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toxicanonymity · 11 months

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Apple Blossom. Left in Lincoln, pt. 4

7.5k / dads best friend!Joel x virgin!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

His cheeks turned a little pink and his eyes lit up. He handed you the rag. "What?" you asked. “Nothin',” he said softly and shook his head. “You sure are pretty, darlin’. That’s all.” He dried his hands then gave your butt a squeeze. The moment of domesticity almost made you forget the town was rotting away beneath your feet.

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, slow-burn horror w/ potentially disturbing implicit content, big girthy age gap (20s/50s), plot, angst, toxic/dark fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, pressure, grooming, grinding, fingering, oral M receiving, pet names and praise. Very TOXIC, dark Joel. Impaired editing.

You fell asleep in Joel’s arms and woke up alone in your bed. The apple blossom was gone from your night stand. You showered and got dressed. You couldn’t find your baseball cap and realized the last time you wore it was in Joel’s orchard. When you came downstairs, Bill and Frank's bedroom door was open. Before you could investigate, you heard screeching outside, then cursing. You ran to the door. Joel was waving his arms and a crow was flying away from him. He had a screwdriver in one hand. He stood up and smoothed his shirt and a feather floated away from him. He was wearing Frank's clothes with his hair freshly slicked back from a shower.

You went outside and looked down at the open vent. You asked, “How’d you get it to come out?”

Joel shrugged with his arms hanging heavy at his sides. "Nowhere else to go. Gotta be patient sometimes.” He bent one knee and put the hand with the screwdriver on his hip, looking up at the roof of the house. He squinted at the chimney. “I reckon we left the fireplace vent open the other night.”

You approached Joel and he extended his free hand for a hug. He stroked your head and looked at you lovingly. You were still taking that in - the fact that Joel told you he loved you. He gave you a kiss on the head and inhaled your scent. Then he went to screw the vent back into the side of the house, and your eyes followed his ass. That was one thing about Joel always having his shirt tucked in - You were very aware of his ass. He was so muscular, almost statuesque to you. His proportions reminded you of classic art.

Joel glanced back as he bent over and your cheeks burned as you looked away from his body.

“Can we plant the strawberries today?” You asked.

“Not the season, darlin’. Won’t survive.”

“Ours are still alive," you said.

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

"Yeah, they just never fruited."

“Show me.” Joel finished screwing the vent back into place then stood up and brushed off his knees.

You led him to the failed strawberry patch and showed him the plants.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Joel said and squatted down to finger the leaves. "You wanna bring’em, guess we can try it."

You were excited to surprise Frank and Bill with fresh strawberries. Once they fruited, maybe you could transplant them somewhere at home too.

"Grab a spade and bucket outta the shed. Some of that cloth, too."

You returned with the requested supplies and Joel said, "Alright, I’ll work on this and you can pick some veggies to take with us if ya want."

“We’re not coming back today?”

“Not ‘til we figure out what’s goin’ on, darlin’.” He put his hands on his knees and stood back up with a groan. “Anything else you wanna plant from here? Arugula?”

You were still processing the idea of leaving home for multiple days. “Sure. Wait, what if we get the computers back up to check the cameras?” you asked. “Then we can see if it’s safe.”

He wiped his brow with the back of the flannel sleeve. “Just looked at ‘em. All static. Lines must've been cut. Been down at least a few days."

"What??" A pit formed in your stomach. This whole time, you should’ve been even more scared than you were. Joel sensed your fear. He stepped forward and put his arm around you. He cradled your head against him. He smelled a little like Frank.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not leavin’ you again," he reassured you. The low vibration of his voice in his chest was an extra layer to the hug.

You tried to shake off the dark mood that fell over you. "Can we make apple juice?” you asked.

“Sure we can, peaches.”

Joel uprooted some strawberry and arugula while you picked vegetables then brought them inside. You got out the empty apple juice jar to take with you and took the cider jar out of the fridge, too.

Joel walked in and froze. “You’re not drinkin’ that, are ya?”

“No,” you said, but you didn’t want to offend him since he brewed it. “Not right now.”

“But you did?” He stepped forward and looked so serious. Your face went cold.

“Well, no-”

"You shouldn’t be drinkin’ without me, darlin’. It’s not safe.” There was an air of judgment in his voice. You were embarrassed, but shouldn't have been. You were old enough to drink and your house was full of wine. You could have a drink alone if you wanted to. Joel extended his hand and looked at you sternly. “Gimme that.” You felt defensive as if you had done something wrong. Even knowing you hadn't. You suddenly realized you had no idea where his bottle of whiskey was that he left there days ago. He might have thought you drank it, too. You were mortified.

“I was just gonna pour it out so we could use the jar,” you explained as he opened the cider. Joel's face softened and he poured it out in the sink.

“Got plenty of jars at home, baby. Good idea though." He rinsed the jar then patted the back of your head tenderly. It wasn't enough to soothe the feeling of being scolded, but the feeling would fade. You had bigger things to worry about anyway. He just wanted to keep you safe.

On the walk to Joel’s house, you told him all about the night before. How Abe didn’t come by, then you heard Abe's truck, but didn’t see him. You told him about the songs playing on the radio station, which gave you chills to even think about.

Joel heard the distress in your voice and stopped dead in his tracks, disturbed. “Sorry I wasn’t there, darlin’. Never shoulda left ya." He took a deep, ragged breath in. He cupped your cheek. “Guess I didn’t wanna be a bother if ya didn't want me stickin' around.”

You felt a wave of guilt for sending him home each night. You imagined him walking alone in the dark worrying about you, thinking he was bothering you.

"It's okay, Joel," you reassured him. "I should've asked you to stay."

"It's not okay, baby.” He shook his head at himself, then looked at you with grave concern. “What if somethin' happened?"

"Well, I guess it didn’t. I'm okay," you said.

He sighed and cradled the back of your head.

"But I'm worried about Abe," you added.

Joel dropped his hand, and looked off into the distance, jaw muscle flexing.

"What if he's in trouble?" you asked.

Joel took a deep breath and looked in the direction of Abe’s property. "Tell ya what, darlin'. I'll go check on him today, how’s that sound?”

The distress melted away from your face. “Thank you,” you gushed and wrapped him in a hug. He kissed the top of your head.

A bird cried and both of you turned toward the sound. It was a crow. It followed you the rest of the way to Joel's house, squawking obnoxiously.

It was your first time being in Joel’s house. It was about as neat and clean as you expected for the most part. It smelled woodsy and nutty, like pine and almonds, and faintly of apples. He led you upstairs to a spare bedroom and left you there to get settled in. He said to let him know if you needed anything.

You walked around the room and picked things up. There was a dresser, a vanity, and a mirror. On top of the vanity was a jewelry box and a hairbrush. A stationary set. There was a stool at the vanity and a box fan on the floor.

Everything was so perfect and comfortable. It was what you imagined a hotel might be like. Clean and cozy. You sat down on the neatly made bed and took your shoes off. Joel came back a few minutes later and stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked around the room then nervously put his hands in his pockets. He asked, "What do you think?"

"It's amazing."

He looked relieved. He came over to sit next to you on the bed. "Good," he said. He smiled and his eyes scanned your body. He caressed your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek.

"Can we pick apples to make the juice today?"

"Not today, darlin'. Not 'til we're sure it's safe." He raised your hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Got some apples in the kitchen, though."

Joel made lunch and told you about the different improvements he made to the house and orchard in the past few years. You asked for a tour and he said you could have one after he knew the community was secure. He got up and took the dishes to the sink. He turned on the water to wash them and you got up and volunteered to do them instead. It seemed only fair since he made lunch. You stood next to him at the sink and reached for the rag. His cheeks turned a little pink and his eyes lit up. He hesitantly handed you the rag with a slight smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin',” he said softly and shook his head, looking at the floor. He looked back up at you and sucked his bottom lip. “You sure are pretty, darlin’. That’s all.” He dried his hands on a clean towel, then gave your butt a little squeeze. You smiled and giggled silently. The moment of domesticity made you forget the town was rotting away beneath your feet.

Joel moved to stand close behind you and put his hands on your hips. He spoke softly into the crown of your head. “I'll go take a look around the neighborhood and check on Abe.”

You turned your head and nodded, “thank you, Joel.”

His voice got low and serious, but remained gentle. “Stay here. Don't go outside.”

You nodded again.

“You don't answer the door for anyone but me. Real important, okay?"

You put down the dish in your hand and turned around to face him fully. "Okay."

"Even if you think you know 'em. Don't know who could be infected." He swallowed regretfully.

You nodded in agreement, "Okay."

His hands on either side of your hips casually caged you against the sink. He gently pressed his hips, then his lips into yours.

“Back before sundown,” he muttered.

He put on a jacket, went down to the cellar, and returned with two firearms. He handed you a pistol, put on his jacket, and kissed you goodbye. He winked as he left, then locked the door behind him from the outside.

While Joel was out, you got curious and bored. You walked around the house. The first door you tried to open was locked. The second one led down to the cellar. You took a few steps down and tried to reach the light string that hung from the ceiling. it swung away. After another step down, the door behind you began to close. You panicked and lunged up the stairs to keep it open. That was stupid. You could have gotten locked in. You scurried up the stairs back into the living room. Once you caught your breath, you shut the door behind you and didn't go back.

Another door was a closet. Jackets, hats, boots. You saw an old Red Sox hat and your heart skipped a beat. Your first thought was Jesse. Your heart pounded in your chest and you weren’t sure why. It was probably yours. Joel must have scooped it up when you left it in the orchard. It could have faded from the elements. You had the strongest urge to touch and smell the hat, but you didn’t dare disturb it. Joel seemed like the type to know exactly how things were. You didn't want him to know you were snooping.

You didn’t try any more doors after that. You went back to the kitchen. You opened the pantry and there were two crates of jars, one of them locked. You looked around the opposite counter from where you had been doing the dishes. A basket of apples, a jar of apple seeds. A fresh branch in a vase of water with a budding blossom. You held up the vase and smelled the bud.

You were startled from the moment by a faint scraping and clinking sound outside. You fumbled the vase and almost dropped it but caught it. Your pulse sped up and your eyes darted to the window. You put the vase down and walked to the kitchen door which looked out into the backyard and orchard. You put your hand on the knob, then changed your mind, Joel’s cautionary words fresh in your ears. You stood at the window and looked. You didn’t see anything. You heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from the back of the orchard, which you couldn’t see. All you saw was dirt, grass, a fire pit, neat rows of tree after tree, dead leaves tumbling across the ground with the wind. Maybe it was the wind.

When you heard it again, you were unsettled enough to step away from the window. You went back up to the bedroom, figuring it was the safest place. You covered yourself in the quilt and hugged one of several pillows, waiting for Joel's return, hiding, praying no one was around. Hoping no one could possibly know you were there. Grateful you weren't home alone at a time like this. You kept the bedroom door open so you'd be able to see trouble if it came.

You dozed off and awoke when the back door to the kitchen unlocked downstairs. Your heart raced and it took a moment to remember where you were. It was almost dusk outside. You quietly slid out from under the quilt and prepared to cautiously venture downstairs, assuming it was Joel who just came in the house. A door closed downstairs, then the water heater turned on. You pulled the quilt back over you and turned off the light, waiting in the dark. After about ten minutes of lying there slowing your heart rate, the water turned off. A few minutes later, a door opened downstairs again. You wished you could fast forward to the next time you'd be in Joel's arms.

You felt a presence. "Joel?" It came out far quieter than you intended, but you were too afraid to repeat it louder. The stairs quietly creaked with padded footsteps. The creaking got closer and closer, then stopped. You sat frozen, looking at a looming shadow in the hall, trying to make sense of it as Joel’s silhouette. The shape looked jagged, angry, nothing like him.

“Peaches?” his voice made you jump; it was much closer than you thought. Your hand came to your chest as he stepped into view and asked, “You okay? Thought you might be nappin', didn't wanna wake ya up.'”

"I'm okay," you said and took a deep breath. "What's going on?"

Joel approached the bed and sat down with his hand on your knee. He was freshly showered and dressed in his own clothes again.

"I think Abe left, darlin'."

"Left?? Why??"

"I dunno, sugar. It was like he just packed up."

You were stunned. Abe couldn't possibly have packed up and left. This didn't explain anything at all. You'd have to see it to believe it.

"No. He wouldn't just leave," you said and got de ja vu. You were quiet. Nothing felt right. You spent the whole afternoon scared and alone, and now this?

"Sorry, peaches. Didn't know you were close."

"We weren't. I just - I'm surprised. He didn't say anything this week, did he?"

"Sure didn't."

"Just like Jesse,” you whispered.

Joel inhaled through his nose as though calming himself.

“I don't understand it," you said.

Joel was quiet for a moment. "People leave, darlin'. But I promise you I won't. Not ever."

You mustered half a grateful smile and indulged him. “Promise?”

"Never.” He looked gravely serious. “Not unless I take you with me,” he said softer.

“Thanks,” you said.

He shook his head. “I mean it, peaches. Nothin' in this world could take me away from you." He stroked your thigh and leaned in for a much-needed kiss.

Then he put his arm around you, rubbed your shoulder, and leaned his temple against yours. You sat side by side on the bed in silence for a minute, then Joel said, “been a rough day or two, huh?"

You nodded pensively.

"I know what we need."

"What?"

"How 'bout a special dinner?” he lifted your chin with his finger and your eyes met his affectionately. "There she is."

"Okay."

"Put on somethin' nice, I'll get cookin'."

“Oh, I didn’t bring much,” you said, embarrassed.

“Let's check the closet,” he said with a wink. "See what got left behind."

He kissed you on the head and stood up. It was a shallow closet that rolled open from two doors to expose a single rack of clothes. He rolled open the left door and there were five or six dresses. They didn't look like anything Ellie or Tess would wear and you didn't know who else could have left them behind. Whoever lived there before, you supposed.

Joel pulled out two coathangers. A floral wrap dress and a low cut burgundy sweater dress. "See what ya like," he said softly with a sparkle in his eye. "Take your time. I'll get cookin'." He winked and put the hangers back in the closet before leaving you to the task.

You stayed seated on the bed and stared into space for a while, thinking about Abe. Then you got up and put on the burgundy dress. It was a perfect fit. You stood in front of the vanity as the smell of fried rabbit wafted upstairs. You primped yourself and touched your neck, looking yourself in the eyes. You wanted to be happy, but your eyes were sad. You opened a dresser drawer looking for socks. Sure enough, there was a small drawer full of socks and stockings. Another drawer full of underwear, and even the same type of fabric washable pads you had to use for your period. You dreaded your period coming in a few days. That probably wasn't helping your mood.

Joel served a candlelit dinner at a card table in his living room. He said it was safer away from the windows at night. He wanted to give it another day or two to make sure the community was safe. He was walking to the table with a bottle of wine and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you in the dress. He put down the bottle and said. "My lands, peaches." He wet his lips. "C'mere, gorgeous." He rubbed your forearms with his thumbs and looked you up and down. "You're so goddamn beautiful," he whispered.

"You look nice, too," you said. He chuckled. He wasn't wearing anything out of the ordinary but he always looked nice. He took your head in both hands and kissed you softly. Then he looked at you again, wrapped his arms around you, and kissed you harder with an "Mmm," into your mouth.

He pulled out your chair for you at the table. He poured your wine, served you salad with no cucumbers, rabbit, eggplant, and applesauce. The salad dressing was incredible. He made it himself. "secret's in the basil" he said proudly. "Gotta mash it up real good, let the flavor out. If ya like it, we got more to plant out back. Rosemary, too. Make us a little herb garden.” You smiled. The applesauce was amazing, too.

He got up and retrieved a stone bowl from the counter. "Fresh cinnamon sticks. I crush’em up dry first. Then add just a little apple to the cinnamon, mash it up so it’s all wet, then add that to the rest at the end." He tasted the cinnamon mixture with his finger. “Kinda spicy.” He dipped his pinky for more and held it up to your mouth. "Go on," he said. You held eye contact with him as your tongue met his pinky. The cinnamon was strong. Delicious. He took a deep breath as you sucked his digit clean. "Good girl," he whispered, watching you in a trance. He put the bowl back on the counter. “Use it for cobbler, too. We can make some if ya want.” You never knew Joel was such a good chef.

You ate quietly. You wanted to let Joel’s nice dinner take your mind off things, but it didn't. You didn't want to grill him about Abe's house or say anything negative at all since he put so much effort into the meal. He put so much effort into making you feel good in general. So you tried to pretend you were okay, but he sensed your mood.

After cleaning up from dinner, the two of you sat down on his sofa in the living room. He brought whiskey and a bag of pills and put them on the coffee table with two glasses. “Need a good night’s sleep,” he muttered as he sat down and poured a glass. “How ‘bout you?”

You didn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong, peaches?”

You were quiet, but he didn’t let you off the hook. He looked at you, expecting an answer. Finally, you blurted out, “I’m lonely.”

Joel looked confused. “We’re together now, baby."

The tears welled up over your eyes. “Not right this second. I mean in general.”

Joel swallowed, then nodded. “Must get lonely on your own. Why don’t you stay here with me?” He took a sip, put down his drink, and scooted closer. He rubbed your back.

You ignored his offer, frustrated that he didn't get it or didn’t care. “Everyone's gone,” you said and started to cry. “Everyone left.”

Joel’s face darkened and his jaw clenched. His body tensed and he stopped rubbing your back. He sank back into the sofa and clasped his hands in his lap. You turned around to face him, expecting more comfort, but he didn’t look at you or open his arms.

“Not sure what to say to that, peaches," he said flatly. He took another sip of his drink. "You mean the world to me, and it sounds like I’m nobody to you.”

“Of course not,” you said. Your heart dropped at your foolishness. Here was the one person you had left. The best person who could possibly be left. Someone who would take care of you no matter what it took. Someone who cared more about you than anything or anyone else. And instead of being grateful, you acted like he was nothing.

Joel nodded slowly, looking down with a scowl. He swallowed.

You said, "I just miss them, that's all."

His eyes intensified and he took a deep, calming breath.

“Bill and Frank, I mean,” you clarified, desperate not to make it worse.

"I know ya do," he said in a near whisper, still looking down.

You continued, your tears slowing but not stopping. "It doesn't feel right here with everyone gone."

“Doesn’t feel right here,” he repeated. He raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue, sticking it into his cheek.

You looked away, sensing that you hurt him but unsure what to do. You sat in silence for what felt like several minutes, both of you looking straight ahead. Your back felt so cold without him comforting you.

When you looked back at Joel, his eyes were glistening. “You're enough for me, peaches.” His voice cracked. “You’re all I need in the world.” He dabbed his eye and your heart broke. "Nothin' feels more right than bein' with you. I love you that much.”

No one ever made you feel that way before, like you were their entire world. His affection overwhelmed you. It felt like he cared as much about you as Bill and Frank, just in a different way.

"I love you too, Joel." You squeezed his thigh reassuringly.

“No, darlin'. I’m in love with you. I don’t care about anything else.”

You turned toward him and tried to meet his eyes. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He finally stroked your back. “You might think so, darlin’.” He sighed. “And I ‘preciate you sayin’ it. . . But when you say, ‘it doesn’t feel right here’. . .” He dabbed his eye again. “I gotta wonder.”

“I do, Joel.”

“I dunno if you understand love, darlin’. Or you wouldn’t say that. And you wouldn’t feel lonely.”

You were overwhelmed and confused. It didn’t make sense to you. “I wouldn’t miss my parents?”

“Course you’d miss’em,” he conceded. “But you wouldn’t feel lonely.”

“Guess that’s what I meant,” you said. He nodded and his face warmed slightly. "Plus, I'm worried about Frank," you said and started crying again. Something was tugging at your gut. You felt worse, not better.

Joel started to say something, but didn't. He rubbed your back. “I know, darlin’. He poured you a glass of whiskey and composed himself. “They’d be proud of ya, how you’re doin’.”

You laughed through your tears. “Sorry,” you sniffled. “I didn’t mean I was lonely. I’m not.”

“Okay, darlin’,” he whispered

You couldn’t tell if he really forgave you. Your whole face felt tense.

Joel looked at you and a look of deep concern washed across his face, realizing how bad he made you feel. “Hey, hey. . . . c’mere. . . “ He rubbed your back. You scooted closer and hugged him from the side. He brought your far leg into his lap so you were twisted over him. “Shhhh,” he said and kissed your forehead, but something was still off about him. “It’s okay, baby.” He softened but still felt more distant than usual, like he wasn’t sure he could believe you. The distance made you panic.

“I love you, I really do,” you said.

He drank the rest of his whiskey and bent forward to put the glass down, then stretched his arm out on top of the sofa. You tucked one leg under yourself and rested the other leg over his lap. He draped his hand on your knee, but didn’t make a move to pull you closer. You climbed into his lap, suddenly more concerned about his feelings than anything else.

You wanted to be closer to him, as close as possible. You wanted him wrapped around you, inside you. You wanted to be a part of him and for him to be a part of you. You kissed him on the cheek. He smiled but didn’t look at you, not really. He looked at your eyes but it felt like he was looking past them. “Joel,” you whined, eyes welling up at the lack of validation. You cupped his face in both your hands and kissed him. His lips pressed softly into yours. You looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to connect enough to show him how much you meant it.

“I wanna be with you,” you whispered. “I don’t care about anything else.”

Something behind his eyes flickered on. “You mean that, peaches? You don’t care about anything else?”

You nodded and pressed your lips into his again.

He asked, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

His hands embraced your back and the affection returned to his eyes full-force like it was in the morning. He wet his lips.

“Good,” he whispered. “It’s you and me, darlin’. We only got each other.”

You nodded.

He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back, closed his eyes, cradled the back of your head, and kissed you deeply. He held you and kissed you, the taste of whiskey fading after a few seconds as your mouths combined. He pulled you closer into his lap and his jeans hardened against your dress and panties, making your core tingle. He moaned into your mouth and your panties moistened rapidly. His cock was big, and feeling it get so hard just for you made you feel special. Earlier, when you said you wanted him inside you, he said you were still being shy with him. He said you hadn’t even touched it yet, that you weren’t giving him everything.

You wanted to show him you could give him everything. His big hands pulled you close and his hips lifted your body as he licked into your mouth. His hard cock pressed perfectly against your clit as his hips moved. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, then tugged his shirt up and he let you untuck it. He was truly in the moment. He was yours. You gently grabbed at the bulge in his jeans – it was more than a handful – and he thrust into your palm with a sigh.

You broke the kiss to unzip his jeans, and he watched you like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. You slid your hand into his pants and softly gasped as you felt the stiff outline of his cock through his boxers. His hips lifted into your hand with a soft grunt and he said, “Givin’ me everything, aren’t ya baby?”

You nodded earnestly. He slid his hand between your legs, ghosting your clit over your panties, making you moan.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you whispered, groping his hard cock and feeling a wet spot at the tip.

“Always feel good when I'm with you, darlin’.”

“Want it in my mouth,” you said.

He inhaled sharply. “Fuck, darlin’.” His eyes widened. “That what you want?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and got down on the carpet.

You got out of the way while he took his jeans off for you.

He spread his knees again and pulled the waistband of his boxers down below his balls. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft with his thumb at the tip. Butterflies swarmed between your legs at the sight of his strong hand holding his cock at attention for you. You nestled yourself between his legs.

“You sure?” he asked and looked you over.

You wet your lips and nodded without taking your eyes off his imposing cock.

“Alright, darlin’.” He looked at you with pride and curiosity.

You held his cock at the base and opened your mouth, hovering over the tip.

“Just a little kiss,” he murmured.

You pressed your lips against the tip and kissed it, sucking the salty precum into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Now a little at a time.”

You wrapped your lips around the tip and licked it, looking up at his face for approval. The look on his face made you wet. Joel sighed and tried not to lift his hips. “Good. Doin’ great, baby.”

You sucked a little more of him into your mouth. He was so big, the head alone seemed to stretch your jaw.

“Good, baby. Nice and slow, not too much.” His velvety tip grazed the roof of your mouth. You throbbed between the legs, wishing so badly to have him there instead. But you had to show him you could give him everything.

You braced the shaft at the base and the humidity of his salt and pepper hair made you throb more. You sucked and tongued his shaft and looked up at him for approval.

“Good girl,” he nodded. His validation made you slurp more of him into your mouth, a little too much, and you started gagging.

“Easy, darlin’, hold on,” he chuckled. “Take a breather,” he said.

You were a little embarrassed. “I wanna do it,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he smiled. “How ‘bout you lick it, get it real wet for us.”

You salivated at the sight of his cock in his hand and licked him from base to tip three times - once on the underside, and once from each side.

“Now use your hand, darlin’.” You hesitantly wrapped your fingers and thumb around his shaft and he swelled into your hand. His cock dwarfed your fingers, making you wetter. You were salivating.

You asked, “Are you sure you don’t want my mouth?”

“Darlin’, I love your hands.”

He covered your hand with his and stroked himself with it.

His hips thrust into your hand and it was so easy to imagine yourself impaled on his cock, it was all you could think about.

“Give it another kiss, baby.”

You brought the tip into your mouth again, then licked his cock from base to tip and sucked the head again, curiously tonguing the salty slit. You left as much saliva as you could.

“Good girl,” he murmured and took your hand in his again.

You ached to have him inside you. You wet your lips thirstily.

He watched your face as his breath grew heavier. “Whatcha thinkin’ bout, peaches?”

You had a feeling he knew. You looked down at his cock then back up at him, then away.

“Don’t be shy, baby.”

You looked up and made eye contact. “Putting our bodies together,” you said breathily and watched his face melt into a puddle of want.

He inhaled through his nose, then murmured, “Want that real bad, don’t ya?”

You nodded.

“Why’s that, darlin’?” His lips glistened and his eyes were half-lidded.

“Wanna feel you inside me.”

He breathed heavier as your hands slid up and down on his shaft. He asked, “How ya think it’s gonna feel?”

“I’m gonna be full of you. Attached to you.”

“Yeah, you will,” he nodded. His grip tightened around your hand as he stroked himself. “You’ll be so full of me, baby. ..”

“I really wanna be,” you whispered. You wanted it so bad you could cry. “I need to be.”

“You will be, baby,” he said soothingly. “You want your mouth filled up now?”

“Yeah,” you hovered your mouth near his cock again.

“Go ‘head, baby. Take it, it’s yours.” He took his hand away and put it gently on the back of your head.

You sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth again and made eye contact as you sucked.

He groaned and his thumb stroked the nape of your neck, then he lifted his hips and erupted in your mouth. His warm, salty spend hit the roof of your mouth, then the tip slid back along your palate, and he pulsed again. More cum hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you swallowed.

“You did so good, baby.”

He tucked his cock into his boxers and spooned you on the sofa.

“Why’s it feel so good, doing that?” you asked.

“Doin’ what?”

“Just having it in my mouth.”

“S’posed to, baby. Your body’s gettin’ ready for mine.” His words sent a pang of desire between your legs. “Turns you on, right?” He reached under your dress and stroked your panties from the outside. He felt the dampness and murmured, “Guess it does.”

“A lot,” you said. He began stroking your clit rhythmically over the cotton. Your hips started to move on their own in his hand. You moaned softly.

He slid his hand into the front of your panties and thumbed your soft curls. “It’s ‘cause your special parts think I’m fixin’ to put mine right here.” He dipped his middle finger into the pool of wetness hanging at your entrance.

“I wish you would,” you sighed.

He groaned softly at those words, the blood already flowing back to his loins. “You really do, huh?” His voice was low and soft. “You really wanna be full of me.” He wet his fingers with your slick and began gently circling your clit. “Attached to me.”

“Yeah,” you said. “More than anything.”

“Love hearin’ that, peaches.” He held you tighter.

“I wanna give you everything,” you said.

“Gotta be ready, darlin’,” he said into the crown of your head.

“I’m ready.”

“Your body too, angel.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“My body wants yours so bad,” you whined.

“Wantin’ it’s not enough, baby.”

You groaned in frustration.

“Well. . . you tell me, darlin’. You’ve had it in your mouth now. Think it’ll fit in this sweet little hole?” he swirled his finger around.

“I dunno,” you sighed. Your body didn’t care, it wanted whatever he would give you. “I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?”

“Not having my body ready.”

“Oh peaches, I’m glad you’re not. It’ll be a privilege gettin’ you there.” He gently circled your clit.

“Really?”

“Of course, darlin’,” he said softly. “Sometimes they bloom late for a reason.” He dipped his finger into your wetness again. “And this one’s just for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“We’ll get there, baby. We’ll get there in time.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” he said. “See what it’ll take to get there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Please.” You lifted your thigh to make more room for his hand.

He slowly slid half his middle finger into your tight, wet heat. You moaned at his first intrusion.

He sucked air in through his teeth. “How’s that feel, baby?”

“I want more.”

He took a deep breath and pushed his finger all the way in.

You whimpered, “yeah,” as your body adjusted.

“God damn,” he whispered as your cunt hugged his digit.

He curled his finger just slightly and you moaned again. “It’s so thick,” you said.

“See? Got a long way to go.” His cock twitched against your ass.

“No, it feels good,” you said as he slowly moved his finger inside you. “I want more.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered impatiently.

“Just one more.” You squinted in frustration. Why just one more?

He took his middle finger out and flattened it alongside his ring finger. He slid them up and down your slippery seam before slowly plunging them inside together. It was a tight squeeze. “God damn,” he breathed. He paused half-way in.

“Feels so good,” you panted. “Keep going,” you begged.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all.”

He slowly sank his two fingers into you completely. “Real snug,” he muttered. “You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“Too snug? Is that bad?”

“No, no, not at all, baby. But it’s gonna take time to be ready.” He began to move the heel of his palm against your clit and you grinded back against it.

“God, Joel,” you sighed.

“Gonna take time,” he repeated. “‘fore you’re ready for this,” he said with a thrust of his hips, grinding himself into your ass, already fully erect again. He thrust against you again with a soft grunt.

You asked “You want it too, don’t you?”

“Course I do, baby,” he panted. “Gotta feel good for both of us, though. Gotta do it right.” He kissed your head and curled his fingers inside you, digging the meat of his hand against your clit again. “Gotta be real special.”

Your clit twitched against his hand and he said, “C’mon, baby,” moving his hand at a slow rhythm. “Every time you come, gets us closer to what we want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sugar.” He breathed heavily with his body enveloping yours, pumping his fingers deep in your cunt, pressing his palm against your clit.

You let your hips grind back unrestrained.

“There ya go, darlin’,” he said, pressing his hard cock against you as he moved his fingers. “Yeah, just like that.”

You closed your eyes and pretended his fingers were his cock. You knew his cock would feel even better.

“Can’t wait to be inside ya, baby,” he whispered. “Nothin’ I want more.” He slowly pumped his fingers deeper into you as your body opened up for him. “Wanna slide into this tight little hole,” he panted, his cock rutting gently against your ass. “Want you wrapped around me.” He rubbed his palm against your front. “Yeah. . .wrapped so tight around me, baby. Like ya can’t pull us apart” Your hips grinded into his hand with your climax in sight. “Gonna have you so full of me,” he breathed, then he moaned with a harder thrust against you. “Joined together,” he added. “Forever, baby. It’s forever,” he whispered in your ear. “Me and you.” You whined on the edge of your climax. “C’mon, baby,” he whispered, pumping his fingers, rocking his palm, grinding against your ass.

He thrust against your ass with a grunt, and his grunt in your ear was enough for you to see stars. “Joel,” you whined.

“Yeah,” he said as your climax seized you. You whimpered as you came. “Yeah, I got ya, baby,” he whispered. “Good girl.” He kissed your head.

He held you and caressed you as you bathed in the afterglow. It gave you clarity on how wrong you were earlier. You felt the things he felt. You realized how hurt you would have been if he said the same things – That he was lonely, that it didn’t feel right there.

“I’m not lonely,” you whispered. “And of course it feels right, bein’ with you.”

“Okay, baby.” He kissed your head.

“Guess I meant the town didn’t feel. . .” You meant the town. Your stomach dropped as you realized it.

The town. If Abe was really gone, you and Joel were the only two people left in Lincoln. Joel was the town. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but you felt like you might be sick.

“I know, darlin’,” he said obliviously. “But in a way, it’s nice we have this time together.” His arms tightened around you. “Silver lining. Right?” He sighed. “We’re together, don’t care about nothin’ else.”

“Right,” you whispered and tried not to think about it. You shivered and Joel rubbed your arms. “It’s chilly down here. Let’s get you tucked into bed.”

Joel showed you the restroom and your toiletries and towels. He offered you a painkiller to help you sleep. You didn’t want to take it, but he left it on the nightstand with a glass of whiskey in case you needed it. “Know it’s weird, sleepin’ somewhere new,” he said. He took a nightgown out of the dresser for you. He kissed you good night, then shut your door behind him.

You woke up in the middle of the night when you heard something metal clang then rumble outside. You felt safer with Joel in the house, but you wanted his arms around you. Maybe he’d let you climb in his bed. Surely he wouldn’t turn you away. He was being a gentleman, offering you a bed of your own. You opened your bedroom door as quietly as possible and gathered the courage to go downstairs.

Downstairs, you pushed his bedroom door open. “Joel?” you whispered. He didn’t answer. “Joel?” There was a flickering glow outside his window, which made it harder to see the inside of the room until your eyes adjusted.

He wasn’t in bed. Not the bathroom, either. You sat down on his bed and smoothed your hand over his pillow. You dipped your nose into the cotton and inhaled his scent, closing your eyes. It gave you a rush of comfort. A metal clang jolted you back to the moment and the flickering light brightened for a moment. Your heart raced. You carefully peeked out the window and faintly saw what looked to be the silhouette of Joel standing over a burning barrel. You felt like you should go back upstairs, as much as you wanted to curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent.

Your heart was beating too fast to get back to sleep, and you didn’t know why. You paced around the room and looked out the window. You sat at the vanity. You looked in the drawers. You were waiting to hear the door open downstairs. Then you could pretend to come down for the first time. Joel would comfort you, kiss you, cuddle you to sleep. But the door didn’t open downstairs. You paced more and sat on the bed. You opened the closet and looked at the dresses again. You held one up in the mirror.

You opened the other closet door and something caught your eye. In the back, on the very last hanger, there was a dress that made your breath hitch. White with lace sleeves. The longer you looked at it, the more butterflies gathered in your chest. Maybe your eyes betrayed you. It was too dark to tell. You closed the closet, took the painkiller, and got back in bed. You listened out for the door and tried to conjure the feeling of Joel’s arms around you. That was all you wanted.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Thank you for your patience, too. I love you guys!!!

I'm not sure if there will be one more part or two; I have to see how it writes. I feel like probably two, but it could be one long one with a little bit of a time jump.

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor

Lincoln: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblogg @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn

(ct'd in comments or reblogs)

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evie-sturns · 3 months

Text

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

part 2 (part 1 here)

summary: you and your best-friend matt, have decided to sign up to be a summer camp counsellor for your school's summer project! will you two stay as just friends? or will this summer turn out different for you guys.

a/n: theres going to be smut in the next part, hope you guys like this, read part 1 first, linked at the top! fuck danielle

contains: swearing, fighting (physical at some points), kissing/making out

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

abrubtly matt pulls away, he saw me. his face drops as dani stares at me. my heart thumps as i freeze. matt tries to walk over to me, but its too late, i've already took off in the other direction.

i've found myself in the empty staff bathrooms, hiding in the stalls. matthew wasted my time, i spent half the fucking roadtrip up here comforting him, then he goes and makes out with her a few hours later?

i can't even understand why im feeling like this, why am i so.. jealous?

the door to the bathrooms swing open, probably matt, coming to explain himself.

"hey, come out of the stall please." a female voice calls out, "who's this sorry?" i say, still on the verge of tears.

"danielle."

my breath hitches in my throat, before i swallow hard. "oh." i mumble, unlocking my stall. im met with her face, shes still wearing the same outfit she was wearing while kissing my best friend.

she suddenly interupts my thoughts, "look, i don't know who the fuck you think you are? but don't go snooping into me and matts personal business, unfortunately hes mine." she says while crossing her arms, i scoff.

"funny you say that, because the whole car ride up here matt's been dreading seeing you, his exact words were, 'fucking hate her' so if i were you i'd back away hm?" i say in a 'sympathetic' tone.

she clenches her fist, running her spare hand through her dark brown bob before smashing her fist into the side of my face.

"what the actual fuck!" i yell before jumping at her, throwing her to the floor. the next 5 minutes are a blur of screaming, punching, hair pulling before she gets pulled off of me.

its jessie, the owner of the fucking camp.

she looks pissed.

(15 minutes later)

ive been sitting alone in the nurses office for 10 minutes, its now 11:30pm, i have to be awake in 7 hours for breakfast setup.

the door to the room im in swings open.

its matthew.

"y/n, are you okay? i heard what happened" he says frantically, sititng down on the chair beside the medical bed.

"oh please matt, dont act like you care." i mutter out.

"what?" he says cluelessly.

"look, go find out how danielles doing, oh! or you could fuck her while your there, go back to your cabin with her!" i yell, matts eyes widen as he looks at me.

"we aren't sharing a cabin, im with lincoln, shes with paige." he mumbles as he fidgets with his hands.

i laugh out of disbelief before standing up, pushing past him out of the room im in before swinging open the door to the nurses office.

the cold night air hits my fresh wounds as i approach my cabin, the lights are on inside meaning Xavier is still awake. i swing open the door, xaviers face drops "babe what the fuck happened!" he says, running up to me and hugging me, "danielle happened." i sniff as he lets me go.

"you gotta get some rest, we're helping the kids do kayaking tomorrow okay? gotta be up at 6:30." he whispers, as he pulls the covers down on my bed, letting me crawl in.

(6:30am the next day.)

a loud honk blares through the campsite, before jessie on the megaphone starts "shark counsellers! the shark kids are lined up outside the breakfast hall, go help out in the kitchen"

i groan, my face still throbbing from dani's punches. xaivers sits up in the bed opposite me, "you feeling better.." he says, his voice raspy.

i nod, "mhm, not too excited about dealing with about 25 nine year olds." i mumble getting out of bed "you'll be right, theres 6 of us to control them we'll do it." he says optimistically.

i finish up getting changed, tying my hair into two braids. "you coming?" i say, looking at xaiver over my shoulder.

the hall is only a few hundred meters away from the staff cabins, which is now filled with 200 children. matt and lincoln are walking through the doors, dani and paige follow close behind them, too close for my liking.

i step inside, the smell of oatmeal fills my nose as i look around, theres countless tables filled with friend groups, in the back corner matts sitting alone on the last empty table, picking at his dry toast. i sigh loudly before walking over to him, he looks up at me, his eyes are puffy and red, he looks upset.

i sit down opposite him, his breathing picks up before he starts unannouced,

"dani and i.. have hated eachother since middle school. when i saw you get into your cabin with xavier i got fucking jealous. hate to admit it but i did. while i was walking towards my cabin dani approached me, she started touching up on my arms before pulling me off the path into the bushes. she kissed me, i don't know why i kissed her back, i think it was a jealousy thing, i wanted to get back at you?"

he sighs loudly as silence grows.

"look y/n, i really like you, and-" hes cut off by jessie on her fucking megaphone.

"helloooo campers! this is the first official day of summer camp and here are what each group is doing today!, crabs are doing rock climbing, which means it is mandatory to wear closed toe shoes. Sharks will be doing kayaking, please wear your swimsuit and your counsellers will take you down to the lake!"

i barely take in what jessie says, the only thing i'm thinking about is matt's previous sentence

look y/n i really like you.

(20 minutes later)

we've been sitting by the lake for a few minutes now, watching the kids attempt to kayak, im wearing a triangle white bikini with daisys printed on it, matt's sitting to my left, his eyes have been on me the whole time.

abrubtly he stands up, looking down at me. "come with me." he demands "huh?"

i stand up anyway, he takes my hand and starts to walk towards a shed, he opens the door and switches on the light. the dim warm lighting fills the room, revealing piles of wetsuits and life jackets.

he turns around and closes the door to the shed, locking it behind him.

he looks me in my eyes, his eyes dart down to my lips. "can i kiss you." matt asks, barely audible.

i gulp before nodding my head.

matt's hand holds my cheek gently before connecting his lips with mine. after a few seconds it turns into a makeout, his veiny hand holding my hair.

he pulls away slowly as his phone lights up, he scrolls through it before letting out a soft laugh "no way" he scoffs, rubbing his eyes.

"tonight were sleeping in the kids hall, like me and you, supervising.."

"you're kidding matt"

"nope, apparently theres a small cabin that connects off the kids hall, its got 1 bed that we share" he laughs

my cheeks flush, sharing a bed with matt, after this?..

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

hope you guys liked this, like i said there will be smut in the next part!!

taglist:

@iammattsturniolo @iloveneilperry @tatumrileyslover @chrisstopherfilmed

#nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff

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notbecauseofvictories · 2 months

Note

Hi Sarah, I'm going to visit Chicago in a couple of weeks and when I think of Chicago I think of you. What would you recommend I visit/do?

Unfortunately, Chicago is not its best self for a couple months---while I maintain that the city is for all seasons, summer is undoubtedly when it's most alive. However, there are a couple things I will definitely recommend for the unseasonably warm spring traveler:

(1) Eat some food

A friendly word of warning: do not be tricked into eating Giordano's or Lou Malnotti's. Perhaps your companions might try to win you over with promises of Chicago-style hotdogs---do not be swayed! You must manfully resist! (Harold's Chicken is that good though, and if you're close to the one in Hyde Park, feel free to devour the three piece dinner of your choice. Cheap bottle of the too-sweet wine I preferred as an undergrad optional.)

A much better option is to find a place that serves whatever food you love, but does it really really well.

Do you like sophisticated twists on a brewpub menu? Try Moody Tongue in the South Loop

Or are you really more of a tapas person? Highly recommend mfk in Lincoln Park

Would you prefer something a little....meatier? My favorite steakhouse in Chicago is Tango Sur (though I would argue their empanadas are really the showstopper)

There's nowhere in the city that does Hong Kong-style barbecue like Sun Wah in Uptown---I just stopped by after the parade for the Lunar New Year, the duck is to die for.

Are you on the West Side? First of all, do not go to Big Star. I mean, it's fine, but....come on. I'd pick Forbidden Root instead, or head over to Pilsen for Rubi's if you can't survive without tacos.

There are so, so many different bars I would recommend. Chicago was the home of bootleggers for a reason, goddamn it. Still, if you can't get to Wang's (look, I like Violet Hour too, but sometimes you don't want to drink in near-darkness), Koval (the rare distillery in Chicago), or any of the many, many craft breweries we have in the city right now, you probably can stop by one of the many, many, many bars we have in Chicago, and get a drink anyway.

There are more---of course there are more!---but we don't have all day. So instead I will leave you with this bit of wisdom: don't eat at Navy Pier or anywhere too close to Lincoln Park Zoo. If you are at a bar, don't settle for a burger when sometimes, the chicken tenders are actually better. And if you absolutely must go somewhere for pizza, choose Pequod's.

(2) See a thing

Chicago has many things in it! So many things! A hundred thousand things! Unfortunately, I don't know what you're into, so I will just talk about them in general.

MUSEUMS: I am a devoted museum-goer, and Chicago has blessed me with an endless feast. There are the big ones, of course---the Field Museum of Natural History, the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Institute of Chicago. However, my favorites are smaller, more unique: the International Museum of Surgical Sciences, Intuit (though it's temporarily closed, more's the pity), the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures at UChicago, the Lincoln Park Conservatory. That's not even all the museums in Chicago! That's not even all the museums that I've been to. It's amazing.

EVENTS: I once joked that I was a person who needed to schedule her enrichment like a blue-haired senior, but the joke was on me---I am that person! Fortunately, Chicago supports me in this endeavor by publishing many, many different calendars of "what to do this week or weekend". Do you want to see something onstage? Well, here you go. How about some classical music? I have a trusty guide. What about non-classical music? Always go to the Chicago Reader for that. Are you thinking of catching a game? Well, we're still in spring training for the Cubs and Sox, but the Bulls are doing okay even if the Blackhawks aren't, and we've got soccer (male and female) now too!

(Unfortunately, the Chicago Sky aren't playing right now, they're my favorites.)

OTHER: Unless you are extremely efficient, coming here and eating good food, doing one other thing, is more than enough. I promise it is! However, if you have more time, I definitely recommend just---wandering around. The Loop in particular is great for this, because it's reasonably small and everyone there is busy doing things. Going places, talking on phones, getting into or out of ubers, protesting outside of the Daley center, etc. etc. It's amazing to watch, and the buildings are pretty neat too.

Or you could wait a couple months, and take the Chicago Architecture Boat Tour, which I think should be a requirement for all Chicagoans. Maybe even everyone alive in the world. Just saying.

(3) Walk along the lakeshore

Chicago offers many delights, but I really do believe that Lake Michigan and its vast expanse of water, sky and space, is a unique gift to the city. It is beautiful in winter, in spring, in storms, in sun. It is free. You can sit in the grass or the sand or amble along its broad paths for miles, looking at unexpected art installations and waving grasses and the way the beaches slope to the water; you can talk to a friend or watch bikers and joggers pass you by. In the summer, there are a dozen different stands offering warm elote or cold soda, and cheerful men on jingling bike carts that will sell you neon orange push pops. In the winter, there are still bikers and joggers but also Canada geese, and you can stare mournfully at the slate grey water and ponder existence.

It is the heart of Chicago. Nelson Algren called us an "October city, even in summer"; Carl Sandburg described us as a shirtless dude who gives great oral. Personally, I think of Montrose Beach in the setting sun of winter, the sand almost too cold to touch---and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

#city of the big shoulders

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benedictscanvas · 10 months

Text

filling an empty vase - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x reader

word count: 3.4k (genuinely don't know how that happened)

warnings: language (duh) and some suggestive themes. the word shagging, which is too british not to include i'm afraid

a/n: this was an anonymous request that i'm not going to put here because it kinda ruins the whole plot! but it was such a fabulous request, so thank you anon, for giving me so much space to play. if you're not sure this is your request, you mentioned "Mr I Never Smile Kent" which funnily enough, made me smile!! enjoy sunflowers <3

---

You were such a professional in so many ways, but yet again you found your focus drifting during your meeting with the rest of the coaches. Your eyes find Roy’s face with such ease, lingering on the newly thicker beard he’s been sporting recently, then travelling down to broad shoulders, ones that fill out the door frame so nicely when he folds his arms. You’re so lucky he’s always folding his arms.

Before you can move onto admiring those arms, you see his head turn towards you and you look away before you can be caught. Instead of glancing at his face to see if he’s still looking at you, you decide it’s easier to join the conversation. As the goalkeeping coach, there isn’t always much you can contribute to these discussions, but they’re very insistent on including you.

“The only thing you need to be careful of is their counter-press,” you chime in, “Mind that the boys don’t get complacent in possession or my guy will be a sitting duck out there.”

“Good thinkin, Abe Lincoln. Why don’t we add that to our pre-game talk, coach, make sure someone’s watchin’ Zoreaux’s back at all times?”

“Already writing it down, coach,” Beard replied, gaining a double thumbs up from Ted who then continued talking. Even though you’d hardly been listening, you knew to do enough research beforehand so that you were free to let your mind wander and only speak up with a few key points.

You tune back in when you recognise the gruff tone of the very man you’re trying not to admire again.

“No. Y/N stole my fucking thing. I’ve gone over the rest in training,” he says dryly, and you duck your head to your lap to hide your smirk. Of course the two of you were on the same page about strategy, you always were. Usually he got to say it before you though, “Can we go now?”

“Unless anyone’s got anythin’ they want to add?” Ted looks around at everyone’s blank and frankly, very tired faces, “Not even somethin’ personal? Deep dark secret? Scandalous love affair, that kinda thing? Higgins, you look like there’s somethin’ right on the tip of that tongue.”

“I’m leaving,” Roy announced, walking into his office and shutting the door, even going so far as to shut the blinds on both windows before he presumably sat at his desk. You sighed and got up from your perch on the desk to take a step towards the dressing room.

“Afraid I’ve got some work to get done before I go home too,” you say, trying to be at least slightly nicer than Roy about it, “We can get personal tomorrow, alright Ted?”

He agrees with a happy grin on his face and you say goodbye to him, Beard and Trent collectively with a salute before turning on your heel and waving a goodbye to any of the team still around as you leave. You don’t go far. Unable to help yourself, you knock on Roy’s office door from the other side and shuffle your weight between your feet as you wait.

“Fuck off,” comes the greeting, so you open the door and slip inside.

“Even if it’s me?”

His head turns at the sound of your voice and suddenly his features look a special kind of soft, even in the harsh overhead lighting. He swivels his chair fully to face you, but makes no other move.

“Especially if it’s you,” he confirms, folding his arms again like he knew the effect he had on you, “You’re a fucking pervert.”

You gasp, clutching at the door handle behind you in a show of shock.

“I’m a what?”

“You heard me. Staring at me like you do in meetings wasn’t in your job description when we hired you, last I checked.”

“Last I checked, shagging your goalkeeping coach wasn’t in your job description, but you made pretty quick work of it.”

That was enough to get him moving. He’s quick out of his chair for a man with a bad knee, quick to crowd you against the wall just next to the door. Someone would have to really peer in to see the two of you, something he’d probably calculated even though your mind was already blank at the new proximity.

“You’re right,” he says, voice sinfully low, hands either side of your hips but not touching you yet, “And I was staring at you the whole fucking meeting anyway, so I’m a pervert and a hypocrite.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can keep on with you if you’re both. One of them, maybe I can look past it, but both?”

Finally, one hand comes off the wall to stroke a line down your side with the backs of his knuckles. You try not to give him the satisfaction of shivering, but fail miserably.

“Think you can brave it?” he murmurs, that same hand brushing along your cheekbone, still all rough knuckles instead of his palm, “I’ll take you to Big Tesco later.”

Your whole face brightens despite the heavy tension that had settled like a mist in the room. You reach up to gently hold his wrist, stroking a thumb back and forth over the pulse that jumped there.

“Shit, you know the way to a girl’s heart, Kent,” you whisper, syrupy and cloying, “I take it all back. We can go as long as you like.”

The innuendo drew the growl from him that you’d been hoping for. The hand at your cheek was quick to turn until he was cupping your face and pulling you into him, kissing you deep and slow and longingly. Each kiss with him was better than the last. Yes, it had started hot and desperate after a month of unbearable electricity between you, a rushed encounter at a hotel after a particularly adrenaline-filled away game.

Ever since, Roy had slowed things down. Not in the way you’d perhaps expected - he was still hot and heavy whenever the two of you got the chance, but he was taking his time with you. Teasing and learning. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, like you were something to be revered. Worshipped.

It was the same now, as he anchored himself with a hand on your back, pulling you further in, kissing you with genuine hunger.

“Roy? Can I come and get my stuff.”

Trent. It was always Trent. You liked the man so much, spent a lot of time with him, in fact, but if he interrupted you and Roy one more time, you had half a mind to hide his manuscript or something.

Roy did his special silent groan that he did whenever he couldn’t groan aloud, where he glared at the ceiling as he broke away from you and then clenched his fists in front of him. It was adorable, not that you would tell him that.

“All good,” you whisper, despite it definitely not being all good. It was entirely a joint decision not to tell the team about the two of you yet, but sometimes you wished you could announce it to the whole fucking world if it would get you some alone time.

You squeeze his hand and slip away to the adjoining door between his and Ted’s office. You hear Roy grunt for Ted to come in behind you, but you squeeze through into the other room before you hear any more of their inevitably one-sided conversation. Ted turns to you brightly as you enter.

“Decided you wanted to get personal sooner, Y/N?” he grins, and you can tell he isn’t really serious.

“Just forgot my keys,” you said sheepishly, retrieving them from the desk where you’d left them completely on purpose. It was always good to have a back-up plan and Roy wasn’t the only quick thinker between you, “See you tomorrow, Coach.”

“Can’t wait, coach!”

As you exit for real this time, glancing into Roy’s office as you pass, you take out your phone to shoot him a text. You’re saved under an unassuming name in his phone, so even if Trent sees it, he’ll be none the wiser.

We’re still on for tonight, right? The way I navigate a Big Tesco will blow your mind x

You press send with a smile to yourself, continuing on towards your office to pack up for the evening. Your phone buzzes before you even get there.

You blow my mind every fucking day. See you soon x

God, you could clutch your phone to your chest and squeal in the corridor, but instead, you speed up your walk to get home as quickly as possible. There was no harm in getting all dressed up to go to the supermarket when you were going with an insanely fit professional footballer, you reasoned.

---

Big Tesco. The place dreams are made of, or at least it was when you were younger and felt like you could get lost in the aisles and never return. Nowadays, it was likely nostalgia that kept you coming back, but it still felt like your first Big Tesco trip with Roy was a pretty big deal.

Mainly you needed snacks for movie night, but Roy was happy to indulge you and drive twenty minutes away for this if that’s what you wanted.

“If we’re doing Julia Roberts, we have to do Pretty Woman, obviously.”

“And Erin fucking Brockovich,” Roy agreed, “But if we do Sandra Bullock, we get the modern day masterpiece that is Miss Congeniality.”

“Oh, I still need to see that one!”

Roy stops, Pringles tube hovering above the trolley. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and he doesn’t like what he sees.

“Right, we’re doing Bullock then, if I have to fucking culture you as well as buy your snacks.”

“We’re splitting the snacks-”

“The fuck we are,” he cut in, already contradicting himself, “I was fucking joking, please can we not get into another snack debate. You bought them last time.”

“Fine. And I’m happy with Sandy, too, so you win twice, buddy,” you grin at him, not expecting him to grin back but ecstatic when he does. You have half a mind to press him up against the Doritos and finish what you’d started earlier, but you have plenty of time for that in appropriate places later.

You had all night, in fact, post-Sandra Bullock marathon. The thought brings a particular movie to mind.

“As long as we throw Two Weeks Notice in there too.”

“Hugh Grant? No.”

“Oh come on, he’s a national treasure,” you argue, sliding your arm through his as the two of you continue your journey through the aisles.

“He’s a fucking idiot, is what he is,” Roy bites back, as he picks up the chocolate he knows you love, “I’ll allow The Proposal.”

“You know what, that’s a better choice anyway. We have a deal if we can make a stop in the homeware section after this?” you say hopefully, excited when he sighs and nods. You kiss his shoulder as you continue walking, “We’re so fucking good at this compromising shit!”

You lean away from him enough to hold your hand up for a high five. He indulges you reluctantly with a light slap from his own.

“We are. It’s cause I’m so fucking nice.”

“To me,” you add, staring up at him as he slows the trolley to a stop beside the biscuits. He takes your face in his hands after a moment.

“To you, yeah,” he agrees, voice all soft like it had been earlier. You’re not going to kiss him senseless in a supermarket, the two of you had some shame and a lot of love for privacy, but it was nice to indulge in something like this, a sweet moment shared without fear of anyone seeing the two of you. You turn your head to kiss his palm, “You’ve sent me all fucking soft.”

“You love it.”

“Love you, more like,” he says, for the first fucking time, in a Big Tesco. You’d found out you were getting a party bus for your 10th birthday here too, so it was a location for big occasions. You kiss his palm; once, twice, three times.

“You have to say the I or it doesn’t mean anything,” you tease, but you’re beaming up at him as he strokes the skin underneath your eyes and you almost let them flutter shut.

“Who fucking told you that? Sounds like shit Jamie would say.”

“Jan Maas.”

“Fucking prick,” he says, then a moment later, “I love you, then, if you fucking insist.”

“I do insist,” you giggle, leaning forward until your face is in his chest so you can safely say: “I love you too.”

Its a little muffled, but thankfully he doesn’t ask you to repeat it again like you think he will. He just wraps his arms around your shoulders and keeps you close to him for a long while.

“Roy? Hey boyo!!”

You freeze in place, face still hidden. If anything, Roy’s arms tighten around you rather than letting go as he turns to see Colin waving at him, alongside Sam, Isaac, Jamie and the aforementioned Jan Maas. They all pile over towards him and you know its a matter of time before they realise its you. Jamie’s already bounding over as if he’s won the lottery.

“Roy’s got a girl! A real woman, like!” Jamie exclaims as he reaches them and you decide to get this over with sooner than later, lifting your head to stare at him wearily. He frowns, “Oh. Y/N, hiya.”

Of course he isn’t connecting any dots. He isn’t quite the connecting type, however much you love him to little pieces. Sam is staring at you a lot more knowingly, Isaac stuck with his mouth open. They’ve all caught on a little quicker than Jamie.

“The two of you together,” Jan muses, “I do not believe this is a pairing made to last.”

“Oi, Jan Maas,” Isaac pipes up, especially as Roy’s already stepped forward to threaten him, “Not cool.”

“I am just telling you the truth. You are both a little grumpy, you will not have the needed balance.”

“We’re balancing perfectly fucking well, thank you,” Roy says, and you can hear that he’s gritting his teeth, “As a team. Of coaches. Because that’s what we fucking are.”

Oh, he was going to play the ‘it wasn’t what it looked like’ card? You weren’t expecting it, but you’d happily back him up if he wanted you to.

“You are telling me that was a friend hug?” Sam asks, voice full of disbelief. You look up at Roy to see what he’ll say to that, but he’s already looking down at you with an untraceable look on his face. When he finally looks back at the boys, he takes your hand in his.

“No. It was a fucking boyfriend-girlfriend hug, alright? Any of you tell anyone before we do and I’ll feed you to a fucking monitor lizard.”

You’d watched a documentary about them last night that had likely led to that threat. Jamie’s snickering but tries to sober up when Roy immediately turns to him. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry mate, I am, I’ve jus’ never heard a grown man say ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ before,” he says, back to giggling by the end of his sentence and Jan Maas is quick to dissolve into full blown laughter. You bring a hand up to your mouth to hide your own amusement, lest Roy feel betrayed by it.

“Right, fuck off and leave us alone then. We’re on a tight fucking movie night schedule and I won’t have you twats throwing us off.”

“Hey! That’s why we’re here! If we’re all doing movie night, why don’t you join us?” Sam asks, and you can see he’s teasing even if Roy can’t tell. Still, you take it as an opportunity to stake your claim as you wrap an arm around Roy’s bicep and cling to him.

“Look, you lot hog this man all day every day. I’m taking him home and we’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

It was very Roy of you, just with the addition of a wink at the end that told the boys you were half-joking. Jamie seemed almost impressed, while Sam was trying not to laugh at you. That man never took you seriously, and you loved it.

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Isaac decided, dragging Jamie backwards a little by the collar when he opened his mouth to tease Roy one final time, “Enjoy your night, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

Roy grunted his goodbye, but you waved back at them when they waved, mostly at you. Jamie mouthed something at Roy but, luckily for you both, Roy couldn’t work it out.

“Pricks,” he mutters once they’re far away enough not to hear him and you let out a little snort.

“They were very nice about that, you know? I was expecting a lot worse,” you said, pleasantly surprised at the lack of proper teasing. You knew there was likely more to come once they’d had a while to process it, but still. There was a certain weight lifted knowing that someone had finally been told.

“Do people not say boyfriend-girlfriend anymore?” he asks abruptly, looking down at you from where you’re still clinging to him. You grin at up at him.

“We should bring it back. I love boyfriend-girlfriend. I think that’s how we should introduce ourselves to people from now on.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice, but tugged you into a quick, public appropriate kiss nonetheless.

“Let’s get you some fucking hobnobs and then we can go and look at fancy glassware, yeah?,” he announces, shaking his head with such obvious fondness when you cheer and turn to the biscuits. He stays close, a hand hovering near your back, and you’re a little worried movie night might be forgotten when you get home given how handsy the two of you have been all day. You resume your shopping tucked into his side, and only bump into the boys twice more on your trip around the wonders of Big Tesco.

Later, when you’re eventually curled into Roy’s side during a movie night that started way later than intended, your phone buzzes a few too many times in a row to ignore. You glance at Roy quizzically as you grab it, seeing a bunch of texts coming in from Sam.

Couldn’t resist. Don’t let Roy hate me. I’ve deleted them on my phone now, so they’re just yours. Lunch tomorrow?

Roy grumbled a little beside you as he read over your shoulder, but really he should have gotten used to your occasional lunch plans with Sam by now, even if he liked having you all to himself for at least one hour during the day. You settle into him even more as you scroll through a bunch of photos Sam’s attached with wide eyes.

You staring up at Roy. Roy kissing you. The grins on both your faces when you part. Then one that has you reeling, where you’re facing the biscuits with your hands on your hips and Roy is looking at you. Enthralled. You’re not even fucking doing anything.

“That little shit,” Roy breathes, squeezing your thigh where his hand was already resting.

“I love them,” you say instead of responding, tilting your head back to look at Roy, “Our first proper photos together.”

“They look like a fucking pap took them,” he complains, but he's still studying them and you can tell he likes them really.

“Look how happy we look," you’re stuck on how he looks at you when you’re not even looking at him. When there’s nothing to be gained from it. You glance at the new vase sitting on your coffee table, with fresh flowers Roy had insisted on because 'if we're getting a fucking vase we have to fucking fill it'. Here he was, filling your life with so many little pieces of joy.

“Well we are fucking happy, aren’t we?”

There's a little bit of vulnerability in his question, like he needs confirmation. You lock your phone and toss it to the side, knowing you can reply to Sam in a bit. For now, you pause the movie and clamber to straddle Roy’s lap, seeing that look on his face again as he stares up at you. It only spurs you on.

“We’re very fucking happy, Roy.”

He grins, which is rare, but then he kisses you and that’s not rare at all.

(roy makes a mental note to thank sam for the pictures tomorrow, even if he tells him to do extra laps in the same sentence to maintain the balance)

#hahhahahaa have another fic in one night!!! because i love you <3 <3 #roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent x you #roy kent fluff #roy kent oneshot

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lowkeyrobin · 29 days

Note

Trevor Spengler meeting a ghost his age that is stuck as a ghost because they doesn’t remember their surname or how they died or where they used to live? Like all the ‘important info’ from their memories is gone? Headcanons or one shot? Maybe he was called to “evict” them from a residence and took them home to try to help them?

oh em gee YESSS YESYESYES I love the gbfandom cause yall r so creative ; also this sounds very familiar to frozen empire LMAO ; dw melody kinda slayed ; phoebe is definitely gay idc ; reader knows how they died but not much else, but dw it's for the plot. it's alright let me go by summerdrive is literally the final part of this lol ; also this is super long compared to my other works. I think its good though lol

TREVOR SPENGLER ; lost soul

summary ; youre a lost ghost with no way around the new way of life you'd found yourself in, and trevor is intrigued by you, and decides to try and help you out

warnings ; language, talk about car crashes/death due to car accidents

disclaimers ; set post-frozen empire, me not knowing wtf mannhattan looks like. there's a hilly kind of area near lincoln park bc I said so

word count ; 2.4k

masterlist

The day progressed as usual for Trevor. Wake up, eat, chill out, wait for someone to call, go bust ghosts, come home, eat, sleep and then repeat it all again. Currently, stage five was in progress.

He sits behind Gary in the driver's seat, Phoebe at his side, and his mom in clear view in the front passenger seat. There was no speeding or heavy fight scene, just a calm drive out to a house just outside the main city.

Someone had called in a ghost, I mean, more like a haunting in Trevor's eyes. Nothing was being destroyed, but a very, very apparent ghost had spent the past week sobbing in the attic and banging on the walls.

As he lays eyes on them, he's mesmerized. Their aura is a light blue, contrasting the dark green, brown, and black hues surrounding the attic. They were like a match in the dark. He was attracted to them like a moth to a flame.

He stands on one side of the attic entrance, them on the other. He had to basically turn around to see them on the opposite side of the attic.

He awkwardly and shyly waves, seeing them look back at him, their face contorted to one of discomfort and shock. Tears drip down their cheeks and down onto their neck, scratches and bruises covering their opaque arms, legs and face. A light flickering movement trails down their arms and onto their shoulders and neck, resembling fire.

"Who are you?" They ask, a harsh tone in their voice. Their hands are balled into fists, hanging at their sides.

"Uh, my name's Trevor" He says, showing his empty hands for you, to get some sense that he wasn't here to hurt you. "I'm a Ghostbuster, we got a call that you've been banging walls and stuff..."

They look at him up and down, still thinking this Trevor guy wasn't very trustworthy.

"I just wanna help, okay? What does it take to get you somewhere safer and away from this house?" He asks.

They shrug, unable to hold eye contact. "I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how I'm supposed to move on, I just wanna see my dad again"

Trevor's face quickly morphs into one of solem, feeling the same way as you right now. "I can try and help you move on" He suggests, "Do you know how you... died?"

"Car accident" You answer.

His eyes slightly widened for a moment before answering. "Would you like to come with me? So we can help you move on? We have a lab not to far away, we can try and help you find your way to continue on"

Phoebe, who'd been listening in from downstairs, having been holding the ladder before, speaks up. "We can help you break the fabric and space in time!"

They slightly jump back a bit, not having known that Trevor had guests.

"That's my sister!" He quickly explains, shooting a glare down the ladder towards her. "It's okay, we aren't here to hurt you."

They step forward a bit, the two separated by the hole in the attic floor. They peek down at Phoebe, who gives them a little wave and smile. They look back up at Trevor, who gives them a reassuring yet unsure look, silently urging them to come with him.

"Fine. But not to be experimented on. I just want to see my dad again, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's okay!"

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Forty-four days that the lonely ghost had been staying at a lab where the somberly walked around, trying to remember anything other than their death. What were they meant to do?

They and Trevor had grown close, though.

He'd been working with them one-on-one nearly everyday, trying to figure out who they were, when they died, where they died. They'd grown accustomed to this talk, having it not make them grow sad or angry anymore. They became numb to it, they just wanted to move on.

Trevor made their time here worth it though. He understood them more than anyone else. They wouldn't even work with Lars or Lucky if he wasn't around. Lars would scold them and reinform that if they didn't cooperate that it would only take longer, but they didn't mind at this point. They'd like to stay and hang out with Trevor some more.

The same ripped jeans and sweatshirt they wore when they passed never grew any more deteriorated than it already was, strings and rips never mending themselves. They were still comfortable though, physically and mentally. That last day they spent with their father, they didn't know much about it, but their insides grew warm when they thought about or tried to remember it.

Hours and hours of work was rewarded with Trevor taking them out on a walk through the city and showing them the sights. They enjoyed it quite a lot, and didn't mind any stares or looks, just enjoying the time they were able to spend with the boy.

On one of these walks, Trevor brought up some good news. "I think we found your case, Y/n"

They look over at him, an eyebrow raised.

"We found the newspaper caption of the day after you died, it all matches up." He explains, pulling out his phone to show you a picture. "Car flips over gaurd rail near Lincoln Park, one dead, one in critical condition"

They nod, looking back up at Trevor. "I'm guessing I'm the one who died?"

He nods. "In the article it says your name, and your dad's" He hands the phone over to them, pointing the location as they zoom in.

"Y/n L/n" They whisper. "L/n"

He slows down the pace, seeing the look of pain in their eyes.

"What about my dad? Did he die too?"

He nervously shrugs, not having a definitive answer. They nod, handing the phone back.

"That's a great lead though, we can find out where he is. And maybe that can help us get you into the next realm, or whatever it is" Trevor speaks with reassurance. "I will get you there, I swear that on my life, okay?"

The two stand in front of each other on the empty sidewalk, surrounded by trees and cars passing by. He looks up at them, truth behind his dark eyes.

They chew at the inside of their cheek with a nod, wishing they could just hug him right now.

"Can we go visit where...." They speak softly, trying to ask a bit of a heavy question. That question should've been heavy for them, not him of all people.

He nods with a little smile, planning to go after they went out to eat, or, he did. Ghosts of their kind thankfully didn't need food, just being floating spirits trying to find their escape.

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The dusk had turned to night, the sun having set not long ago, the streets lit up by lights and the moon. The walk towards the crash site was silent while Y/n looked over the newspaper pictures a few times.

2021. That wasn't that long ago, yet it seemed like an eternity.

They approach the dented gaurd rail, right where the car must've flipped. Trevor hangs back, putting his phone back in his pocket after they gave it back. They look down the hill, seeing scraps of metal and tire rubber still laying at the bottom.

Their heart sank as they saw it.

Pieces of the scrap were clearly melted or burned, same with a few trees around the area, the bark charred black from whatever fire must've occurred. That had to have explained the fire on their arms, though they never remembered a fire. They must've died on impact.

Trev stands a few feet away, keeping quiet as he sees them just stare into nothing. Maybe they were recollecting memories or maybe their death or anything else in their life was coming back to them. He didn't want to disturb.

They look at the gaurd rail, sunken down to the ground. Some blood splatters still painted the backside, a little pool of blood staining the concrete.

They, with a smooth pace, walk back to Trevor, holding back tears.

"I want to find my dad. I want to know if he lived or not" They speak, pointing down at the blood. "Please, Trevor. I can't wait around any longer."

He nods. He nearly opens his arms for a hug but stops himself, remembering that he couldn't make physical contact with him.

"I'll come down to the lab tomorrow morning and we'll get to work, okay?"

"Okay"

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The sounds of clicks and keyboard taps echo through the lab. Trevor sits in front of the computer, typing all sorts of variations of their father's name and the city, date, etc into the Google search bar. Y/n stands behind him, watching with caution.

Thank God for True People Search.

F/n L/n, Age 55 - Lives in Manhattan, NY (917)-123-4567.

"Holy shit" The two whisper in unison. They both lightly smile, quickly getting back to the mission at hand.

Trevor clicks on the website, instantly greeted by a picture of Y/n's father. Underneath was his full name, age, date of birth, phone number, and city and state of current residence. Below was more info, like his current address, past and current phone numbers, email addresses, possible relatives, etcetera.

The second person below the possible relatives was a familiar name and age. Y/n L/n, age 17.

"Holy shit, that's you" Trevor states, moving the mouse towards the name. "He's- He's not dead"

They're silent now, staring down at the computer screen.

"What the fuck? I spent all these years thinking he was dead!" They say, slowly backing away from the computer and Trevor, hands on their head as they try and not freak out. "What the hell?"

Trevor quickly stands up, proposing an idea. "What if we call him, and get him to come here and see you?"

They're quiet for a moment.

"I'm scared"

"I'll be right here"

Silence.

"I think this is what will make you be able to move on, Y/n"

They're quiet again, then they nod slowly, taking a little deep breath.

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Y/n sits in the chair Trevor was sitting in before, leg bouncing like crazy due to nerves. The curly haired boy, who thankfully grew out his hair some, was speaking words of reassurance to them. It was already four in the afternoon, the days passing on and blending into each other for poor Y/n.

They couldn't even remember how many days ago it was that The Possessor scared the shit out of them with a chair.

Finally, there's a knock on the door, which Trevoe quickly walks over to answer. They felt like they were going to vomit, if they even could.

"Y/n?"

They quickly look up, hearing the familiar voice calling their name. They'd never felt or heard something so familiar that it instantly warmed up their heart.

Their father stands in the doorway, Trevor in front of him as he walks toward them.

The man walks with a limp, carrying his 200 pound body down the hallway. A bushy beard covered the bottom half of his face, grey hairs peaking out between it. He wore a baseball cap, hiding whatever grey hairs he had up there as well.

Y/n quickly stands up, laying eyes on their father after all this time. They felt their whole core begin to burn as they saw him again.

"Dad?"

He smiles, opening his arms. "Y/n"

They quickly run to him, then almost through him, forgetting they were a ghost. They wrap their arms around him, knowing the couldn't make physical contact. He does the same, arms stiffly heald around each other.

"I missed you so much" They cry, looking up at him. "I thought you died"

The two pull their arms away from each other. Trevor watches a few feet away with a smile.

The older man smiles somberly, "I almost did, Y/n/n"

"Are you okay?" They quickly ask, looking at him up and down.

He sighs and shrugs, "I don't think there's been a day where I've been okay without you"

The burning only became worse, nearly hurting them. They didn't know if it was good or bad but you wanted to enjoy this.

"I love you, Dad"

"I love you too. I'm sorry I failed you" He speaks, tears falling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry for everything"

"It's okay" They lightly smile with a chuckle, the action performed by their surprise, shock and happiness of the situation. "I'm okay. Trevor has been helping me try to find you"

He looks back at Trevor who gives him a warm smile and nod, then back to them. They were beginning the process to fade away. Tiny, microscopic pieces of them began drifting away like leaves against the wind. They look down at themselves, feeling the fading and numbing sensation.

Their father nods, seeing the look of 'I need to speak to Trevor' and 'I love you' mixed in their eyes.

They quickly walk over to Trevor, wrapping their arms around him, still stiffly holding them over his shoulders.

"Thank you, so much. I can't thank you enough, Trev"

He smiles, wrapping his arms around them. "Thank you for trusting me, Y/n/n"

They can feel their body trembling, feeling themselves fade into nothing. They hear and feel Trevor crying a bit, trying to hide it.

"Hey, it's alright, I'll be okay" They chuckle, seeing the boy wipe his tears away as they're no longer halfway-hugging.

"I know" He nods, "Have fun moving on"

They lightly smile, and look back at their father. They hold onto whatever memories they had with both him and Trevor, waving goodbye to both of them as they fade into the oxygen around them.

Y/n's father wipes his tears, looking at Trevor now that they're completely gone, for good this time.

"Thank you for bringing me back to my child. Even if it was only for a moment. I can't find the words to express how much I thank you for that"

Trevor nods, "It's okay. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul into the world, Mr. L/n"

"You can call me F/n, son"

#lowkeyrobin #trevor spengler x reader #trevor spengler #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn!reader

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abeinginsand · 6 months

Text

It must be nice [summarized description in alt, detailed description below]

[ID: Colored drawing of an envious Normal and Taylor looking back on what the other has in their lives that they wish they had. It is cut into three parts. The top panel shows Normal on the far left with the teeny mascot uniform in a pile behind him along with a single pom pom. He is tightly gripping one of his jacket sleeves in tears while glaring off to the right. There is a glowing thought cloud on the right showing Taylor surrounded by their friends. Hermie smiles to their nephew while both Lincoln and Scary high five Taylor. The thought cloud seems to be blurred and a part of it reaches toward Normal. Symbolizing that he might be able to be on better terms with everyone in the future. The center panel is dark with a white lettered phrase that says it must be nice. The third panel shows Taylor on the far right in tears and frowning while holding his cane and a red framed family photo. The family photo is shown enlarged behind him. It shows his mom smiling and holding her young child's hand. Taylor is holding the hand of someone else but the photo is damaged on that side with burn holes. Bright flames flow from the back of the older Taylor's shoes and upward covering that part of the frame. The thought cloud on the left side shows Normal surrounded by his family while all smile happily and the teen is hugged by both parents. This thought cloud is completely cut off from Taylor showing that it is impossible for him to have had that kind of family. Sparkles bounce off each thought cloud. ID end.]

#dndads #dndads fanart #abeinginsand art tag #art #dndads s2 #dndads quest #dndads spoilers #dndads s2 spoilers

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sleepy-gee · 2 months

Note

Billy secretly likes getting petted

he so doessss

it's been a long, long day in lincoln county, with billy having spent most of it on horse back, leaving him incredibly sore– something about his new saddle not being the best quality.

wordlessly, he had stripped down to just his boxers before slipping into bed with you and laying down on top of you, clinging to you tightly.

"everything okay?" you asked, wrapping your arms around him. billy made no response, only burying his face further into your chest. he went quiet when he got tired.

so you did what you do best, getting to work on comforting your boy. you moved a hand up his back, letting it tangle in his hair briefly before beginning to stroke his dark curls. billy breathed out heavily, humming in comfort with an appreciative kiss to the side of your neck.

you alternated between scratching his scalp and petting his hair, using the little noises of comfort he'd make to guide you, and before long, those little noises turned into soft snores.

#sleepy.answers #sleepy.rambles #billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #drabble #fluff

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granddaughterofdemeter · 8 days

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As you color me blue, mm

[percy jackson x f!reader]

Pre-Second Giant War against Gaea-flashback

" God-damn man child, you act like a kid even though you stand six foot two."

You stood beside Annabeth as she rattled off about the Lincoln Museum. Of course, you loved her like a sister and you loved that your half-brother, Hudson, Son of Hades and Persephone, God of Dreams, was the man for her even though he would annoyingly talk on and on about ‘her bronze skin, curly golden-brown hair, and dark amber eyes’, but you couldn't stop yourself from dozing off.

“ [Name],” You tilted your head and stared into the eyes of Rachel Dare, the Oracle and the girl who’s had a crush on Percy Jackson for years. See, you used to have a huge crush on him too but when you saw Rachel close to him you became insecure and resisted the urge to be close to him.

She was popular, respected as the Oracle, and…pretty.

All you were was smart. You were only known because your best friend is Annabeth and your cousin is basically married to her, and you would refrain from calling yourself pretty. It was hard acknowledging that fact but you liked being honest unlike the people close to you.

They all said he liked you, but you were hesitant even with the signs.

“ Flower, you want to sit by the lakeside for a picnic during lunch?” Percy whispered, his blinding smile lighting your questioning gaze. You shrugged though, trying to nod because you wanted to be subtle about the care you held for him…But he wanted the love that you gave to everyone else...

“Percy called for you and Annabeth to come to his cabin…He’s been looking for you for ages.” Rachel muttered, gazing at your face uninterestedly. Annabeth nodded before offering you a hand to get up.

You were terrified, ‘Did he find out I liked him?’ Is what you wondered as you stepped toward the still, cold, marble, smelling of the sea.

“ [Name!]” His grin relaxed you as he pulled you to his side on the blue couch.

You were surrounded by so many socially powerful people. More than you will ever be.

“ You know, sometimes I’m jealous of you all…” You whispered into his chest.

“Why?”

“Everyone understands you, worships the ground you walk on…"

"I wish I could have the same…”

"you talk to the walls when the party gets bored of you"

person who made the banners are tagged on my pinned post

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treeroutes · 5 months

Text

what's up ! non-exhaustive list of stories featuring weird plants :

The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham

The Night of the Triffids, Simon Clark

In the Tall Grass, Stephen King and Joe Hill

The Boats of the 'Glen Carrig', William Hope Hodgson

The Man Whom the Trees Loved, Algernon Blackwood

The Red Tree, Caitlín R. Kiernan

Annihilation, Jeff VanderMeer

The Willows, Algernon Blackwood

The Nature of Balance, Tim Lebbon

'Bloom', John Langan

The Ruins, Scott Smith

The Wise Friend, Ramsey Campbell

'The Green Man of Freetown', The Envious Nothing : A Collection of Literary Ruins, Curtis M. Lawson

The Beauty, Aliya Whiteley

The Ash-Tree, M.R. James

Canavan's Backyard, J.P. Brennan

Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Jack Finney

The Hollow Places, T. Kingfisher

'Reaching for Ruins', Crow Shine, Alan Baxter

'Vortex of Horror', Gaylord Sabatini

Hothouse, Brian W. Aldiss

Vaster than Empires and More Slow, Ursula K. Le Guin

Odd Attachment, Ian M. Banks

Deathworld #1, Harry Harrison

The Bridge, John Skipp and Craig Spector

'The Garden of Paris', Eric Williams

Apartment Building E, Malachi King

The Seed from the Sepulchre, Clark Ashton Smith

Rappaccini's Daughter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Nursery, Lewis Mallory

The Other Side of the Mountain, Michel Bernanos

The Vegetarian, Han Kang

Sisyphean, Dempow Torishima

The Root Witch, Debra Castaneda

Semiosis, Sue Burke

The Wolf in Winter, Charlie Parker #12, John Connolly

Perennials, Bryce Gibson

Relic, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Gwen, in Green, Hugh Zachary

The Voice in the Night, William Hope Hodgson

Ordinary Horror, David Searcy

The Family Tree, Sheri S. Tepper

The Book of Koli, Rampart Trilogy #1, M.R. Carey

Seeders, A.J. Colucci

Concrete Jungle, Brett McBean

The Plant, Stephen King

Anthologies/collections :

The Roots of Evil: Weird Stories of Supernatural Plants, edited by Michel Parry

Chlorophobia: An Eco-Horror Anthology, edited by A.R. Ward

Roots of Evil: Beyond the Secret Life of Plants, edited by Carlos Cassaba

The Green Man: Tales from the Mythic Forest, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

Sylvan Dread: Tales of Pastoral Darkness, Richard Gavin

Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic, edited by Daisy Butcher

Weird Woods: Tales From the Haunted Forests of Britain, edited by John Miller

'But fungi aren't plants' :

The Fungus, Harry Adam Knight

Growing Things and Other Stories, Paul Tremblay

The Girl with All the Gifts, M.R. Carey

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Fruiting Bodies, and Other Fungi, Brian Lumley

'The Black Mould', The Age of Decayed Futurity, Mark Samuels

What Moves the Dead, T. Kingfisher

The House Without a Summer, DeAnna Knippling

Mungwort, James Noll

Fungi, edited by Orrin Grey and Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Trouble with Lichen, John Wyndham

Notes :

all links lead to the goodreads page of the book, mostly because i like to look at book cover art ;

list features authors/books that i love (T. Kingfisher, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Ursula K. Le Guin, the collections from the British Library Tales of the Weird, etc.), but also a few that i don't like and some that i have not yet read ;

if upon seeing that list the first novel you check out is by Stephen King's you have not understood the assignment ;

not all of those are strictly horror stories, some are 100% science fiction (Brian W. Aldiss' Hothouse for instance).

#text #ramblings #plant tag #botanical horror #last time i posted a list of non-fiction books on the topic. time for some variety

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 5 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 3

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.1K

1 2

“Jeremiah and I are going to build a fort when I spend the night,” Eli told you from the back seat as you drove him to school. This sleepover tomorrow was all he had been able to talk about all morning. “He said his daddy builds the most epic forts that take up the whole living room and he’s gonna ask him if he’ll build us one. And we’re going to watch Scooby Doo and the Alien Invaders. And Jeremiah has a Gameboy and he said he’s going to let me play on it! I think I’m going to ask Santa for a Gameboy this Christmas!”

“Wow,” you replied, smiling to yourself as your eyes darted to the rearview mirror, relishing the excitement on your son’s face. “Well, Christmas is pretty far away, buddy, but you save that idea.”

“Well, Christmas is way closer than my birthday now because that already happened and I have to wait a whole ten months for my birthday to come again but Christmas is only eight months away.”

“You’re right. Christmas is closer.”

“Yeah, and the Easter bunny doesn’t bring stuff like Gameboys. He just brings some candy and small stuff.”

“That’s right. I think asking Santa for it is a really good idea.” Plus, that would give you some time to save up for it. You made good money but working off of a single income meant you started saving for Christmas long before the holiday arrived.

“Yeah, I think so too,” your son replied, his little face serious. “Maybe I’ll start working on my list so it’s all ready. Oh! And Jeremiah said that we can ask his dad if we can go for a night walk. They take their flashlights and Miles and walk around in the dark! Isn’t that cool?”

“The coolest! That all sounds pretty amazing, buddy. You’re going to have the best time.”

“I know! And we get to spend the whole day together! We have baseball and then we’re going to get ice cream and then I’m sleeping at his house. It’s going to be the best day of my whole life!”

You laughed, “Well, that’s a pretty big statement. You still have a lot of life yet to go, but I am sure it will be the best day of your seven years so far.”

Turning into the drop-off line, you waved to Ms. Lincoln, Eli’s kindergarten teacher, who was standing to the side, greeting the kids as they came in. She’d been so vital to Eli that year. He’d lost his dad just a couple months into the year and she’d been so empathetic and kind to him. You would forever be grateful for the way she’d helped your son navigate such a confusing and awful time.

It had been difficult for Eli to understand the permanence of what had happened, especially when his dad being gone for a long period of time was not unusual. He continually asked when Justin was coming home, each inquiry another ice pick straight into your chest, when you would have to explain, again, that daddy couldn’t come home this time. He couldn’t ever come home again.

Ms. Lincoln had taken a special interest in him, knowing his love of superheroes, something that had come about because you had told him once that his daddy was one. Eli envisioned his dad like Superman, saving people’s lives, which wasn’t entirely untrue. His teacher was the one who encouraged him to draw. That was when he’d created Master Marine, a superhero with blond hair and blue eyes just like his dad that swooped in and saved the day, defeating the bad guys.

Every single time a new picture made its way onto your fridge, you would battle back the darkness. The darkness that sat just to the side, waiting to swallow you whole. The darkness you fought every morning, knowing you had to get up, knowing you had to keep moving or you would become stuck. And you couldn’t become stuck because your son needed you.

He needed you to be his mother, needed you to be strong and show him that everything was okay, needed you to keep going to your job so you had a place to live and food to eat. So as much as those pictures used to tear you up, take whatever pieces you'd managed to tape back together and run them through the shredder each time they appeared, you knew they were helping your son cope. Even his therapist had said art was an excellent outlet for him. So, when he would present you with a new one, Master Marine saving a young child that looked just like Eli from a bully at school or saving a woman with your hair and eyes from an evil mastermind, you would smile and gush about how amazing it was, sticking it to the fridge with a magnet.

“Bye mommy!” Eli yelled as you moved up to the front of the school, one of the fourth grade teachers opening the back door for him.

“Bye buddy. Have a good day. I love you!”

“Love you too!”

He turned back and waved to you over his shoulder before disappearing into the red brick building, his Batman backpack bobbing on his back. You turned out of the school and onto the road, heading for your favorite coffee shop.

You had a rare Friday off and you were starting it off by meeting Janice for coffee, a little ritual you had whenever you had a weekday off. It didn’t happen often but when it did, you savored every single moment of it. Your life was a constant cycle of work, running errands, doing household chores, and being a mom. To have six hours of time where no one required anything from you was a gift, one you didn’t get very often, and one you never took for granted.

Some people might use that extra day to catch up on household chores or run errands. But you didn’t, not if you could help it. You used that time to meet your friend, enjoying a slow coffee that you could savor instead of inhaling it just to get the caffeine to kick in. You used it to actually sit down and read a book or lay on the couch and watch tv shows you couldn’t ever watch when Eli was around. The laundry and the messy house would still be there tomorrow. The grocery store wouldn’t cease to exist if you didn’t go today.

Opening up the door to Brewed Awakening, you instantly felt like you were home, the atmosphere always so warm and welcoming. June, the owner, a woman around your age with long black hair and startling green eyes, waved from behind the counter. You waved back, inhaling the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, already feeling that zing of energy, as if your body knew what was coming and was preparing for it.

You had been coming here for coffee since June had opened the place four years ago. Your love of coffee is what had brought you to the door but the atmosphere and the friendly owner is what kept you coming back. It didn’t hurt that June made an excellent cinnamon mocha. But what she’d done with the space turned it into an inviting place that kept you wanting to come back.

The decor was like a warm hug, full of comfortable furniture and cozy blankets. People often curled up in the squishy armchairs with their mug of coffee, reading a book, a blanket draped across their lap. Or they might be cross legged, on one of the wide chairs at a table, working on their laptop. The walls were a canvas of photos and artwork, small cafes from all around the world, allowing you to imagine that you were sipping a cappuccino in Vienna or enjoying a cafe latte in Paris.

“Hey girl,” June greeted with a smile as you approached the counter. “Cinnamon latte as usual?”

“Yes, please. I’m actually meeting Janice but she’s not here yet, of course.”

June winked, “Of course. Our Janice prefers to be fashionably late. Want me to get her Flat White ready?”

There it was, that feeling of belonging, like you were old friends even if the only encounters you ever had were at this counter. June had to serve hundreds of coffees a day but she knew every single regular’s order and often took the time to learn personal things about them as well. Often, you would approach to find your drink already ready, June preparing it the moment she saw you walk in.

“Yes please.”

“How’s my favorite little guy doing?” asked June as she steamed the milk.

“Oh, he’s great. He actually started playing baseball. His first practice was yesterday and he loved it,” you told her, slipping your credit card into the reader.

“Yeah? That’s great. I played softball all through school and I loved it. I can’t wait for him to come in with you so he can tell me all about it.”

“I’ll have to pop in with him sometime this weekend. You know how much he loves your hot chocolate.”

June laughed, setting the cups on the counter and leaning in, whispering, “Just so you know, that’s my Eli special. Not everyone gets extra whipped cream, chocolate chips, and crushed candy canes on their hot chocolate. Just my favorites.”

She winked and you smiled as you took the two coffees and headed over to two squishy armchairs that were free. You sat, sipping on your blessed caffeine, only waiting a few moments before Janice came swirling into the coffee shop like the tornado she was, apologies already falling from her lips for being late. Not that they were necessary. Late was just her perpetual way of being. You'd accepted that about your friend. You learned long ago that if you needed Janice ready at five, then you had to tell her four or you’d be waiting a while.

You held up your friend’s coffee and Janice took it with a smile, flopping down into the chair with a dramatic sigh, “Thank you. You are my favorite person ever.”

“I already had that title. I’ve had that title for a very long time. I didn’t need to buy you coffee for that so maybe you should pay me back. What a waste of my money,” you teased.

Janice stuck her tongue out. “You only stay my favorite because you supply my caffeine habit. Sorry I’m late. I was editing photos from that wedding I had a few weeks ago and I completely lost track of time. Then I raced out the door and got in my car and realized I didn’t have my purse. So, then I had to run back in and then the house phone rang and it was my mom and you know how hard it is to get her off the phone. And then when I told her I was meeting you, she had to know how you were doing and if you’ve found a guy from online dating so I was filling her in on what a disaster that was. And…”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, not surprised at all that Janice had told her mom all about your online dating escapades. The two were more like best friends, only sixteen years between them, than mother and daughter. “I never expect you to be on time anyway.”

“You know, I should be offended but that’s fair,” your friend shrugged and then she lurched forward, hand on the arm of your chair. “But I really was trying to get here on time today because I am dying to know how last night went with the hot dad.”

“You know it wasn’t a date, right?”

Janice waved her hand, groaning loudly, “He brought dinner to your place. It’s practically date adjacent.”

“Our kids were there. I told you that. Do you even listen when I talk? Eli and Jeremiah were just having a playdate. He brought pizza. It wasn’t even in the same zip code as a date.”

“So…you’re not interested in him at all?” Janice’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline, coffee cup brought to her lips, challenging you. Damn, she knew you too well. “Aha! I knew it! It’s all over your face. You are a smitten kitten and I love it! You’re definitely interested.”

You groaned, your head resting against the back of the chair. “Maybe…I don’t know. Janice, this is all very strange for me. And he’s just the dad of my kid’s friend. It’s not like he asked me out or hit on me or gave me any sign that he’s interested in me at all. He didn’t approach me at some bar and buy me a drink. I approached him to ask about his son coming to my house to play. I don’t even know if he’s single.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to figure out. Just ask him. When are you going to see him again?”

“Tomorrow. The boys have baseball practice again and then Eli is going to spend the night at their house.”

You looked down at your coffee, focusing on the dots of cinnamon speckled across the foam, not wanting Janice to read your expression. You did not want her to see how excited you felt at the idea of seeing him again and to read too much into it because you didn’t even know how you felt about it.

Yeah, you were lonely sometimes. Eli was your entire world and you had Janice and Matt. You weren't alone but sometimes you wished for someone to be around. Someone that was yours. Someone who might take care of you, offer to rub your feet or handle things while you took a bath. Someone you could curl up with while you watched a movie or who would make the salad while you prepared dinner. Someone to talk to, to share about your day, to hold your hand while you strolled through the grocery store.

It was dumb, really. Silly. You knew that. You should be perfectly content with everything you had, everything you'd had before you lost Justin. Not everyone got to experience a love like you had. But even when you had him, because of his job, he wasn’t always there. You'd spent lots of evenings alone. Being alone was not anything new for you but there was something vastly different about being alone, knowing your person was coming home to you at some point versus being alone knowing they never would.

“Okay, perfect. So you ask him tomorrow.”

“How am I supposed to ask him if he’s single?” you scoffed, appalled at the idea. Clearly, Eli had a mom. He’d spoken about her last night. Maybe he just didn’t like to wear a ring. Maybe she was simply out of town for work or something.

“Just like that. You tell him that you enjoyed your evening together and you wondered if he was single.”

“Janice, I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. It’s a simple question.”

“There’s nothing simple about that. I haven’t asked a guy out in over a decade. And even back then, I was awful at it. I was always so nervous. Do you remember when tripped over my own feet and spilled that drink all over Josh Day in college? It was mortifying. Just because you’re all confident and brave doesn’t mean everyone is. Besides, I don’t even know if I want to know. I don’t know what I want.”

“Honey, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah. We have. And you’re the one who wants this for me,” you groaned, “but Janice, you’re not in my shoes. You have no idea. You can’t know what this is like and I hope you never have to. You say it’s been long enough and that I need to move on. Maybe you’re right but that doesn’t mean I can wave some magic wand and be ready. They didn’t exactly give me a manual on how to get over your grief when your husband suddenly dies. They didn’t give me some step-by-step instruction booklet for how to start dating after losing the love of your life. And how to do that when you’re also a single mother who has a kid to consider in all of it. I tried. I went on four dates and every single one of them was awful and just reminded me of what I was missing. They didn’t make me want to move on. They made me want to hang on for dear life to what I used to have.”

“I know. I know they were awful. But I don’t want to see you close yourself off to the possibility because you’re scared. Online dating sucked. I hear you. But this isn’t that. This is a guy, right in front of you, who you obviously are interested in. And it’s a guy who already knows Eli and your son likes him. He’s already organically a part of your world. You spent a whole evening with him. Do you have another horror story to tell me about him?”

“No,” you admitted, sinking down into the comforting cushion of the chair. “No. He seems wonderful. He was great with the boys. I mean, obviously he’s good with his kid but he was great with Eli too. He had them both laughing. And he has a good job. He’s a project manager for a construction company. Not that it should matter but I definitely don’t need a manchild in my life. Raising Eli is enough.”

“And…?”

“And what? Isn’t that enough?”

“He’s cute obviously?”

You flushed, bringing a hand to your face as those eyes and that smile came back to you, “I already told you he’s good looking. I mean…hazel eyes, ridiculously good hair, and a smile that could power up the whole of New York City. He’s that kind of good looking that makes you wonder what he’s doing here and not on your television screen.”

Janice giggled, her feet bouncing against the floor, arm smacking her chair, “See? Come on. Take your shot, honey.”

“But what about Eli?”

“What about Eli? Didn’t you say he liked him?”

“He did but he barely knows him. And this isn’t the kind of thing where I could wait to introduce them until I knew it was something real because he’s already in Eli’s life now. And Eli is best friends with his son. I can’t screw that up for him. Because how would we be able to still set up playdates if we had some horrible breakup? We wouldn’t be able to be in the same room and then Eli would be crushed. And what if Eli isn’t ready to see me with someone else? He’s only ever seen me with his dad. He might think I’m betraying Justin. And what if…”

“Whoa, okay, let’s back the truck up a bit here,” Janice soothed, her hand coming to rest on your arm. “It’s just a date, one date honey, not a lifetime commitment. Ask him out on one date and see how it goes. Keep it simple and come here for coffee. No pressure. Not some fancy restaurant with low lighting. Just a nice coffee. If there’s nothing there then you just move on as friends and it doesn’t have to affect the boys. They don’t even have to know that you two went out. And you know I’ll watch Eli for you if you need me to. Name the time and Matt and I will be there.”

“I don’t know. This all just feels weird and wrong…I mean, Justin…”

“Justin wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Justin loved you like Sam loved Annie, like Wesley loved Buttercup, like Harry loved Sally. He would want you to have the world. He would hate the idea of you sitting in that house all alone. You are far too young to be facing the rest of your life alone. Take the leap, my friend. Take a chance on this movie star man. Be happy. It’s okay.”

But was it okay? You would like to think that Justin would want you to be happy, that he wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone at only thirty-two. But would he look at it as a betrayal? Would you be dishonoring him and everything you'd shared if you replaced him like an old couch?

And was any of this even relevant? You didn’t even know if Steve was single. Maybe he was still married or maybe he wasn’t but he was already seeing someone else. You couldn’t imagine a guy like that staying single for long. There had to be women lined up just waiting for their turn. If the moms at practice the other day were any indication, that was certainly the case.

But did you want to keep being alone? Maybe you didn’t straight up ask him but maybe you could find out. You were hanging out tomorrow for a bit anyway. Maybe if you were crafty, you could figure out his status without just coming out and asking if he was single.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally relented.

“I guess I’ll take what I can get,” sighed Janice.

___________________________________________________________

After listening to Janice spend the next hour trying to convince you why you needed to grab the bull by the horns, your friend’s words and not yours, you were ready to get the hell out of there. Janice was not going to let this go. You'd hugged your annoying, but well-meaning, friend and headed off to the grocery store.

As you'd just had pizza last night, Eli had asked if you could change pizza Friday to nacho Friday. So, here you were, even though you usually avoided doing things like this on a bonus day, grabbing all the fixings you would need to make the best nachos ever. Or really, what you would need because when Eli said nachos, all he really wanted was melted cheese on tortilla chips and some salsa to dip them in.

Not you. You had every intention of loading yours up with all the good stuff. Grabbing a cart, you wandered through the aisles, grabbing avocados to make guacamole, ground beef, taco seasoning, black olives, sour cream, and one jalapeno. Deciding a bottle of wine would be a nice addition, you turned down the liquor aisle and almost plowed right into another cart with your cart.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking…”

Your heart stopped, along with the entire grocery store, as if someone had hit the pause button, when you saw who you almost ran into. Steve gave you that megawatt smile, blinding even under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. He stood there in a plaid button down and jeans, a baseball cap on his head.

Seriously? You'd met this guy two days ago and you had never seen him before. You definitely would have noticed if he’d ever been anywhere in your vicinity. Who wouldn’t notice a guy who looked like that just having the nerve to exist? Now you were running into him in the grocery store? Could you have just been blind?

To be fair, after Justin had passed, for a long time you felt like you w were moving through life in a fog. Your grief had been so thick that you barely noticed anything, simply going through the motions that were required of you. Maybe you had seen him before but never even noticed, blinders that were you just trying to function keeping you from seeing this beautiful man that lived in your town.

“Hey there,” he laughed, taking his hands off the cart and holding them out wide.

“Hey. Grocery shopping?”

Your eyes closed as you inwardly cursed yourself. Obviously he was grocery shopping. He had a cart in the middle of a grocery store. Why were you so bad at this? And Janice really thought you had a shot in hell of flirting with him, of asking him out when you couldn’t come up with anything better than asking him if he was grocery shopping in a grocery store?

“I mean, it is a store full of food so, you know?” Steve shrugged, gesturing to his basket. “I had a few hours before I had to be out to check on a job site so I figured I’d grab all the provisions for the big sleepover tomorrow. It’s way easier to do it now than to lug Jere with me. He’ll have this cart overflowing and my wallet completely drained by the time we checkout.”

You looked down. His cart was full of everything two seven year old boys might want. He had burgers, hot dogs, buns, four kinds of chips, cookies, ice cream, popcorn, juice boxes, cereal, and milk. You also noticed the six pack of beer that was probably his own personal little treat for having two seven year old boys in his house all night. Your eyes met his, eyebrows lifting.

“The beer is just…I mean, I won’t drink it all when they’re there or anything. Just like to have one or two in the evening sometimes. I promise you I am a responsible adult.”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t care if you enjoy a beer. You’ll probably need it. It’s just that’s a lot of food for one overnight. Looks more like you’re planning on twelve kids or possibly stealing my child for a whole week,” you teased, pressing your lips together. “I warn you. You can try to take him if you want but you’ll want to give him back after the first night. I’ll be impressed if you make it through night two. He’s amazing but he’s a handful.”

One of his hands ran through his hair as he chuckled, “No. I wasn’t planning on keeping him. Trust me, one seven year old is more than enough for me to handle on a regular basis. Besides, Jere’s mom will be home Sunday night so he’ll be heading back with her until I get him again on Wednesday.”

“Oh?” So she was in the picture but definitely not in the picture as in them together. Here was your opening, your way of finding out more information without blatantly letting him know you were interested. Just a casual conversation between two acquaintances who ran into each other. “Shared custody?”

“Yeah. Nance and I divorced about four years ago but we try to co-parent the best we can. She’s been on a trip with her husband for their anniversary for the past week so I’ve had Jere all week. That’s why I needed a babysitter for the meeting. Normally, we just help each other out if we need to.”

“Wow, that’s great. It’s so nice that you two can make that work when so many can’t. Jeremiah must love that his parents can work together so well. It has to make the split a lot easier on him.”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah. I mean, we’re just better friends than we were romantic partners, you know? It wasn’t really a contentious divorce. Nobody did anything bad. No cheating or nastiness or anything. We knew we wanted to make it as easy on Jere as we could so we agreed to joint custody, splitting our time with him fifty-fifty and then if something comes up, we just move stuff around as needed.”

You were impressed. You had known quite a few people who’d gone through a divorce, more than you should for only being thirty two. Most of them were not friendly with each other. Nasty divorces where venomous words were thrown around and battles lasted for months over possessions and children and pets. To have two people just recognize that their marriage wasn’t working and decide to work together for the sake of their kid was incredibly mature and only made him that much more attractive. You really needed this guy to have a fault because it was getting harder and harder not to think he might be the most perfect guy you'd ever met.

“It’s really nice that you two are there for each other like that. It’s hard being a single parent.”

“Yeah. It is,” he agreed. “You’re always feeling like you’re doing the job of two people. But I’m very lucky to have her and my friends to help me out.”

“Yeah, I have my friend Janice and her husband Matt. They help me out a lot whenever they can. Matt is actually the one who got Eli into baseball. He started taking him to the batting cages right after him and Janice started dating. And he’s taken him to a couple games. That’s why Eli wanted to play.”

“Well, Jere is definitely glad for that. He was practically bursting to tell me that Eli was going to be on the team.”

“Those two really seem to have connected,” you said fondly. “Eli talks about him all the time. It’s nice. He…uh, he struggled to make friends the first couple years of school. He was kind of quiet and kept to himself after…well, he just was going through some stuff. So, him finding Jeremiah has been really great. Or, I guess Jeremiah found him, actually. Eli told me Jeremiah saw his Batman backpack on the first day of school and showed him his Superman one and asked if he wanted to be his best friend. It has really brought him out of his shell.”

“Well, Jere loves him. When I ask about school, he’s never talking about anything he is actually learning.” Steve chuckled. “He’s always telling me about Eli. He would not stop talking about Eli coming to sleepover after we left your house last night and it was all he talked about this morning on the drive to school.”

“Eli too.”

“Coach Harrington, is that you?” came a sing-songy voice as Laurie Streeter came sliding up next to him with her cart.

“Oh, hi Ms. Streeter,” Steve greeted with a nod.

“I thought that was you,” she beamed and was that, was she actually batting her eyelashes at him? You grimaced at the woman in her mid thirties acting like some teenage girl with a crush. “I just couldn’t pass up the chance to say hi to my favorite baseball coach. You know, Richie hasn’t been able to stop talking about how much he loves baseball ever since the first practice the other night.”

“Well, good. I’m glad he’s enjoying it. I try to make sure all the boys are learning but having fun.”

“Oh, and you do such a wonderful job.”

Her hand fell on his forearm as she leaned into him, pressing her ample cleavage against his bicep. Steve’s eyes widened and you noticed the red that was creeping along his neck, up over his jaw, coloring his cheeks. But was he blushing because he was flattered or because he was mortified?

You were certainly mortified. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if he wanted to maybe get a cup of coffee sometime and this woman was practically melding their bodies into one in the liquor aisle of the grocery store.

Laurie was that mom that was always put together. You never caught her without a full face of make-up and not a hair out of place. Her husband left her for a younger model last year and instead of letting it beat her down, she’d come back with a vengeance. She’d taken up Pilates and even you had to appreciate how tight her ass looked in her yoga pants. Apparently, Laurie had decided to show her ex just what he’d given up when he walked away.

You looked down at yourself. It wasn’t that you were sloppy. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, normal attire for your off days. You'd put on some concealer and mascara this morning and you'd pulled your hair into a ponytail in preparation for meeting Janice for coffee. You looked presentable but you would never be able to compete with that if that was what Steve was looking for.

Laurie might be a single mom but she was living off of the generous alimony she received in the divorce from her cardiac surgeon ex husband. She didn’t work. She had a nanny for her three sons. She had all the time and money in the world for Pilates, spa days, and the salon. You were lucky if you remembered to get a haircut every six months.

“That’s really nice of you to say,” Steve replied, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“Oh my gosh, coach. Your arm is so firm. Wow. Do you work out?” asked Laurie, giggling as she wrapped her hand around his bicep, squeezing.

“I mean…I try to get to the gym a few days a week,” he stammered.

Jesus. Laurie was ready to straddle him right there next to the wine and Steve was struggling to speak. This situation was just getting uncomfortable at this point and you needed an out. Janice was wrong. There was no way you were going to embarrass yourself by setting yourself up to be rejected.

“It shows. You know, it must get so lonely in that house all by yourself when Jeremiah is with his mom. I could bring over dinner sometime for you, keep you company…”

That was it. You could not listen to it anymore. “You know, I really need to get going so I’ll let you two catch up,” you interjected, attempting to maneuver your cart around them.

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t even see you there,” Laurie said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, letting you know she absolutely had seen you there. She just didn’t care. The woman’s eyes roved over you from head to toe. “Oh honey, you must let me give you the name of my stylist. You could really do with a…well, everything. I know single motherhood is challenging but you really can’t just let yourself go. When was the last time you had your hair done, sweetie? How do you ever expect to find a man walking around like that?”

“Well, you know it’s hard to find the time,” you seethed, the urge to just leave your cart and dart out of the store overwhelming. But no, you'd promised Eli nachos for dinner. You would not let this woman bully you into running away in shame.

“I’m a single mother and somehow I find the time.”

“Yeah, it must be so hard when you have a full-time nanny to mother your children. Some of us have to actually do that ourselves.”

Laurie looked like she’d been slapped, her jaw almost hitting the floor. Steve’s hand slid across his mouth but you caught how his eyes crinkled. He was hiding a smile, amused by your comment.

“You know, I happen to enjoy a woman who doesn’t feel the need to get all made up just to go grocery shopping,” he offered. “When you’re naturally beautiful you don’t need to hide it behind a bunch of face paint, anyway.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to conceal the smile that came at his words. Could this man be any more perfect? Did he even have a flaw? And the look on Laurie’s face, the way she turned tomato red, the fumes that you could practically see coming out of your nose, only made the moment even more enjoyable.

“Well, this was fun but I really need to get going now. I have to pick up my son and make dinner for him since I don’t have anyone to do that for me. I’ll let you both get back to your shopping,” you said simply, pushing your cart down the aisle, heading for the checkout.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Steve called out.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “Yeah, tomorrow, facepaint free, split ends, and all.”

Oh, but that look on Laurie’s face, sheer jealousy and outrage, would have you smiling for the rest of the day.

____________________________________________________________

Steve drove toward home after checking in at the job site, unable to stop grinning, occasionally chuckling as he remembered Laurie’s face when you had called her out. As he remembered the smile you gave him when he spoke up, saying you didn’t need make-up because you were naturally beautiful, his chest warmed.

Well, okay, he hadn’t exactly said you were beautiful but it was implied. At least, he thought it was. And you didn’t need make-up. He loved that you were comfortable enough in your own skin that you didn’t feel the need to cover every inch of your face in make-up. He loved that you didn’t feel the need to look like you were heading out to the club just to pop into the grocery store.

He’d dated his fair share of high-maintenance girls. And while there was nothing wrong with a lady caring about her appearance, there was something annoying about having to wait an hour and a half for them to get ready when you casually mentioned grabbing some lunch. Now you were waiting until closer to dinnertime and grouchy, which inevitably led to a very unpleasant meal when you started sniping at each other. He’d been there more times than he could count.

And Laurie Streeter, she needed someone to knock her down a few pegs. She walked around with her nose stuck up in the air, acting like she was better than everyone else. She had milked that divorce for all she could and honestly, her shitbag of a husband had cheated, so Steve didn’t fault her for that. But everyone knew she didn’t get her hands dirty if she didn’t have to. She had a cleaning lady, a nanny, and in the summers she even had a pool boy. That woman had no idea what it was like to actually be a single mother.

Steve pulled his Ford Explorer into the driveway in front of his house. He’d bought it after Nancy and him had separated. There’d been no arguing. She was the mother of his child. He told her to go ahead and keep the house. He’d be the one to find somewhere new but she’d wanted a fresh start too. So, they’d sold the house they bought together when he was only twenty-three and split the profits.

It fit his needs. In fact, it was probably a bit more space than he needed for just him and Jeremiah. It was a two story house with three bedrooms and two full baths. The kitchen area was decent sized with a wrap around island where he kept a couple barstools and a space for a dining room table. He’d refinished the basement two years ago and that was where most of Jere’s toys were, along with a tv for him to watch his cartoons.

But his favorite part was the backyard. The house was rare in the neighborhood, boasting a quarter acre of land with a large backyard. His fence butted right up to the treeline and he spent many nights sitting out on the deck he’d built or on the patio with a fire going and a beer in his hand. Jeremiah loved the swingset he’d put in and he was begging for them to get a pool but that was a big expense and a hell of a lot of upkeep. Still, he promised the kid he’d think about it.

Unlocking the front door, he smiled as the familiar tapping of paws across hardwood greeted him. Miles came dashing around the corner. He swore that the dog looked like he was smiling, with his big old tongue hanging out of the right side of his mouth. His size intimidated people sometimes but he was just a big old teddy bear.

“Hey there Miles,” Steve cooed, rubbing his head. “You miss me? Your buddy will be home from school soon. I have to get him in about an hour. You wanna come with me?”

The dog huffed loudly, curling his body and spinning in a circle as if he understood exactly what Steve was saying. And quite honestly, sometimes he wondered if he did. He’d spent many a night spilling his guts to the furry beast, telling him things he never shared with anyone else, not even Robin.

“You know, there’s going to be some new people coming to meet you tomorrow,” he told Miles, heading into the living room, the Newfoundland trailing behind him. “Jere’s friend, Eli, is going to come over and spend the night. He’s really excited to meet you.”

He sat down on the couch and the dog did not hesitate, leaping right up next to him. He laid down, his big head dropping onto Steve’s knee and he absent mindedly stroked his fur, fingers moving through the black, shaggy fur.

“His mom’s coming too and I think I might like her.” Miles lifted his head, those big brown eyes observing him. “I know. I know. I see a pretty girl and I’m losing my mind again but I don’t think that’s what this is. Not this time. This girl’s different. But she lost her husband and I don’t know how long ago it was. I don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for. And you know, if I asked her out and then it didn’t work, what if she felt awkward and then Eli and Jere couldn’t hang out anymore? He’d be so hurt. I don’t know. I thought about asking if she wanted to stay for dinner tomorrow. I mean, the kids would be here too. So, it’s not really like asking her on a date, right? It would just give me a chance to maybe talk to her, get to know more about her. I just feel like I have to be careful with this one, you know? It’s not just my heart that could be on the line this time. So, what do you think? Should I ask if she wants to stay for dinner tomorrow? Have a burger? It’s casual enough, right? Just being friendly?”

Miles leapt up and barked before bestowing Steve’s face with one of his sloppy kisses. He laughed, grabbing Miles’ big head, placing a kiss right on his black nose.

“I guess that means it’s a good idea, huh?”

Miles woofed loudly and maybe it wasn’t the most valid way to make a decision, but Steve trusted this big beast more than he did most people. Alright, he’d ask you to stay and eat with them. No big deal. You'd all eaten together the night before. Then he could maybe figure out what the right call was with this because he really wanted to find out if you were as different as you seemed. He wanted to know if this time could be different, if maybe he’d chosen the right one.

Chapter 4

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bumblesimagines · 26 days

Text

Our Flickering Light

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"You ever been this far from home?"

"Ellie."

"What? I'm just asking!"

There was something humorous in the way Ellie and Joel treated each other. The exasperation that weighed heavy on Joel's face whenever she so much as opened her mouth and the smugness that twinkled in her eyes when she saw Joel roll his eyes or purse his lips in annoyance. (Y/N) couldn't blame him much. The moment Lincoln had disappeared out of view, Ellie had leaned forward and shoved herself between the two seats, firing off question after question. For a girl with the fate of the world resting solely on her shoulders, she sure had a lot of energy and excitement. (Y/N) wondered if he'd been like her back then. Full of curiosity and awe.

"It's fine, Joel." (Y/N) dismissed with a soft chuckle and a wave of his hand. Joel glanced at him, furrowed brows full of uncertainty and even a hint of a warning of what was to come if he gave Ellie the green light to ask questions. (Y/N) smiled at the older man and Joel looked back at the road, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror. He gave a small nod and Ellie beamed, once again wedging herself between the seats and making Joel click his tongue in disapproval.

"So, have you?" Ellie asked, her dark brown eyes wide and full of barely contained curiosity.

"I wasn't born in Lincoln, Ellie." (Y/N) chuckled at the quiet 'oh' that fell from her lips and her cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment, one finger lifting to sheepishly scratch the side of her head. "My mom and I were originally from Frederick, Maryland. We were able to get to the Baltimore QZ before it began turning people away. It's how we met Frank. We stayed there for a good... Jesus, I don't know, four or five years?"

"Why'd you leave?" Ellie blinked and cocked her head to the side, loose strands of her hair swaying over her pale skin. (Y/N) noticed Joel glance over Ellie's head, just as curious as the girl he'd previously scolded. (Y/N) exhaled through his nose and gazed back out to the long road ahead.

"It fell. None of us really knew why, but Frank said the day before it happened there'd been rumors about a breach in one of the walls that FEDRA couldn't be bothered to fix. The next day the QZ was in utter chaos. People were either panicking, stealing, getting trampled, or getting shot down by soldiers. Frank and his neighbor, Kelly, got us and we fled the QZ with a few other survivors." (Y/N) explained solemnly, the screams of citizens attempting to find safety still ringing as clear as day in his ears. "We traveled a week by foot trying to get to Boston since THE Philadelphia QZ only lasted two years and they were never able to clear any part of New York City to get one set up. We were a group of ten but by the time we got to Lincoln, it was only Frank, my mom, and me."

"Wait, so, you could've been in Boston with us? And you were born before the outbreak? But you look so young!" Ellie gaped at him and Joel snorted quietly, the muscles on his face straining to keep him from smiling at her words.

"I'm only twenty-nine, Ellie." (Y/N) laughed and her eyes widened further. "I was nine when the outbreak happened."

(Y/N) watched the teen boys bounce the basketball around in the road, their laughter echoing down the street and mixing in with the distant sound of honking. His mother stood by the dining room table with her phone in hand and pressed against her ear, reciting the address to the pizza place staff member. Her other hand ran circles around the barely there bump and her attention jumped between answering questions and looking at the clock.

"Can I go outside?" (Y/N) asked into his folded arms, his legs beginning to ache from standing at the window for so long. The basketball slammed into the board and bounced off the rim of the basket. A chorus of groans and laughter followed. "I'll stay in the driveway."

"It's dark out, sweets. Those boys will be heading to bed soon, anyway." Rose said as she set her phone on the dining table and approached him, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. She smiled warmly down at him. "I'm sure if you ask Jonah tomorrow, he'll teach you how to play, alright?"

"Okay." (Y/N) sighed. "When is Brent-"

There was a sudden, distant explosion outside, close and loud enough to make the windows in the house shake and set off car alarms throughout the neighborhood. The neighborhood boys outside shouted and screamed in surprise, their long game of basketball abruptly forgotten in favor of turning around to watch a firey cloud rise into the air. Rose instinctively brought (Y/N) closer to her and grabbed the curtain to tug it further from the window.

"Oh, my god," She whispered and took his hand, clutching it tightly as they left the kitchen and opened the front door, stepping out onto their porch. (Y/N) could hear the porch swing still creaking from the force of the explosion and he leaned into the skirt of his mother's dress, peeking out from behind her legs. "Jonah, Tyler, you boys okay?! The rest of you need to get home right now!"

"Was that the gas station?" Jonah asked, holding his basketball tight to his chest as the rest of his friends scrambled to collect their things and call home. Tyler wasted no time in running across the street to his house and quickly heading inside the small house while his aunt's car blared in the driveway.

"You boys get to your parents, now!" A new, deeper voice boomed from next door and (Y/N) peered around his mother to look at their next-door neighbor, an intimidating veteran whom Brent enjoyed calling a 'hermit'. (Y/N) hardly ever heard him speak seeing as the man, Steven, spent most of his time out hunting or locked away in his run-down, unkept house. Steven turned to them, his white tank top soaked in sweat, and he hurried down his creaky porch steps to approach them.

"Steven, what's going on?"

"Rose, sweetheart, get your boy and pack some things, alright? There was a national alert on the radio-" Another explosion, one closer to the city.

(Y/N)'s body began to tremble and he clung tighter on his mother. Rose spun on her heel and hauled (Y/N) up into her arms, everything in his sight becoming a dark blur of their familiar living room and hallway. She set him down in front of his bedroom door and hurried inside, her swift hands snatching his school backpack from the floor and turning it upside down so everything inside clattered to the floor. She grabbed fistfuls of clothes from shirts, pants, and underwear before stuffing the free pockets of small books and toys.

"Here, baby, here." Rose returned to him and he stuck his arms through the gaps, feeling the straps weighing heavily down on his shoulders. (Y/N) watched her head down to hers and Brent's shared bedroom and heard her rummage through things as she'd done in his bedroom. Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of his pajamas. He faced his bedroom again and approached his toy box, lifting the top open and sorting through his toys until he found Mr. Flops, his old favorite stuffed bunny that he'd hidden away after hearing some boys make fun of Gracie in class for still having a teddy bear.

"(Y/N), sweets, come on." His mother stood in the doorway with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She extended her hand out toward him and smiled encouragingly, wiggling her fingers until he took her hand again. Rose moved down the hallway again and reached the front door before stopping to scribble something down on the notepad she kept by the key holder. (Y/N) tightened his grip on her palm when they stepped outside and spotted Steven hauling some things into the back of his truck.

"Hurry, Rose!" He called and (Y/N)'s eyes widened at the sight of the shotgun strapped to his shoulder. Rose sighed quietly, locking the front door and gliding down the steps with her son in tow. She took the two bags and squeezed them into the small backseat, ensuring they'd remain still and not squish (Y/N) at any rapid turn during the ride.

"Where are we going?" He asked tentatively and peered up at his mother.

"I-"

"Shit," Steven hissed, and (Y/N) turned around to see Tyler rushing out of his house only to trip on the last step and fall into the grass by the driveway. His aunt staggered out of the house after him, her body movements jerky and weird, both limp and stiff. Tyler scrambled on the grass that had been wet by the sprinklers only minutes before the first explosion, the slippery grass preventing him from getting back on his feet. "Get in the truck, now."

"It's just Becca, Steven," Rose said breathlessly, her hands reaching out toward her son to pull him close.

"No, sweetheart," Steven sighed and lifted the shotgun, pointing it directly in Mrs. Gorman's direction. His finger slipped over the trigger. "That's not her anymore."

"What happened to Steven?" Ellie asked gently, her head fully propped up on her fist as she stared at him, completely engrossed by the story. A grimace had appeared on Joel's face toward the end, an all too knowing look passing over his dark eyes. The panic, confusion, the way the world turned upside down in a matter of hours... it was something the new generation of children like Ellie never got to experience. Instead of knowing the joy of running around freely, of visiting different cities and states. All they knew was the fear and death that followed.

"I don't know," (Y/N) admitted softly. "But knowing him... he's probably still around trying to help people."

"I bet he and Joel would've been buds," Ellie said, slumping back in her seat and wiggling closer to the window, propping one arm along it and staring out at the passing scenery. (Y/N) exhaled in amusement and glanced at Joel when the older man rolled his eyes, still as silent as always. What a pair they made. A young chatterbox and an older man who could spend days without speaking. But it was part of his charm, in a way. Silent but always observing, always watching over everyone.

"Looks like a gas station up ahead," Joel murmured gruffly, pointing out the tall sign in the distance. (Y/N) could see abandoned cars scattered around, many of them long overtaken by nature. The station itself appeared in similar conditions, worn down and overgrown. No sign of infected around. "We'll pull over for a little while and get some gas. Use the bathroom if you have to. We ain't stoppin' until we need to again, alright?"

"Yep." Ellie sighed, reaching for her backpack and slipping her arms through the straps.

Slowly pulling over and stopping the truck, the three hopped out of the truck and surveyed their surroundings. Joel cautiously stepped forward, fingers tightly wrapped around his pistol and his head on a swivel, turning sharply whenever he heard the faintest sounds. (Y/N) shifted around the strap of his sniper rifle and walked toward the gas station, hearing the soft patter of Ellie following after him. He pushed the dirty glass door open and peeked inside, waiting for movement or noise before stepping inside fully and looking around the store. It appeared largely empty and scarce, anything still up on the shelves or fallen on the ground either rotten or useless.

(Y/N) headed further into the store and purposefully kicked a can, listening to it rattle against the tile floor and fall into silence once it hit the wall. Nothing. No sound of any animals scurrying to hide, no infected crawling out from the darkness. For safe measure, he checked each room, only finding a long-decayed corpse in the storage closet and a caved-in bathroom. With no urge to release his bladder, he turned toward Ellie and smiled. "Seems safe enough. If you need to go, go ahead. Holler if you need or see anything, 'kay?"

"Gotcha." Ellie nodded and returned the smile, sliding the backpack off her shoulders and walking further into the bathroom. She set her backpack on the sink and glanced at him as he turned to leave. "Good luck with Joel." She told him with a playful grin and unzipped her backpack.

Chuckling, (Y/N) nodded and headed back into the store, checking behind the register for anything they'd need before leaving the store completely and heading toward Joel who'd taken it upon himself to siphon gas from the old cars. (Y/N) adjusted the rifle's strap again so it hung at his side instead of his chest and squinted through the glaring sun to watch Joel work. "Ellie's using the bathroom." He informed him, hearing a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"(Y/N)..." Joel began with a heavy sigh, pushing himself off his knee and picking up the gas canister from the ground. His lips pressed together, his tilted toward the ground as his brows furrowed once more. "I'm... I'm real sorry about your folks. They were good people."

"And so was Tess." (Y/N) added softly and Joel's features hardened into a grimace, his head turning away from him and his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh. He made no move to respond or even acknowledge her but (Y/N) could see the pain etched all over his face. He could see the sorrow and pain Joel fought desperately to swallow down and ignore until it faded. "She had a good heart."

"Yeah." Joel forced out and inhaled sharply, his grip on the canister tightening. (Y/N) stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Joel's shoulder, feeling the man tense at his touch and become rigidly motionless. He could only feel Joel's chest moving with each quiet breath until, after a minute of nothing, his arm moved, sliding around (Y/N)'s body loosely at first before tightening with every emotion Joel had long buried under his hardened exterior. His forearm pushed against (Y/N)'s back, pressing them tightly together as Joel buried his face into the crook of (Y/N)'s neck. In a soft, muffled yet pained voice, he spoke, "I miss her."

"Frank used to say that you honor people by living for them... by living because of them. Who else will keep their memory alive is not us, Joel?" (Y/N) told him gently, rubbing his fingertips into Joel's shoulders.

"You are..." Joel interrupted himself with a soft chuckle as he leaned back, "Far too young to be sounding so old."

"I can't help it." (Y/N) smiled, dropping his arms from Joel's shoulders and crossing them over his chest. "You should've seen the books Bill and Frank had me reading."

"Yeah, I bet half of it was some crazy conspiracy shit." Joel snorted, his shoulders lightly shaking and a rare genuine smile spreading across his face. He had a breathy sort of withheld laugh, one that made him wonder how it'd sound when he found something especially funny, and the type of smile that made wrinkles form around his eyes.

"You have a pretty smile, Joel. You should do it more often." (Y/N) complimented, running his hand over Joel's bicep affectionately before dropping his hand to his side and turning around. He approached the next car down the line, dipping his arm in through the window of the car and popping open the flap. He wiped his hand clean of dust and dirt with his pant leg before unscrewing the cap for Joel. He stepped aside, finally taking note of the still man. "Joel?"

Joel blinked, gaze darting over to him and flickering toward the flap. "Right. Thanks." He cleared his throat, long legs moving toward the car. He kneeled down beside it, glancing up briefly when Ellie stepped out of the store and began walking toward them. She stood beside (Y/N) and looked down at Joel, watching him begin the siphoning process.

"We have to do this every hour?" Ellie questioned, one brow arching questioningly. It was easy to forget she hadn't been alive when cars were driven freely down the street instead of armored vehicles or tanks. She hadn't even known how to put a seatbelt on.

"Gas breaks down over time. This stuff's almost water." Joel explained. "Back in the day, we'd drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere."

"So where'd you go?"

"Pretty much nowhere," Joel inhaled deeply, releasing that air into the tube. A few seconds later, gasoline poured into the other tube and down into the canister. Ellie blinked and perked up, that familiar curious twinkle appearing in her eyes again as she leaned her head forward to get a closer look.

"How does that work?" She asked, taking another step closer.

"It's a siphon," Joel answered, looking up at her and being met with a blank stare. "It's when... liquid travels against gravity... because pressure-"

"You don't know," Ellie stated simply and giggled when Joel shot her a look. Sticking her hands in her pockets and spinning around to face (Y/N), she tilted her head. "Do you know, (Y/N)?"

The man in question blew a raspberry and shrugged. "Uh... Billy taught me how to do it once a long time ago. Something about gravity, pressure, and elevation. I was like fifteen. I didn't really get much of it but I think Joel was on the right track, actually."

"Exactly." Joel raised his brows at Ellie, almost sassily in fact, and turned his attention back to the tubes. Without having to look up at Ellie to see her expression, he spoke again. "No wondering."

Ellie clicked her tongue and tilted her head up toward the sky, lips pursing defiantly but her feet remained planted on the ground. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile, his eyes catching the wicked grin that sprung out on Ellie's face. She lowered her head and slipped her backpack off, placing her backpack on the hood of the next car with a soft thump. "This is your fault, then." Ellie laughed mischievously and tugged a book free from her backpack.

"Uh-oh." (Y/N) laughed, and then laughed again when Joel's face fell into disbelief and misery. Ellie proudly held No Pun Intended: Volume Too in her hands and loudly cleared her throat as she tossed the pages open. (Y/N) dug his teeth into his bottom lip, a few giggles escaping him as he awaited to hear stupidly cheesy puns and watch Joel's misery intensify.

"'It doesn't matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.' " (Y/N) snorted at Joel's silence. "No Pun Intended: Volume Too by Will Livington. Volume too, you get it? Too? Like, t-o-o?"

"Jesus." Joel exhaled heavily, staggering up onto his feet as giggles left Ellie.

"'What did the mermaid wear to her math class?'" Ellie looked up from the book at Joel, a slow grin spreading across her face. "'An algae bra!' Get it? Like algebra?"

It took another horrible pun and a burst of giggles for Joel to tell Ellie to wait in the truck while he finished getting gas. The satisfied look on her face and the mischievous smirk spoke volumes as she headed for the truck with a skip to her step. After a few more minutes, the canister was full with gas and the two men returned to the car. (Y/N) climbed back into the passenger seat, setting his rifle between his legs alongside his backpack, while Joel filled the gas tank and set the canister in the back. The truck rumbled to life and Joel drove them back out onto the road where lines of cars had been forced out onto the edges of the road.

"Must've been some truck," Ellie said, propped up on her knees to watch the cars they passed by.

"Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on 'em and clear the roads for their tanks and such," Joel explained grimly, glancing at the cars until the lines ended.

(Y/N) stared out into the vast emptiness around them, a stark difference from the forests he'd grown up around. He felt Ellie fiddling around in the backseat, searching around until she pulled out a cassette tape and had Joel insert it, an old country song pouring out from the speakers that (Y/N) vaguely recognized. Ellie continued her search and (Y/N) noticed her dip suddenly behind his seat, the sound of papers crinkling filling his ears.

"Got somethin' else. It's, uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures-"

"No, no, no. Put that back." Joel demanded and (Y/N) shifted in his seat, immediately spotting the athletically built shirtless model on the cover. His face immediately heated up and he turned back around, covering his mouth to stifle the embarrassed laughter that left him. "Ellie- Ellie, that is not for kids."

"Oh, my god. I didn't need to see that." (Y/N) whispered. "Throw that away, Ellie. It- It's not for your eyes-"

"Hold your horses! I wanna see what all the fuss is about!" Ellie laughed, continuing to flip through the pages. "Why are all these pages stuck together?"

"Ellie."

"I'm just fuckin' with ya." Ellie giggled, smacking Joel's shoulder with the magazine before lowering the window and tossing it out into the wind. She slumped back in her seat and rolled the window back up, more laughter escaping her lips until the sights they passed captured her attention.

They continued driving down the countryside, passing by a multitude of things. From a bison herd to an old overgrown rollercoaster, they drove until the countryside faded into lush forests and roads slowly overgrown with foliage that led to formerly populated areas. They stopped for gas one more time, listening to a few more puns from Ellie that had Joel contemplating his life and (Y/N) cracking up before hitting the road again. (Y/N) enjoyed looking out the window and imagining what the towns must've looked like before nature retook what was once hers. Of course, from time to time they'd pass old machinery where the army had attempted to fight back, whether against the infected or people, (Y/N) couldn't be sure but an uneasiness filled him whenever he spotted a tank or armored truck.

"Alright, that's enough for today," Joel murmured, turning the truck onto a grassy field and into a thick forest with tall trees where they'd be hidden away from anyone passing by. He parked the truck once satisfied with the spot and got out, collecting the small stove and setting it down on the ground while Ellie explored their camping spot for the night.

Stirring around the contents from a Chef Boyardee can, (Y/N) poured even servings into three plates and sat back against a mossy rock to eat. For an expired can of ravioli, it surprisingly still tasted good, though his thoughts drifted back to Bill's cooking. He pushed around the ravioli with his fork, idly listening to Ellie and Joel chat about their meal and plans. He couldn't help but think about them, about their last days spent together, about the short and sweet wedding. The urge to eat numbed quickly.

"Here, Ellie." (Y/N) murmured, scraping the remainder of his meal onto her plate and wiping his plate clean to use another time. (Y/N) stood up from the rock and tucked the plate and utensils away. He could feel Joel's stare burning a hole into his back and gave the man a smile to soften his worry. It hardly helped so (Y/N) focused on getting their sleeping bags out of the truck as the sky above them began to darken with night fast approaching.

With two lanterns, he sat one down between Ellie and Joel's sleeping bags and took the last one for himself. "I'll keep watch." He told them, slipping the rifle strap around his shoulder and patting Ellie's head as she lowered down to wiggle into her sleeping bag. She swatted playfully at his hand and chuckled, pulling the pun book and a flashlight out of her backpack before using it as a pillow. Joel glanced at him and stiffly nodded, settling into his own sleeping bag and watching him walk a few feet away.

(Y/N) leaned back against a tree trunk and set his lantern down by his feet, taking the strap off his shoulder and holding the rifle. His eyes trailed down the gun until they found the words engraved just above the trigger. B&F. His thumb ran over the rough letters, pressing into them until they left an imprint on his skin. He took a deep breath and raised his head, scanning the area around him. With everything falling into darkness, he was left to depend on his hearing for any sign of something amiss. But all he heard was the rustling of leaves above him and the occasional call of an owl. Fabric rustled behind him and the light from Ellie and Joel's lantern faded, leaving him with his thoughts while they dozed off into slumber.

About twenty minutes passed before he heard the fabric rustling again and peered over his shoulder to see Joel's dark figure getting up. Likely off to use the bathroom, he assumed and looked forward again, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the letters. His teeth nibbled lightly on his bottom lip and he could feel hunger slowly creep in, poking around as it made its presence known. A twig behind him snapped and he turned, finding Joel approaching him.

"You should be sleeping."

"And you should've eaten." Joel lifted his brows and took his wrist, placing two granola bars and an apple in his hand. He nodded to them and carefully took the gun from him, surveying the area in a glance before looking back at him. "Eat. I'll keep watch 'til you're done."

"Joel-"

"Eat." Joel urged gently, a surprisingly soft look falling over his features. "I have to take care of you, too, alright? Stop actin' stubborn and eat."

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

The cold, cold night. Left in Lincoln, part 3

6.9k | dark!dad's best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

You slid under the quilt face-down, half on top of him, not waiting for him to make room. You kissed his cheek and he smiled with his eyes. His hair was messier, and you liked it that way, but when you touched it he bristled, then raked his hand through to straighten it. "I love it," you said. He sighed with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, if she loves it."

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, slow-burn horror w/ disturbing (implicit) content, big girthy age gap, "plot," angst, pining, toxic fluff, gaslighting, manipulation, pressure, fingering, oral F receiving, unsettling P in V sex dream, use of pet names and praise, trapped animal. Very TOXIC, dark Joel (psychological dead dove do not eat). Too long but didn't feel I could break it up. Smut may have edging properties sry just wrote what felt natural.

You tucked yourself into bed and admired the special apple blossom from Joel's orchard. You slowly rolled the little stem between your fingers, feeling guilty for making Joel walk home alone. He was so patient with you. So understanding. All he wanted was to be close to you. You hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to be close to him, too. You weren’t sure what was holding you back.

You put the flower on your nightstand and stared at the spot on your ceiling, trying to feel Joel’s arms around you. Soon, you were thinking about his stiff cock against you, between your legs. You ran your hands down your sides and thought about his hands guiding you up and down. You could hear the echo of him talking you through your orgasm. You touched yourself but didn’t get there. You wondered if he could teach you. But more than anything, you wanted to feel him against you, then inside you. Maybe you could have, if you hadn’t sent him home. You drifted off feeling guilty and regretful.

You dreamed of Joel. You were back on top of him, straddling him with your arms around his neck. You moved yourself up and down, gliding slickly and firmly against his shaft, doing it all on your own this time. You were grinding against his hard cock, his hands resting on your back. But something felt off. His face was clean-shaven and vacant. Void not only of enjoyment, but of recognition. He was in a trance, looking through you. He didn't speak at all.

You dragged yourself up his shaft one more time, and his cock stayed upright as you claimed the head. His eyes watered, but he remained perfectly still. You sank down on him, sliding easily into his lap. It didn't hurt. You felt nothing but full of him, filled to the brim, and it felt so right. He didn't blink. You pushed yourself up and started riding him. He finally looked at you, just as a clatter shook you awake in real life.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You got up and went straight to the window. Finally, the stillness in the air was gone, replaced by a howling wind. The clatter was most likely nothing sinister. Anything could have been bowled over by the wind. Regardless, you looked forward to putting your mind at ease the next day by looking at the surveillance footage with Abe. You left the curtain open a little to avoid pitch black darkness.

You needed to sleep. This was becoming unsustainable. You couldn’t have every noise jolting you awake, making you look over your shoulder. This fierce independence, it was a valiant effort. Bill would be proud, but you were tired of torturing yourself. You considered asking Joel to stay over in the future. You told yourself next time, you'd at least let him tuck you in. But something still held you back. You could feel it, even as you told yourself you should do it.

You slowly blinked awake when light poured in between your curtains. The apple blossom on your nightstand was wilted and discolored, the edges dark, but you couldn’t bear to throw it away. You wished you had put it in water. It was the most special flower in the world and you just let it shrivel. If you let Joel tuck you in, he would've taken good care of it.

By the time you got dressed, It was almost afternoon. The wind brought with it a cold front. You put on jeans, a flannel shirt, boots, and a jacket to do some chores and groundskeeping. You stayed close to the house so you wouldn’t miss Abe when he came. You tended the garden, evaluating what you could harvest before protecting it from the cold. The cold brought other challenges, too. You were nervous about using the heater for the first time on your own.

You looked up at your bedroom window, curious how much someone could see from outside if you were to open your curtains all the way. As you were looking, you heard a similar sound to the rustling you heard at night. With a slight echo, yet somehow quieter. You tried to sense where the noise was coming from and spotted a vent on the back of the house, close to the ground.

You stood up and brushed the dirt off your knees as you slowly walked toward the house. The closer you got, the louder the sound. You crouched down and looked at the vent. The noise subsided. You laid down on your belly and inspected the metal, trying to look through the slits, but you couldn’t see anything. You would have to get a screwdriver if you really wanted to look.

You got back up on your knees and sat there listening for a minute, fingering the cool, metal flaps of the vent. You planted one foot on the ground to stand up, then the vent shook violently with an echoing crash. Your heart jumped and you instinctively hit back at the vent. The loud metal bang from your hand further startled you. Your heart raced. When you looked at the ground, there was a small, black feather. You went to the basement to get a screwdriver, but the door was locked. You darted inside but couldn’t find the key.

There had to be another screwdriver somewhere. Knowing Bill, the house was probably full of them, but you knew of one other place for sure. Since the noise had been tormenting you, the task felt urgent. So you went to the place you were sure of - a small, wooden storage shed next to the meat curing one. The shed was about the size of a small bedroom and there was something about it you didn’t like. Notably, one time you got a face full of spiderwebs.

It’s a vivid memory: You screamed and thrashed, even tore your shirt off over your head. Frank came running outside in a panic. You asked him to hose you down but instead he got you to calm down long enough for him to get all the webbing off. Then he held you still with his hands on your shoulders and told you to breathe. He took a big breath in with you then let it out. He said, “we’re gonna get through this, honey,” and he couldn’t finish the sentence without laughing. Once you could breathe again, you laughed too. All three of you referred to it as The Spider Shed after that.

The Spider Shed still wasn’t a happy place, despite the warm memory. Your palms were sweating as you got closer, and you wiped them on your flannel shirt. The door wasn’t all the way shut. There was a trick to shutting it and it came undone easily. It was on Bill’s list to fix. No spiderwebs in sight today, from the outside at least.

You were only a foot away from the shed when a big gust of wind made the door flap and creak. You took a deep breath, trying to slow your heart rate. Then you grabbed the metal handle and opened the door. Your breath hitched when you saw what looked like a thick cobweb. Once your eyes focused, you could see it was just a net trap. Fortunately, the tool box was right there, so you didn’t have to look around, much less go inside. You opened the box and got a screwdriver and flashlight. You pressed the button on the flashlight and it didn't work. You smacked the bottom and it flickered.

You went back to the vent, but the sound was gone. You unscrewed the corners of the metal plate anyway and carefully took it off. There were more feathers and a couple of sunflower seeds, but no sign of the bird. You weren’t sure what the vent was for, or how long you could leave the cover off, but you left it open while you finished the garden work, keeping an eye on any critters to make sure they wouldn’t meet the same fate. You were relieved to know the source of the sound.

–

You decided to make a little snack for you and Abe. Having company was so rare, and you wanted to show your appreciation. You sliced up some vegetables and homemade bread. You got out two glasses for drinks. It was too early for wine in your understanding.

You looked in the cooler and you were out of apple juice but there was still some cider left. The fact that it was from Joel made you want to taste it, but you weren’t clear on how strong it was. When you unscrewed the lid, it smelled weird which gave you your answer. No thank you. Maybe if Joel was there - you couldn't imagine you would have tried the whiskey without him.

Thinking about the apples made you feel warm and fuzzy for Joel. Thinking about the whiskey made you yearn for his touch. You badly wanted to go over there and make apple juice together, but you didn't want to miss Abe when he came by, so you stayed home. But as the day went on, there was still no sign of Abe. Even as it became late enough for wine.

You finally thought to turn on your radio. You turned it to Abe's station, and Call Me by Blondie was playing. It was on one of your favorite tapes. Frank always called it the gigolo song, which made you laugh. But your warm memory was soon overtaken by dread when you remembered the radio code. Eighties meant trouble. Someone might have breached the perimeter. You weren't sure which would be worse - Infected or people. Bill always said desperate people were more dangerous than anything, but Infected terrified you.

Next on the radio, the same song played again. Unsure if you forgot how long the song was, you brushed it off. But when it began to play a third time, your stomach turned. You opened the tape deck to make sure it was in fact the radio playing. The tape deck was empty. It was the radio, and there was no telling how many times the song had played before you turned it on. Twenty seconds into the fourth time you heard it, the music slowed down. Low and distorted, “Color me youuurr colloorrrrrr baaaaabyyyyy,” and your arms erupted in goosebumps. Then it abruptly cut off and there was silence. Just static. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

You adjusted the antenna. Nothing. You checked the Boston QZ station to make sure there wasn't something wrong with your radio. You heard The Doors loud and clear. Then you put it back to Abe's channel and left it there. As haunting as the static was, it was your only way to find out what was going on - Unless you wanted to go out in the cold, dark night.

You wished Joel was with you. He would protect you. If Joel knew of any trouble, he would have come over immediately to make sure you were okay. So either he didn't know, or he couldn’t come. Your chest ached at the thought that something bad might have happened to him. You prayed he was okay.

You were tempted to walk to Joel’s house, but you tried to channel Bill. Bill’s voice in your head said you were already in the safest place possible, and you should stay put and arm yourself. The guns were in the basement, which was locked from both doors, inside and outside. You tried picking the outside lock first since the sun was going down. The air was chilly and your fingers were getting numb. You didn’t have any luck, but you remembered to put the vent back on. While you were on your knees doing it, you noticed a rock near the basement door. The key was underneath.

Once you got the door open, the basement was completely dark. None of the surveillance computers were on. Your heart went to your throat. Even though you hadn't checked the monitors, knowing they were there had given you comfort. You were convinced that the noises were harmless, but you were looking forward to seeing proof when Abe came by.

You turned on the light and looked at the wall of firearms. You got two guns, a long one and a short one, and brought the basement key with you.

You stayed inside listening to the dead leaves rustling loudly in the wind over the quiet static of the radio. And then finally, music. Cream, Sunshine of Your Love. You finally exhaled. Whatever trouble there was had been resolved, according to the radio code. And yet, it didn't resolve your nerves. You couldn't get the haunting, twisted version of Call Me out of your head. It drowned out the song you liked.

You got hungry and realized you hadn’t eaten. For a late dinner, you ate the snack you made for you and Abe. You hadn't seen any sign of trouble yet. You considered going to the basement and trying to fix all the surveillance, but the worst case scenario would be if a dangerous stranger ended up in there with you with a wall full of guns. So you kept it locked and stayed on the sofa, thinking about Joel. Worrying about Joel. Wishing Joel was there, until you calmed down enough to get sleepy.

You must have dozed off, because the sound of a vehicle jolted you awake. When you registered what sounded like Abe’s truck, you somewhat relaxed in relief, but by the time you reached the window, you couldn’t see it. At least he was okay. You went upstairs to bed and took the pistol with you. Tomorrow, in the daylight, you would walk to Joel’s house and find out what happened.

You were afraid of the dark that night and left your curtain cracked open despite the cold. You put the pistol on your nightstand and laid in your bed. Within minutes, the sounds started again. The flapping. The rustling. You let it fade into the background and focused on the sounds of the wind. The sound of dead leaves dancing around outside got louder and a chill fell over you. You got an extra quilt out from under your bed and bundled up, but it wasn’t just the weather. It was also the coldness of being without Joel. It was so cozy having his arms around you, you could hardly fathom how warm you’d be with him inside you. Your loins heated up at the thought of it.

You fell asleep, and it didn’t feel like you were asleep for long before you suddenly awoke. Your eyes adjusted to find a dark silhouette in the corner of your room. You nearly choked on your gasp, then sat up and grabbed the gun. You tried to steady your hands, hoping your eyes were deceiving you. You didn't aim it yet, hoping it was a shadow from outside.

"It's me, peaches." Joel cautiously stepped into the moonlight. He had his hands in a low surrender position, but was surprisingly calm. "You okay?” He looked at you concerned. “Can ya put that down for me?"

Your hand shook as you put the pistol back on your nightstand.

"Joel?”

"It's okay, baby. You're safe."

“What is going on?" Your heart raced, but you were glad Joel was there.

"Heard a car. Woke me up. Looked outside, saw someone walkin' over here." He stepped closer and put his hands down.

A pit formed in your stomach. He sat down on your bed and stroked the arm of your flannel pajamas.

"Came to check on ya.” He hesitated. “Don’t wanna scare ya, but your back door was open, darlin',” he said regretfully.

Your eyes hurt and all the skin on your head tightened. No wonder it got so chilly. You hoped he wouldn't notice what became of the apple blossom.

"Cleared the house. Had to see you were okay." You imagined him checking on you then being unable to pull himself away, so protective that he needed to quietly watch you all night.

"Thank you," you whispered, then told him, "The surveillance is down. Abe never came."

"Yeah," Joel whispered. "I dunno what’s goin’ on, but I can't leave you here alone, okay?"

You nodded. He took off his jacket, and you scooted over to make room for him, but he didn’t settle in. The rustling noise returned. Joel listened to it and studied your face. You didn't react, except to say “I think it’s a bird.”

“Hmm," he nodded thoughtfully. "Prolly so then, darlin’.” He squeezed your knee. He sat with you for a moment in silence, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “Goin’ downstairs, okay?" His voice was soft and reassuring. "So I can stop any trouble.”

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

He looked at you affectionately and his hand cupped your face.

"Please stay," you begged.

He looked conflicted. “Okay, baby. Just 'til you fall asleep.” He brought his feet up on the bed - his boots were already off. He settled in next to you. He stayed on top of the bedding but got under the top quilt when you offered it. He leaned on his side and put one forearm above your head on your pillow, draping his other arm over you. He smelled like clean laundry, and his hair was a little damp. “You okay?” he said in a smooth, near-whisper. “Bet that was scary.” He was so close to your ear, you could feel the wind and vibration of his voice and it gave you a chill of arousal.

“I’m okay now, yeah.”

"Soon as you fall asleep, I'm goin' down, k?" Joel’s head came closer to yours and you could smell notes of whiskey under his aftershave. He looked at you with concern. “I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Yeah.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, then you looked at each other for a moment, and you lifted your head slightly off the pillow.

“Shhh,” he said, brow furled, and slid his hand under your head. You let your head down into his hand and watched his face soften. "You're safe, baby. I'm here."

His eyes closed as he put his forehead against yours. His nose brushed yours, then his lips pressed into yours and you pressed back. It sent a warm rush through your body, and you wanted more. He broke the kiss to look at you and his thumb brushed your temple. He kissed you again, tenderly on the top lip, then on the bottom, then pressed his lips into both of yours at an angle. His lips lingered there and parted, gently pulling at your mouth, not breaching it. He pulled away then planted one last, delicate kiss. “Night, peaches.”

He rested his head on the flannel of his bicep. You closed your eyes, but it took time to fall asleep. You slowed your breathing, and when you were almost asleep, Joel carefully got off the bed.

When you woke up, the house was warmer. Joel must have turned the heat on for you. You went downstairs and he was on the sofa. The poor guy stayed up all night keeping you safe. You sat on the edge of the couch and he stretched with a groan.

"Mornin', peaches." He set his hand on your lap.

In the light, you could see your flannel pants and button-up were similar to his shirt.

"Mornin'." You planned to ask him all about the night before, but once he was in front of you, you just wanted to be close to him. You could always ask him later over breakfast.

You slid under the quilt and laid face-down, half on top of him, not waiting for him to make room. You kissed his cheek and he smiled with his eyes. His hair was messier, and you liked it that way, but when you touched it he bristled, then raked his hand through to straighten it.

"I love it," you said.

He sighed with a twinkle in his eye, "well if she loves it," and stopped messing with it.

You smiled at him. He looked at you and his eyes darkened warmly. Then you felt a shape harden in his jeans and his hips lifted slightly. He hummed “Mmm,” as he looked at your mouth and brushed your elbow with his thumb.

"C'mere, gorgeous," he whispered and gave you a kiss, sending a rush through your body. He pulled back to look at you and he looked so tired. Your heart swelled at the thought of him staying up all night to protect you. Your desire swelled at the feeling of his arousal against you.

"You must be tired. Come take a nap with me," you urged. "It's warmer upstairs."

You got back on your bed and Joel stood at the foot of it, scanning your room. It was his first time there in the daylight. You could faintly see the thick silhouette of his dick in his jeans and you couldn’t take your eyes off it as he took off his jacket. He watched you watch him and his eyes darkened more. The mattress groaned under the weight of his knees. As he stretched out next to you, he sighed as if his bones ached, then laid his massive hand on your waist.

He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back then murmured lowly, "Nap really all you want?"

Your face burned as he watched your eyes expectantly. "Just wanna be with you," you answered quietly.

His deep voice became nearly a whisper. "Love hearin' that, baby."

He got closer with a sigh then pulled you up against him. With both of you on your sides, he tenderly pressed his lips into yours, then the kiss heated up. His hand traveled down from your waist, over your ass, to your hamstring, and you found your knee hooking over his hip, bringing your loins closer. He sucked your soft lips, then parted them with his tongue and sucked your mouth.

For several minutes, you held him tight with his arms over yours and your faces joined together. You felt so much better in his arms, under his hands, between his lips. You felt safe and cared for. He softly moaned as he kissed you and his arousal swelled against you. He slipped his hand under your flannel top and lightly brushed your lower back which was beading with tiny droplets of sweat.

“You warm?” he whispered. His cheeks were pink and his lips were flushed.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Joel backed up enough to access your clothes. He slowly unbuttoned your top, planting a kiss on your mouth between each button, the hungry look in his eyes not matching his slow and patient pace. Then, with all the buttons unfastened, he gently hung the side you weren't lying on behind your back and the collar fell off your shoulder but the sleeve stayed on. He inhaled sharply at the sight of your breasts.

“My lands,” he murmured, hypnotized by your body. Then he looked back up to your eyes and said, “You’re so pretty I can hardly take it, darlin’.”

He pulled you tight against him and kissed you hard, inhaling deeply through his nose. Then he rolled toward you and his chest against yours turned you on your back. As he kissed you, he worked one of his knees between your thighs and you opened them. He kneeled between your legs and lowered his hips, pressing his jeans against your flannel clad crotch. You sighed at the swell of his hardness and he moaned “Mmm,” then tore his lips away from yours.

He kissed your cheek, then your chin, and your neck, where he paused to suck and lick. He made his way down to your shoulder, where he nudged your pajama top the rest of the way off. You took your arms out of the sleeves obediently, leaving the sleep shirt lying under you. He kissed between your breasts where there was a fine dew of humidity, and looked up at you as he dragged his lips down to your belly button, where he stopped to plant a long, open mouth kiss. His fingers hooked into your flannel waistband. You squirmed uncomfortably, which he expected.

“Baby, you’re perfect. I’ve seen you," he said. "So perfect. . . Like a beautiful blossom.” He pleaded softly with desperate eyes, "just trust me."

“Okay,” you whispered.

He slowly lowered your waistband, and you lifted your hips for him to take it under your butt. As soon as your hair was exposed, he laid his cheek down on it and hugged you with his hands against your ass cheeks, fingers pressing hungrily into your flesh, breathing deeply. He gently kissed the crease where your thigh met your pelvis, then lightly dragged his tongue along the other crease. He buried his mouth in your mound, inhaling and moaning softly. Then he dragged his lips down and his mouth engulfed your clit, gently prodding it with his tongue. It felt so good, but you still couldn’t quite relax. You were too self-conscious.

"You don't have to do that," you told him.

His voice was quiet and low. “Course I don’t, darlin’, if you don’t want me to.” He looked up at you from between your legs with big, sad eyes. “Doesn’t feel good?” He caressed one of your creases with his thumb. "Is it my beard? Shoulda shaved."

"No, it's fine," you said. He was so careful, his facial hair didn't bother you, and after your eerie dream, you didn't want to see him unshaven.

He hooked his thick digits into your waistband again, now midway down your thigh, and finished taking the pants off you. He sat between your naked legs fully clothed and rolled up his sleeves, forearms flexing. You were still tense. “It’s okay, baby. You can tell me what you want.”

His soothing voice made it spill right out of your mouth. What you'd been craving so bad. What you couldn't stop thinking about.

“I want you inside me.” Your face burned as soon as you said it. You looked down, unable to suck the words back into your mouth. Then you hesitantly looked back up at him.

His eyes were wide and his face relaxed in wonder, but he was quiet for a moment. Still and quiet.

“Baby, I’d like nothin’ more,” he murmured. And yet he was saying no, you could tell. Your tear ducts felt weak. “You’re not ready yet, peaches. We'll get there, I promise.” He acted like the two of you had all the time in the world.

"What do you mean I'm not ready?"

He twisted onto his side. "Well, you're still shy with me, darlin'. Haven't even touched it yet." He firmly cupped the hard shape in his jeans. "Gotta make sure you really want it." He wet his lips. His breaths grew heavier and his forearm flexed as he slowly rubbed himself a few times, watching your disappointment.

"Puttin' our bodies together like that. . .It's somethin' real special."

He rolled back onto his stomach and returned his head to hover between your legs but kept his eyes on your face. "Means givin' each other everything. And you gotta be sure, ‘cause you can't get it back." He rested his cheek on your inner thigh, caressing your outer thigh with his calloused hand. "If ya don't want me down here, you're not ready for it, peaches. You're not givin' me everything."

You were dejected and confused. Surely he had given himself to someone before, but he made it sound like it was his first time, too.

"Haven't you already. . . given yourself?"

"No, darlin'.” He shook his head. “Not even close. This is different."

"'Cause I've never done it?" Your eyes felt weaker and weaker.

"No. Different 'cause I love you, peaches."

Your waterline was overtaken by a tear, but not the one you expected. Joel pried his head away from your crotch and moved upward on your body to hover over you, resting his forearms to the sides of your torso.

He rested his chest and stomach on you, but not all his weight.

"Hey, it’s okay. I told you we'll get there."

"I'm not - I just - hearing you say that."

"That I love you?" He kissed a tear off your cheek.

You swallowed thickly. "Yeah."

“I think ya knew that, darlin’.” He planted a chaste kiss on your lips, then your cheek, swallowing another tear.

You wanted to say it back, but you didn’t want him to think you were just saying it because he said it.

"I don't know anything," you said. “I’m sorry.” You swallowed your shame, not meeting his eyes.

He looked concerned. “For what?”

“Not knowing how to love you.”

He allowed a moment of silence, reading your eyes, then said, "You’re doin’ perfect.” He kissed you again. "Just take your time, baby. And let me love you."

He lifted himself up, reached down between your legs, and dragged his thick middle finger through your slick. Then he slowly stroked you with two fingers and gently nestled your clit between them.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. Opening your legs to him felt like the least you could do.

“Good girl.”

He paused on his way back down your body. He cupped a breast. His eyes took you in as he gently manipulated your flesh then planted a kiss just below the nipple. He did the same with your other breast.

His mouth returned between your legs, planting a kiss on your clit while holding eye contact. "Feel good?"

Your eyes closed and you took a deep breath. You were still tense.

"Talk to me, baby. What feels good? You want my hand?"

He reached down to your ankle and used three fingers to languidly trace a line all the way up to your knee, then down your thigh. He gave your thigh a slow squeeze, then brought his fingers between your legs. He slid the side of his index finger along your dripping seam, then began to caress your entrance without breaching it. He inhaled deeply, then gathered your wetness with several fingers and circled your clit gently. "You want this?"

You couldn't make words.

When you didn't answer right way, he took his hand away and silently sucked his fingers, closing his eyes in pleasure. He looked to you again for an answer, but didn’t press you for one.

He brought head down again. “Or you want it like this,” he murmured. He french kissed the spot between your clit and entrance, and you sighed. That was what you wanted. He perked up at the sound of your sigh and looked up at you with his mouth still occupied. He was determined to learn how to please you.

“Feels really good, but you don't have to do that,” you repeated.

He lifted his head and frowned. "Why wouldn't I wanna make you feel good?"

"Isn't it kinda gross?"

"Baby. Nothin' gross about havin' my face in the most special place in the world."

"Really?"

"Nowhere I'd rather be, peaches."

"You're just saying that."

"Feels good for me, too. Real good. It's s'posed to."

"You don't mind?"

"I love it. Turns me on. It’s s’posed to, darlin’, and it does. You got nothin’ to be shy about."

"Doesn’t taste bad?”

“Baby, you’re my favorite taste in the world.” He buried his nose in your clit and fingered the curls on your mound.

“You're not just doing it to make me feel good?"

He paused, then softly answered, “No. But even if I was. Long as you felt good, I’d love it.” He reached to massage your breast with one hand “But it turns me on a whole lot, you'll see.”

He pulled his head back, the bottom of his face shiny and pink, then got up on his knees, his eyes locked with yours.

He wasn’t wearing a belt. Your breath hitched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans so quickly in contrast to how slow he was doing everything else. He left the back of his flannel shirt tucked in as he took his stiff member out of his boxers. He held it in his hand only for a moment with his shirt out of the way so you could see. You had seen it before, but seeing it again, he sure was big. For a second you even felt foolish for wanting him inside you when he wouldn't fit. Still, a mere glimpse of it made you tingle wildly.

With how wet you were getting, you'd be even more embarrassed for him to put his head back down there. Unless it really was his favorite taste in the world.

He didn’t stroke himself, simply set his length outside his jeans, forming a tent under his flannel. “Lemme really taste you, baby, then you'll see.” He got back down on his elbows.

“Okay,” you said. By then, you were dying for his touch.

He put your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands on top of your thighs. He kissed your inner thigh again with his mouth closed, then planted a wetter kiss on the other one. He kissed his way closer and closer, dipping his tongue, pressing the flats of his teeth against your soft flesh. By the time he got there, you were dying for his mouth, no longer worried about what you tasted like.

First, he buried his nose in your little curls again, this time more desperately. He made his way down to your clit where the touch of his nose made you twitch and moan. He looked up at you from under the shadow of his brow and his eyes sparkled. He inhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, then sighed from the bottom of his throat.

He pressed his mouth against your clit, then opened his lips. His tongue extended then lapped upward and dragged down. He did it a few more times and hummed “Mmm.” His brows tensed and his eyes wrinkled as he tasted you. His hands slid to your ass. He sucked and lapped with dedication, and it was unlike any feeling you could have imagined. It made you want to be filled so bad. Almost as soon as you thought it, he plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, pushing a moan out of you. He thrust it into you rhythmically, and his fingers dug into your flesh.

He came up for air and said, “Swear you got the sweetest nectar, baby. Can’t get enough.”

You believed him from the look on his face. Then he came to his knees again. He dragged a finger through your slick and held it up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thick digits and it wasn't bad.

"Good girl."

He took his cock in his hand. It was even stiffer, more commanding than just moments before. It really did turn him on. The veins bulged. The tip throbbed angrier and weeped with precum. You were desperate for it. Salivating.

He murmured, “Believe me now?” as he brought his cock to your warmth. Your breath hitched and your whole core throbbed desperately. He dragged the head through your slick just enough to get himself wet. Your body tried to suck him in, but he wouldn't allow it. He sat back on his knees and stroked himself slowly. He was looking hungrily between your legs, then up at your face. He raised his eyebrows pleadingly for permission. He wanted more.

“I believe you.” you said. Your clit twitched.

His chest rose and fell with your go-ahead to continue. He didn’t hold back at all. He was ravenous, burying his nose and mouth between your legs, his tongue matting your hair as he licked and lapped and sucked.

One expansive hand held your hips down as the other occasionally stroked his cock. And then he held you with both hands, abandoning his own pleasure. You watched him, so handsome, hair falling out of place from where he haphazardly fixed it earlier. It's so sexy when he lets it go, like you’re the only thing in the world at that moment.

“Can you take your pants off?” You asked and he did it in a flash without a word, never taking his head away for more than a second. He kicked them onto the floor. It was so hot seeing him be messy. With both hands back on your body, his hips began to slowly grind into your mattress, a sight that made you even weaker as he devoured your beautiful blossom.

He traced your petals with long licks, gently dragging his lips, then sucked your clit, teasing it gently. He fucked you with his strong, slippery tongue again and you moaned at the feeling of being filled by anything. He sucked and swallowed as much as he could get, moaning, sighing. Your hips briefly lifted, and your body tensed as you felt yourself about to come. Joel felt it too. He groaned into your body, and the vibration of his deep voice made you weak.

He tried to meet your eyes, but you could barely keep them open. He wanted to talk you through it again, but didn't want to take his mouth away. You could tell. He was saying it with his eyes. That's it, baby, you're almost there. Stay with me. Come on, baby.

His hands found yours, interlacing your fingers. You held on tight. Then your hips rolled into his face and he moaned into your clit as you pinched your eyes shut and arched your back, letting pleasure seize you completely. His mouth went slack and rested against your convulsing warmth. He watched, captivated as you squeezed his hands and came.

"Good girl. Gorgeous." He squeezed your still-trembling thigh and got out from between your legs.

As you caught your breath, he came up next to you on the bed with a shiny face and held his aching member in his hand.

“I wanna touch it,” you said. “Can you show me how?”

“Get your hand wet for me,” he said softly between heavy breaths with a nod downward. You gathered your slick and reached your hand hesitantly toward him. “All yours, baby.” His chest rose and fell as he held it for you.

“Go ‘head,” he encouraged, giving you confidence. You wrapped your hand around his cock. It was so smooth and warm. You didn’t know what to do next. You froze.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let’s do it like this.” His hand engulfed yours and moved it gently as he lifted his hips and fucked himself with your fist at a moderate pace.

“Love your hand, baby,” he managed between grunts. He was sweating with his flannel shirt still on. You marveled at the way the smooth skin of his shaft moved along the stiffness. You memorized the texture of it and the sound of him grunting.

It wasn’t long at all until agony spread across his face, then he groaned. He took his hand away and watched your face as his cock pulsed against your palm and his cum spilled into your fist. He sighed long and low.

"Good, darlin'. Real good." He pressed a kiss into your mouth then looked at his cum all over your hand. "Sit tight for me." He tucked himself away and went to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you sniffed it. You got curious what it tasted like. You dipped the tip of your tongue into it just as he was returning with a warm washcloth and neater hair. His eyes widened when he saw you taste his cum.

He watched your face for a moment, then skeptically asked, "Like it?"

"Yeah," you nodded shyly. "'cause it's yours."

His face melted. "See, darlin'? You love me just fine."

As he gently nudged your legs back open with the washcloth, you asked “could you teach me how to touch myself better?”

He paused. “Better? You touch yourself now?”

“Yeah," you said hesitantly.

"That's natural, darlin'. Nothin' to be ashamed of. Just surprised, that's all."

"But I can't make myself, you know.” He paused what he was doing, and you regretted bringing it up.

“What're ya thinkin’ about?” He furrowed his brow and his face tensed as he slowly finished wiping your inner thighs.

When he was finished, you pulled your pajama pants back on “You know, what I said I wanted earlier.” You sighed and looked at the ceiling. "From you." You couldn't say it again.

His face softened. “That's good, baby. . . S'posed to turn ya on, thinkin' about that."

"But I don't come."

"I’ll make ya come anytime ya want, peaches.” There was a hint of cockiness tugging at one corner of his mouth. He tossed the washcloth to the laundry, then settled in next to you and slid his forearm under your pillow. "Any time." He admired your face affectionately. It still buzzed with heat. He looked you up and down and rested his massive hand low on your stomach.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t thank me.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. "Love doin' it."

“For protecting me.”

“Course I do, peaches. You’re the most precious thing I ever had." He caressed your bare skin.

"Can't leave ya here alone today, baby. Gotta take ya home.”

You nodded.

Thank you so much for your engagement 🖤🖤🖤 I love you guys, and love hearing from you.

I have loved reading everyone's reactions! 💕 To let people read "unspoiled," won't be posting ALL theories, but you're still welcome to send them.

Thank you @dark-scape for conceptual beta / reassurance 😅

You can also follow @toxicfics and turn on notifs, but it doesn't include all blurbs, HCs, drabbles, etc.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #joel miller/reader #dbf!joel miller #dark!joel miller #creepy!joel miller #pervy!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#lincoln!joel☠️#lincoln! joel #cw trapped animal #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #tw dubcon #pedro pascal characters #cw age gap

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ghostfanwriter · 8 months

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 Part four 🧰💖

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💖 Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Fem!Reader

🧰 Setting: Lincoln. Reader is Bill and Frank's daughter.

💖 Synopsys: Joel wakes you up with the news that he's leaving. And you have a hard time accepting that he's gonna okay outside by himself.

🧰 Features: Tiny little bit of touching, kissing and teasing at the beginning, but no smut for this one. Reader and Joel mention their past. Sarah is mentioned.

💖 Word Count: Around 7.5k.

🧰 About This: This one is scary for me for having no smut. So be nice to it, okay? Hopefully we learn a bit more about them and their relationship along the way.

💖 Author's Note: It took me forever (again) but it's yours 🩷

Angel.

The pet name never made more sense to him than right now.

Joel stands by your bedroom door, watching you sleep as the still soft moonlight entering your windows gently lightens your features. He smiles seeing the peaceful expression on your face — a rare sight nowadays.

He locks your door and carefully walks close to you, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching your body rise and fall with your soft and calm breathing.

He leans down over you, caging your body under his torso. He fixes your hair, pressing a sweet kiss on your temple and rubbing his nose affectionately on yours. You moan frustrated and furrow your brows, upset that someone's waking you up.

"Shh, it's just me, angel." He whispers gently, and you snuggle closer to him, smiling before even opening your eyes, his voice enough of a reassurance for you to look for his body.

He lays down by your side, opening his arms, pulling you into his embrace. When your head touches his chest he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Morning, baby." He whispers, rubbing his nose on top of your head, your face buried on his chest, smelling his scent.

You moan lazily in response, wrapping your arms around him.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, caressing your hair. You nod and hum in response, throwing your leg over his hips, giving him a full body hug, wanting to be as close as you can.

"Better if you were with me."

"Hmm, I know, baby, wish I could stay. Would sleep so well with you like this." He agrees, hugging you tighter and caressing your thigh.

"You got me real tired, though, slept like a baby." You add, and he hums, laughing softly, just holding you in silence for a bit.

When he feels your body softening under him and hears a low snoring, he squeezes your sides softly until you wake up, laughing.

"Do you wanna go make some breakfast? I'm hungry." He says, cupping the nape of your neck, caressing the hair covering it.

"But it's still a bit dark out." You say, opening your eyes for the first time and turning your head to look at the window, noticing the sun had yet not fully risen, and it was still early for breakfast.

"I know, but I have to leave early if I want to have as much sunlight as I can." He says, startling you.

Leave?

"Leave?" You ask, abruptly supporting yourself on your elbow to look in his eyes, glimmering with the faint moonlight lightening your room.

Suddenly you're wide awake.

He laughs, pushing you back down onto him. You lay down but keep your head away from him, watching his face.

"I was talking to your dads last night. About the things you need here." Oh...

He's not leaving leaving. Your heart finds a more comfortable rythym.

"On our way here Tess and I saw a few big department stores that your dads said they've never been to. Some may still have some things." He adds.

"You think you're still gonna find stuff just laying around?" You ask, your tone unintentionally bitter as you snuggle back to his chest, a newfound need to stay close to him taking over you with the news that he's leaving Lincoln for the day.

"Not all the stuff, I mean, supplies and hygiene are out of sight. But there may be some tools and other things your dads need. Frank said he wanted some paint to renovate the houses and stores." He explains. "Stuff like that I may find still."

"You're going by yourself?"

"Yeah, no need for anyone else. Should be smooth, go out, see what I can find, come back." He nonchalantly states, like if there was nothing to worry about outside the Lincoln fences. "Is there anything you want besides seeds? Those I won't find there."

"I don't know, don't think so. Dad wanted some paint, to work on a few things around our house." You say, your words still a bit fogged by sleep.

"Frank?" He asks.

"Uhum."

"Baby, I just told you that." He laughs.

"Hm, sorry." You laugh back, squeezing his back.

"Still sleeping, I see, my poor baby. Something got you too tired last night." He mocks you, squeezing your sides and messing your hair playfully, making you laugh.

"Stop it." You squeeze him back, digging your nails on his back until he stops. "He says we need to take care of this place. To make it look pretty." You try to change topics.

"He's right. Most of the houses here are in good conditions, just need some work to be habitable again. You need to take care of it."

You're too afraid of the answer to ask him why he was looking into the houses.

"So what do you say? Breakfast?" He asks quickly to take your mind out of it.

"Sure. Just gotta get ready first."

"Hmm, and what are you gonna do?" He asks, his voice barely audible.

"Shower, brush my hair, my teeth, moisturize, put on something nice, some perfume for you." You say, leaning closer to him to give him a kiss.

"Hmm, sounds good. Can I stay with you?" He lays on his back and pulls you on top of his chest.

"Can you pick my clothes for me while I shower?" You suggest, rolling on top of him, straddling his hips, sitting on him.

"My honor." He answers and you bend down to give him another kiss, a slow, savoured one, that gets even deeper with the thought of him leaving, being outside all on his own.

Something he's done thousands of times, but none of them after you two met.

He sits up, and you wrap your legs around his hips, never breaking the kiss. You feel his ziper against your panties and roll your hips with a soft moan.

"You've got some hormones on you, don't you baby?" He laughs, squeezing your ass and moving both of you closer to the edge of the bed, dropping his legs to the floor.

"It's your fault for making it feel so good." You respond with a smile, running your fingers through his soft, greying hair.

"I'll take it." He laughs, pressing your hips onto his lap one last time. "But I really need to leave early, and this won't be quick." He says, pushing you gently away from him and kissing the usual pout forming on your lips.

You get up, supporting yourself on his shoulders.

You stretch your arms towards the ceiling, and he runs his hands on your sides, their rough texture tingling your skin on their way. You lower your arms, hugging his head, smelling his hair while pressing his face on your chest.

He snuggles onto your chest, his hands, still under your shirt, squeezing your upper back, pulling you even closer to him.

When he pulls on the hem of your shirt you laugh, pulling his head away just enough to kiss his lips until he passes the shirt by your head, removing it from your body.

He tosses it on the bed besides him and kisses your belly, trailing kisses from your bellybutton to your breasts. He looks at you for any signs that he should stop, smiling when you lean down to kiss his forehead. With that he kisses his way around your left nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking softly on it, humming when you moan, smiling and biting your lips.

You pull softly on his hair when he lets go, quickly sucking the other one into his mouth, his hands squeezing your back and reaching for the waistband of your pijama shorts and panties.

He gently pulls them down, his hands spread over your skin, squeezing your hips as he trailed kisses down your stomach. He pulls away and looks at you, admiring your exposed figure.

"You're a beautiful woman, baby. So, so pretty." He praises, his brows furrowing with his own words, his eyes wandering around your skin. "So soft, so..." He hesitates. "...perfect for me." He finishes, and you smile.

"So yours." You whisper back, and he gets up, pulling you into a kiss, his arms glued to your waist as he walks you backwards towards your bathroom. When you reach it he breaks the kiss.

"All mine." He says on your lips. "Now go take your shower." He squeezes your hips one last time and turns you around.

You get in the shower and he goes to your wardrobe to look at the options — plenty more than the ones he's seen yet. He goes by color; which ones he'd like to see you wearing last before leaving.

He picks a tight yellow shirt and a short white skirt. Then he picks a white pair of underwear. He runs his hands over them, feeling the fabric before setting them carefully on top of your bed. When he's finished, he goes to your window to watch the sun rise on the horizon.

...

When you stop the water he goes to sit on your bed.

He scans your bedroom while he hears you brushing your teeth. Right besides the bathroom door he finds a large painting that gets his attention. It's the view from your window, portraying a sunny day.

It's beautiful, and he's only able to look away from it when an even better view comes in — as you walk out the bathroom wrapped in a towel, holding the bottle of body oil Frank made you.

The air feels thicker, harder to suck in while his eyes trail your still not fully explored — and unfortunately covered — body.

You walk towards him and he pulls you closer, until you're in between his legs. You handle him the bottle, and he gently pulls the towel off your body, running his hands up your sides, mimicking how he touched you before you showered.

He runs his large hands up your back and gives one of your nipples a peck, sucking it in his mouth and pulling away when you moan.

"Can't get distracted now." He says with a smile, opening the bottle and smelling the oil. "Just like you." He whispers, kissing your belly and pouring a bit of the liquid on his hands before closing the bottle and giving it back to you.

He spreads the oil in his palms, starting with your waist and spreading it all over your torso, kneading your breasts when he gets to them, opening his palms for you to pour more oil on them.

You do it and he spreads the oil over your arms and your neck, turning you around to apply it on your butt and your legs, moving his hands slowly and intentionally, massaging your flesh as he goes.

He palms your inner thigh, and his index finger brushes on your folds, spreading some of the oil on them.

He turns you back around and palms your other inner thigh, the side of his index finger once again brushing against your folds.

This time he pushes his finger higher, in between them, making you moan when he moves back and forth, intentionally touching your core.

Your clit throbs with the stimulation and he hums, his other hand squeezing your back and your hips.

He continues his movements for a few seconds, his rough fingers mimicking what his cock did the night before, and you moan at how different it feels. How much softer and gentle the skin of his cock felt against your sensitive skin, that is now almost being bruised by his hand.

He kisses your bellybutton, and you look down at him, finding his eyes on you. You smile and lean down to kiss him, breaking the kiss to grab your panties, seeing how long getting ready is gonna take if he's in charge.

"I thought you were in a hurry." You say, pulling away from him and putting your panties on.

"I'm gonna have all the sunlight I need tomorrow, I don't mind wasting time like this." He shrugs, and you freeze.

Tomorrow?

"I thought you were coming back today." You say as he grabs your shirt and helps you put your arms through it.

"No, baby." He laughs softly. "I've got lots of stores to look at, and they're pretty far away. Maybe I could come back today, but I wanna take my time." He patiently explains, grabbing your skirt and opening it for you to put it on.

"And where are you gonna spend the night?" You ask while supporting yourself on his shoulders and stepping into the skirt.

"Gonna look for a place." He says while lifting the skirt, his fingers leaving subtle goosebumps on their way up.

"Aren't you gonna waste a bunch of time looking for a safe place?" You ask, wiggling your hips to get into it with your still oily skin.

"I promise I'll look quickly for a place, and if I can't find it I'll just be fast and come back." He says, slightly less patient. "Did you paint that?" He points to the painting of your window view, trying to dismiss the topic.

You look at it, but you're not happy with the news that he's gonna be out by himself for the whole night.

"No. Couldn't you use that time to look for things instead, so you can come back today?" You ask while reaching for the shirt he picked, and he shoots you a stern look.

Joel wasn't used to have someone question him, caring about him. So he didn't know how to react to it. His first instinct was to cut it, to tell you to leave him alone, to stop being so stubborn.

Because that's one thing you know how to be.

But he knew there was no intrusion in your questions; there was no trying to tell him what to do. There was only concern.

Still it was hard to shake off the annoyance your stubbornness set on him.

"I'll try to rush and find everything today. If I can't I'll look tomorrow too. That's settled." He states, the dryness of his tone new to you.

But for some reason it doesn't feel bad, like when your dads talk to you like this. It feels... Different when Joel does it.

"You could come back to spend the n—." You say quietly, but he stops you.

"I won't come back here to spend the night because it's too far and it's gonna take too long." His annoyance still present.

You wait for a few seconds, trying to bite your tongue and not ask any more questions.

But needless to say... You can't.

"Can I go?" You ask, with the smile of who knows the answer.

"No." He says, shaking his head.

"Why not?" You ask.

"Because I don't wanna babysit you." He says, laughing, and you frown.

"I don't need babysitting." You say. You've been out before. Your dad taught you how to handle yourself.

"I know. But I won't be relaxed if you're with me. Will be worrying about you." He says, hugging you tight, looking up at you.

"And how am I gonna know if you're coming back today or not?" You ask and he sighs, burying his face on your chest, taking deep breaths.

"She's just worried, she's not trying to tell you what to do." He reminds himself.

He holds your waist, his hands firmly squeezing you, pulling you even closer to him. He looks into your eyes, his own gaze softening at the amount of concern he finds on them.

"If I'm not back by dusk then I'm not returning today, baby. Won't be walking around at night in a place I'm not familiar with." He says, more calm. "I've been out by myself enough times to know how to take care of myself, you really don't need to worry about me." He adds.

It takes you a beat to get convinced, but his big brown eyes and his reassuring smile make it hard to not believe him.

"Alright, then let's hurry so you don't waste any more time." You say before taking your body oil back to the bathroom. "C'mon, let's go." You say as you grab an old bucket hat on your wardrobe and pull him up by his arm.

The sky's still brightening up when you walk towards the small plantation your dads have built along the years.

Joel insisted he'd carry the eggs, and you're carrying empty tote bags and a small notebook where you keep track of your crops.

He's been awfully quiet since you've left your bedroom, and you're almost power walking to keep up with his large steps. You grab his forearm when you reach him again.

"Are you mad at me? " You ask, almost out of breath, your tone already apologetic.

"No... No baby, I'm not." He says, noticing that you're struggling to keep up with him and slowing down. "Sorry, I'm distracted, didn't notice you were staying behind."

"It's fine."

"I'm not mad at you." He reassures you. "But I know what I'm doing, and I just don't like to be asked so many questions." When he's with you being honest feels easier to him, it's like you pull honesty out of him.

"You don't like it, or you're not used to it?" You ask, and he looks away, piercing his lips, furrowing his brows.

He looks back down at you before looking back forward.

You keep walking in silence for a while, the chirping of birds and your footsteps filling your surroundings.

"My dad painted it for me." You say, and he looks down at you, furrowing his eyebrows. "The painting in my bedroom." You explain, and he hums, remembering it. "Sometimes during winter I can get pretty blue, so he painted that for me to hang in front of the window when the weather gets too upsetting."

"That's nice. And he's really good.." He says with a smile, a genuine admiration in his tone, both for Frank's parenting and his art skills. "Do you know how to paint?"

"Oh, no." You laugh. "He tried to teach me, but it never turns out good. I can never make it look like the real thing." You say, reaching the plantation and walking to the vegetables you need for breakfast.

"Like a photo?" He asks, carefully measuring his steps to not step on any crops.

"Yeah, like a photo." You say, kneeling down where some potatoes, carrots and tomatoes are planted.

"Tomato?" He asks, setting the tote bag with the eggs on the ground next to him.

"Yeah. Just count how many ripen ones there are before you take any, so I can keep track of them, please."

He nods and kneels in front of them with a quiet grunt, carefully analyzing each one of the red, ripen ones.

"How many do we need?" He asks.

"How many are there?"

"Seven."

"Alright, we just need one."

"Okay. Taking one, gonna be six left." He confirms and you write it down on your notebook.

"Thank you." You say while you start trying to pull a carrot out of the soil. "Do you have anything to eat while you're away?" You ask.

"Yeah, some jerky." He says, not able to hold back the dissatisfaction with the dryed food as he watches you fight the vegetable.

"Did we eat all your Chef Boyardee yesterday?" You ask, looking up at him, scrunching your nose and grunting as you struggle to pull the carrot, and he laughs.

"Yeah, we did, actually." He admits, tapping your hands gently so you let go of the carrot and pulling on it right after, effortlessly pulling it out of the ground and rubbing the soil out if it.

"Alright, gotta make you something then." You say. "But what?" You wonder, and he looks at you. "I mean, it has to be something that's gonna taste good when cold, so you don't have to start a fire and catch any attention. Also it can't go bad too quickly." You rant, thinking out loud about what you could cook him.

You're excited by the idea of cooking him something, to imagine him outside the fences, all by himself, but eating something you made him. How he will think about you while eating, how he'll have energy because you cooked him something.

It feels good to think about taking care of him.

And he's just as lost in thought as you are.

Looking at you, his mind analyzing your face; how it shines under the bright sunlight, how your dad's old hat shades your face and how even with it, you still scrunch your eyes when you look up at him. How your nose scrunches along with your eyes, how you smudge your cheeks when you push some hair away from them.

You look up at him and hold his gaze for a second, his eyes scanning your face, a silly, distracted smile on his lips.

He licks his thumb and leans closer to you, cleaning your cheeks, right where you just touched.

"You've got dirt on your face." He whispers with a soft smile, his voice barely leaving his lips.

You lean in closer to him, but he puts his hand in front of your chest, looking over his shoulders, towards your house.

"No, baby. I've told you we can't." He says.

"Ugh, but it's so hard sometimes." You playfully whine with a smile, and he laughs.

"I know, but we have to keep it between us for now." He explains.

For now?

"I think my dad knows about us." You say before thinking, and he frowns.

"Bill?" He asks, his wide eyes giving in his fear.

"No... He'd have killed you by now." You nonchalantly state. "Frank. He asked me a few times how I felt about you."

"Hmm. And what did you tell him?" He asks with a cocky smirk, playing it cool even though he's genuinely curious to know what you've told your dad about him.

And what your dad thought about it.

"Nothing you should worry about. Nothing I haven't told you already." You say, laughing.

"And how do you know he's not gonna tell Bill?" He asks, standing up and offering his arm for you.

"Gonna grab another tomato." You say. "He said I could trust him, that if dad ever has to know, he'll know. But he won't rush anything."

He grunts, unsure about how he should feel knowing Frank somehow knows about you two.

"There's this thing my dad makes us... It's shredded chicken mixed with some creamy cheese or sauce. We eat it cold, kinda like a spread." You say, asking for his hand, and he helps you up. "What do you think? Could make you some pancakes or crackers to go along with it." You stand close to him, and he takes the bag with tomatoes and carrots from you.

"You don't have t—." He starts, bending down to grab the bag with the eggs.

"I'm cooking you something. That's settled." You repeat his words from earlier, trying to replicate his almost angry tone. Judging from his face, though, you don't sound as stern as he did. "What do you say?"

"Anything you can make me is great, baby. Can be anything." He says, smiling.

"Alright, chicken spread then. With pancakes. Maybe some roasted potatoes too." You say and he laughs. "Let's go back, got a lot to do." And you start walking, him following you close.

...

You walk silently for a bit, enjoying each other's company and taking in the — now stronger — sunlight.

"Did you think about anything you want?" He asks.

"What I want?" You ask, confused, noticing you're the one who's walking too fast this time, as he's a few steps behind you.

"Yeah. From outside. I wanna know what you want. For you, though, not the town. Not seeds, not paint. Something for you." He says, smiling, reaching you as you slow down. "A gift." He adds.

You rarely got any gifts, because there are no gifts to be given or dates to celebrate. And to imagine him looking for something for you, to think that he thinks about you, that he wants to make you happy...

It makes your chest hurt. But in a good way.

"Clothes, maybe? I'm getting tired of my own." You say, but regret instantly. "I mean, it's not important." You rush to say, feeling silly for asking for something so frivolous. "I just wish I had different things to wear." You say, your voice lower.

It takes him a few seconds to respond.

"Alright, that sounds important to me. But you gonna trust my fashion sense?" He asks, laughing.

"Oh you look at me enough to know what I like to wear, Joel." You joke, smiling seeing how his cheeks redden and his eyes soften.

"Fair. I'll just choose what I like, then. What I wanna see you wearing." He says, looking down at you. Noticing how nicely your shirt outlines your breasts, how curvy your hips look in that skirt, how he never thought he'd see someone like you ever again.

A true blessing, if you ask him.

"Just don't choose anything too short..." You say, mentioning the skirt he chose for you to wear today. "Or too small. My dads don't like it when I wear those near you, they wouldn't like you giving me something like that." You add. "Unless it's really pretty! Then take it and I'll tell them I asked for something similar." You say quickly and he laughs.

"Alright. Maybe I can bring you one or two things you'll wear only for me?" He asks, his tone suggestive but playful, and you hit him with your elbow, laughing.

You hope he does.

"Aren't you gonna look for something for yourself?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"Haven't thought about it." He admits. "I never go out to look for things I want. Just things I need."

"Don't you have any hobbies, anything you like to do?" You ask as you two arrive at your house.

He thinks for a second.

Hobbies and fun seem like such odd, far concepts for him nowadays. He doesn't have the time, energy or desire to do anything, ever.

But as soon as you ask, he remembers things that brought him joy in the past.

"I liked to play the guitar. Haven't done it since this whole thing started."

"A guitar sounds fun." You encourage him, opening the kitchen door and stepping in. "Maybe you could try and find me one too." You say, then you gasp and turn around to look at him with wide eyes. "Then you could teach me how to play it! Then we could play it and the piano together!"

He nods, holding your forearm, a small and sweet smile on his lips. He looks around quickly and licks his lips before giving you a long peck on the lips.

"It'll be at the top of my list." He laughs.

It will, actually. Anything for you is gonna be a priority.

You made omelettes and he made some orange juice. You're both eating while you prepare the food he's gonna take with him.

He's sitting on a stool, eating and watching you.

Daydreaming with a life in Lincoln, with having a routine like this. Waking up with you, picking your vegetables, making breakfast, eating together.

He doesn't know what would come after.

Could be go out and hunt or look for supplies, could be help your dads with whatever, could be sit down and make small talk, or just go back to bed and have a slow, lazy day with you, cuddling, talking and napping.

Anything sounded incredible as long as he knew by the end of the day he'd lay down holding you, feeling your body soften on top of his, and knowing he'd have the whole next day by your side.

Peace, at last. A slow, safe and comfortable life with someone to love, someone to care for.

Someone to love him, to care for him.

His fantasies are cut by your — neverending, he swears — curiosity.

"Can I ask you something?" You ask, focused on the pans in front of you.

"You just did." He says, and you turn back to look at him, finding him with a wide, silly smile on his face, his cheeks red. You can't help but offer him the same.

His jokes sometimes are exactly like the ones your dads make — specially Bill.

"How was it for you? The day it happened." You ask, shredding the chicken.

His expression changes. He locks eyes on the plate in front of him, and you notice he may not want to talk about it.

"You don't have to... I mean, we don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry." You add, noticing how reviving the day seems to affect him.

"No. It's, fine. I just... Just don't talk about it very often." He reassures you, a quick smile flashing on his lips before he eats another bite of his breakfast.

After that he goes silent, and you feel bad for asking.

"I had my name... embroidered on my clothes." You say, trying to bring the attention to you and not force him to tell his story. "My full name."

"So we call you by your actual name?" He asks, eating more.

"Uhum. Dad says he thought he should respect my parents decision, you know." You explain. "But he doesn't know when I was born. So we celebrate my birthday on the outbreak day."

"Really?" He asks.

"Really. He actually says it's his father-birthday, because he became one that day." You say, and Joel smiles, but you sense something else along with happiness in his smile.

He smiles to himself for a second. Thinking about Sarah. About how he misses being a father, how good it feels to be one.

How you and Bill remind him of himself and Sarah. How he cared for her the same way your dad cares about you.

"It was my birthday." He says, and you turn to look at him.

"No!" You gasp, it has to be a coincidence.

"Yeah. My last gift." He mentions the broken watch in his wrist.

"Is that why you still have it?" You ask, smiling.

"Yeah... That's why." He says quietly, smiling at the watch.

"Do you have anyone...? Any family?" You ask.

"I do. A brother." He says, thinking about him, how he must be handling things while he's away.

"Is he... You know... Alive?" You ask, almost whispering.

"Yeah, I'm not sure how." He laughs. "But he is."

"Does he live in the QZ with you and Tess?"

Thinking about Tess... About him and Tess, still makes your heart freeze for a second.

"He does. But he works with some people that... Like to believe they're doing something, that make him do stupid things all the time. So I'm constantly just saving his ass. Just like the day it happened. I was watching a movie, then he called me. Came back home to run away from the infected."

"It was all really just one day, right? My dads say everything just went down so quickly. Barely any time to prepare or do anything. I mean, Frank says that. Bill was prepared since ever."

"Yeah. One minute you hear an helicopter, the next there's a bomb, the next an airplane falling down—" He goes through the things he saw that day.

"An airplane?" You cut him, shocked.

"Yeah. Right behind our car." He says.

"Wow... I wish I remembered something about it."

"Not many good things to remember about that day, baby." He says, and you shrug. You know there aren't. "Where did your dad find you, again?" He asks, almost finishing his food.

"He says I was on a road near here, never let me get near there."

"Huh..." He says, thinking about all the skeletons he saw on his way to Lincoln. "He's right, baby. There's nothing for you to see there." He tells you with sympathetic eyes.

"Sometimes I think about them, you know. I think about what happened to them, what they looked like. God — I wish I knew what my mom looked like." You say, feeling your eyes and nose burn as your smile grows wider.

"I bet she was really pretty, just like you." He says, and you find a shy, sweet smile on his lips when you look over at him.

"I wish I had a photo of her, like dad has of grandma." You say.

"I have a photo too." He mumbles, the words leaving his lips before he decides if he's ready to share them with you or not

"Of your brother?" You ask, curious to see what another Miller man would look like.

Not that you think he could get your attention away from Joel.

"No... Not of my brother." He says, pausing to see if you're gonna take the subject somewhere else. Hoping you would.

"Of your mom or dad?" You ask.

Should he...?

He can't not tell you forever.

It's your right to now. To learn about it before deciding if you still wanna be with him.

"Of Sarah." He says, his voice small. "But it's getting old, starting to fade away." He rushes to add, as if trying to take your attention away from the name.

"Who's Sarah?" You ask, and he looks at you, his eyes red.

Where they red before?

He sniffs, then cleans his hands on his jeans and reach for something in his pocket.

He grabs a sort of wallet, and removes a small photo from it. The little girl in it is fading, but you can still perfectly see her. Her big eyes, even bigger smile, her beautiful curls.

"Oh, Joel... Was she...?" You start, the words sticking in your throat, not leaving your mouth. He hums in response.

That's why he didn't seem to want to talk about it.

Maybe that's why he was so hesitant in doing something with you.

"She was beautiful, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He laughs, his voice already threatening to break.

"She was." You say with a smile, still processing the new information.

"You'd love her. You two would be really good friends." He says.

"I bet we would." You say.

"She'd love you too." He says with a smile, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

"When did she...?" You ask and he looks at you, his eyes heavy. "I'm sorry, that's stupid. You don't have to." You add, and he smiles, thanking you for letting go of it.

"I gotta get going, it's getting late." He says, trying to take his mind away from such painful memories.

"But I haven't finished your food yet." You say quietly.

"It's okay, I'll wait, baby. Just gonna get my stuff ready, see if your dad's awake, gotta talk to him." He says, getting up and bringing his dishes to the sink.

"I can wash them for you, go sort your things." You say when he grabs the sponge.

He reluctantly lets go of it, looking outside the kitchen before hugging your waist from the side and kissing the top of your head.

"Thank you, angel." He whispers, and you smile back at him, watching as he takes his photo back, puting it back in his wallet and walking out the kitchen.

After a few seconds you hear him greet Bill, and you focus on finishing his food quickly so he can be outside for as little as possible.

You store his food on three separate containers. One for today, one for tomorrow, and one for backup.

You also made him a large bottle of coffee.

You take them to his bedroom and find him packing his backpack with a flashlight, a change of clothes and a bunch of other, empty bags.

"Hey." You say softly, and he turns to look at you, his frown dissolving instantly. "Your food's ready. Also made you some coffee, it's gonna be warm inside this bottle." You say, walking into his bedroom and handing it to him.

"Thank you, baby." He says as he takes the bottle. "Heavy." He smiles when he grabs the food.

"Ever seen your size?" You tease him.

"Too big?" He looks down at his stomach.

"Perfect." You respond touching his stomach, and his smile widens. He grabs your hand and gives it a kiss.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he looks at the door.

"I'm just sitting, nothing else." You defend yourself. "We can't even talk?" You ask, a genuine frustration in your tone.

"No, baby. You're right, it's okay, I'm sorry." He says, cupping your cheek. "Thank you, gonna be a lot better than jerky." He says, lifting the container with his food, leaning down to kiss your head, right where you've parted your hair. You can feel his warm lips on your scalp, and his hot breath when he whispers: "Thank you."

"Least I could do, you're risking yourself to look for things for us." You say. "Had to show you we can take care of you as well."

"You've shown me that enough, baby." He teases, and you feel all of your blood rushing to your cheeks.

"I mean it, Joel." You playfully kick him. "You're staying here to help us, and you didn't have to. You are doing a lot." You say, trying to dismiss the wide smile on your lips.

There was really not much in for him, they had a deal either way, even if he chose to not stay and help your dads around.

"Your dads weren't the reason I stayed, you know." He says, looking at you. You smile seeing his big eyes scrunched by his own smile.

It feels almost like time stops when you stare at each other like this. Like God himself is giving you an opportunity to look into Joel, to try and read him, try and see in his eyes if he would ever consider staying, being with you.

If you're being silly for allowing such feelings and hopes go set roots inside you.

You do your best to sustain his gaze, but eventually fail, looking at his backpack.

"Is there anything else you need? Do you have enough water?"

"I think so." He says, showing you a large water bottle.

"Hmm. Don't you want another one? We've got a big one just like yours." You offer.

"No, it's fine, baby. Thank you." He smiles, wondering if you're not gonna offer to go in his place as well.

But you just sit in his bed, making him silent company while he finishes packing.

"Are there any colors I shouldn't bring?" He asks.

"For the paint or the clothes?" You ask.

"Your clothes." He responds. "I'm not actually bringing any paint, just gonna check if there's still any. If there are Bill said he'll go take then by car. Much faster." He adds.

"Couldn't he drive you there?" You ask, frustrated.

"Baby... We've been through this, huh? I know what I'm doing." He says.

It's not like you can help it though. You worry about him.

But for some reason sometimes it's hard to go against his word.

So you try and trust him.

"I don't really love blue, or every shade of green. So maybe stay on the warmer colors." You say.

"Why did you let me choose the blue dress, then?" He asks.

"For the bonfire?" You ask.

"Yeah, the one we chose yesterday." He says, not packing anymore, just waiting for your response.

"Hmm... Cause you liked it. And I want to wear something you like." You explain. "And it's not like I don't like blue, I love that dress. Blue is just a hit or miss, tricky color for me."

He grunts, making a mental note to not bring anything blue.

"What if I look for a dress for the bonfire, then?" He suggests, and you can't hold back the wide smile spread on your lips.

"Only if you find something you like more than the blue dress." You say, almost giggling.

"Gonna look for it then." He says. "Nothing blue or green, though."

Once again, a comfortable silence fills the room while you watch him concentrate on his backpack, muttering his checklist to make sure he has everything he needs.

And he likes that about you.

How you know when to leave him at it, to let him focus on what he needs to, and doesn't just ask for his attention all the time.

"Alright, now the most important ones." He says, packing his food. You smile, but when you notice he's done, you feel your chest tighten, and you shift in his bed.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay by yourself?" You can't help but ask.

"I think Joel's more than capable of handling himself, pumpkin." Bill says from the bedroom door, startling you.

But he doesn't scare Joel, who seemed to notice your father before you.

"I know he is. But I don't like to think of anyone outside the fences." You say, getting up to hug your dad.

He gratefully accepts the hug, wrapping his arms fondly around you, soothing you.

"Told her I've done this a million times. But she keeps asking these questions." Joel tells Bill.

"She worries too much." Bill says with a smile, pulling your face away from his chest and caressing your cheeks.

"I care. It's different." You say, leaving the room frustrated.

Of course you care.

You love your parents.

Maybe you're starting to love Joel...

How could you not worry?

They look at one another, confused.

"You're leaving already?" Bill asks, and he nods, putting his backpack on his back.

"Yeah. Gonna need my guns, though." Joel says, and Bill nods.

"Gonna take them. Meet you at the gate."

With that he leaves, and Joel follows after a few seconds, stopping on your bedroom.

He knocks gently on the door. When you don't respond he opens it slowly, finding you by your window.

He calls your name, and you look at him.

"Hey, baby. You gonna come down?" He asks.

"Don't know." You say, thinking about the questions Bill would ask if you hugged Joel in front of him.

"I can't go out without a goodbye hug." He says, coming close to you.

You don't hesitate in wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight, wanting to memorize his touch, his warmth. How he feels, how safe you feel in his arms.

"A see-you-tomorrow hug." You correct him.

You can't help the few tears rolling down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry for being so... Me sometimes." He starts. "I like how you care about me. Just don't wanna see you worried." He says, caressing your hair.

You pull on his shirt, squeezing his back.

"I'm sorry. My dads never leave, and when they do is by car, just for an hour or so. They never slept outside, I'm not used to it." You explain, your voice giving your tears in.

He pulls his head away, holding your cheeks, reading your face.

"I promise I'll be careful, huh? More than I've ever been. And I'll come back as soon as I can. In one piece. I have a good reason to." He says, smiling. And you smile back.

"Thank you." You say, and he kisses you softly, slowly rolling his tongue around yours, savoring your taste, memorizing it.

You melt in his arms, letting him take full control of you, hold you in place and keep you steady.

Indulging in him, his strong arms around you, his warmth against your chest, his beard scratching your face, his tongue rolling around yours.

Before you're ready to, he pulls away, licking his lips and looking into your eyes, his face inches away from yours.

"Miss you already. Won't sleep half as well without you." You say, squeezing him.

He laughs, staring into your eyes and kissing your forehead before walking out your bedroom, stopping at the door to look at you before walking down the stairs.

When you look it the window, you lock eyes with Frank, finding his arms crossed and a worried expression in his face. You feel a chill run down your spine, goosebumps cover your arms as he shakes his head.

'Please, don't.' You mouth, and he looks away from you.

You run down the stairs, and when you get to the door, Joel's just stepped out, and you arrive in time to listen to Frank greet him.

"Hey, Joel." He says, his expression not as friendly as always, besides his smile. "Thank you for this, Bill would've never let me go out for something so... Unessential as he calls it."

"Yeah, no problem. Gonna look for somethings for her too." Joel says, turning to look at you and smiling.

"For you too." You add, and he shrugs.

"Also, Bill asked for some tools. So it's not gonna be that unessential." He says, and Frank smiles, but you don't. And he notices your tension. "Are you alright?" He half whispers to you, and you just smile weakly and nod.

Bill joins you, standing besides Frank and looking at you and Joel, his frown as big as ever when looking at the two of you.

"C'mon. I'll give them to you at the gate." He tells Joel, who discreetly squeezes your hand before following your dad, not looking back.

You then experience something you never had.

You're afraid of Frank. You're afraid and you're embarrassed.

You just stand besides him, shifting your body weight from one foot to the other, silently watching your dad tap Joel in the back, give him his gun and one of his own. As well as a box full of ammo.

Then Joel walk past the gates, then there's the smile he offers all of you — and you selfishly claim as all yours —, then he walks away.

And your eyes burn. They burn but you hold whatever amount of tears they're ready to spill.

When you turn to go back inside, Frank holds your forearm.

"You and I are gonna have a very long conversation, young lady." He tells you sternly, and you flinch with the anger he's making sure to let cover his words.

Your parents have never been mad at you. Frank never talked to you with nothing but tenderness. You don't even know how you should feel about it.

"Okay." Your whisper, walking in and going back to your bedroom.

You spend the whole day thinking.

Thinking about Joel, how he's doing, if he's okay, if he needs something.

Thinking about your dad. About what he's thinking. How he's feeling. What is he gonna tell you, what is he gonna do?

Dusk comes, and you're on your bedroom window, watching the gates. As the sky goes dark and there's no sign of him, you feel your nose burn, and your eyes get wetter.

Before you drown in worry, you hear a gentle knock on the door. You turn around and find your dad, Frank, looking at you.

"Hi." You say quietly.

"Dinner's ready. He's not coming back today, let's go eat." He says, the dryness of his tone unfamiliar to you.

He stands by the door, and you know he's not gonna leave before you do. So you get up and walk towards the door. When you reach him he puts his arm in front of your chest.

"We're not doing this right now, but I'm really, really upset. We'll talk about this when your dad isn't around, but for now... Nothing happened." He says.

"I'm sorry." You say, not holding his gaze.

"I really thought I could trust you, darling." He says, and you sense more sadness than anger in him.

"Didn't wanna make you mad." You say, and he sighs.

"Well, if you've told me I wouldn't be mad. I didn't know you two were that close. I would've talked to him. Talked to you! There's so much you don't know, my dove." He says, lowering his voice when he almost yells.

"I'm sorry, dad." You really are, but right now you can't say much more than that. So you walk past him, going downstairs and trying to behave as normally as possible in front of your dad.

Trying not to show any shame, any worries.

Just act like nothing happened.

I'm really sorry it takes me so long to write this series. I really am. I just love it and want it to be as matured and thought out as possible, so I sit with it for as long as I can.

But I'm already working on the next part, and I'll really prioritize it 🩷

I hope you liked it! Feedback for this one is highly appreciated, I really wanna know what you guys thoughts about it since there's no smut and it's more focused on their relationship.

Love you all, have a nice one 🩷🫶🏻

Masterlist 🩷

#joel miller x reader #ghostfanwriter #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal's characters #joel miller fanfiction #dirty hands #tlou fanfiction

153 notes · View notes

aphrodites-law · 11 months

Text

Clarke wakes up eight years in the future, where her college best friend happens to be her girlfriend. Part 5/? (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4)

It was such a beautiful day that Clarke almost felt bad they’d sit in a dark movie theater for two hours. Lexa seemed happy to just hold her hand as they walked down the street, chatting about one of the business projects she was working on.

Clarke knew questions about Lexa’s work were like flirting with danger. There was no way Other Clarke didn’t already know everything about her girlfriend's career, while she could barely hold the conversation. Parks and the environment had never made her feel so dumb. Luckily, Lexa didn’t seem to notice any gaps in her knowledge — or lack thereof.

If Clarke was still on edge about the whole situation, at least it would’ve been nice to have some advantages. Her memory being so selective was a thorn in her side. It was like she was forced to walk this future with horse-blinders on because she might break it irreparably otherwise. It was all so… careful, tailored, that Clarke was starting to reconsider her stance on dorky sci-fi. Maybe Raven had cobbled together some kind of monstrous time machine and then stored it in Lincoln’s basement.

“Do you want Milk Duds?”

Clarke tried to refocus. They’d arrived at the concession stand of the multiplex, where a teenager was shoveling popcorn in a paper bag. Clarke didn’t remember this theater in particular, but the buttery-sweet smell put her at ease. Lexa and her went to the movies whenever they could, treating themselves to sweets. It was familiar territory for once — there was nothing to worry about.

“No, you always hoard them,” Clarke replied mindlessly.

“Do not,” Lexa protested. “You just take forever to eat them.”

“You have to suck the chocolate first.”

“Here we go.”

“What kind of person just bites into them right away?!”

“I don’t know you and I don’t hear you.”

Clarke grinned, finding it so much easier to fall into their banter than more serious exchanges. When the teen set their popcorn on the counter, she reached for her purse to pay but heard a snort and the smooth swipe of Lexa’s credit card.

“Yeah, right,” Lexa said.

They made their way down the hall toward their screen.

“So I can’t pay for my own food at 30?” Clarke teased.

“Not the day of, grandma.”

“Wow, look who’s talking now.”

Lexa pinched her ass so fast that Clarke let out a startled gasp.

—

It was a coming of age story on the raunchy side, with loud scenes and moody visuals in nightclubs and college dorms. Clarke felt completely disconnected from the story, knowing she would forget it soon. The more obvious reason was that they were done with the popcorn and now Lexa had her hand on her bare thigh.

She wasn’t even… doing anything, but it was there, and Clarke didn’t care about any character or any damn plot point because her best friend’s fingers were touching her skin. She could admit that much.

The real mistake had been comparing how Lexa and her usually acted at the movies. Sitting next to each other, sharing food or candy, but never… touching with purpose. Inevitably, Clarke wondered how she would’ve reacted if her Lexa had ever attempted this. If she’d held her hand and made no move to let go. Clarke wanted to believe she would’ve been effortlessly cool about it, but her current state showed otherwise.

Breathing was a tall order and her hands felt clammy. There was no one behind them at least.

“Lexa…” she whispered, glancing at her.

Lexa had a small smile but seemed otherwise focused on the movie. Her hand inched up higher, beneath her dress, and then stilled again.

In the cover of darkness, Clarke realized her assumption she’d be safe from her own desires was a joke. The secluded but still public space made it worse – forbidden in the kind of way that made her ache. Now it made sense why Lexa had responded so positively to her movie suggestion.

From the way her body was reacting, Other Clarke clearly had a fantasy for this type of situation, and Clarke had tapped right into it. Which was unfair, because how could she know she enjoyed this before she even knew it!

“Fuck,” she cursed, her fingers digging into the armrest. With her free hand she reached for Lexa’s wrist, a weak attempt to stop her.

“Lexa,” she repeated quietly. “What are you doing?”

Lexa drew small circles on Clarke’s skin, like an apology. Only it wasn’t. “It’s okay, baby,” she murmured a few seconds later. “Sit back.”

There was… no way. Clarke couldn’t. She couldn’t. But her heart had started pounding and the heat in the pit of her stomach felt unbearable. She knew this feeling but never this intense. There was no scenario where she didn’t take care of this. And to Lexa, there was no scenario where she didn’t care of this.

Which was exactly why Clarke needed to choose her next words carefully: “Not here,” she pleaded, and then: “I’ll be too loud.”

It had the effect Clarke had hoped for. Lexa lost all semblance of control and looked at her, her mouth parted open and her expression unreadable. Yet in the dark room, Clarke could still see the change in her. Could feel how her hand’s soft touch turned into a possessive grip. Fingers pressing into flesh, then her thumb rubbing against the spot as if she worried she’d hurt her.

Lexa was quiet for a beat, then cleared her throat and gathered their belongings. “Come on.”

She’d entwined their hands without Clarke even realizing it, or maybe it was her who’d reached out first. Clarke wasn’t sure she could tell left from right anymore, or if she could even walk to wherever it was Lexa was taking her. They left the room discreetly, but the lights in the hall did nothing to snap Clarke out of her mounting desire.

It felt like the fight had been lost the moment she’d suggested they go slow. Slow had meant eventually, and with Lexa, eventually seemed to only take a few hours.

—

The restroom was miraculously empty for now, but the toilet stall Lexa had dragged her in was a tighter space than expected. Clarke felt a thrill.

Lexa pressed her against the door with little restraint, hand cupping her cheek as she kissed her deeply.

Clarke pulled back and looked into her eyes, knowing she didn’t want to stop her. It wasn’t just how her body reacted to Lexa’s hands or mouth. Wherever they were, from the comfort of their apartment to the cramped confines of this stall, she felt home. Home with Lexa. Attuned to her touch, her smell and her taste. The most mind-bending, confusing event of her life was happening, yet she felt safe. Tethered to this new life as if it was her own. Or could be, at least.

Lexa rubbed their noses together. “Breathe,” she whispered.

Clarke tangled her fingers in her hair. “I’m okay. Just wondering… why the toilet is the romantic setup I get.”

“What do you mean?” Lexa replied with a smirk. “You love traditions.”

“Tradi-”

Lexa kissed her again, her full lips like warm velvet against hers. She kissed her until it almost felt silly that was all they were doing, and really, Clarke was sick of fighting this. She reached for Lexa’s hands and brought them to her breasts, where Lexa needed no further instruction to palm them.

“Fuck, Clarke, I can’t do the whole slow thing anymore.”

“You can’t?” Clarke repeated pointlessly, too lost in the feeling of Lexa’s hands on her body.

“It’s your birthday,” Lexa said against her neck, inhaling when Clarke tilted her head to the side. “And I have so many presents to give.”

Her hands went down to her waist, her ass, and then pushed her dress up. She never looked away from her, smile growing as Clarke’s eyes darkened.

“Lexa…”

It was all she could find to say. Just the name of the woman in all her thoughts. She felt so needy; a need to connect with Lexa in all the ways they never did in her time. She pulled her close and kissed her, chasing her tongue. When Lexa moaned, she was reminded of what she’d told her earlier – how her kisses felt different. Clarke thought, good, let them be different. Let Lexa be surprised too. It was only fair.

Lexa’s hand was beneath lace in a matter of seconds, fingers finally pressing against her.

“Oh, god,” Clarke breathed out, knees buckling.

“I’ve got you,” Lexa promised, firmly holding her thigh up with her other hand.

When she entered her, Clarke’s body felt so overcome with pleasure she briefly worried she’d come on the spot.

“So wet,” Lexa husked in her ear. “I wish I could get on my knees. But not yet.”

Fuck. Clarke closed her eyes, thankful for the small mercy. She wouldn’t have been able to stop Lexa from licking into her if she wanted. Not even for a second. She could only focus on her fingers filling her, harder and faster with every moan that slipped out of her.

Lexa took her quickly, like she worried someone would rob them of this moment if she didn't. Or couldn't wait to see her fall apart. Her eyes never looked away and her skin had a slight shine under the harsh light. She’d never looked more confident; more beautiful. And Clarke felt attractive too, though… with her tits nearly out of her dress, her leg hooked around Lexa’s waist and her fingers buried deep inside her, she should’ve felt dirty. And well, she did, but not in a way where she’d later feel empty. Where she’d be reminded she was someone you had fun with, but that was all. Lexa made her feel like a fucking bombshell. Was showing her that they were on the same page in every facet of this relationship.

Clarke wanted to last longer but couldn’t, needing release like she needed air. It hit her hard, just as Lexa found a different spot and adjusted her angle, because of course she knew every inch of her body. She muffled her moans in Lexa’s top, though she doubted it helped.

Lexa pressed small, tender kisses on her neck while she rubbed her clit in tight circles, whispering I love yous between Clarke’s sighs. For a moment they simply came down the same euphoric wave together, not in a rush to find the world again. When she finally pulled out, Clarke whined in protest. She couldn’t get enough, now wanting nothing more than to make Lexa feel the same.

She’d crossed the line, and there was no part of her that wanted to go back.

#clexa #clexa fic #w #well she lasted half a day it's not too bad #f: citf

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