills. 

“Abigail…” You take a deep breath trying to muster the courage, hoping it’s buried somewhere beneath you, only needing to be dug out. 

Abby finds her heart dropping when she sees you standing under the arch. She thinks it’s cruel, just a glimpse of a future she wants so desperately but she doesn’t even know where to begin. How can she earn you now? After everything she’s done…is there any redemption to be found? 

“You are ruining us. Each time you tell me you’re leaving but stay with him snuffs out everything we have.” Abby stands wanting to console you, but the look in your eyes keeps her at bay. The tears building in your beautiful eyes, and it’s not that you’re distraught, you’re clearly angry. Frustrated doesn’t even begin to cover the overflow of emotions swarming through you. 

You’re exhausted with co-existing with him, pretending everything is fine and normal. That he’s the one who makes her happy, he’s the one who knows what she wants, what she needs — that he’s the one. 

“Tell me why.” Your tone is firm, hands crossed over as shiver in the crisp air of the spring wind. “Tell me why it’s him and not me.” 

“What?” Abby bites back, her pearly whites grinding into each other as she nearly snarls. “You can’t be serious.” 

Anger starts to swirl beneath the deep pools, the one she hides so well, not even the best could decipher what she hides, all of the sweet nothings she wishes she could speak of but doesn’t. Every time she wants to lash out at Owen for not treating her right but doesn’t. The love she holds yet hides under lock and key. All of it is kept within her, only for her to know and see, but the anger slips. 

It’s evident the moment you tell her — It’s Owen not me. 

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Abby stalks you like you’re her prey, getting closer and closer to you. Your hands are unable to keep still when she’s so close to you, making her overwhelming presence known. You won’t look at her and it pisses her the fuck off to no degree. Why can’t you just see how much she needs you? “After everything. Everything we’ve shared, you’re just gonna stand there, ask me some bullshit like that?” 

You’ve never been the one to have Abby’s anger directed towards you, you’ve witnessed it on others, but never yourself. Was it normal to feel so small against someone you’ve known for years? Against someone who only has to look at you, hold you in their arms, and tell you that everything is okay?

“Then why can’t you just—”

“It’s always been you!” Abby shouts, her voice so loud that the birds, who were calmly in their nests, flutter and fly away. “So what else do you want me to fucking do?!”

That was your final nail in the coffin.

“I want you to choose me. I want you to want me the way I want you. I don’t want to be someone you only want when he’s not around. To be first. M’not fucking asking you for much, Abigail. Just to be the first in your life. That’s all.”

“You know it’s not that easy”

“It’s never fucking easy with you” You scowled, eyes fluttering and watching her abruptly turning away from you. Even if you’ve known her for years, she was cautious of who saw her like this. Or cautious whenever it came to her emotions. She didn’t want to be seen as weak. Tonight though, tonight you didn’t care what you said or did, you just wanted her to listen. Which is why you struggled to keep your mouth shut as she walked away. “Do you really think Owen gives a single fuck about you when he’s too busy shoving his tongue down Mel's throat like she’s some kind of hydration?” 

If you didn’t know Abby as well as you did, you would have cowered at the way her body halted in her steps, turned around slowly, and even from the distance between you both, you could see how tight she was clenching her jaw. “Excuse me?”

“Abby that’s not—”

“No.” She laughed, more so dryly as she shook her head. “Open that fucking mouth and repeat what you said. C’mon, remember when i tell you to use your words? Yeah, fucking use them then. Say it again” She’s in front of you again before you can blink, unsure of how she even moved that fast. “Don’t hold back now, you want my attention? You got it. Come on”

“Abby, please i didn’t mean to say that” You frowned, fumbling with the ring on your finger nervously. “M’sorry”

“You’re sorry? You’re asking me to pick between you both even though you kept this entire thing to yourself? You knew this entire time and you what? Thought if i admitted how much i want you, i wouldn’t be as hurt when you told me? Use that pretty head of yours, you’re not fucking stupid, of course, it would fucking hurt me”

“M’sorry—”

“But you’re not.” Abby laughed. “You’ve been fine keeping it from me. If you were sorry, you would have told me, no?”

“It’s not like we are perfect either. Look at what we’re doing. We’re just as bad!”

“But that never stopped you coming over late at night and begging me to fuck you, did it? Never once complained when i had you on my bed, fucked out your brain, did you? If it was so bad, you would have stayed away. If this entire thing was bad, you would have told me to fuck off, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t have kept pulling me along if it was so bad. So no, you’re not sorry, you’re just sorry that you got caught and your big mouth let me know what’s happening.”

“Abby—”

“Don’t you dare start crying right now” She’s warning, looking at you angrily. If looks could kill, she would have already killed you by now. “I was going to break up with him, you know? After Joel and Tess had their wedding. I was going to do everything to make it special for us, and then— then you had to go and fucking do this” She scoffed, stepping away from you. “It’s always been you, you fucking know that, and i would have fucking broken up with him if you gave me a little more time”

You can feel your heart slowly breaking as you just watch Abby move away from you. “Abby, please, we can talk about this!” You pleaded, taking a couple of steps, trying to reach her. “We can talk about it, we can, please”

But she doesn’t stop. Not even when the sounds of your cries fill her ears. Something she would always do. Always stopping if you’re upset or hurt. She just leaves, not even looking back, with the faintest. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

—

After spending several hours crying in the garden, staring at the stupid floral arch, one that you couldn’t help but picture Abby and you underneath. All the countless nights spent together, seeing a future in her eyes, now it seems hopeless. In the heat of your despair, you revealed the tight lipped secret you’d been holding, ruining everything. In her eyes you can still see it, the betrayal and hurt, but not from who she expected it from. 

You have a craving building, wondering what she’s thinking, and if she really meant what she said. Even if she says it’s always been you, saying it is one thing, actually standing behind those words is another entirely. Pathetically, you stayed there, crossing your fingers behind your back as you awaited her return but she never came. You truly, royally, fucked things up. 

It didn’t stop from the anger rolling off you as well as the anguish. You never wanted her to know that you knew about his extra curricular activities. The selfish part of you; the one that seems to win mostly, you wanted her to pick you because she loves you, not to be a second choice or just a side piece of ass. 

Barefoot and heartbroken, you wander back to the lobby of the hotel, just to find Mel and Owen together so impossibly close with each other at the bar you wonder why Owen and Abby even bother staying together. It’s so clear, to anyone else with eyes, they are just wrong. Neither of them fit the way you’re supposed to when you love someone, when you actually care about the other person, yet she wants to savor his feelings for what reason? You weren’t sure you would ever understand why Abby did the things she did. 

The only person Abby trusted is herself. Hiding behind the mask she fronts, never fully letting anyone into the feelings brewing inside her but leaving her ultimately — empty. 

Begrudgingly, you decide to take a shot of tequila, basking in your lost hope before making your way to your hotel room. 

You aren’t walking that long before you can feel the pain in the heels of your feet, the shoes you picked for tonight slowly becoming a bad idea, as you spot your room. Reaching into your bag, the strap slowly falling off your shoulder, you grumbled softly under your breath when you didn’t feel the small thin key card that you knew you had earlier and instantly slumped your forehead against the wooden door. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter to yourself. 

Deep in your own head, you don’t notice Abby sluggishly yet tiredly making her way down the corridor, unaware you were mumbling and cursing to yourself as you simply grabbed and shook the door handle with so much anger that you’re surprised it didn’t break.

“Oh, fuck you, you stupid fucking door!” Your foot collided with the door, annoyance spiraling from within you, the yelling and action had you gaining the attention from none other than Abby herself. Did you want it? Yes, but did you want it when she was angry? You weren’t sure. 

“You’re not supposed to kick the door, you know?” She couldn’t help but mutter, watching you struggle with an amused smile on her lips. 

“Be grateful m’not kicking you.” 

She laughs, or you think she laughs, and hummed at your obvious struggle. Your threat not affecting her as much as you wanted it to. “Did you lose it?”

“Did i lose it?” You repeated, hand gripping the handle tighter with a clenched jaw. “Do you really think i’m the kind of person to lose a fucking key card?”

“You tell me, you can’t get into your room, it seems like you did lose it” Abby points out the most obvious thing before sighing softly under her breath. “Or you wouldn’t be stuck out here.”

Turning your head quickly at her words, you growled at her and glared in her direction. “Would it make you happy if i admit that yes, i fucking lost my key card?”

“It might.” Abby chuckled, tongue clicking against the side of her cheek in amusement again. You notice that glint in her eyes again, the same one you’ve seen countless times in those baby blues, but she doesn’t say much, not that she has to. “You can uh, stay in my room, if you want?”

Are you hearing her correctly?

“You want me to stay in your room? Didn’t you say you couldn’t stand looking at me anymore?” 

“That’s not—” She’s pausing, running her hand over her face in frustration. “I don’t— this is just hard for me, okay? Can you try to reason with me?”

“M’trying, but every time i try to, you throw it back in my face. You throw it in my face like this entire situation is my fault.” You found her stepping closer, not that you noticed seconds prior, but as you get your words out, you notice she’s listening. “I just want you to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That I just want to be yours, and it hurts that you don’t understand, or you do and would rather me not think of you like that, which just hurts even more.” You sighed, finally looking at her. “I want to love you the way you deserve, but you won’t let me” 

“S’not that i don’t want you to, i don’t deserve you.” Abby chokes out, every emotion and feeling, that she’s tried to keep buried deep, finally creeping up on her. “I’ve never deserved you, you deserve better than me. You always have”

“Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?” 

“I don’t want you to make the wrong one. I’m the wrong decision for you.”

Her words, ones that cut deep, have you frowning and shaking your head, like you don’t want to believe her. She’s always been hard on herself, especially when it comes to love, thinks that she doesn’t deserve it. Everyone does, and you know that she’s trying. “You are the only right decision i’ve ever made.” Your body was closer to hers, she could smell the soft perfume, almost the smell of the scented lipgloss you chose for tonight. “You are worth it, and it kills me that you don’t see it. You don’t see that under all the anger, all the feelings, everything you build up to protect yourself, you just want to feel safe. You will always be safe with me. You are perfect, i just want you to let me show you just how perfect you are. Especially to me.”

Your words struck something in her brain, thoughts going a little too fast her to keep up with, but that doesn’t stop her from wrapping her hand around your wrist, and tugging you closer to her, face quickly burying in the crook of your neck, something she does each time she’s alone with you, and the feeling of her nose brushing against the collum of your throat seconds later has you softly sighing and threading your fingers through the loose strands of hair. “Let me show you.” You whispered, gripping her jacket tightly. “Please let me show you.”

Abby lets you push her towards her bedroom door, still holding each other just as tight while her hand slipped into the soft fabric of her pocket. “Would you just let me—” Abby curses under her breath as she attempts to fish out her hotel card. You have her pushed against the door with your weight, keeping her pinned by your pelvis. 

“I should let you do whatever you want? Like you’ve been so nice to me, right?” Pulling her by the navy blue tie, swollen lips ghosting over hers, she whimpers like a bitch in heat. You give her everything, anything and everything she wants, you so graciously provided but she’s been thoughtless. Careless with how you’ve felt. It’d be so easy for her to push you off, pick you up and toss her on her shoulder before throwing you on the bed and having her way with you. 

But she likes this. 

Knowing she’s in the wrong, underneath your mercy, begging for an inch of your good graces. Abby’s practically salivating, begging to have you in her mouth, wanting to have the everlasting taste of you. Hell, she knows she shouldn’t but she thinks of you every time Owen kisses her. She wonders if he can taste your cum on her lips. After the first time, she wondered if he could clock the crimson of her cheeks, the flush she still was feeling from squirting for the first time. The thighs she could barely keep still, a proper effort made in order to keep herself up. 

You’re the first and only to even want to have the power over, she enjoys it — sure as hell gets off to it. 

“Answer me.” Your grip on her chin is iron, her blue eyes pouting as her posture slouched. 

“I haven’t been nice. I know that. I’ve been making you wait too long.” Abby shudders as your dress slips higher, as she gets lost in the exposed cleavage.

“Abby, babygirl, my eyes are up here.” Her eyes pick up to find you cold gaze, but there’s warmth. Dripping like golden honey and she wishes for it to fall on every inch of her body just so you can reclaim it as your own. She wants to feel your lips, your tongue, whatever the fuck you’ll give her, Abby craves it.  

“I know, m’sorry, it’s just—” Your hands smooth over her toned torso, the crisp button up feel smooth under your touch, but it’s thin enough for Abby to feel your magnetic touch, but you stop at her breasts. 

“He doesn’t touch you anymore, does he?” Abby shakes her head furiously. In this moment, she’s thankful she opted out of a bra tonight. Teasingly, run over the fabric, back and forth as she feels the bud pebble against your touch. Tortuously, Abby’s breath only begins to grow heavier and you’ve barely even done a thing to get her where she needs to be. 

“Fuck—” You begging to pull at the braid, undoing her long blonde locks, making them accessible for you to pull on whenever she decides to she doesn’t want to be teased any longer. “No, he doesn’t. Never like this, hasn’t touched me, made me feel like this, ever. Just you.” 

“That’s right, babygirl. You always need to come back to me. Can’t get your fill elsewhere, or be filled. He can’t do much with the poor little pathetic excuse of a cock.” You let go of her chin before whispering in her ear, “Need me so deep in this pretty pussy of yours. Even those precious long fingers of yours can’t hit as deep as me.” 

It’s then you reach in her left pocket, opening the hotel room with her key card. “C’mon, you owe me a favor, or two…..maybe even three.” You claim her lips as your own, she belongs to you whether she wants to admit it or not. 

“I think I need a reminder from last time.” 

Abby smirks, a soft smile falling over her pink lips, she leads you into the room. Her own personal siren, one word from your lips and she’ll do anything you want. Abby only has the door locked and by the time she turns around, your dress pools at your feet. 

“Shit—” Abby curses, you’re playing fucking dirty. You know she can’t be up here too long, Owen’s expectant of her to return, or so she thinks. 

“You’re killing me, angel.” 

Mouth practically salivating, at the sight of your nearly bare silhouette, the moonlight coming through the balcony accentuating every curve, your skin glowing as you wait for her to move. Abby’s contemplating, trying to decide what she wants to do first. 

She gets lost in her head, replaying tonight’s events in her head, how she couldn’t keep her cool, not even in front of her boyfriend. The thought of you with someone else too unbearable for her to bear, the incessant need she has instilled within her to be close to you. 

“That’s the point but stop suffering, babygirl.” Using her favorite thing to your advantage, you bend over the edge of the bed. Emphasizing the curve of your spin. The seconds the words fell from between your lips, you didn’t think she heard them at first, not with them being so gentle and soft. It wasn’t until you shivered, and sucked in a deep breath when her fingers ran up and down your back, nails lightly scratching your skin that you smiled into your arms. “Abs— oh” You gasped, body tensing at the feeling of her pushing her leg between your legs, pressing the rough material of her pants against your cunt, the fabric of the bedsheet rubbing against you too, adding to the mix.

“Shh,” She leaned down and whispered against your ear. “Bet you’re so fucking wet, hm?” She hummed, softness gone right out the window, still trailing her fingers up and down your back. A devious smirk appeared on her lips at the way you shamelessly tried to grind against her leg. “Can’t even wait, can you?” Her leg pushed harder on your cunt, eliciting a louder moan from between your lips. “That’s too bad, you can’t have whatever you want right now” She cooed mockingly, eyeing up the way your hands gripped the sheet below you, so tight she was worried you were going to hurt yourself. “Gonna let me eat your sweet pussy? Let me show you how much i want you?”

Just like that, you’re putty in her skilled hands. 

“Y—Yes, please, need you” You choked out, quickly nodding your head at whatever she was saying to you. You weren’t entirely sure, all you know is that you need her. Her hands, ones that you always love to have all over you, slip down and grip your hips. The action had you whimpering into the pillow, turning your head slightly to get a better look at her. The sight of her behind you, on her knees, licking her lips had yours parting. “Abby, please, want it, want you” You sighed.

“Be patient, brat” Abby scoffed, squeezing your ass in both her hands. “Don’t make me shove your panties in your mouth to get you to shut the fuck up.” There was no true intention of doing so, behind her words, she loved hearing what she did to you. Maybe a little too much. “You’ve been so bad tonight, do you deserve me to eat your pussy, hm?”

“M’sorry, i am” You sniffled, spreading your legs a little wider, tempting her in a way. Knowing she can’t get enough of you. “Please, i’ll be so good, your good girl”

“Yeah?” She hummed, mouth watering at the sight of your cunt. Folds glistened before her as she sunk her teeth into one of your asscheeks, humming at the soft gasp she pulled from you. “You’re gonna be my good girl, s’that right?” She mocked, fingers slipping between your legs, and brushing against your clit. The choked whimper you let out had her grinning against your skin, lightly rubbing circles on your bud and holding you down on the bed with her free hand. “You’re not lying?”

“No” Your words came out muffled from burying your face in the sheets, but your head shake was enough for her to understand. “M’not lying, i’ll be so good for you, i promise” You added. Fingers gripping the white sheet tighter when she’s rubbing harder circles. “Just need you to, to fuck me, please”

You’re flinching, body shaking in her hold when out of nowhere she’s spitting a glob of spit on your cunt, growling at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing at such a small action that she knows you love. “I’ll decide when i fuck you” Was all she said, using the pad of her thumb and pressing against your second hole, smiling at your soft oh. 

Her lips part, as do yours with a moan that has her stomach fluttering and cunt clenching around nothing when she lightly dips her thumb into your hole, your cunt begging for attention as a hum ripped through her throat. “Fuck, knew you would love it too much” She groaned, watching the tight muscle hug her thumb effortlessly. “Yeah, i know” Abby mocked.

“Fuck, Abby, please”

“What are you even begging for?” She scoffed, a small bite in her question, fingers finding your neglected clit and laughing at your loud whine into the pillow when she continued her slow circles. “Just a needy slut, aren’t you?”

“Your needy slut” You whispered, looking down at her and shuddering at the feeling of her slowly rubbing at your clit, and sinking her thumb more into your ass. The sensation had moans and whimpers tearing from your throat. You pushed back against her, absentmindedly that is, and gasped loudly when her hand landed a light slap on your pussy. 

“Stop moving.” She warned with a growl. “You’re gonna take what i give you, and if i think you deserve more, you’ll get it” Abby scoffed, smirking at the sight of you burying your face more into the pillows, the messy sheet as you nodded quickly, without shame, and licked your swollen lips. “This is what you needed, hm? Getting your holes stuffed so you would shut the fuck up” 

Her words, mean ones at that, that you were used to hearing, has your face heating up, not a single ounce of shame in your body, just pride and need. Whenever Abby would get mean, yes, you were mortified the first time it happened during sex and how wet you had become, but now? she uses it to her advantage. As much as she would like. She had your body under control, and she didn’t even have to do anything to reduce you to such a whimpering, pathetic mess under her. 

The swipe of her thumb, a gentle touch, against your clit had you letting out a squeal, jolting on the bed and your eyes slowly started rolling in the back of your head. It was sinful, so sinful at how she was able to do this. Touch you with the lightest touches and have you pleading for more. Abby’s lips parted, almost salivating at the sight of you clenching around her thumb, a silent plea as to say more. Which is why she doesn’t expect the whimper that claws at your skin and rips out of your throat when she’s pulling away completely. The feeling of being almost full, not as much as you wanted, to be taken from you. 

“Abs? What—”

“You get both holes filled when you’re good,” Abby tutted, fake cooing at your pleads, one she’s so used to hearing coming from you. “Gonna start crying because m’not giving you what you want? Yeah? Gonna start saying you’ve been good enough? We both know that’s a lie, baby”

Are you crying? You weren’t sure, nor did you care, but with how Abby was dancing her fingers dangerously close to where you need her, you might burst into flames if she didn’t hurry up. “You like it when i cry for you” Comes one of your usual quipped replies. The undertone of brattiness doesn’t go unnoticed by Abby.

But what you miss is the way she clenches her jaw, her eyes harden, and how she’s quick to land a strike on your ass. Your body only gets so far up the bed with a whine before she’s leaning hers over you, hands pinning your hips to the bed and she grazes the shell of your ear with her lips. The harshness of her breath hitting your face had you trying to push back against her. Trying to get something. “Such a dirty fuckin slut” Abby scoffed, sinking her nails into your skin and sure to be bruised in the morning. “You like making it harder for yourself? You want me to punish you?”

“You know all your punishments just make me wetter for you,” Your voice wavers, breathing slightly more ragged as her body presses down harder on you. “Makes me want you to fuck me harder. Want you to fuck me like you’ve missed me.”

“Oh,” Her laugh is one of mocking. You were so used to it that it didn’t make you snappy at her anymore, but it still sent a shiver down your spine when it was directed at you, and you alone. “I do miss you, but m’not gonna just let you get away with being a fucking brat to me tonight because i miss you.”

“But why? Don’t you wanna fuck me, Abby?” You feigned innocence, turning your head enough for her to see the small pout on your lips that you were sporting. “Because i want you to fuck me, fill me up like i know you can. Make me cum in ways only you know how. You fuck me so good, Abby, please, please. I know you wanna fuck into this mattress, Baby”

Abby whimpers. 

Sounds that are only reserved for your ears, and yours alone.

You’ll make sure of it. 

She whimpers pathetically above you at your words, the blood rushes to her head and she can feel the wetness pooling between her legs the longer you try pushing yourself up against her, grinding against her shamelessly. “Wanna fuck every single thought outta your pretty head so bad” She growls into your neck, everything inside her crumbling as you both just sluttily grind against each other. 

“Then stop talking about it and fucking do it.” You spit. A noise so animalistic, you’re not sure you have ever heard it fall from her lips. With an entirely new level of greed, she claims your lips as her own, velvet tongue dominating yours as you can feel yourself practically melting. “God, can’t wait for you to shut the fuck up.” Abby mumbles against your lips. Her fingers undo the knot in her tie, releasing it from her collar as she holds both of your wrists with one, feeling the cool metal frame piercing your skin. 

“Is this what you want?” Abby begins to bind your wrists to the bed, her thumb smoothing over skin gently as she tightens the silk fabric against you. “You should be grateful I’m not blind folding you. We both know you deserve it after tonight.” You laugh, manically. Watching the pleasure in her blues rise, she likes you under her will as she takes what she wants. 

“Should I be grateful? You’re not fucking me yet…are you?” You tilt your head to the side as Abby removes herself completely, the friction of her trousers evades your cunt, leaving you nothing to grind against. With a smirk as wide as you’ve ever seen, she slowly removes her belt, slipping off her shoes as she throws the black belt on the floor. 

“You just don’t know when to shut your mouth, do you? I have something that will.” Her voice lowers an octave as she spills the threat from her pink lips, slowly removing each article of clothing. Her button up shirt is first, leaving her topless in front of you, chiseled abdomen defined as she flexes her abs further. “Would you hurry up, Anderson?” 

The more your hips buck into thin air, the wider her smirk gets. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that, boss.” Abby salutes you, having to disguise the laughing bubbling from her lips. The look you give her is deadly, trying to pull at the tie but to no avail you're stuck, under the mercy of whatever Abigail Anderson wants. The terror in your eyes furthers the slickness in Abby’s boxers but she needs to focus. You are right where she wants you, with no intention of letting you have any satisfaction at the moment. 

Maybe later if Anderson is feeling kind. 

She slowly slides her trousers off, leaving her in just her boxers, your eyes focused on her glorious, blonde happy trail falling in the fabric. Concealed and out of your grip. “You must be really frustrated if you’re saying Anderson, huh? Mhm, that’s too bad. You could have been sitting on my face by now, angel.” She tsks, her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth as she does so. 

“M’fine. Not frustrated at all, Anderson.” 

“No?” Abby simply nods, putting the weight of her knee on the bed, her face tucked in the crook of your neck as she whispers in your ear, “Why don’t we put that to the test?” She bites on your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly. The only inkling of your sweet abby, the abby you love, but she leaves just as quickly as she came. 

Without warning, she slaps your cunt, hard. 

The sensation has you wanting to reach for her, pulling at the tie again, but you’re rendered useless. Your body quivers, her finger runs up your pussy, thumbing your clit so lightly it should be considered an unforgivable sin. Once you think she’ll move on, torture you in some other way, Abby decides to have fun and slap your clit this time, gasping the name you only call her in the bedroom. A name just reserved for the two of you. 

“Already, babygirl? That’s not very…boss of you.” Abby licks the side of your neck, letting her teeth sink in delicately, you groan in response to her teasing words. “Would you stop calling me that, oh my fucking g—” 

You feel two of her thick fingers protrude your dripping hole, sliding in with ease, “Stop calling you what? God? Never gonna let you forget I’m the only one who fucks like one.” She’s slow about it, wanting you to get just enough where it feels good, but not nearly enough to where you crave to be. Pitiful whines are all the evidence she needs, a token of your temporary agony is enough to satisfy her until you break. 

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” 

“Just an asshole who knows how to fuck your ass.” Abby can’t stop teasing you, not when you’re bucking up your hips into her fingers, moaning like a bitch in heat for more. The both of you know there’s no getting out of this unless you tell her what she wants. 

“Abby, please.” You beg, the confession comes too soon, but Abby grins wide as she pulls her face out of her neck. “Thought my name was Anderson, boss?” Unpleasantly, you roll your eyes but she still looks very pleased with herself. 

“Say my fucking name. You know what I want.” With her fingers nearly knuckle deep, she pushes further, kissing your g-spot. “So pretty baby, sounds so pretty. Stop being a stupid, stubborn slut, yeah? You’re already so wet for me. Don’t you hear yourself?” She fucks you harder as you grind against her fingers, meticulously adding in a third finger. 

“Listen to your soaking cunt. You can be a brat, tell me how much you don’t need, but she’s always gonna sell you out, huh? Do you hear the sweet sound of your pussy, babygirl?” You nod helplessly, nearly fully succumbing into the ruthless thrust of her skilled fingers. “Then tell me, what’s my name?” 

Finally, you decide to cave in. 

“Daddy, please—” With those words, Abby releases her fingers from your pussy, causing you to whimper in distress. “Abby! What the fuck!” 

“What? You think I would let you have it after you’ve been a brat. I know you’re easily drunk on me, very easily, but I’m not feeling so generous right now.” Abby slips off the bed once again, her boxers coming off her body, allowing you to see her fully as she slips off her socks. “Time to show you who is the boss, baby.” 

For the third time, you pull at the tie. Once again. you’re stuck. 

“What are you talking about?” The confusion laced all over your face, watching as you climbed on the bed, finally naked and exposed, just the sight you’ve been wishing to see all night. 

“Show me why I let you fuck me and not Owen.” Abby perches her ass on your face, claiming the seat she’s always owned since the moment the two of you met. Abby really doesn’t give you much time to even take a moment to check out the ass you love so much before she’s suffocating you with her pussy. Fuck her for bringing Owen, even if he ever wanted to eat her out, he didn’t have the skill for it. 

She knows that, you know it too, but it leaves you eager to prove just how much she likes it when she’s riding your face. Not his, yours. She’s careful enough not to completely crush you, her hand smoothing over your stomach, blunt nails clawing at your skin as you act starved of her. You had been wanting her all night, but this would be enough, even if you remained untouched, knowing you made her cum would be enough until Abby wants to play nice. 

The blonde stays quiet for a bit, even when she’s enjoying it, your tongue rolling on her cunt, she begins to find a rhythm, moving her hips in a pace she likes, taking as she pleases. But you know just how to surprise, even if she’s neutralized your hands, you know what your girl likes. 

Tilting your head back just a little, giving you enough distance to spit on her cunt, her pink folds glistening more, her body shudders as a moan escapes. A curse of your name spoken before Abby can stop herself. 

“Shut up—” Abby starts to murmur off but you spit again, causing her entire body to shudder against your body, but you don’t hold back. Being extra obnoxious for her as you make your ministrations loud, moaning into her soaked cunt, letting your tongue circle around her clit as you suck the bundle of nerves in your mouth. 

“God, feels s’good, can’t stop fucking your pretty face.” Abby almost fully seats herself, your attacks on her clit have her seeing stars. The soft build in her stomach is more than she can handle, she’ll cum soon if she’s not careful. 

So, she decides to level the playing field. 

She bends over completely, burying her face in your soaking cunt. She decides to be torturous, blowing on your lower lips, enjoying the way you shudder. Hips continue to buck into her face immediately, desperate to be eaten. She giggles. Even if you are making her feel like she might explode at any given moment, Abby knows you are so much worse. She knows your swollen clit must be pulsating, aching for an ounce of attention, a swipe of her tongue, a light brush of her fingers — something. 

“Mhm, such a pretty pussy, baby.” Abby kissing your inner thighs, getting so close to where you need her to be, but not quite to where you want her. “How bad do you want me to fuck your cunt?” She grins as you whimper, but you know better than to stop eating her out. 

“Good girl.” Abby praises you as she runs a finger up your slit, feeling just how wet you are, thighs softly twitching as she sinks a finger into your hole, finding satisfaction in how tightly you’re clenching around her. Thumb swiping at your clit, “See what happens when you’re good.” 

Abby wastes no time, not a single moment, her mouth pouncing on you with no further warning. A shriek rips out from the back of your throat, the vibration against her pussy sends a shiver down her spine. She’s slow with the movement of her tongue, sliding it between your folds, flicking it against your clit until she’s wrapping her lips around the bud, and sucking hard. 

The whines and whimpers she’s always so greedy to hear tumbling from between your lips is muffled by her cunt, almost banished from making it’s way into the room as she curls her fingers just enough to have your lips sucking on Abby’s clit harder. A certain kitten lick of your tongue on her clit has her head falling forward against the pillow with a guttural moan. The sound has you clenching tightly around the long thick fingers she’s slowly working deeper in your pussy.

“Knew your mouth was fucking slutty,” Abby shivered, hips jerking up and trying to grind harder against your mouth. A mouth that she would die without. “S’good, keep it up, you can do that, can’t you?” She mocked, knowing you have no room to say anything. Not when you were eating her out like she would be your last meal. 

“It’s a shame isn’t it? That you can’t even use your fingers this time. Know how much you like to make me cum on them, maybe next time, hm?” Abby taunted, using the tip of her tongue, sliding it up and down your inner thighs, collecting your slick in her wake. The taste of you on the muscle had her eyes rolling in the back of her head, pressing her thumb against your clit and rubbing the slowest yet dangerous circles. Enjoying the way you tremble above her. “Awh, so close already? Barely fucking touched you.” 

Her words have you whining into her cunt, humming around her clit and the blood rushes to her head at the obscene, loud sounds of you lapping at her pussy messily. Her slick runs down your chin, a sight she’s seen hundreds of times before when you’re between her legs, and drops down onto her legs and bedsheet. “Don’t have to see you to know you’re messy” She growled from below you, curling her fingers against that spot deep inside you perfectly, grinning lazily when your legs clench around her head. “Yeah, I know you love it, angel.” You can already picture her fucking smirk without having to look at her. Abby was cocky, and she sure as hell knew how to make you a trembling mess at all her touches. No matter if you were tied up or not.

Sucking softly at her clit, you hummed deliciously when her thighs twitched, hips still grinding up against your mouth, fucking herself shamelessly on your tongue. “That’s a good girl, wanna make me cum so bad, don’t you?” Another mock fell from between her lips. “I feel bad i tied you up, would love your fingers deep in my pussy right now” She sighed, fucking her fingers in and out of your pussy at a pace that isn’t enough to make you cum, like you wanted, but enough to have you whining and on the edge of something she was willing to give you if you behaved. 

It’s when her fingers deliciously slide in your cunt, rubbing at the certain spot that has your body going limp within seconds, that she’s spent hours brutally hitting with her cock, that you’re crying out around her clit, the sound still slightly muffled but you somewhat find movement and ground down against her fingers. “So fucking needy.” The blonde murmured, wrapping one of her arms around your hips and keeping you still above her as the pace of her fingers picked up again. “You want my fingers that bad? Fine, I'll give you them.”

You barely have time to understand what she means, because she crooks her fingers in a way that has you pulling away from her cunt, the growl she lets out makes your legs crush your head entirely, yours resting on her ass, unable to focus on anything but her fingers stuffing you full. 

“Do you feel it, baby?” Abby doubles down on her efforts, thumb swiping at your clit, fingers so deep as she fucks against your grinding hips. “Just like that. Is my pretty girl close? Gonna show me what a good girl you are and cum for daddy?” 

“Please, shit shit shit, Abby—” The curses continue to tumble from your lips, one after the other they fall, a lovely melody falling on Abby’s ear as it supplies her with the last effort she needs. The desperate cry from her lover’s mouth, the brat disappearing for the time being, all that’s left is the woman she loves so intensely crying for relief. The only thing she wishes is to see you. Bright eyed, struggling to keep them open or your canines sinking into your lips so harshly you pull at your chapped lip, drawing blood as you attempt to hold yourself together. Most of all she wonders if she has you so close to the edge, so incredibly close the tears are beginning to well up in your eyes. 

But she doesn’t get to see any of it, so she’ll have to settle for the weeping sight of your cunt rather than your eyes. Abby’s not sure which one she loves more at the moment. 

“C’mon, want you to paint my face in your cum. Can you do that? I know you haven’t wanted to obey tonight, but can you do this one thing for me?” You feel one of her fingers tease your puckered hole, using the slick coating her finger to tease the sensitive hole while she fucks the other. “Been begging for it, yeah? So, give it to me.” You feel her fingers teasing your cervix as you finally give in. 

Every bone in your body submits to her, as it always does, you become hers as she claims in a way anyone else fails to do. It’s just the two of you, even if you’re unable to see her blissed out dilated blues, drunk on your cunt. The way she soothes you with her fingers, gently fucking you through your high, giving you just the right amount. 

Then it’s there. 

The slight gush squirting out of you and onto her face. Abby smiles wickedly and she immediately laps at your pussy. Obnoxiously and loudly, she makes a theatrical performance of it, making sure you can hear every suck she makes as she creates a makeshift funnel into her mouth, not being able to control herself. Sweetly, she doesn’t allow a single drop go to waste. 

“Feel s’good Abby, I can’t—” Your body softens as you ride the end of your high. Abby can feel your breath on her cunt, sending a shiver up her spine. 

“Shh, I know, I got you.” Abby sweetly remarks, her tongue moving gently and sweetly as she’s unable to stop herself from pushing you through, her fingers fucking you until you’re spent.

Slowly, yet tiredly, once Abby’s had her fun, you press more of your weight on her, head resting comfortably on her toned thighs as you try to catch your breath. With the help of Abby rubbing your back slowly, you smiled into her skin and sighed. 

Exhausted of not being able to touch her, you free yourself from the tie minutes later, ripping it into two, but she pins with the strength of her arms. Quick to hold you down, even when you want to move, Abby does it faster than you can comprehend. She licks the remainder of your cum with her tongue, savoring every last bit, enjoying the shake of your thighs. Abby slaps your cunt, you moan out her name, still sensitive from the earth-shattering orgasm you’d been given. 

Abby is sporting a grin so sinister, you believe it nearly rivals a succubus closing in on it’s prey. Shifting her position, her pelvis against yours, her blond bush prickling your pussy, but she’s too strong for you to move underneath her muscular frame — leaving no room for debate. Sparkling, golden waves falling over her shoulder, freckles littered across her body as if they were her own galaxy being created, a universe unique to her. Every inch of her is more exquisite than the next, you don’t understand anyone who doesn’t appreciate her as the beautiful, loving, angel she is. She should never be treated as anything but. You want to give her the world, everything good in the world she deserves, and you hope it’s not too late for her to see it just as you do. 

Doesn’t hurt she fucks like her life depends on it. 

“You gonna be good for me and fucking take it?” Abby shifts your legs so it lays over her shoulder, lazily spitting on your pussy, enjoying the soft sigh escaping your body. It’s evil, maniacal even, torturing you like this but you can’t help but buck your hips. Trying to chase the high, she’d just given you. 

“So eager. Even after I made you come all over my face. Greedy baby.” Abby slaps your cunt once again, she takes pleasure in the way your body twitches, convulsing for more. The way you’re moving your hips, needing her to give you what she knows you’ve needed. Too stubborn, too selfish, and too fucking horny to stay away from the chiseled greek goddess. 

“Do you wanna feel my clit on yours baby? Is this what you want?” Abby moves her hips forward as she hikes your leg further on her toned shoulder. “You wanna feel how wet I am for you? Mhm, s’what you’ve been needing, just me and my cunt on yours. It’s all a filthy whore needs. Isn’t that right?” 

“Abby, baby, yes. That. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” 

“That’s right, I’m fucking perfect.” Abby gives you one thrust, enjoying the soft bounce of your tits, head half-craned and slumped against the headboard as you’re rendered helpless under her strong weight. The euphoric bliss you’re offered when she decides to be generous and over a steady pace. 

Small, pierced nipples harden as she continues her ministrations, she feels every nerve ending of her body on fire. Even if she enjoys you teasing with her, acting like you’re in control, calling the shots, this is where you belong. A needy whore begging for more of her. This time it’s her cunt you need, her dripping and weeping pussy connecting with your own. You need to feel how wet she is, both of your clits rubbing against each other. The bundle of nerves colliding together over, and over, and over. Abby’s slick mixed with your own, so much you can feel is dripping near your puckered hole, unexplored territory you know you’d let her explore. 

Abby see’s the red markings on your stomach, her being the maker of the scratches, too blissed out to control herself. She traces them with a delicate hand, a silent apology for being too rough with you. Something physical, tangent even, on how you make her feel. If she’s being honest with herself, you’re the only one who makes her feel anything. It’s why she comes back to you, even when the little angel on her shoulder tells her she shouldn't, that it’s wrong. When the guilt threatens to eat her alive, she sees your smile, hears your laugh that would put a symphony to shame. Better yet, she still has the privilege to make you feel good. To try and do everything in her power to make you feel as great as you make her feel. 

But you don’t know any of it. 

This. You. Her. All of it may be fleeting. She might not choose you. This might be a short fling before she ties the knot with this stupid man she claims she’ll leave. You can’t put your money on it, but you’ll bet on her thinking about you for the rest of her life if she wishes to stay with a man. One that will never deserve her. 

Owen will never know Abby the way you do and you’ll do anything you can to make her see it. 

“You are. Everything about you is perfect. Those beautiful blues I wanna get lost in for hours. The lips I never want to leave me. The hands I want on me all the time, the ones I think about whenever I’m alone and I don’t have you there to fuck me.” You spill out, causing Abby to become over eager to please, her hips thrusting harder against yours, chasing the feeling she feels building within her. 

She whimpers, again. 

You’ve lost count on how many have left her tonight. It’s the hope you’re clinging onto. The vulnerability she never lets leak but tonight she does. Never has she been so vocal about what she wants, but after tonight’s fight, the threat of you leaving, Abby’s desperate to keep you. Even if wants to pretend like she’s in control, the look on those worrisome pools of blue tells you something different. 

“Feesl, s’good, shit.” Abby’s blissed out face, head thrown back as she sinks into the feeling. With a clenched jaw, she grinds down into your pussy, her swollen clit pulsating, feeling your cum gravitate towards her cunt. As if this is what it was meant for, you, her — destined to find another. 

Again. Again. Again. 

Her pale skin becomes flush, rises of pink and red expands on her toned chest, her abs clenching causing each ridged lined more defined as she fucks you into another dimension. She coaxes you into her warm, slippery pussy like it’s a lion’s den. The cage is meant to keep you in, designed to never be released from the sharp canines breaking into your skin, the claws she’s managed to dig in, the strength she exhibits each time she stalks you like her prey. 

The false pretenses, the way she fluffs you with small affections, begging to be petted and played with but then tears at the skin she helped heal. Even if it leaves you bloody, clenching your chest to find one final breath, the appetite for her never ceases to exist. When she draws the last drop of blood from your veins, you’ll thank her with a gleeful smile. 

Deeply, you want Abby to feel this lush high, this euphoric feeling rushing to her head, making her impossibly drunk on you as she cries out for more, you want her to feel every bit of it knowing he’ll never give this to her. He’s a fool in the eyes of goddesses alike, a simple servant to keep her in a mediocre rise of security. A placeholder, a pathetic one at that. Too incredibly vain to swallow a meaningless ego to offer what she really needs but you’ll do it gleefully in a blink of an eye. 

He could never give her what she deserves. 

The divine feminine found between your thighs, the sweet nectar she’s spent hours lapping at into all hours of the night, leaving before the sun rises. The walk of shame back to her apartment, glimpses of you never leaving her as she goes about her day. 

This will be just another image burned in her brain, you underneath her body, taking everything she’s giving but it’s so much more intimate than either of you even planned for. The altercation from earlier in the night fizzled out the moment her lips met yours. 

Abby’s palm grips onto the headboard, gaining leverage as she fucks you. “Open your fucking mouth, such a big one, huh? Definitely showed me how much tonight, so, do it again.” Using her strong grip, she squeezes your chin, applying pressure as you obey her willfully. Your lips forming at her wish, she continues to get off, the euphoric sounds of your cunt echoing through the room as you give her everything she wants. 

The her spit drips onto your mouth, pupils dilated as she watches you accept it with a sparkle gleaming in your eyes. Bright and beautiful as you thrust your hips against, enjoying yourself even more with her spit in your mouth. Obnoxiously, you swallow loudly, moaning as you do. 

“Can you spit on my pussy? Please? I know m’already soaked, but I need it.” You request sweetly, knowing she’s less likely to reject you if you’re sweet about it. Instead, she places her hand on your throat, decorating it beautifully with her rough grip. 

Just like that, the woman who loves you, attends to your every need, evaporates into thin air and the one who aims to take control over your very essence is back. The one who likes to push you over the edge until she feels like you’re satisfied enough is back. 

Abby isn’t going to stop until you’ve soaked every inch of her mattress. The one she slept in last night, Owen by her side, but now she believes it needs a level of christening. 

Extending her long fingers, she pulls at your bottom lip with her thumb applying more pressure at your neck. “Do you think you’re really in a position to ask for anything? Be grateful that you even get to feel my pretty pussy, yeah? Shouldn’t even be fucking my pretty girl after the shit you pulled today.” 

“M’sorry, okay? Fuck, please, please— can you forgive me? I just wanted to…” Then before you can even take a moment to breathe, she’s giving you something to choke on. Long, thick, fingers crawling their way down your throat, tickling the back of it, you feel the coolness of her rings lay left on your lips. 

“There.” Abby sighs in content while she grins with greed. “Needed something to shut you up, angel. Don’t cry though, it’ll be my cock next time for your second punishment.” You try to speak but it just comes out as murmurs, incoherent mumbles as Abby fucks your harder than she has all night. She continues to grip the headboard, each thrust more powerful than the last. 

“This what you fucking need. Someone to fuck the brat out of you, so, shut the fuck up and take it.” Abby commands as she moans when she sees your eyes roll back in heightened bliss, “Forgetting how I just made you feel already? I know, brats have a hard time remembering. Daddy needs to make you cum again, huh?” 

“Abs, m’so sensitive. I don’t think I can.” You confess, but Abby continued to fuck you harder, the power of her thrusts unrelenting. With each thrust, her folds sliding against your own as you take what she gives. “No? Should have thought about that before you decided to mouth off to me, again.” 

She shifts your leg over to her other hip, bending you like her own makeshift pretzel, maneuvering you to her will as she fucks you from a better angle. Abby cockily grins as your mouth forms a soft o shape, your breath hiccups as you moan even louder. Your hands grip on her waist as she rides you. All you can do is look upon her in awe, she’s a goddess like this. She always is but not even Owen could see her like you do. He would never be capable of appreciating her just the way she comes. 

Muscles like an adonis, perfectly carved, the veins in her arms protrude as she grabs the headboard. Everything about her seems hard, rough, defined but has the sensual hips of the most entrancing woman alive. The way she rolls them with purpose, a dance she’s choosing to partake in, one that she loves very much. Unable to stop even if she tried. 

Yet it’s her big and bright blues which give her away. For the first time, you see her clearly. Beautiful, bright, and in love. She’s never looked at you the way she is now. Maybe she always did but this time she’s letting you see the love laced underneath. Not ashamed of the softness of her emotions, the one she’s always held like a burden, she carries it strongly. 

You want to let her pull the words from your mouth, but she pulls at the bud between your thighs, claiming it as hers, waiting for you to give in to her. Abby’s just as strong as she is stubborn. Even if she’s already made you cum, she won’t let herself go until she gets it from you one more time. 

“Pretty, pretty, girl. Just one more time, m’kay? Need to see those gorgeous eyes roll back,” Freeing one of her hands, she picks up the ripped tie as she trickles the soft material down your abdomen, “God, i need to see it. My beautiful angel, always so gorgeous and mine.” 

The silk feels good against your skin but you need her. You pull on her hair, bringing her close to you as Abby buries her head in the crook of your neck. For the first time tonight, she allows herself to whimper in your ear. Submitting herself to you in a way she’s never done with anyone. Abby loses it when you stroke her hair gently. 

As much as she’s hellbent on making you come first, you have another objective on your mind. 

“And you’re mine. Only mine.” Abby whimpers, her hips slowing down as you buck up into hers, leading the pace as she gives into you. “C’mon, my sweet girl, let it all go. I have you, m’never letting go, promise.” 

With a notion of protection and sealed love, Abby lets go. Every bit of her slumps against you as she finds her release, you follow after her as you slowly grind into her, letting her coast through the high as she nearly growls in your ear, chants of your name leaving like a prayer. A sworn faithfulness to the only person she’s truly loved, cradling her as if she’s done no harm. As if she’s just as good and pure as you believe she is. 

With her forehead pressed against yours, her blue eyes void of any cockiness, she squeezes them shut as she regains to catch her breath. Lazily, pulling a sheet over you both as it rests on her waist, protecting you with her warmth. Abby wonders if your heart beats as rapidly as hers, fingers tangled in her golden waves as you gently bring swollen pink lips to you. Basking in the way she molds perfectly to you as if this moment, you and her, meant to be fated. 

One of her rough hands runs up and down your back, as the other grips your chin between her fingers, pulling you more into her as you share yet another soft and slow kiss. A kiss that has you smiling into her mouth as her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, teeth nipping at skin. “Needy,” You can’t help but giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Abby simply just shrugged and grinned up at you. 

“Can you blame me? You’re addicting.” She stated like it was the most obvious thing you’ve ever heard. “Your lips are so soft, so that’s another reason why i like kissing you”

“That's the only reason? My lips are soft?” You cocked your head to the side, fingers tracing the slope of her nose slowly, amused at the way she crunches it up cutely when you cup her face. “You have pretty lips, a pretty nose, a pretty everything” You listed, leaning down to place a kiss between her furrowed eyebrows. “You have a pretty heart that is made of gold”

“I wouldn’t say that much about my heart. It’s caused a lot of pain lately.” Abby mutters sadly, fingers wrapping around your wrist and placing your hand on her cheek. “M’sorry for how I've treated you. Especially during this trip, a trip that was supposed to be so special and i kept fucking it up.”

“You’re here with me now, that’s all that matters, Abs. We matter, you matter.” Your voice was quiet, but with the close distance you shared with her, she heard it loud and clear. Your heart thumping loudly in your chest when she leans more into the palm of your hand, closes her and hums gently. “You are so beautiful, I didn't think I could be this in love with someone, not like I am with you. You mean everything to me, and I want to show you just how much.” 

Your confession has her eyes snapping open again, baby blues peering into yours so vulnerable, that you were worried she was about to get up and flee again. It always happened when you got too much into your feelings and feelings towards Abby. But she didn’t, instead, a shy smile appeared on her lips and a crimson blush coated the apples of her cheeks, her skin hot under your touch. “You don’t have to say anything—”

“I love you with all my heart.” 

The confession is ruined by the sound of the door slamming against the wall, and it startles you both. Abby’s moving to cover your body, protecting your vulnerability and being so exposed before her own. Her eyes quickly widen at the sight of Owen standing there. His chest is rising up and down, panting like he’s just ran a marathon. He’s looking between you both, at you longer than he is at Abby, but he’s looking. 

For a few seconds he doesn’t do anything, he just stands there with no idea what to do or say. Luckily Abby feels the same, and she just glares at him down with a subtle growl that has you biting down on your lip. Your eyes quickly look back over at Owen with a grin. “Can you shut the door on the way out? You’re ruining everything right now, i would like to fuck the woman of my dreams, again, and you are stopping me from doing that” You can’t help but huff. “You didn’t treat her like the Queen she is, but don’t worry, i will.”

Abby doesn’t know whether to laugh or choke on the spit forming in her mouth the second the words fly out of yours. 

Any other time, Owen would have caused a scene, woke everyone up with how loud he shouts, but this time he doesn’t. He knows it’s his fault, him to be blamed for Abby needing someone else. He barely gave her the time of day, and pushed her away for someone who wasn’t his girlfriend. Apart of him knew this day would come, she would leave him for you, he just didn’t think it would happen like this. So with one final look, he’s turning on his heels, bolting out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Not wasting a single second to get out of there. 

Leaving you both there, giggling.

Shaking her head at you, Abby cups her face between your hands not even seconds later, repeatedly placing kisses on your lips and melts at the sound as you both fall back onto the bed, in each others space, like you’ve always meant to be with hushed whispers, and promises into each others mouth. 

“It’s always been you. I love you, always and forever.”

It’s safe to say, Owen won’t ever be tasting you again.

taglist: @hypnagogics @only4theweeknd @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @r3starttt @bittersu1te @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworldd @aouiaa @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-a-gay @pa-co @rkivedpages @abbyspup @lucidfairies @liizzygrant @yourfriendlyneighborhoodeden @iluvme9 @angelynn-nicole @hearts4joongie @moonyvs4 @loveyru @imdrowningindispair @random-fag @swinesb @spacewlf @callmewhenyoukan @princesssmars @girlg3n1us @co0kiemuncher @kl1q @graviewaviee @antonellavanella @chuutzuyu @mystellenia @mabels-trashcan @i-feel-violated

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

read on ao3. series masterlist. next chapter.

Distaste is not new in the life of Joel Miller.

In particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. He is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. The years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

If anything, he’s made himself more empty.

Rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. Discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. Lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

An apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. Joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. The man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that Miller guys passed between cowardly members of FEDRA and the keep away from Mr Miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

This plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. Somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become deadweight.

“So that’s all I am to ya, huh? Dead-fucking-weight?” His brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving Joel to do what Joel does best: endure.

Somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the deadweight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

She was an exception, his Tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. They’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

She never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. Contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging Joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

Which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of Tess’ foot against his shin.

“... And then,” Frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. With a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, Bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “Otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. We were finding paw-prints for days!”

Joel's unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. As if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the German Shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“Which means I was cleaning paw-prints for days.” Bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

Frank is quick to shush him.

“I’m sorry, again, Bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “I’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

There you sit, parallel to him.

The sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. It hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

You catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

The threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which Joel can account for, mouth too keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. The battle ends swiftly as you surrender to Bill’s hardened stare, and Frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and Tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“You, sit. No one should have to clean up the food they made.”

They get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

Silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and smothering you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun behind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

Being alone, with you, is something Joel’s never mastered. The affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

Were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

Something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. The dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

Just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

The ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and Joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. He’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

The pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never-ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“He likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

As if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in Joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. Standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and Joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

To envy a creature that licks its own shit off its ass is a new low for Joel.

“Thinkin’ he might like ya more, Sol.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“Most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

He takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and Tess have made.

“You’ve got a whole load in common, you know? I think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“How the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” There he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. It helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“Well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. He’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “And have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

He’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

Discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘S easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. Doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

With you as its protector.

He doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. He watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. Your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

Survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

But I could keep you safe.

He toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. Truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

His memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just Bill, Frank and you. A few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night Joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was Frank who’d prompted the question. “Where were you all when... this started?” Tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’d never meet.

He never imagined her working in a bank.

Bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “Was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” He’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. She was barely out of school. “I knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” Frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

Joel had always been a good listener. Being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. Years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. All this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to Frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of Bill.

But you weren’t smiling.

He watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

The desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for Joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. With each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. He’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“You’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “Those we remember never truly die!”). He’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘Could keep you safe. There, then, the thought did cross his mind.

He’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-Could fix it, you know. I’m good with my hands.”

He almost chokes on his own breath.

I'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. And he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“What?” The question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

The mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face Joel once more.

He sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“Your watch, it’s broken.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “Don’t need ya to fix it.”

You pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Confusion.

“Don’t you want to know the time?” You ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and Joel Miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“I don’t keep it for the time.”

You smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

The German Shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to Joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

He’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. Nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. It’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“Ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” You’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “I’ve never heard any of the Joel Miller backstory, this should be-”

“I get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

Nature falls silent.

Skies grow dull.

You juggle sadness.

There’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. The dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

Joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“Sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. Only, the gates have been shut in his face and Joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “But you’re wrong. I don’t like everyone.”

“‘S that so.” His eyes roll. The hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal Joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“Yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “I don’t like you, Joel.”

The hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

We’re staying, for tonight. Tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the QZ for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

The nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading Bill and Frank- mostly Frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. If only Joel could remember which door leads to yours.

The two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

Tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a FEDRA agent’s wife, you whisper that Frank and Bill had been fighting again recently. The memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of Tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly Bill and Frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

At some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. At another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-N’t tell me you’re a virgin.

The words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

A protest rings true in his head and his ears.

Was gonna say. Knew you were young, but not that young.

It’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“God, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. It was alright, I guess. I just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

He’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. A groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping Tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

Neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“Not much to miss?! Sweet Christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” He’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken Tess. Each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. There’s no need to bother opening his eyes, Joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I’d give up a hand for some head!”

You must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of Tess’ renewed shock fills the room. He wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

Late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“It bores me!”

“It bores you!?”

The couch beneath Joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp Tess gives. The last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

The crueler part of his mind replays your voice, I don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

You like Tess. Love her, even. It’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out Finally someone with a pair of boobs, I’m bored of the sight of my own. Joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

Maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“Must not have been doin’ ya right,” The bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. Joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. You’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. It’s oddly endearing that you think no one has noticed. Because he has, he always notices the little details that surround you. “This fella of yours.”

Joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

He does so, regardless.

“Well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “We were each others firsts.”

“That’s no excuse! Trust I left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time I went down.” Tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights Joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while Tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. No discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

You scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “What, are you offering your services?”

tThis he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which Tess has raised you to heaven on while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘As sure as I am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you I like my women a little older than you.”

He knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the QZ. It should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. But he can’t, and he won’t.

And you’re the one to blame.

You, with the glow of a thousand suns. You, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. You, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

His own self being the first he’d need fight.

Joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. Sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

The next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

He’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. Some small, meaningless little things, that ripple Joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. Others, tsunamis. Big, angry, all imposing. They’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

Amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. But the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. They catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. In the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

The currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

This evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. He reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. The gentle, barely-there croon of a Sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. Across from him is Tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. Snoring comes from below him, where Joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

You take up no space of this room.

Neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. Languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

There are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

He should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. A good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

He could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. Perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure Frank wouldn’t mind. Bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the QZ.

He would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. He imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. Skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Those words stop him from trying.

He tells himself it’s for the best.

With a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. He swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. The door’s already half-opened, and Joel nearly thanks Christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. The darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

The refrigerator.

It’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. A subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly Joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

Keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

She never lived long enough to get either.

He catches something move beneath the artificial light. Cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“Why aren’t ya sleepin’?” The words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

Beneath the light, you shrug. “Could ask you the same thing, Texas.”

He curses Tess for teaching you such a nickname.

He curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

You’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. Whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, Joel remains unaware.

He grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. The door behind him closes over and gives the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“I asked first.” You laugh, at him. Full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. The corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. He hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you. Bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘S so funny, huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. Perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “Just never heard the Joel Miller say something so childish. You’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

You make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. A fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. Uncouth and unbothered, Joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“You know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” You call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. The thirst does not budge. He hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

By the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“iIm making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “Make sure you take some with you when you leave. Tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

Would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? Four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his Tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. He’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Of course you would do the same. Not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. Nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. Patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. All words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. They violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over Joel’s entire persona.

He straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. The sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. His hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of Tess and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what Joel hears.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. You’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

And, suddenly, Joel’s angry. At you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. The fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

Only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

A hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving Joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. Without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise Joel gifts you.

You may leave your marks emotionally, but Joel’s will always be physical.

“Why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “Don’t ya like me?”

If not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “I don’t.”

“Hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody Tess was playing in the living room. “Sure sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

Joel knows he cares. It’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to Bill and Frank’s.

What Joel doesn’t know is why he cares. There’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. He’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

Maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

Instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

Not one bit.

Joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. His feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. His chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

He inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“For the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘S just like how I sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. No part of him should ever be compared to you. “I don’t like ya either.”

He’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

The knife never ceases its movement. Back and forth, back and forth. Chop, chop, chop. Blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. It’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding Joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. Perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

The hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“That’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

It’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“You only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. His wandering touch halts. “A little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what I think.”

This strikes a nerve. Fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. The realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “D’ya know what I think?”

Even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“No, unlike you I don’t care what you think about-” Joel tugs on your hair once more.

“I think you’re a brat. A silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” You could. He’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. Knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“You’re hurting me,” you whine, Joel growls.

Animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. His gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

Your dress- red, a colour Joel Miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“You like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“No, I don’-” Dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “Joel.”

He retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. Whoever Joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“Heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and Tess. The blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ Talkin’ bout your past.”

He doesn’t specify.

He doesn’t need to.

You give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“Tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. His hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. Near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “I wouldn’t.”

You say nothing. Joel pulls harder.

“Too bad I’m-” You cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. With a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, Joel watches you like a hawk. The twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. The want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “Too bad I’m not offering you the chance.”

Joel Miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. With notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“Who said anything about an offer?”

The descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

A part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

The other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. You’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

Smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs that seem longer than any tree in the Amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the Himalayas. Arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

Your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. Perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, Joel knows how to read people. And, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

Joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

You breathe in, you breathe out.

One knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. He revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

Inhale, exhale.

Your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“Hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the Texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. All he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. With the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “Don’t move.”

Where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

Lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. One flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. A wet patch, your wetness. The stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

Curiosity gets the better of him- one day, Joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers digging themselves into the waistband of your panties and around the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

In and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

The lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. A heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. He makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

Delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. There’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. Joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. He wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. He thinks it must hurt.

His fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“Ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. Though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in Joel’s peripheral vision.

“Shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “People are tryin’ to sleep.”

You scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “Tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘S that an invitation to see how loud I can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. This, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “Or a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. Asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

As coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some Playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. So he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. He awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

It’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“You’re drippin’,” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. The view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘S actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. Is it 'cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

He can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

But first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. Much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. Perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

Cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for Joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. Soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

Rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

It happens so suddenly, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of Tess. He wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. Joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

So he does the same.

Working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. He breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

Two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“So now you shut up. ‘S the matter, huh?” He’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “Am I too borin’ for ya?”

“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever- Oh!”

A tongue meets skin.

The knife clatters onto the counter.

You lurch forward.

His hand pulls you back.

“Tess was right, ya know?” He can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. He pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. Three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “That boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

The common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better-, if you’d just let him.

‘Could keep ya satisfied.

That’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. He’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“Is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? What ya need is a man, a man like me!” The softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension. God, it’s never sounded sweet, and Joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“Well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. He imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “But if ya insist.”

Diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. The tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

Licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

He’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by experience that only comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. You’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

He’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

What a perfect excuse you are, for Joel to remaster the arts of lust.

It’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. It’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. It’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever remaining days he shall possess on his knees before you.

And all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar-sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

His only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

Hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

Burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. It does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“N- Ah,” You can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “No, don’t, not there.”

Next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

Sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip out every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. The sound of whatever record Tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

And, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

His eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within Bill and Frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. There’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time Tess tells him they’re due a visit.

Except, the oven door is made of glass.

Glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. You, with a hand gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

And then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

The image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“D’ya touch yourself, Sol?” You don’t answer him, but that’s okay. In a sweet change of pace, Joel Miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “Yeah, bet ya do. Late at night, right? Once you’re all alone in bed. Ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

You back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. Becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

Fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “Let me do the honours this time though.”

You don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. He imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

He’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

You’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. Your expression, he can’t quite read. Not sad, not happy, not mad.

Your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

The discomfort of trekking back to the QZ will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“Joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. Hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. Legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

He swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. Strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. He’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“That,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

Joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

People once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. As sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. Not today, however, and Joel Miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

It chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. There’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

That dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

He cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “No, not again. My back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, Joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the German Shepherd’s head. It whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. A scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “Not so bad, are ya? Huh?” Never in a million years did Joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and Tess had set out for their routinely visit to the Bill and Frank’s. Never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

He hears you before he sees you.

“You planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, Texas?”

He tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

The world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

So instead, it sends you.

Peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than UV rays could ever be. He’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. A few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. At the very least, he considers, I’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

The smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. When he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. He does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. Upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“Thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. You’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “Won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

A queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. He’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “No problem, thanks... for feeding Tess and I.”

“No worries!” You’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. He can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “Oh, actually, that’s why I came out here, I was looking for Tess-” Of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “Hold on!”

You shoot off back inside so quickly that Otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. With an idle pet to his head as you pass by, Joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. In your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“I wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and Joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. He can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “I know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“Why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

Pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

You show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him. “There should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

It’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and Joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

So he tries again, louder.

“Why don’t ya like me?”

“And I’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for Tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “Winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

He grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "Answer me." Like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"For someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. You don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “You sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"Answer the damn question, girl.”

“Or, what?” You’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “You gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

Had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. Truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. Perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

Instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

Joel says nothing.

“How about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and Bill make.” Inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. Clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “You get me something, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “What d’ya want? ‘Cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. I ain’t messing with none of Bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“A dress.”

“A dress?” The statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“Yes, and don’t look at me like that!” It’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “I need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

Unaware he’d even began to lean closer, Joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“Joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

Neither of you dare to break eye contact. Again, his name is yelled. This time, he manages to identify Tess as the owner of the voice. Habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of Tess or you.

His feet remain glued to the ground.

Tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “Think you might be needed inside, macho man. Your missus is calling.”

“She ain’t my-”

“You two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” Tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

Only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does Joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. In her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. You approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“I should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. He decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “Go check on the food, before it burns.”

You’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

Tess and him hit the road by noon. Earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. The bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun breaking through the clouds and heating the world with its rays. He walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from Tess and wracking his brain for answers.

Answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. Answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the QZ. Answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven Bill’s created. Answers to why you don’t like him.

I don’t like you, Joel.

It motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. If he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but Tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

Till then, he needs to find a dress.

[stylesispunk]

Waiting room

Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: A few years ago, Joel saved your life and you have loved him ever since but he didn't reciprocate your feelings or that's what you thought. word count: 2,5k a/n: I didn't write a chapter for "The Not so Invisible String" series but wrote this. I would appreciate receiving reblogs and comments. Happy reading!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

"What happened to me?" you questioned, your curiosity seeking answers.

"I found you," the stranger replied. "You had slept for two days."

In two days, you changed the rules of the game.

In two days, Joel came across with his humanity when he found you laying on the ground after being beaten up by some smugglers.

And what a plot twist you were.

You were so young and naïve when the world broke into a mess, and the reminisces of your old life before were just fogging memories threatened to be erased completely by the clouds of your head. You had forgotten your mother’s voice, the taste of the cookies she baked on Sunday’s afternoons, and the essence of her perfume enveloping you in embraces you were never going to get back.

You still craved a lingering, real sort of comfort that hadn’t come. In this world, emotions make you weak, and being weak means you die.

The closest thing to caring you received from someone was from Joel. The day he found you, he treated your wounds, he prevented you from dying by starving himself, and he fed you with his food.

“I broke my rules for you.” He peeped once you recovered, but still, he let you stay.

Through the months and years, you had become accustomed to the idea of him and Tess being the only people you could trust; they were older and wiser than you, a perk but also a source of constant disappointment over the idea of you being seen as the foolish, weak kid.

You felt a burden. You were a constant troublemaker, getting into trouble with everyone who seemed to mess with you, but under some eyes, you were still Joel’s girl, just that you really weren’t. You just idealize the idea of it.

Because every time somebody hit you, he was there, and if that wasn’t love, what the fuck was it?

You knew that there was something between them beyond a simple partner-in-crime relationship. They weren’t what you would call lovers, but there was unspoken language between them you couldn’t decipher, not because you were a fool but because you weren’t a part of them.

Because you weren’t important,

You didn’t know if Joel cared about you coming back.

You were just someone Joel found almost dying.

Whereas for you, he was the closest thing you felt to home.

"Where were you?" his voice called out in the middle of the dark room, breaking the silence of the eerie night.

“God, you scared me,” you answered. "I thought you were asleep."

"You know I don't go to sleep unless I know you're here." His voice was so sharp it could cut in half.

Liar.

“You are asleep other times,” you acknowledged, trying to remove your boots without whimpering as the pain settled in your bones. “And I'm here. You can go to sleep now," you hissed, out of frustration but also from the pain emanating from cuts.

"No."

"Well, I'll go then," you replied.

“Come here, show me,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Come here,” he repeated, frustrated this time.

“I said, “

“Now!” the raised tone sent shivers down your spine, forming a lump in your throat.

You were there, not moving, and he was closer. The dim light in the room cast eerie shadows as he examined your face, his fingertips tracing the evidence of the scars painted on your skin.

The cut on your bottom lip throbbed with each breath. A bruise, vividly purple, marred the skin around your eye, testimony to the violence that had been part of it and the cut on your nose, which seemed to be broken.

Not only do you face hurt, but all your body is carrying the consequences of a beating you didn’t think you deserved. Your bones felt crushed under the pressure of the emotional turbulence going on in your head.

And Joel’s touch, his gentle touch, so delicate yet full of fury, not towards you but at the merciless people that forced such a wound on you. You winced as his fingers grazed the tender skin; his silence was so loud.

“Who did this to you?” he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. The sharpness of his earlier tone softened under your teary stare.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied.

“It does to me,” he retorted.

“No. Joel, let me be alone. It hurts; my body was hit, and I would be dead if it weren’t for you,“you sobbed.

“For what?”

"For you," you admitted through a shaky breath, the weight of the truth bearing down on you. The room seemed to shrink as you uttered those words, exposing a vulnerability that had remained buried beneath the facade of strength.

Joel's eyes softened, and the fury in his touch transformed into a gentleness that contrasted with the brutality of reality outside. In that fleeting moment, it was just the two of you, suspended in a fragile moment.

His voice, now a whisper, carried a mix of concern and disbelief. "For me?"

“The only reason I’m not dead is because of you. Can you believe it?” You chuckled. “One of the men there recognized me as Joel’s girl, who I am not, and then they stopped. Not even because I’m a person, but because I am associated with a man.”

Joel's expression tightened at the revelation, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.

“Let me clean your wounds, “Joel began, his voice a gentle plea to attend to your wounds.

"No. I don't need your fucking help," you interrupted, frustration lacing your words, tired of being the dog at Joel’s door waiting for him to notice your loyalty and devotion.

"Yes, you need it because you're a fucking naive baby acting restless and so careless." Joel retorted, frustrated.

“"I have no one. My life is just a waste of air for this damn world, so why should I care about my well-being?" you shot back bitterly, the pain in your voice mirroring the bruises on your body.

"Because I care about you," Joel admitted, his words a brief glimmer of hope. However, before you could fully grasp the weight of his confession, he extinguished any expectations. "You have Tess and me; we share our roof with you."

"Exactly. Your place, not mine," you argued, a stark reminder of the boundaries that confined your sense of belonging.

"Your point?" Joel challenged.

"You found me once and brought me here, okay? Thanks for it. But that doesn't mean I have your respect," you asserted, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

"My protection is not enough." Joel questioned, his patience wearing thin.

"It's not," you replied with conviction.

"Then you can go and find your own fucking place."

"That's what I'm doing. I'm leaving the QZ. There may be a place that fits for me," you declared, the decision firm in your voice.

Joel's silence echoed through the room, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But you offered none, maintaining a stoic resolve as you walked away from the confrontation.

"What? Where?" he finally managed to utter, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face.

"Goodnight," you replied tersely, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. The darkness of the hallway enveloped you as you retreated towards the bedroom. The door creaked shut behind you, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit room, grappling with the echoes of your departure.

The room was shrouded in darkness, and you lay on the bed, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a relentless loop making fun of you for being so foolish, but despite the physical exhaustion, sleep eluded you, and your thoughts continued to wander through the tangled maze of emotions.

And Joel, of course, whom you were leaving behind tomorrow morning before he could even notice you were going to disappear.

As you lay there, the door creaked open, and Joel entered, carrying a small bottle and a cloth. The soft glow of a flashlight in his hand illuminated his face, revealing concern and remorse for his previous attitude.

"I brought something for the pain," he muttered, his gruff voice softened by a vulnerability you rarely could see. You remained silent, acknowledging his presence with a nod.

Joel approached, his movements deliberate as he poured a few pills onto his weathered palm. "Take these. They'll help with the pain and help you sleep."

You reluctantly accepted the medicine, swallowing it down with a sip of water from a nearby bottle. The bitterness lingered on your tongue.

Joel then reached for the cloth, dampening it with water. Gently, he began to clean the wounds on your face, his touch surprisingly tender. The initial sting of contact faded, replaced by a strange mix of relief and discomfort.

"Joel,” you said, but he didn’t answer and focused on tending to your injuries.

"Joel," you repeated, a little more assertive this time. His name hung in the air, yet he remained silent, his attention fixed on the task at hand. The rhythmic motions of cleaning your wounds seemed to be his sole purpose.

You took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words settling heavily in the room. "Joel," you said once more, this time with an edge of urgency, attempting to draw him out of his concentrated silence.

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

The room felt hot with tension as you hesitated before finding the words. "I appreciate this—the medicine, cleaning my wounds. But it doesn't change my mind about leaving.”

His gaze held yours, an unspoken plea for understanding. "You're hurt; you can't go so far in your state," he replied, a touch of concern in his voice.

"So what?" you retorted, frustration bubbling to the surface. "If I have to die outside, I will. I don't care. I'm just tired of this life."

Joel's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from anger to concern. "What would make that thought go away?" he asked, his question cutting through the defiance in your tone.

"What?" you responded, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"What would make life worth living?" he repeated, his gaze unwavering. The weight of his inquiry settled in the room, demanding introspection.

The silence that followed was heavy, the question lingering in the air as you grappled with the complexities of your own desires and the harsh realities of the world outside that broke any chance of achieving the dreams you had when you were a child.

The silence stretched, becoming a tangible force in the room, until Joel's desperation cut through it like a blade. "I'm waiting," he said, his tone laden with urgency.

"To have someone," you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken longings.

"How?" he pressed, searching for clarity in your cryptic words.

"To have someone that cares for me," you explained, the vulnerability in your voice laying bare a deep-seated yearning, a yearning you had been carrying for years.

"You have me," Joel insisted, his desperation now tinged with frustration.

"You're not mine; you're hers," you said, invoking Tess. "Do you think I don't hear you both having sex?”

His eyes widened, realization dawning on him as the unspoken truth reverberated in the room.

"Maybe my body was hers, but inside, it's here." Joel took your hand and placed it over his chest, just above his heart. "I'm craving for you."

A tense silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air, and Joel's eyes reflected all the sincerity of his feelings slipping from his lips. Your skepticism pierced through the charged atmosphere, casting a shadow over the vulnerability that had been exposed.

"I don't believe you," you declared, a note of disbelief in your voice.

Joel's expression tightened, a blend of irritation and determination etched on his face. "You don't?"

"You're just saying those things out of pity," you accused, the walls of defense rising once more.

He shook his head, a flicker of frustration evident in his eyes. "You are whiny, a pain in the ass, arrogant, naive..."

"Stop!" you exclaimed, the litany of criticism hitting you harder than expected.

"Yet, despite it all," Joel continued, his voice a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, "you make me go crazy, and still, I want to break every single finger that has been laid against you."

The weight of Joel's words hung in the air, a revelation that cut through the tension and laid bare the depth of his emotions. His eyes, always filled with exasperation, now held a raw vulnerability.

"You don't realize that you brought sense back to my life!" he exclaimed, the urgency in his voice echoing through the room. "If you go and you die, there's nothing left for me to fight for."

"I want to be the last one you love," he spoke, his hands cupping your face, fingers tracing delicate patterns over the scars that adorned your skin. His gaze, dark and intense, held a promise that lingered in the air. "I want to be your ending."

"And I want you to be my ending," he added, referring to the weight of the words hanging between you.

A profound silence settled, punctuated only by the erratic beats of your heart against your ribs, In that moment, you felt that the confession of love coming from Joel was the last source of breath you needed to become a person again.

And then, he kissed you. With a warning written on his dark eyes, yet you didn't see it coming. He kissed you because there wasn't anything else to do. He wanted to claim your lips as them because they were his.

Joel's lips lingered against yours, the warmth of his kiss irradiated foreign feelings for you. You had never felt so loved for someone before, and as the kiss deepened, a subtle smile played on his lips, a rare expression coming from him.

He pulled away slightly, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. His hands, calloused and weathered, gently caressed your face, tracing the contours of the scars on your face.

"You're not leaving," he spoke against your lips, with another gentle peck on them.

A shy smile played on your lips in response. "Whatever,” you replied.

Joel's confession had acted as a healing salve, mending not just the physical scars but also the emotional ones that had marked your journey through this world.

Joel's eyes softened as he caught the playful glint in your smile, and a warmth seemed to spread through the room. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The strength in his arms felt like a shield against the harshness of the world outside.

"You can be stubborn as hell, you know that?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As he held you in his arms, the world outside faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of the embrace and the quiet assurance of shared moments.

"Get some rest," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. "I'll be right here."

With Joel's arms wrapped around you, the weariness of the day and the weight of the past seemed to dissolve.

In the arms of Joel, the night embraced you, and as you closed your eyes, you found life worth living because of him.

[endo-bunny]

His Light in the Darkness

Summary: When Joel finds love ten years into the apocalypse and has a daughter with that woman two years later, he has to deal with the death of his beloved. He had to deal with a child that he doesn’t want, the child that took his whole world. That was, until a couple months after your birth. Now you will have to go with your father, Joel, and “The Cargo,” Ellie. As you go through this traumatizing yet exciting new adventure, you will have to learn a lot of things if you wish to survive in this world.

Paring: Joel x daughter!reader

Series Warnings:Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, attempted SA, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, slaves, death, dialogue and actions/scenes not being exactly the same or close to original, nicknames for reader(Little Light, honey, sweetie, baby girl), anxiety attacks, anxiety alluded to but not specified, symptoms of ptsd but not specified, reader is Joel's biological daughter, mother’s looks not specified, reader is a child so she will cry a lot (please don’t complain about this) this is normal for children

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, panic attack

Word Count: 3,465

******

Chapter 1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Winter 2015

Cries were what filled the room. A female that looked to be in her mid thirties was laid out on a worn down mattress. In her arms was a baby, the one that was producing those beautiful sounds. Her breaths were shallow, hands bloody as her eyes met those of her lover. There beside her was Joel. He stared lovingly at the woman, your mother. She taught him how to love again, and you were also someone that was going to help teach him how to love once more in the future. The woman had already known there was a chance of not surviving through childbirth. Hell, they were living in the fucking apocalypse. They didn’t have the same materials and medical help or equipment that they had twelve years ago.

She felt weak, she wasn’t gaining any strength back. She had children before the outbreak but upon outbreak day and thereafter, they had died in front of her eyes. That was one of the many things that the two lovers confided in and shared with each other. Her other births had been similar to this birth; but her other times were much different when it came to the time after giving birth. She wasn’t gaining any strength back like she usually would, she was only losing it. She could feel her heart that had previously been pounding in her chest slowly start to slow down to an alarmingly slow speed. Her breaths that had previously been easier to have were quickly becoming harder and harder to inhale.

With just one look, Joel knew what she was about to tell him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose his lover; his light in the dark. Tears flooded his eyes, racing down his face shortly after. He choked out a sob. As carefully as he could, he gingerly held her in his arms. They stayed like that for hours, even after she had taken her final breath. She had been able to breastfeed their child with the help of Joel.

As he continued to lay there, your mother still in his arms, the door was quietly opened. Tess stepped in, grief upon her face at seeing Joel with his deceased lover. She walked over, getting close enough to touch Joel’s shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet hers. This was the most vulnerability that Joel has ever shown Tess. She saw how much pain he was in, and she couldn’t do anything to help him. He muttered something to her after he calmed down a little.

“Take the baby, I don’t want the thing that took away the love of my life.”

She was shocked to say the least. She never thought that he would ever say anything such as that. He always seemed so happy when talk of the two’s unborn child was brought up. As Tess sighed, she lightly shook her head side to side, rejecting his request; or rather demand. She couldn’t do that. He looked angry, more than angry. He was extremely pissed to say the least. He snarled at her, even more so when she started to talk about burying your mother. The rest of it all was just a blur in his mind. He blocked everything else. He didn’t want to deal with anything else, especially you.

A couple months passed by, Joel hating every moment of it. On one surprisingly warmer day, his view towards you was swiftly changed. He had put you down on the couch, not fully caring if you fell or not. It didn’t feel like it was his responsibility. He was looking over everything that he would need for his and Tess’ next run. Something in him caused him to turn his gaze towards you. There you were, smiling over at him as if he was the greatest thing in the entire universe. In a sense, he was, to you.

Once you saw that his gaze had turned towards you, you erupted into a fit of adorable little giggles. He had never heard that beautiful sound come from your tiny body. The moment he heard it, he was immediately transported to the first time he heard that same noise come from Sarah.

Right then and there, he knew how disappointed and angry Sarah and your mother would have been at him. He was beyond ashamed of how he acted and treated you. You were his daughter, he was your father, he was supposed to love and protect you. He knew then that he needed to change the person that he was, but only for you. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be any different towards anyone else, he couldn’t trust anyone else in this newer world. As for now, for the first time since your mothers death, he picked you up lovingly and smiled.

“Hi, my Little Light. Daddy’s here now.”

******

Autumn 2023

Giggles erupted from you as you played with your toys; your fathers warning to not make any noise while he wasn’t there escaping your mind. All noises stopped however once you heard the front door open, close, and then voices. All you could hear was your fathers voice before you were sprinting out to him, jumping into his arms that weren’t ready to catch you.

“Daddy!”

He huffed, trying to keep you from falling out of his arms. He looked at you with love in his eyes, but he still had his mask up due to the fact that there was a teenage girl being present.The teenager looked surprised to see this man that has been nothing but cold and rude to her, be so loving and even have a child. You finally looked at her curiosity in your eyes.

“Who’s she Daddy?”

Joel cursed under his breath, “She’s no one, just some cargo,” He had hoped that you would simply just accept that she was there for a tiny bit and then just never bring her up ever.

The teen scoffed at him, “Hi there?” Her voice seemed on edge, “I’m Ellie, the cargo.”

You giggled at her, finding the new girl funny.

“Go and stay in your room baby girl, I’m gonna stay out here, ok?”

You nodded your head, perfectly fine with going back to playing with your toys.

Thirty minutes passed, Ellie snooping through Joel's stuff the entire time. She froze though when she heard a door down the hall open. You padded down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as possible, failing however seeing as you are just eight years old and not fully aware of your surroundings. Once you reached the living room, you jumped. Looking around you saw Ellie looking at you. She also jumped, not expecting your reaction. Seeing her jump causes you to giggle, and while she is weary of you, she does find it a little cute.

“What are you doing? Didn’t the old man tell you to stay back there?”

She honestly didn’t fully care what you were doing but she was still at least a little curious.

You stared at her while your child brain worked to try and think of something, “Nothing?”

Before she could say anything else, you ran over to her. You came up to about her waist, a little lower. You’ve heard Joel and Tess talk about how you’re small for your age. They summed it up to being that you weren’t getting the right nutrients and needed to eat a little more vegetables and meat.

“Why did Daddy say that you’re cargo?”

“‘Cause he’s taking me somewhere,” She sounded grumpy and slightly irritated.

“Who are you?” Ellie was quick to ask you a question of her own.

Telling her your name, you looked down at what she was holding

In her hands were dog tags. You looked back up towards her with a perplexed gaze set in your eyes. She looked down at her hands, having completely forgotten that she was holding them.

“Oh, those are mine.”

“Are you a Firefly?”

Your question caught her really off guard. She had no idea that someone who seems as young as you would know anything about the Firefly’s.

“Uh, no, but someone that I loved was.”

You know by the tone in her voice and the look in her eyes that it was time to shut up. You walked over to your father and sat down on the ground. She watched you before returning to whatever she had been doing. You zoned her out as you found some of the crayons that you had left on the coffee table. Joel had found that he could melt down some of the broken crayons and make new ones.

You made multiple drawings, knowing that all of them would end up on something in the apartment. You looked up once you zoned back into reality. It was dark out and Joel was still asleep. Giggling quietly to yourself, you climbed onto the couch and hopped onto his chest. He jumped awake. Both from you and the nightmare that he had.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

Ellie was looking at something in your hands. Your dad picked you up and sat you down on the couch. As he sat up, he started to say but you found the fraying threads of the couch much more interesting. Although it became much less intriguing once you heard a certain someone’s voice. Tess walked in through the door, saying something to Joel and Ellie. You looked up at her, quickly getting up to go to her.

“Mama!” You somewhat calmly walked over to her, unlike how you did earlier to Joel.

She greeted you and then looked at Joel.

“Can I talk to you in the other room?”

He looked hesitant towards you before nodding, going to his room. Ellie looked at you curiously, as well as you. Once the door closed, you both turned your gazes to each other.

“So, was that your mom?”

“Not really, I just call her Mama. Daddy told me that my real mama was in a better place and that I would never be able to see her again, but that she loved me. What about you?”

“Yeah, same I guess.”

You smile brightly at the older girl. Right once you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, Tess and Joel walked back in. Joel is quick to pick you up and get you away from Ellie. As you got comfy in his large arms, resting your head against his warm chest, your eyes dropped shut.

The next time that you open your eyes, you’re strapped to your fathers chest. As you start to wake up, you realize that you're not in your home anymore. Were you outside? There weren’t any normal buildings around. Your question was soon answered when you heard guards talking. You were immediately thrown into a frenzy when someone started yelling at your group.

The next thing you know, your father is taking you out of the holder and setting you down directly next to him. Tears were streaming down your face as you frantically grasp onto his pants leg. Everyone’s kneeling and the guard is saying something. Everything happens so fast, your dad is suddenly beating the guard, Tess is grabbing the tester, and Ellie moves in front of you.

You're still crying as all the commotion settles down. You look up at Ellie, who is now sitting next to you with a panicked look on her now dirtier face. She was also looking up. As you reach out for her, wanting to be held to help calm you down, Tess is quick to step in.

“Get away from her.”

You look alarmed, confused why you couldn’t be near her. As you try to understand what's going on, Joel quickly scoops you up, getting away from Ellie just as fast. Tess has something in her hand that you can’t see very well. Tears are still falling from your now red and puffy eyes as your dad curses in frustration.

“Why are you so mad at her, Daddy?” Your small hands grasped onto his shirt, tugging slightly.

Everyone stopped at the sound of your small voice, realization that you were with them sinking into Joel and Tess’ minds. The reality of this situation was making itself loud and clear. Your question goes unanswered as the talking continues on. You were scared, you didn’t know what was going on and everything was terrifying. You just wanted to be at home, safe and sound, being held tightly under a blanket in your fathers arms.

Your breathing starts to quicken as it feels like you're losing control over your own body. Fresh tears sprout from your eyes and your heart is pounding in your ears. Were you dying? You didn’t want to die like this, not now. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You weakly clutch at your chest as your throat closes up, small whimpers leaving the confines of your overworked lungs. Your tiny body was trembling, beginning to feel very hot in your own skin. Sweat collected on your forehead. Joel noticed very quickly what was happening.

“Hey, baby girl, breathe. You're okay. Look at me baby,” His hand guided your face to look towards him.

He talked you through it, although a lot of it sounded like you were underwater. Once you finally were back, panic attack taken care of to the best of their abilities, you noticed that it seemed like the problem from earlier was completely taken care of. You couldn’t tell when it was taken care of but it was.

Joel seemed to be in a bitterer mood than he was earlier. You stayed quiet, opting to just look around at everything since you had nothing else to do except sit there attached to your fathers chest. As you continued to walk, going somewhere but you didn’t know where, you finally arrived at a new area. It seemed to be a very rocky place. You couldn’t tell if it was a building or not, but it looked similar to one.

You father was the first to go in, holding you tight against his chest despite the fact that you were already tightly strapped to his chest. He looked around a little, making sure that the coast was clear, before telling Tess and Ellie to come in. They soon follow in after him, Tess’ immediate move is to look at you then around the place. As the four of you make your way through the building, the air seems to get tenser, as if something bad was about to happen. That feeling was proven right when Joel and you split up from Tess and Ellie. Your head was covered by the strap, Joel having done that the moment he sensed danger. You could barely move around, all you could do was listen to what was going on around you. You heard growling and your dad grunting every so often. At one point, you get jostled around a little more than normal, a muffled cry coming from your mouth. Joel is quick to put his hand on your back before taking his hand away. You hear a struggle going on before your father and Tess’ voices once again.

As your father uncovers your head, you can finally see once more. There's bodies of the infected all around, and your father is breathing heavily. You don’t get to look around much more before Joel is quickly walking again, trying to get this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible. You’re confused as to what was happening, and it seemed that Ellie seemed to be as well. The two adults however ignored your confused and concerned faces as the supposedly short journey continued on.

******

The trip was much more boring than you had expected. You were finally arriving at the building where Ellie was supposed to be dropped off at, but it seemed to be a little quiet. Joel went into protect mode almost immediately once he realized that something wasn’t right.

As he cautiously looked around, he found that everyone that should've been there was dead. He covered your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to see all of it, trying to keep you safe from the horrors of this world as much as he could. As everyone is looking around, Tess starts talking about where to go next.

“What the hell do you mean? The jobs finished, it’s time to go home,” Joel's ruff voice cuts Tess off mid sentence.

“I mean that I can’t go home,” Tess’ usually strong voice wavers as her eyes land on you.

Ellie gasps, understanding what the older woman meant. Tess pulled the neck of her shirt down to reveal a horrible looking bite. Joel didn’t know how to react, he didn’t want to believe that Tess was bitten. You didn’t understand what was going on, so you tried tugging on your fathers shirt in order to get his attention. He didn’t even look at you, just put his hand on your back.

“You have to get her to Tommy,” Tess goes over to Ellie and grips her arm, showing Joel the bite mark that Ellie had shown them earlier, “She has to be telling the truth. Look at this, this is only a few hours old and it’s already horrible,” She pulls down her own shirt collar once again while talking to further prove her point. Before Joel could respond, groaning and screeching could be heard outside. Tess rushed over to one of the boarded up windows, looking out of it to see outside.

“Get out of here, there's a hoard of those fuckers coming here,” Tess began rustling through her bag, looking for specific items.

She pulled a small object out of a little, purple bag that seemed to still be in good condition. Joel’s breath hitched the moment he realized what the bag was. Tess walked over to you, the small object and bag in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I may not be your real mother but I love you like you're my blood daughter. I’m going to have to go away for a very long time and I want you to have these,” She put the small object in your hand, “Look after your father for me, you’re His Light in the Darkness.”

As you looked at it, you saw that it was a locket. You opened it with confusion, having a little difficulty. Inside the locket were two pictures. One was a picture of your mother, father and Tess all together. Your mother was holding the camera, her arm outstretched as she smiled brightly at the camera. Joel was hugging her, a wide smile outstretched on his face as he looked at her, ignoring the camera. Tess had her hand on her gun, seeming to be on alert, but she still had a warm smile on as she stared at the camera. The second picture was one of your father and mother. Joel had his arm around your mother as she had both of hers on his chest, seeming to be laughing at something. They were in a room that looked similar to the room that your father slept in now, but some of the furniture wasn’t as it was now.

“Daddy look! It’s Mommy!” Your excited voice came out a little too loud as the sounds of groaning and clicking came closer.

Everyone else's eyes went wide upon hearing what was waiting for them outside. Tess quickly began pouring gasoline all over everything in the room, trying to make sure that everything was covered.

“Joel go! Get them out of here, take the girl to Tommy. I’ll lure them in here, then take the building with me,” Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears as she looked at the little girl that she helped raise, knowing that she'd be leaving her.

“Mama? What's happening?”

She couldn't bring herself to tell you. She walked over and kissed the top of your head before handing Joel her backpack. She gave him a silent look before Joel grabbed Ellie to leave. You were crying now, not understanding what was happening and not wanting to leave Tess. Noises could be heard behind you as Joel quickly got out of the building despite Ellies struggles to get out of his grip.

All of a sudden, a loud boom came from behind the three of you. The building exploded. You continued to cry, the commotion overwhelming you. Joel did his best to consol you with what little energy that he had left. As you started to get brought back down to earth, your eyes became increasingly heavier by the second. Joel covered your head as you laid it on his chest, sleep beginning to take you after the exhausting day.

******

Tag list:

@fakegingerrights

@silnebula

I really hope that you liked this! It took a lot of energy for me to actually make this because I've been really procrastinating. I'm currently also working on my other Tech x Reader series but I have no idea when that will be. I'm also working on chapter two for this one. I might also do some romantic one shots for Joel because I love him so much.

@macchiato-dreaming22

[beefrobeefcal]

Purpose feat. Joel Miller & Hel my contribution for @perotovar's FRITH Celebration

Summary: Everyone has a purpose, but Joel is running from his. Read the prompt here.

Jackson!Joel Miller + Hel | Rating: 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 1,972

Content Warnings: multiple mentions of death, mourning, grief, loss, mention of suicide attempt

Author's Notes: Thank you @perotovar for the gift of this pairing - you're a true gem in this community 💜🥩💜 read all the Frith Fics here.

Thank you to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal, @bitchesuntitled & @weregirlbyknight for their eyes and love. dividers made by @saradika-graphics

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

Sitting on an old rocking chair on his front porch, Joel watched the procession go by his home towards the graveyard at the end of the main road. 

Jackson mourns another, he thought to himself.

He sees the family of the departed, holding each other as they walk slowly behind the horse-drawn wagon carrying their beloved person in a pine box, and he knows the sorrow that robs them of a full breath and a full night’s sleep. He watched the two children, clutching to their weeping mother and then he looked down, unable to watch them. 

He knows they’re permanently changed because of grief, and that has given him a purpose.

She had come to him in a dream as he lay with his head bandaged and pride wounded in a FEDRA camp; Sarah was gone and his botched self-inflicted wound hadn’t let him join her. The first time she visited him, it was just a feverish nightmare of teeth and rot, struggling ineffectively against a black abyss slowly pulling him under. This dream became a regular occurrence for months, waking him drenched in sweat with panting breaths, his eyes darting wildly around in the darkness.

It wasn’t until one still and quiet night as he slept on the forest floor, his head on his backpack and his gun gripped in his hand, that she finally showed Her face. Serene and chaotic, sublime and intolerable, She stood preternaturally still above him. The scent of Her wafted over him as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to shake off the clutch of sleep. She reeked of damp earth and decay. When She finally stirred, Her every minute movement seemed to echo in antiquity, sounding of trees in the distance being forced to bow and break from a hurricane. She smelled of damp earth and decay. 

He forced himself fully awake before She was able to speak, and he refused to allow Her to ever get a word out to him. In a few blinks of his eyes She was gone.

She attempted to visit him more and more so he started drinking to relieve him of the hauntings. The alcohol helped for a while, but then Her gnarled bone hands pulled his unconscious mind open and began to let Her decayed flora seep in. But the pills… the pills are what finally stopped Her.

Nearly two decades of all of the pills and alcohol he could get his hands on kept Her out of his dreams and out of his head. There would be echoes with no origin and fleeting shadows telling him She was never far, but he remained out of reach. Internally, he blamed Her for plaguing his mind with Sarah’s last moments, reliving the moment on repeat, having to hear her begging and crying out to him as he held her for the last time. Some nights, he could still smell the gunpowder and blood that clung to his memories as he slipped into an inebriated slumber. 

He blamed the terrible thing She was - the decayed abomination that haunted him - for making him relive the darkest moments of his life, plying himself with drink and drugs to keep Her away. And it worked; it worked for so long that any indication that She was around, Joel learned to dismiss as foundations settling or leaves blowing in the trees. 

All of that changed when he lost Tess and gained Ellie. An uncanny switch in his partner, forcing him into a role he’d long since abandoned - father. Ellie held a mirror up to him, forcing him to see what he’d become and face what he was running from. The honest horrors of time and grief had etched and eroded him, and he saw shards of Her woven into the old man he was becoming, and gradually, he came around to Her.

Joel hadn’t touched a drink or drug since returning to Jackson with Ellie. They hadn’t found anything at the university beyond the evidence of the Fireflies having been there at one point, and with no indication of where they went they returned to Tommy’s new community.

Two years of sobriety had landed Joel with a clearer mind and a better temperament. She had stayed away as if to say you had your chance, and it was a bittersweet relief to him. 

Until Tommy died. 

He’d led a reconnaissance party out to secure the area surrounding the town, and Tommy’s horse got spooked, making a wrong step and falling off an embankment. While his grief swelled in him like a balloon, Joel took solace that he’d had two years with him before losing his brother again, and that at least Tommy’s death was quick. He knew he couldn’t fall apart like he had with Sarah, and that he had to be strong for Ellie, for Maria and Tommy’s child, and for the town. The funeral took place as soon as his body had returned to Jackson and that night, Joel laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

His eyes were wide open and he was awake when Her sweet and putrid smell washed over him in a cold, dark mist. His grief allowed no room for further pain, so Joel found that he did not feel fear. He felt at peace.

The sounds that crawled out from Her gaping maw swirled around him and words formed from them in his mind.

My beloved child - you are returned. You are needed. Tragedy and renewal bind you to me. The sun has his moon and the moon has her sun. Life turns to death and death bores life. Decay gives way to rebirth.

He woke with a startled hacking cough to find his room lit by the pale morning sun shining weakly through his bedroom window. It took him a moment to get his bearings and remember where he was. It felt like only seconds before that She was speaking to him; he could still smell the rot that heralded Her, and once he calmed down, he was surprised that he felt comforted by it. 

It was from there that the ravens began to hang round the front of his house on the fence and trees. When he sat on the front porch, they even dared to come right up and sit on the railing, quirking their heads as they made eye contact and small clucks at him. 

The ravens carried on visiting him with a cautious curiosity for a few weeks until She visited him again in the night. He was wide awake during an intense spring storm that had knocked out the power. He was trying to light the storm lamp when he felt the air in the room grow stale and damp and the sounds the the winds outside faded into dulled white noise. The flame that he’d managed to light flickered and sank low, barely casting a light beyond a faint amber and his breathing echoed in his living room, and She moved from the shadows, and her terrible and beautiful voice crept out into the room. 

My beloved child - grown in grief.

Joel looked at her, feeling his heartbeat slow and his mind quiet, and he nodded to Her. They watched one another as Joel tried to summon the courage to ask something - anything. 

“Who are y-”. His words caught in his throat before he finished as the realization that he already knew Her and Her name. It was etched in his soul and echoed in his heart. 

Hel. Goddess of death and guide to the underworld. Her name was one that should have struck terror into him from years of his Catholic grandmother forcing him and his brother to mass, and given the amount of death that he’d experienced and partaken in, part of his thought that fear should have come from seeing this as his reckoning. But instead, he felt peace in her terrible presence. He dropped to his knees and the start of tears burned his eyes. He felt the grief of everyone he had lost wash over him in waves, coming to the surface and gasping for air. Joel had spent so long trying to choke that grief and suffocate it where it sat in him, but on his knees before Her broke him wide open and gave air to the parts of his soul that he’d worked so hard to kill.

Joel woke up the next day and it was different. He moved through the day as he normally did, but inside he felt more assured of himself, feeling a peace he hadn’t known since before Sarah was born. There was a slight change in him, a light flickering in his eyes that others picked up on but said nothing about. That and the ravens.

No matter where Joel went, there was a raven nearby. If he stayed in place - at a town meeting or at home -  the ravens would slowly settle one by one until their entire unkindness was perched on the trees and eaves, waiting for him to move again. Day by day, it became more apparent to the other residents of Jackson that Joel wasn’t the same; the silent and harsh somberness that had left them wary of interacting with him had turned to a quiet warmth that radiated from within. 

At first, Joel thought this change in him was for the dead - or those that were making the transition. He sat with the sick and elderly in the medical clinic, ensuring they weren’t alone as they moved on, taking up the mantle of guide. 

But it didn’t feel right. His heart would ache in the morning from the looks of those left behind by their loved one’s departure. Joel would watch as families and friends would be thrown into their mourning, and he’d feel the familiar sting in his throat. He would leave the clinic, chest ripped open and wound burning, and he’d be right back in the throws of his own loss. Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… 

But he would return, suffering for his perceived purpose, and repeat the cycle over and over again. 

It wasn’t until one night as he sat next to Charles, the 80-something year old who’d fallen and broke his hip, that Joel finally made the connection. 

“I mourn for what they will become…”, Charlie murmured softly, causing Joel to turn his head from counting the ravens through the window.

“Hmm? What’re you talkin’ about, Charlie?”

“My children. My Grandchildren. My friends… when I leave…”, he spoke wearily, then looked at Joel. “You know how grief changes people. Especially now. Look around. We shouldn’t mourn the dead, we should mourn who the living become because of it.”

Joel swallowed thickly. It was as though Charlie had set off a chain reaction in his head, connecting dots and seeing the truth of it. He looked into the old man’s eyes and saw Her there already, ready to guide him herself. 

He is for the living.  Again, that change in him seemed to glow brighter.

Charlie adjusted himself slowly in the bed and took in Joel with a crackled smile. “Ah. Now there’s a man with a purpose.”

The old man passed on as the pale morning crept over the mountains, and Joel wept by his side, thankful for the last bit of wisdom the old man gave.

Joel thinks back about his journey as he sees the last of the funeral procession pass his porch and he stands up, looking at the ravens. He gives them a curt nod and sighs, “Let’s go.”

He steps out onto the road and walks towards the home of the recently departed, ready and waiting to guide them through their grief so their own transition is peaceful. 

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[lexkent]

Why Lionel Luthor is the True Villain of Smallville:

Threatened to expose Clark's fake adoption records unless Jonathan Kent persuaded Pete Ross’s family to sell their factory to him.

Kidnapped Clark and put him in a vat of kryptonite solution to be studied in an attempt to discover his secrets.

Kept Clark trapped in a cage made of kryptonite in a separate incident.

Impregnated his dying wife's nurse while he was in a position of power over her as her boss, denied he was responsible, and had her locked away in a psychiatric ward for 7 years after taking her baby away from her. Lionel insured the child, Lucas, remained in poverty in the foster care system and prevented him from ever being adopted.

Forced the second woman he impregnated while married to Lillian, while in a position of power over her as her boss, to give their child to an orphanage where she was tortured. He soon found another home for Tess where she grew up in poverty and extreme physical abuse.

Forced his wife to have another baby despite her objections and was then dismissive of her postpartum depression. "I told you I didn't want any more children. I see how you treat Alexander, chipping away at his spirit."

Found a child, Davis Bloome, in a cornfield and believing him to be The Traveler, ran experiments on the boy until he realized he wasn't who he wanted and proceeded to dump him off alone on a dark Metropolis street.

Created a clone from a dead little girl, Emily Dinsmore, and locked her away in a lab, refusing to let her father ever see her again. "You can't take her away from me. She's my daughter." "She's the property of Luthorcorp."

Was such a terrible father to Lex that Lillian Luthor killed her infant son to spare him from the cruel and twisted parenting Lex endured from Lionel. Was such a horrible husband to Lillan that Lex took the blame for his baby brother's death knowing Lionel would have murdered her in retaliation.

Lied and told Lex that Lucas died in infancy, like Julian, knowing how much it would hurt Lex to hear.

Paid someone to kill Lucas once he became a potential threat to his power. Clark stopped the bullets, and Lionel had the shooter killed in police custody before he could talk.

Forced Lex's mother figure, Pamela Jenkins, out of Lex's life following the death of Lex's mother because he didn't want her to make Lex soft. Convinced Lex that Pamela never loved him and was only ever interested in their money. 

Blew up Chloe and Gabe Sullivan's safehouse in an attempt to kill them and prevent her from testifying against him at his murder trial. Hired a mutant hitman to kidnap and kill Chloe after she escaped the explosion.

Had Oliver Queen's parents killed in a plane crash leaving him orphaned at the age of 5.

Ordered the murder of Andrea Rojas’s mother who was an activist who worked for an organization that fought back against gangs, dealers, and large business corporations. In addition to losing her mother, Andrea was stabbed in the heart during the attack.

Resurrected a teenager, Adam Knight, to get close to Lana Lang and spy on Clark Kent. When Adam failed to retrieve useful information, Lionel refused to give him any more of the serum he required to stay live. As a result, Adam suffered immensely before dying of organ failure.

Resurrected Vince Davis who lived for a short, painful period of time before his body deteriorated without access to Lionel's serum.

Poisoned Lex with a lethal dosage that would've killed 99.9% of people.

Told Lex he loved him in prison only to persuade him into accepting his hand so he could use a Kryptonian stone to body swap them, leaving Lex to rot and die in prison in his place while Lionel escaped with Lex's body. Instead, Clark intervened and Lionel escaped inside of Clark's body, leaving Clark trapped to die in prison. Shortly after the bodyswap occured, Lionel looked down the front inside of his(Clark's) waistband while smiling to himself. While in Clark Kent's body, Lionel initiated a hug with Martha Kent where he was turned on to the point of shooting heat vision from his eyes. Lionel-in-Clark's body flirted with Chloe, a teenager, and was centimeters away from kissing her. And when Lionel-in-Clark's body encountered Lana, a teenager, he said to her, "A man would travel around the world to pluck your succulent fruit," and forced a kiss onto her, smiling to himself after she slapped him and ran away. Lionel proceeded to attack Lex, choking him, slamming his head against a desk, and demanding 57 million dollars using Clark's super strength. He then went to the Kent Farm and threw Jonathan across the room into the kitchen cabinets. Lionel told Clark he would murder Lex if he didn't cooperate with his demands.

Pretended to be blind. "Playing the handicapped card is low, even for you." "But I was able to see more clearly than ever. It's amazing what people try and get away with right in front of your eyes when they think you can't see."

Fired 2,500 Smallville citizens to force his son back under his control. When Lex attempted to organize an employee buyout of the factory, Lionel bought the Smallville Savings and Loan and threatened to foreclose on every employee's mortgage. When Lex continued to organize and fight to save everyone's jobs, Lionel threatened, "I'll bury you and everyone in Smallville who takes your side."

Blackmailed Smallville sheriff Ethan Millar into digging up dirt on every Lexcorp shareholder(Smallville factory workers), so Lionel could blackmail each one into selling their shares to him in order to take over Lex's fledgling company. In addition, Lionel threatened to expose the sheriff if he didn't do him various favors.

Once again tried blackmailing Jonathan Kent leading to a physical altercation between the two. Lionel fled the scene as Jonathan suffered a fatal heart attack.

Installed hidden cameras and microphones throughout Lex's office, so he could sabotage him and steal his business deals.

Took over Lex's company, which Lex had invested everything he had into, leaving him with nothing and immediately kicking him out of his home.

Insisted an ill-advised, life-threatening surgery be performed on Lex after he had been shot and wasn't stable enough for further surgery, making it clear he'd prefer a dead son over a physically disabled one.

Set Lex up for the murders of Dr. Teng and her entire team at Metron Labs after Lex refused to work for him.

Had sex with Lex's lover, Victoria Hardwick, while they were still sleeping together. 

Hired Dr. Helen Bryce to seduce and spy on Lex for him. Helen later attempted to murder Lex on their honeymoon.

Gave Martha Kent a watch engraved, "To Martha, with deep affection. L.L." while she was his employee and happily married to Jonathan Kent.

Refused to come clean about his past sexual involvement with Rachel Dunleavy and the existence of their son, Lucas, despite Lex being held hostage and his survival depending on Lionel telling the truth.

Refused to come clean about Level 3 when it would have saved the lives of a group of teenagers and his own son. 

Ignored and denied any care to his employee, Earl Jenkins, who was poisoned by kryptonite on the job which led to uncontrollable, dangerous seizures.

Created a deadly fear toxin for the military that leaked into Smallville.

Drugged, gaslit, attacked, and framed his son, orchestrating a scenario where everyone would believe Lex to be crazy after Lex discovered Lionel had his parents murdered for insurance money. Lionel had Lex committed to Belle Reve Sanitarium where he had Lex further drugged and put through electroshock therapy, forcing 600 volts of electricity through Lex's brain. When the doctor insisted they pause the procedure for Lex's safety, Lionel ignored the warning and demanded they continue. This brain frying could have easily destroyed Lex's mind, as it did for others who endured it, and ultimately wiped away months of Lex's memories, allowing Lionel to be off the hook for his parent's murders. Everyone involved in Lionel's plot, all loose ends, met untimely deaths.

Threatened, manipulated, controlled, hyper criticized, denied affection, and lied to Lex constantly. Lionel mentally, emotionally, and physically abused his child throughout his entire life, raising him to become a monster and then denying any accountability for what Lex became in the end.

This list is far from complete, so feel free to add more!

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC

Tess awoke to the opaque darkness of her coffin, and the last threads of the dream unraveled.

There was a knock on the door. Tess tried to hold on to the dream a moment longer, but she might as well have been trying to grasp water between her fingers.

It slipped away, no matter how hard she tried.

The joy and hope of that impossible reunion with Hayden faded along with it, replaced by the unbearable pain of her loss.

A bitter smile crossed Tess's lips: of course, none of the events from the dream could've been possible: there was only a very brief window between life and death when a mortal could become immortal - and Hayden had been dead for over thirty minutes before they stopped trying to resuscitate her. By then, it had already been too late.

Nor would her wife have been in any state to have a tender reunion right after rising as a newborn vampire - a terrifying, agonizing process that warped her body into that of an undead, bloodthirsty predator. After the pain, came the hunger - mindless and all-consuming.

Tess could not, in good conscience, have condemned Hayden to that. Even if the opportunity had been there.

And yet...it had been such a lovely dream.

"Tess? I just changed Annabel, would you like to feed her?"

"...Tess?"

"Could you do it, please, Vernoraxia? I...can't. I just can't. Not right now."

"All right. No problem."

"Thank you."

"She still doesn't want to come out of her room?"

"Nope. I'm starting to get really worried, El. It's like she's...shutting down, or something."

"She's grieving."

"I know, but this baby needs her mother."

"How is she? The baby, I mean?"

"Surprisingly normal, considering. Although it's early days yet, and we still don't know why Hayden died."

"I'm afraid to leave them alone..."

"You don't think she'd...do something, do you?"

"No...I mean...No. I don't think so, not on purpose. But I can tell she's uncomfortable around Annabel, and I don't know if she's been, um, feeding regularly..."

"I wish I could help more, but I have to commute from Mistvale, plus my hands are full at home and at work..."

"I guess...Mary and I will just have to try to be here as much as possible, maybe ask Evelyn for help too. Someone should be around at all times."

"You know that's not a long-term solution."

"Yeah, I do. Right now though, I don't have a long-term solution. We're functioning on a day-to-day basis."

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

Sorry for the bait and switch! :P It was @esotheria-sims who gave me the idea by wondering whether Tess could save Hayden by turning her. Well, she couldn't, but I couldn't resist doing a "what-if" dream scenario.

[bookcub]

Chappell Roan Book Rec

like many other, I am currently obsessed with The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess so here are a few book recs based on the songs!!

(you can message me for questions about content warnings!)

Femininomon

A Guest in the House by E. M. Carroll (horror graphic novel)

What happens when you marry a mediocre liar and there's a ghost you are definitely attracted to in the house (that might be his dead wife)?

Relevant lyric: Stuck in the suburbs, you're folding his laundry/Got what you wanted so stop feeling sorry

Bonus Rec: Romancing the Inventor by Gail Carriger (adult steampunk romance)

Red Wine Supernova

Satisfaction Guaranteed by Karelia Stenz-Waters (adult romance)

Imagine inheriting a sex toy shop with a enchanting stranger who you feel incredibly connected to. . .

Relevant lyric: I heard you like magic/I got a wand and a rabbit

Bonus Rec: Sunstone by Stjepan Šejić (adult romance graphic novel)

After Midnight

Ash by Malinda Lo (YA fantasy)

I had to choose a queer Cinderella for this one, especially one whose mother warns her away from the forest at night.

Relevant lyric: This is what I wanted, this is what I like/I've been a good, good girl for a long time now

Bonus Rec: A Restless Truth by Freya Marske (adult historical fantasy, sequel)

Coffee

The Witch's Heart by Genevieve Gornichec (adult fantasy)

When your ex is the trickster god Loki and you have prophetic futures, you know you can never just have coffee.

Relevant lyric: Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions/But I'd rather feel something than nothing at all,

Bonus Rec: Seven Days in June by Tia Williams (adult contemporary)

Casual

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi (adult gothic)

Remember that toxic homoerotic best friend you had a child? Who believed in magic and was also the most manipulative person you've ever met? It never was a casual relationship, was it?

Relevant lyric: Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

Bonus Rec: Ben and Beatriz by Katalina Gamarra (adult romance)

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

A Spindle Splintered/A Mirror Mended by Alix E. Harrow (adult fantasy)

Entering the fairy tale multiverse always leads to the strangest (and funnest) relationships (platonic and romantic) of your life.

Relevant lyrics: We're leaving the planet and you can't come

Bonus Rec: Cash Degado is Living the Dream by Tehlor Kay Mejia (adult contemporary)

HOT TO GO!

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich by Deya Muniz (graphic novel)

What if I dressed up as a count to inherit my father's fortune and you were a princess and we both liked grilled cheese???

Relevant lyric: I could be the one, or your new addiction/ It's all in my head but I want non-fiction

Bonus Rec: Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert

My Kink is Karma

Mrs. Martin's Incomparable Adventure by Courtney Milan (adult historical romance)

She said, let's destroy my terrible nephew's life, and how could you say no to such a romantic proposal?

Relevant lyric: Wishing you the best, in the worst way

Bonus Rec: Girl Serpent Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust (YA fantasy)

Picture You

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall (adult historical romance)

Oops, I faked my death and reinvented myself and you were way more distraught than I thought you would be. . .

Relevant lyric: Do you picture me like I picture you?/Am I in the frame from your point of view?

Kaleidoscope

The Scapegracers by H. A. Clarke (YA urban fantasy)

What if we formed a coven and what if we were all a little in love with each other?

Relevant lyric: And love is a kaleidoscope/How it works we'll never know

Bonus Rec: The Girls I've Been by Tess Sharpe (YA thriller)

Pink Pony Club

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang (graphic novel)

He was a drag queen, she was a seamstress, can I make it anymore obvious?

Relevant Lyric: And I heard that there's a special place/Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

Bonus Rec: Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo (YA historical)

Naked in Manhattan

Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail by Ashley Herring Blake (adult romance)

Isn't it romantic, designing a house with someone with your entirely opposite tastes?

Relevant lyric: Boys suck and girls I've never tried

Bonus Rec: Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust (YA fantasy)

California

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers (adult contemporary)

If a PhD can't save you, maybe a drunken marriage in Vegas can?

Relevant lyric: Cause I was never told that I wasn't gonna get/The things I want the most

Guilty Pleasure

Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner (adult romance)

Fake dating your boss? 0/10 recommended. . . right?

Relevant lyric: I want this like a cigarette/Can we drag it out and never quit?

Bonus Rec: That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming (adult fantasy romance)

Bonus:

Good Luck, Babe

Sorry, Bro by Taleen Voskuni (adult contemporary)

Relevant lyric: You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

Ophelia After All by Racquel Marie (YA contemporary)

[baddestbittyontheblock]

joel miller fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

*✧* for you, anything by @mellowsaturns joel miller x reader | fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

-joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

*✧* good thing by @pedros-mustache joel miller x fem!reader | smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, 4k

-“how long have you known?”

*✧* i'm right here by @orangevtae joel miller x fem!reader x platonic!ellie williams | reader uses she/her pronouns, mentions to panick attacks and PTSD's, reader is seen like a mother figure to ellie, hurt/comfort, death and blood (typical TLOU thing), joel and reader are in a stabilished relationship, slight mentions to episode 4

-ellie needs reassurance that you are alive and well after an infected surprise attack while you were taking a walk with her

*✧* hopelessly devoted to you by @omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts joel miller x fem!reader | SMUT 18+, fluff, AGE GAP (reader is late twenties, joel is like 56), language, near death experience, violence, oral f receiving, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, enemies to lovers ish, just filth, daddy kink, slight angst, mentions of death, injuries, tending wounds, rough!Joel, dom!joel

-you’ve been by ellie’s side since she was little, a family figure and her protector, after both of your families passed away and you found one another in the qz. so, when the gruff and demanding joel miller steps into the picture to take you both to the lab ellie needs, the two of you don’t see eye to eye. but after time passes, attraction settles in and you and Joel might feel more for the other than you thought. 

*✧* faithful by @mypoisonedvine joel miller x reader | smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected), 9.2k

-joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.

*✧* a warm bed by @guess-my-next-obsession joel miller x fem!reader | E (18+ only, mature descriptions of death/apocalyptic life, blurry infidelity, unprotected PIV, dirty talk, cum play), 3.4k

-it was freezing out today in boston but you didn’t notice, not with the flames that burned beside you as you hoisted dead child after dead child into the makeshift mass crematorium.

*✧* joel fic by @forever-rogue joel miller x fem!reader | 2.3k

-people always seemed to call you shy. 

*✧* joel fic by @forever-rogue joel miller x fem!reader | language; tlou typical violence, 3.4k

-“do you really think this place is safe?”

*✧* first time by @charnelhouse joel miller x fem!reader |

-"i can't," you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders. "it's-fuck-too much-too much."

*✧* crazy love by @cowgurrrl joel miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x ellie williams) | mentions of david, nightmares, a panic attack, 1.3k

-ellie has a nightmare and you and Joel help calm her down

*✧* safe with you by @flightlessangelwings joel miller x fem!reader | established relationship, protective!joel, hurt/comfort, attempted harassment, choking (the non-sexy kind), minor character death, feelings, fluff, tommy’s the best wingman, support from Ellie, no use of y/n, 2.8k

-the bar bustled with life as you made your way through the crowd. you carried as many beers as you could at a time for the group that had arrived in jackson earlier that day.

*✧* his protection by @absurdthirst joel miller x fem!reader | post apocalyptic violence, mentions of gun violence, mentions of blood, murder, torture, gore, rough sex, unprotected sex, kidnapping, imprisonment, threats of cannibalism, unhinged delusions of grandeur, fire, being restrained, allusions to sexual assault, 5.2k

-when david's group takes you and ellie to their settlement, you warn them that joel will come for you. knowing that he will do whatever it takes to get back those under his protection.

*✧* teamwork by @allfoolsinluv crave!joel miller x fem!reader x tess servopoulos | explicit, 18+ only. Minors DNI, established poly relationship, m/f/f dynamics, age gap (reader's in her 20s, Joel & tess are in their 40s), unprotected p-in-v (wrap it up folks), dirty talk, praise, low-key dom/sub undertones, nipple play, fingering (f receiving), language, 1.2k

-did you come already?, spread your legs for (me), I want to see you

*✧* joel blurb by @sprout-fics joel miller x gn!reader

-"get inside."

*✧* a part of you, a part of me by @apollyonsdarksecrets joel miller x fem!reader | 18+ minors DNI. smut, unplanned pregnancy, crying, fluff, pre-outbreak joel. established relationship, cream pie, pet names, cussing, pregnancy tests, just a bunch of happiness because that’s all joel deserves in this world.

-joel’s been down this road before, he’s seen all the signs, and he knows before you ever do that you’re pregnant.

*✧* on his backseat by @causeimhappinesss  joel miller x gn!reader | smut, age gap (reader in her 20s), unprotected sex, slight breeding kink + wrap your biscuit

-all day long, a crazy tension had built up between you and Joel, at first for a silly little thing, but he refused to agree with you, when you were absolutely right.

*✧* moments silence by @nexusnyx joel miller x reader | canon-divergence; reader and tess met joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit, explicit mature content, minors dni; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon joel.

-joel has no idea why bill gifts him with the book. had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

*✧* maybe now by @supernaturalgirl20 joel miller x fem!reader | smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, breeding kink, mentions of loss, sadness, talks about life before, mentions of pregnancy, giving birth, breastfeeding, soft joel, small glimpses into Joel’s life with his new family.

-happy horny joel with major breeding kink because ellie is already grown up and he need to take care of somebody and jackson is safe enough for family.

*✧* blood in the cut by @wheresarizona  joel miller x fem!reader | E (18+!! this is straight-up smut. age gap (20-25 years, unspecified), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spit mention, (1) spank, soft joel at the end)

-you’re distracted while working with joel, and it almost costs you your lives. luckily, he knows how to get you out of your head—it’s just a little surprising because you didn’t think he liked you, but here he is eating you out like it’s his last meal.

*✧* the babysitter by @guess-my-next-obsession pre-outbreak! joel x babysitter!reader | E (18+ ONLY, smut under cut, age gap (Joel’s 32, reader is 25), fwb to lovers, unprotected piv, creampie, joel has feeeeeeelings, soft ending), 1.2k

-“quiet, baby,”

*✧* joel fic by @eufezco joel miller x fem!reader

-"ask her out."

*✧* fucking runners by @jpg-angel joel miller x reader | Minors DNI!, hurt/comfort, mentions of an injury, reader mercy kills tess, OOC Joel? (maybe? idk I blacked out while writing this), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (I don't think condoms are easy to come across in the zombie apocalypse), little but of hair pulling

*✧* pieces of you by @pedros-mustache joel miller x fem!reader | established relationship, language, references to sex, references to age gap

-maybe it’s wrong. maybe it’s possessive and a tad bit jealous. maybe after years working alongside tess, you’ve simply learned to lay your claim on what is yours. 

*✧* first glimpse of love by @valerinaswriting joel miller x fem!reader | established relationship, age gap (sorry i can’t help myself), reader is attacked by a clicker, mentions of death, soft!joel, shower sex, unprotected sex, slight cockwarming, tess does not exist in this fic!

-after a close call with death, joel refuses to let you go.

*✧* joel fic by @forever-rogue joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

-"you came back for me"

*✧* joel angst by @forever-rogue  joel miller x fem!reader | language, tlou typical violence, 3.4k

-reader gets hurt protecting ellie and joel tells reader he loves them for the first time

*✧* not a kid by @ourautumn86 joel miller x fem!reader | +18 content. mdni. age difference (r is 24 and joel is 56), fighting, mentions of death, images of death, murder, dirty talking, praising, oral sex, piv sex, rough angry sex, finger fucking, unprotected sex (GUYS WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie…

-“are you alright?!”

*✧* i got you baby by @cosmictheo joel miller x fem!reader | angst, death mentions, suicide mentions, mental breakdown, crying fit, some backstory from reader's past, joel being the most comforting best boyfriend ever, ellie being the angel she is, 2k

- joel helps you through a emotional breakdown after henry and sam's death.

*✧* crazy love by @cowgurrrl joel miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x ellie williams) | 1.3k, mentions of David, nightmares, a panic attack

-ellie has a nightmare and you and Joel help calm her down

*✧* for the things they hold dear by @cruelfvkingsummer  joel miller x reader | kinda dark, fucked up love, kinda toxic, possessive, controlling, AGE GAP (unspecified but mentioned a lot), nasty smut, breeding kink, like literally nasty, violence, blood, God is like his literal enemy, calls you 'mama; sugar; sweetheart',there are mentions of blood while doing the nasty, daddy kink (mentioned a few times), joel is emotionally constipated but hey who can blame him, unbeta'd

-he can't say he loves you -- he doesn't need to.

*✧* joel fic by @eufezco joel miller x reader | a little smut at the end

-you're a little jealous of tess.

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Once upon a dream

Warning: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of cheating, mention of death, hurt comfort

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader, Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader, Tess Servopoulos x Joel Miller

The only thing Emily ever wished for was a family, to be the mother she never had to two sons and a beautiful daughter always three children specifically.

Emily always had dreams of becoming a mother one day but it was never in her stack of cards so she shortly gave up the idea. Her dreams would always be just dreams not until she met Y/n, she was everything Emily had ever dreamed of in a spouse.

Only Y/n wasn’t hers

They had met at a local cafe after Emily had accidentally bumped right into her forgetting her coffee as she left in embarrassment. Y/n went straight after her with the drinks in hand never guessing she would end up at her brother’s workplace the bau.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Hotch asked confused Emily froze before turning around to face the woman. “You know each other?” She asked so unlike herself Penelope would’ve laughed Derek too “Aaron’s my older brother, you forgot your coffee” Y/n smiled.

Fast forward six years later

Emily going from blind date to hookup after hookup to get her mind off the now married woman who she still imagined a life with. Two sons and a beautiful daughter she told herself or even just one child would suffice maybe a cat if children wasn’t an option. She loved Y/n so violently it made her sick and everyone could see from a mile away- everyone besides Y/n although she loved Emily just as fiercely.

When Emily had “died” the other woman was inconsolable it damaged Aaron knowing he had a hand in this by not telling his sister the truth. Instead watching as the woman got married quickly to the first person who showed her simple kindness and their marriage seemed was almost out of convenience. Having met the woman while away trying to escape the life she once knew in Virginia moving to Boston and back again.

Y/n Hotchner became Y/n Servopoulos

Aaron couldn’t watch as his sister saw Emily for the first time once more after apparently being dead, how her hands trembled and eyes watered. The echo of her heels as she quickly left, Emily broke down that day one thing was certain nothing would ever be the same.

Y/n soon revealed she was pregnant with a little boy that shattered Emily’s entire world but she was happy for the woman. Though she couldn’t help but laugh when the baby was born looking just like his Uncle, to Emily Y/n was glowing and Tess well she was there.

Her son was named after an old friend Alex.

Theresa and Emily never got along always classed as competition in the other’s eye but they remained civil around Y/n never wanting to upset her. When Y/n was pregnant a second time Tess was around a whole less always giving Emily a chance to be by the pregnant woman’s side.

It was tough at first trying to win over the woman but Emily had her ways she would beg for Y/n’s forgiveness

A second boy named after his Uncle Aaron, Benjamin

Emily stood beside the woman until Ben turned two, Y/n and Tess were getting a divorce so Emily had the boys whenever she could. Tess had met someone while she was working away from home, some man named Joel from Texas. Joel Miller the same man who did the renovations on their holiday home who even had a daughter of his own.

It wouldn’t be until another year when a move would be made there was a routine the children had made that included Emily. You both would cook dinner- well you would cook and after spending time together you both would get the boys ready for bed and tuck them in. This night however as Ben snuggled into his pillow his little hand reached for Emily’s “stay mama” he yawned as the woman went to stand.

Tears spread on her waterline as she gazed down at him “of course my sweet boy” she smiled and once the kids were asleep you both retreated to the living room. Cuddling on the sofa watching some shitty reality tv show you gazed up at Emily “thank you” was whispered against her jaw. “What for?” She glanced down at you “for everything, for staying” soon enough your lips had met before you were on top straddling her.

Dreams slowly stopped being dreams another two years later when you and Emily had gotten married with just the team a few friends and your two sons as guests. Emily was over the moon to have a family to call her own, to have a reason to go home just knowing she was needed filled her with pride. Emily had gotten a taste of motherhood and she wanted more as you both laid bed post bliss she brought it up she wanted another child.

Two sons and a beautiful daughter

Her dreams were now reality as you welcomed Olivia into the world, Olivia Benson the Senior having to be the one to drive you to the hospital while Emily was away. She held your hand until your wife burst through the doors with the team behind her, you would birth a daughter who was the perfect mix of you both.

A little girl with Emily’s nose and eyes while she had your hair and mouth, Emily couldn’t help but pepper your face in kisses. “You did so well baby, I’m so proud of you” it made her think if she would ever be in this position if she hadn’t bumped into you that day.

Yes you were the bosses little sister but you had lead a similar life in a different town what if ran through her mind until she felt your cold hand on her cheek. She smiled brightly down at you as she leaned down to kiss you softly ignoring everyone in the room “thank you” she whispered.

“What for?” You chuckled tiredly with a dopey grin “our family” Emily held onto your free hand “I love you Y/n Prentiss” ignoring Hotch rolling his eyes fondly.

“I love you most Emily Prentiss”

Dreams do come true to those who wait Emily found.

[bullet-prooflove]

Okay so how about : We took a polaroid i put it in my wallet - for Jack Dayton?

Sending hugs!🫂

Tagging: @soultrysworld@kmc1989@livingonthehems@tess-love@mandy426

Companion piece to:

The First Time (NSFW) - Jack reveals his secret during your first time together.

The Professor (NSFW) - Jack and you share an intimate moment in your office.

Cartier - Jack tries to build some healthier habits to vent his stress.

Bali - A vacation in Bali leads Jack to make some life changes.

There’s a polaroid in Jack’s wallet, it’s black and white, slightly blurry. It’s of a woman clad in black negligee, her back arched in ecstasy, her face is tilted away just out of the shot. There’s a man inside of her, his palm gripping her thigh as he fucks her with the camera in his hand, he’s out of shot too.

It’s Jack’s favourite picture of the two of you, a moment of pure unadulterated bliss.

He pulls it out when he has to travel for business, when he’s alone in a hotel room in a different country without you pressed against him and he touches himself. He’s always struggled coming without pain, it’s easier now though since he’s been with you, he doesn’t have to cut himself to get off. He just thinks of the sensation of your cunt  gripping him, your teeth biting down on his shoulder and he’s already in the throes of pleasure, spilling his release all over his fist.

It’s never been this easy, he thinks as he rinses himself in the shower. He’s always struggled with intimacy, even with himself but you, you’ve unlocked something deep inside of him. He feels worthy of affection these days, deserving of it.

He’s surveying the room service menu when his phone starts to chime, he smiles as your name appears on the screen.

Amélie…

Your mother was spirited and French, she’d raised you in the US as a single parent.

He checks the time and does the math. It’s 8pm in Tokyo and Chicago is fourteen hours behind that makes it 6am where you are. When you appear on his phone you’re sitting in his bed back home, you’re lying with your head propped up on his pillow, your hair is loose and wild. He gets a little thrill knowing that he’s your very first thought when you wake up.

“I miss you.” He says softly. He’s been out of your presence for a couple of days now and he feels the absence acutely. He wishes he was laying beside you right now, holding you, loving you.

“I miss you too.” You say and he can tell you mean it from the sincerity in your voice. “Have you been looking at our picture?”

“I did.” He says, feeling that flush of heat rush through him again as your thumbs slip under the slender straps of your camisole. You  guide them down your shoulders, the silk slipping from your skin as you whisper.

“How about a live show Mr Dayton?”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[elliottkay]

Hi, I’m Elliott, and writing smut changed my life.

I also write military sci-fi and fantasy and D&D shitposts, but this is about the smut. I promise it won’t get weird. Much.

In 2010, I was scraping by as a substitute teacher and things were not great at home. I had only written gamer fic for friends, my aspiring mil sci-fi novel was stuck, and I needed some sort of escape… and I thought, “Well, I like sexy stories, and Literotica is free, and…”

My story was a feel-good adventure about a college guy with a heart of gold, a jaded demon weary of evil, and Heaven's hottest mess. It was silly. It was sexy. It was polyamorous, warm, and irreverent, and Literotica loved it: high ranking, tons of comments, and holy shit am I getting positive feedback from the internet?

So it became my first book:

…and that book plugged some holes in my life. It didn’t get me out of subbing, but it filled the financial gap, and it picked me up after a break-up. More importantly, it gave me an audience. When I published Poor Man’s Fight, I already had readers, and that led to more readers… many of whom then picked up Good Intentions and loved that, too, though some had the shocking experience of “Oh my god, it’s full of butts!”

If you’ve read this far, it’s probably time for the content warning. I’m a big believer in these, for serious reasons and, um… less serious.

WARNING: “Good Intentions” contains violence, explicit sex, nudity, inappropriate use of church property, portrayals of beings divine and demonic bearing little or no resemblance to established religion or mythology, trespassing, bad language, sacrilege, blasphemy, attempted murder, arguable murder, divinely mandated murder, justifiable murder, filthy murder, sexual promiscuity, kidnapping, attempted rape (which is never comedy), immolation of said attempted rapists, persistent disrespect for vampires (which is always comedy), arson, dead animals, desecrated graves, gang activity, theft, assault and battery, panties, misuse of the 911 system, fantasy depictions of sorcery and witchcraft, multiple references to various matters of fandom, questionable interrogation tactics, cell phone abuse, reckless driving, even more explicit sexuality, illegal use of firearms within city limits, polyamory, abuse of authority, hit and run driving, destruction of private property, underage drinking, disturbances of the peace, disorderly conduct, internet harassment, bearers of false witness, mayhem, dismemberment, falsification of records, tax evasion, bad study habits, and an uncomfortably sexy mother.

…and that’s just the first book.

They've all got those warnings. Even the short story collections.

Credit to the incredible @leemoyer for all my book covers, and for teaching me so much about this biz. And while he's not on the book covers, I've gotta share the other central protagonist as illustrated by the awesome @juliedillon:

...yeah, Alex gets into some shit.

If you're looking for protagonists who really communicate, if you want polyamory instead of love triangles, and if you hate when steamy scenes fade to black, I've got you covered.

If you’ve read this far and you’re interested, or even if you just want to see more content warnings, please give my stuff a look on Amazon (including Kindle Unlimited) or on Audible where they’re narrated by Tess Irondale. Give her a listen and you’d be happy to hear her read just about anything.

[homeslices]

I’m Sorry

A/N: Guess who’s backkk. Sorry for taking so long again, school has been stressing me out. Also my newest hyperfixation is The Last of Us (naturally) and so I’ve decided I want to write for it tooooo. I am still writing for Alice in Borderland but writer's block kinda hit me with that (I’ll be up and writing for it soon and I have all of your requests already in mind). I realized there was very little Ellie x a maternal figure fics and decided I needed to change that.

Summary: A little pre-apocalypse the rest post-apocalypse, you comfort Ellie when she has a nightmare. Ellie may be a little ooc but I tried my best.

Pairings: platonic!Ellie Williams x motherfigure!reader, Joel Miller x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Spoilers for season 1, mention of Sarah’s death, David, mentions of attempted SA

You have always wanted children, wanted to be a mother.

And you got that chance once before in what feels like another life.

You’re step-daughter Sarah, who you helped raise and thought of as your own, was the light of your life.

You, having recently moved to a new neighborhood, couldn’t help notice your neighbor struggling to take care of his baby daughter by himself. You could tell he was running on little to no sleep and when he about had a fit trying, and ultimately failing, to put in a car seat into the back of his truck you finally stepped in and helped him.

All of the pieces soon fell together afterward. You helped him when he needed it, babysitting Sarah when he was about to collapse from sleep deprivation, teaching him how to put in a car seat correctly, and bringing over dinner when you could tell he had a long day at work. Similarly, Joel also lent you a hand when needed as well. Fixing your car when it wouldn’t turn on, helping repair your new house, and also listing that same house when you fell in love and moved into his home with his daughter. That same daughter whose second word was mama- dada obviously being the first.

The day that Joel proposed to you was the same day that Sarah asked you to be her mom officially, by adopting her. Your wedding was when you all decided to sign the adoption papers, and you legally became not only a wife, but a mom as well.

Life was blissful. You had the family you always wanted and were the happiest you could ever be.

But then the world ended, literally.

The day of the apocalypse officially starting, was the same day that a piece of you died inside.

Your daughter died in Joel and your arms that night terrified, calling out for you and her father to make the pain stop.

It changed the both of you.

The person that brought you both together, was now gone, and all that you could do now was hold on to each other.

So when your friend Tess, your husband and you went to see Robert about the car battery, you were also roped into smuggling a young girl to another firefly base across the country.

You tried to keep her at an arm's length. Ellie reminded you so much of your Sarah, the humor, the attitude, the persistence, and you didn’t know if you got close to her and she suffered the same fate as your daughter, that you would be able to recover again.

But somehow, Ellie wormed her way into your heart, and there was no going back now. You love that girl, just as you love Sarah, and the maternal urge to protect her from any harm overwhelmed you.

So when you found out that you weren’t able to protect her from a twisted individual that wanted to do something worse than kill Ellie, it made you see something more violent than red. You could’ve burned the world down with your rage, and honestly you still could.

You blamed yourself in all honesty. Because both Joel and you were injured, Ellie wanted to protect the pair of you. In doing so she got captured and not knowing where she was, you and Joel found her only after she walked out of a burning building, covered in that monster’s blood.

As you take watch a few weeks later, your attention snaps over to Ellie as she mumbles in her sleep. You’ve been more hyperfocused on her ever since him, making a promise to both her, and yourself, that you’d never let anything like that happen again.

With a sign, you return your attention to the darkness surrounding you and the people you care about. Joel was sleeping next to you, still recovering from his injury, and Ellie was on the other side, moving and muttering every once and a while.

However, the sudden jerk of Ellie and the distressed scream she let out in her sleep immediately made you jump in surprise and scramble towards her.

Her eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows were furrowed, and her breaths were coming out in hard pants. She was terrified, you could tell, and the second her mouth parts again to let out another petrified cry you firmly, but gently, try to shake her awake.

“Ellie,” you say in a low tone. “Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

Her eyes immediately fly open, and out of fear and what seemed to be the cloud of sleep plus the threat of her nightmare still hanging over her, she flips open her knife that she recently started to sleep with and slashes it blindly towards your hand.

Realizing your mistake, you quickly pull your arm away, but not before a gash forms on your hand drawing a hiss from you.

Ellie’s eyes were no longer affected by sleep and panic, but now were filled with horror at her actions.

“I-” she chokes. “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

You cut off her apologizes with a gentle hush.

“Ellie it’s okay, it was an accident.”

Moving slowly, like you would with a wounded animal, you gently remove the knife from her grip, then hold her hands in your own- albeit after you wiped the blood from your hand on your pants.

“Are you alright?” You ask, scooting closer to her not in a hovering manner but more so she knows you’re there mentally, emotionally, and physically.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that. I hurt you, almost stabbed you! What kind of sick-”

You interrupt the young girl off once again.

“Ellie it was my fault I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

She doesn’t reply to that, instead her eyes were focused on your still bleeding hand.

“It’s not bad at all, just a flesh wound,” you try to comfort her. “Doesn’t even need stitches.”

Ellie looks away from you, however, you could hear her mumble, “but it could’ve been,” in reply to your first statement.

Raising your uninjured hand, making sure it’s in Ellie’s line of sight so she doesn’t get startled, you comfortingly rub her arm. Her body seems to relax from her tense state slightly, shoulders drooping as proof.

“I’m sorry,” she says once again, voice small and eyes glassy.

Ellie was emotionally stubborn, similar to your husband, and seeing her like this broke you. You have only seen the girl in this vulnerable position a handful of times before, and it always made you want to hold her close and never let go.

“Ellie listen to me,” You make eye contact with her, just so she can truly understand what you’re about to say. “That was not your fault. You had a nightmare and I startled you.”

You pause for a second trying to figure out how to word the next part of your reassurance.

So with a gentle voice you finally start speaking again.

“I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again and-” your voice cracks with emotion. “I’m so sorry Ellie. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to stop him, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most.”

Her eyes that were previously glasses were now overflowing and falling down her face.

Then, in a blink of an eye, the young girl that you’ve grown to love like another daughter, crashes against you. Her face pressed against your left shoulder and her arms wrapped around you tightly as if you would make her let go. Not a chance in hell you would.

Your arms surrounded her and at this point, her body was shaking due to her tears.

Soon you heard Ellie’s muffled, shaky voice speak out.

“It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault.”

At that point your tears were falling down your face as well. Gently, you rub your hand in comforting circles on her back and sway the both of you back and forth.

Ellie’s shaking soon died down. It took some time but exhaustion finally hit her, so now she was fast asleep in your arms, snoring softly.

You let out a watery chuckle, emotions still running high, as you continued watch with Ellie in your arms.

The sun soon rises a few hours later. Joel’s eyes flicked open ready to wake up and start the day’s journey. Nevertheless by doing so, he was met with the familiar sight of his wife holding a sleeping young girl, eyes focused towards the sun in the distance, and couldn’t help the small smile that crossed over his face.

Both Joel’s and your thoughts were very similar at that moment.

You’d both do anything to keep your family safe.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Puppy Love

a/n: HII, I haven’t written in a minute and this came out today. So, enjoy! 

Also, just like the rest of you sluts, I too, am OBSESSED with Pedro Pascal. Glad to be here. 

Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 1065

MASTERLIST here if you’re interested! 

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

“Ellie, please.”

“Come on, dude. What did you guys used to say…Yo-Yo something. Oh, Oo, YOLO?”

Y/N eyerolled at the mouthy teenager now prodding through her personal life. Granted, it wasn’t Ellie’s fault, she just called it as she saw it. Honest and brutal, even when she didn’t need to be.

“You don’t get it. Not a lick. So kindly shut the fuck up.”

“So, you’re just gonna hold on to this pipe dream…until you croak?”

Her questioning tone almost earned Ellie a slap but Y/N remained calm.

“Wow, kid. Anyone tell ya you got a way with words?”

“Nope. You’re the first. Lucky you.”

Ellie annoyingly enunciated every word loud and clear rifling through Y/N’s chaotic brain. He would never be hers even if they weren’t stuck in this apocalyptic hellhole. Back then Joel had endless opportunities to speak up and half the time he chose to shove her feelings so far under the rug that she couldn’t help when the disheartenment finally sunk in.

“But seriously.”

“Seriously nothing. Zip it, El.”

Her hands waved furiously in the air creating obscenely silly gestures. For once, they were left to simmer in silence, albeit temporary. Y/N stared holes in the ground beneath her hiding the unshed tears she refused to let fall.

“Things are …complex. More than you can understand.”

“Then help me, what’s the problem?”

“Ellie, look around us! You don’t—you don’t even know what it was like back before things went to shit. Joel isn’t the type of guy…”

Warm words swam through her chest, their presence suffocating meeting early death as her lips pursed shut.    

“Y/N…”

She bit her lip in anticipation hoping for the right words to stumble out Ellie looked on with a hopeful light in her eyes.

“Joel has Tess.”

Had Tess.

“But he’s in love with you.”

Vicious headshakes were all Y/N could muster praying not to slip further into her meddling.

“No, he’s not. And you can’t go around sayin things like that! Jesus.”

Y/N made quick work, eyes bouncing between every corner of the room making sure Joel hadn’t snuck it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“I see the way you look at him, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why--?”

Anger getting the better of Y/N, she frivolously snapped back; “You wanna know why, hmm? I’ve loved Joel Miller since I was 27. The idiot dropped a might I mention PIPING HOT americano down my blouse.  The second he smiled I knew I was a goner.”

“Okay?”

“So, he knows, known, whatever you wanna call it. He friend zoned me then, same applies to now. I just hang onto him because I’m a lovesick puppy just patiently waiting for her turn. I’m the best friend, Ellie. Joel Miller doesn’t love me, he just loves the way I make him feel important, heard. Then like clockwork, he’s got himself a new girl on his arm to impress and I’m left –” Her lip quivered, it felt different saying it out loud, more real, visceral. No more pretending.

Y/N cleared her throat stiffening her once welcoming features, “It’s called unrequited love, El and I hope you never have to know how shitty it feels.”

“Oh come on, just because the world ended doesn’t mean everything went to shit.”  

Her left eye twitched at the teenager’s choice words lowering her voice to a mere whisper. Y/N reached towards the girl, caressing her cheek in a motherly manner. El leaned in accepting the gesture.

“I love Joel Miller. He doesn’t love me. And that’s okay because I get to throw all my unreiprocated love on to you, and for that I’m forever grateful. Like it or not kid, you’re stuck with me for however long life allows.”

“Oh great, just what I needed. A mother of my very own!”

Y/N playfully slapped her shoulder; “Hey now, your birth mother did a super fucking hard thing AND delivered a healthy baby. Do you think pregnancy is easy? Or how about the horror of delivering the thing that’s been taking up space in your body for the last nine months, huh? Women didn’t have it easy then and we definitely don’t in this joke of a world nowadays. So, to wrap this up; just because she created you doesn’t mean you can’t accept love that feels similar. I can’t take the place of your mom and I am so not old enough- “

Ellie’s eyebrows crinkled together; “Aren’t you like considered geriatric?”

Horror paled over Y/N. Why this little—She breathed deeply hoping to simmer the bitter bitch growing within her. She annunciated her words very clearly; “I am 46, you little brat. The least you could do is respect your elders if you’re gonna talk smack.”

Ellie huffed; “I just don’t get it.”

This piqued her interest; “Get what?”

“Men. Like, are they are all complete psychopaths?”

“Well, that’s a bit harsh but yes, in general they are a nuisance to society…or what’s left of it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Ellie’s arms snuck around her waist pulling her close. Y/N welcomed the embrace thankful for the small moments she was still afforded.

“You deserve to be loved no matter what. I’m glad I found you… and the grump.”

“He’s a good man. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I won’t. I just wish he could see how fucking badass you actually are. I mean I’d date you.”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over momentarily; “Damnit, you’re making me feel things I don’t have the time to feel.”  

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?

“Don’t give up on him, I’ve seen things from a different perspective and as an outsider looking in, this ain’t a closed case little lady.”

“Wow, how southern belle of you. A girl like yourself would do well in the South.”

“The what?”

Exasperated Y/N mustered a reply; “…Ugh, don’t worry bout it.”

Her innocent smile emerged displayed for Ellie’s eyes only.

“I lurve you, Y/N.” Their foreheads bumped lightly causing a giggle to stir between the pair; “Back at ya, kid.”

Little did they know who had been standing on the other side of the door hiding just out of plain sight. Joel gulped hoping for the spit to help his now parched throat. I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her.

His boots smacked heavily against the cement closing the distance between. Y/N yelped surprised by the sudden intrusion. Now or never.

“Y/N.”

[sylv14]

So I’m rewatching 27 Dresses and I can’t stop thinking about how if I were Jane, I would never forgive Tess or at least not as easily as she does. Like Tess never apologizes for how she acted basically the entire time she was visiting and also never owns up to her behavior. Like she gives some sob story about how she was fired and broken up with so her life isn’t perfect but that doesn’t excuse everything else she did including lying to Jane’s boss, stealing Jane’s dream wedding, and cutting up their mothers wedding dress. If my sister knew how much I loved our parents wedding and how I wanted to wear our mom’s dress and then she cut it up? It would take more than some bullshit excuse for me to forgive. She would have to show some actual remorse and show and effort that she is going to change her attitude and behavior in the future. I cannot believe how quickly Jane forgives her and how she even makes her her maid of honor at her wedding the next year.