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pedroslittlelady · 6 months

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Just You & Me, Darlin'

joel miller x f!reader (18+)

A/N: OMG Okay, I'm actually doing this! I'm posting something for the first time in over 4 years and I'm super nervous. Pedro Pascal just has me by the titties, and so do all of you wonderful writers and artists I've been so inspired by, so here is my little contribution 🫣💕

You can also read this on my ao3 if you prefer 😊

summary: When Tommy returns to the QZ without you, Joel is both terrified and furious but he’s determined to get you back safe no matter what.

tags/warnings: 18+ Explicit | Minors Do Not Interact Please! no use of y/n, boston qz, fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of suicidal thoughts, slight exhibitionism, explicit smut, unprotected piv, no description of female reader, other than joel can pick you up and kinda implied age gap, squirting, emotional sex, unbeta'd, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, darlin', baby girl). oh and you're both super in love so :) I think that's it.

word count: 5.9k

Joel’s heart was fluttering within his chest, nerves and excitement flooding him as he made his way up the steps of his apartment building. If all had gone well, you were due back from the week-long smuggling run outside of the QZ today, and he had been stuck on work duty for most of it.

He hadn’t been able to go with you since someone had needed to stay back and protect their store of goods and ration cards from being stolen in their absence, they’d learned this the hard way.

And in his mind he’d drawn the short straw.

Joel would much rather be out there with you than stuck here wondering if you were okay. Here, he was unable to do anything if something went wrong but he knew you, the little hell-raiser that you were could definitely handle yourself.

The both of you had agreed when you first started sleeping together that it shouldn’t mess with the business, it gave you all a more comfortable life in the QZ than most got to have after all.

Even after falling hard for one another following the sharing of your past within whispered cuddles post sex, you both still tried to keep the business professional and that meant trusting one another to watch your own and your partners’ backs.

As he entered his apartment he was surprised to see Tommy sitting on his couch with his head in his hands.

Joel’s stomach dropped at the sight, he already knew something was wrong. Heart breaking into a gallop against his sternum he quickly scanned the apartment, the open layout giving him a view of the whole room and you were nowhere in sight.

Joel's hands tightened into fists, his jaw tensing in anger and fear as he focused his intense gaze on his little brother who was now worrying his lip.

“Where is she,” Joel stated more than questioned in his deep southern timbre, his voice thick with emotion. Anger, fear, anguish and dread were all suddenly clogging up his throat. He swallowed to keep it contained, needing to keep his head on straight right now.

“I don’t know brother,” Tommy responded, guilt and slight fear painted his features as he looked up at his older brother.

“The hell do you mean you don’t know?” Joel growled as he prowled closer to his brother who quickly stood from his slumped position. “I trusted you to watch her back, to keep her safe for me!” Joel couldn’t control himself, the emotions from the thought of losing you, of never seeing you again were too much to handle and he grabbed his brother by the neck of his jacket and shook him.

“The deal went bad! Me and Tess got separated from her!” Tommy quickly explained, his hands gripping onto Joel's shaking wrists. “We tried to find her but… shit man, things are more fucked up out there than ever. We were hoping she’d made it back here.”

Joel pushed his brother away from him, afraid he would start swinging. Rage and fear consumed him, tightening his heaving chest as he ran his hands through his greying hair. He quickly stalked over to his weapons stash beneath the floorboards while vile images of you being scared and hurt, being taken by sex traffickers and all manner of other atrocities he’d seen and heard about over all his years surviving in this hell were flooding his mind.

If it was the last thing he did, he’d find you himself and bring you home. The thought of never finding you was unspeakable and he quickly pushed that horrible scenario out of his mind. But then another took its ugly place as he quickly grabbed his go bag; what if he found you dead or dying?

Well that would be the end, wouldn’t it?

He paused before looking at his little brother, standing before him paler than he’d seen him in a long time. Exhaustion was dragging Tommy down and Joel knew that he and Tess had done the best they could to find you; they loved you too.

“I’ll find her and bring her back,” Joel stated.

“I’ll come with-”

“No… thank you, but no. You're exhausted, you’ll just slow me down. If I don’t come back… then I…,” Joel trailed off as he watched anguish and fear become apparent on his little brother's face.

“Joel. Don’t. Please, brother,” Tommy begged, already knowing where Joel’s head was at.

“I can’t…” Joel felt his voice break as tears flooded his vision, blurring the image of his baby brother walking towards him.

Next thing Joel knew, his brother's arms were around him and Joel let himself feel the rare embrace for just a moment. He and his brother had never been the most affectionate with each other even before the outbreak, so the fact his brother was hugging him so tightly told him Tommy knew exactly what you meant to him. How could he not, with how blatant the two of you were with your lovesick need for each other. You had become his whole world, a quick spiral into passionate need that seemed to drive the two of you from the very moment you became one when he took you on that dirty warehouse floor three years earlier.

His head dipped to Tommy’s shoulder as silent tears rolled down his cheeks and into his patchy beard, into that place where you always kissed him, as if that spot had been made just for you. A place to kiss and lick and nibble like you loved to do when you both were intimate, which was basically whenever you were in the same room as one another, everyone else be damned.

Would Joel ever feel that again? Had you both made all the memories together that you ever would? The last time he saw you flashed in his mind, replacing the ugly panicked images from before. You’d smiled up at him, arms wrapped around one another, foreheads pressed together as you whispered your ‘see you laters’ - never ‘goodbyes’ - to each other, while Tess and Tommy looked on and rolled their eyes in annoyance at your overt pda.

The Joel of before had never been one for public displays of affection, to the point where one woman had broken things off with him because she’d said he was cold, that he didn’t care enough about her. He’d realised later on that she had probably been right. More conscious of how much affection he was giving in front of others than he should have been.

Now though, with you these last few years? Joel didn’t give a single fuck what people thought of how he held your hand, kissed you, sat you on his lap as he made deals with all kinds of people. He loved when you’d do the same, when you would kiss him in that spot that was surely made purely for your mouth while you rolled your hips against his hardening cock. The greedy eyes of lowlifes watching on in pure jealousy of how unashamed you were with showing everyone how wanton you could get for him. His precious little hell-raiser.

Shit, he’d fucked you outside before and hadn’t cared who’d heard. It had actually turned him on to know the residents had heard your desperate and lustful cries as you let him take you from behind in an alleyway between two apartment buildings. Anyone could’ve looked out and seen how Joel Miller got to have you be his, the most vicious beauty in all of Boston, submitting to him, belonging to him.

Joel quickly pulled away from Tommy before he got too emotional about how this day had turned into a fucking real life nightmare.

As he strode towards his apartment door with his go bag on his back and his weapons tucked away on his person, he rubbed the tears from his eyes and face. He couldn’t look back at Tommy so he roughly pulled open the door and walked out with a quickly uttered, “see you brother.”

While descending to street level Joel struggled to get his emotions under control. It had been a long time since he had cried, since he had felt this scared and helpless, but he pushed through and began to formulate a plan on how he would get out of the QZ through a smuggler tunnel they had created two years ago. Then he would find you so he could bring you home, safe and sound.

There was no other option he would let himself consider from here on out, he needed to focus on his current mission.

Joel steeled himself as he walked out of the apartment building and turned right to head to the closest smuggling route out of the QZ. As he looked up to assess his surroundings he was stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of you standing in front of him.

His eyes widened in shock as you stood before him, a shaky vulnerable look on your pretty as sin face. Joel choked on your name in disbelief and before he knew it his hands were grasping your cheeks and his lips were crushing against yours in a desperate kiss.

He pulled away from your tight embrace to quickly gasp, “What the hell happened, baby?” Before he kissed you again and again and again. So relieved to feel you alive and whole in his arms once more.

But then worry clouded his mind; the look on your face as you saw him notice you replayed in his mind.

Joel once again pulled away from the desperate kisses you both were sharing to truly look into your wide teary eyes.

“Are… are you okay, sweetheart? Are you hurt? Let me see you,” Joel pleaded in a vulnerable whisper. He reluctantly pulled further away so he could assess you until you spoke for the first time since your reunion.

“I’m okay Joel, baby. I’m okay I promise!” You gasped as Joel began to pull up your sleeves and the hem of your shirt to see your slightly bruised and cut skin, clearly searching for a fatal wound like a bite that he thankfully would not find.

“Joel!” You shouted to get his attention, uncaring of the passers-by on the busy street taking notice of your desperate interaction.

Joel stopped his searching as you placed your hands on his cheeks and gave a soft smile when you saw the fear in his eyes recede into a warm relieved look of love that always made your chest flutter in unbelievable happiness, like butterflies bursting with life within you. You had never expected to get to this point with anyone, let alone the cold standoffish brute Joel Miller who had barely seemed to tolerate you the first few weeks after your initial meeting.

To have this big, dangerous, sometimes scary but protective man look at you like you were his whole world was intoxicating. No wonder you could never keep your hands off of him.

It had started after the first time you’d fucked, and that’s all it had been meant to be. A desperate fuck after a near death experience, both of you alone and thankful to be alive. You had exchanged no words but a heady look and before you’d known what was happening he was kissing into your mouth before pinning you onto the hard dirty floor and fucking you silly.

You knew he’d been sleeping with Tess at the time, although it wasn’t serious, and you had slipped into Tommy’s bed once or twice, but for years you had respected Joel’s leadership and strength, and of course enjoyed admiring how handsome he really was, but you both had never been particularly close, until then.

After, you had both agreed it wouldn’t happen again. You reluctantly agreed with him even though your legs had felt like jelly after the best orgasms you’d ever been given, having never before been fucked like Joel Miller liked to fuck.

It happened again of course, the very next night when you took a chance and slipped into his room and cot. He hadn’t said a thing against it, only a cocky, “can’t get enough huh, hell-raiser?”

After you sucked him to full hardness he’d let you ride him as fast or slow as you wanted while he just watched you. In the wake of your first orgasm Joel had snapped and took control once more by putting you on your back and practically folding you in half. He’d fucked you so hard you’d screamed your pleasure, so loud you had only realised afterward that Tommy and Tess must have been 100% aware of what was happening. But you’d come so hard you’d squirted all over Joel and made a complete mess, but you had seen in Joel’s eyes how much he’d absolutely loved it.

There was no talk of it never happening again after that, only an acknowledgement that business came first. A few months into your arrangement he began cuddling you after sex, asking you not to leave his bed in the sweetest whisper against the back of your head. You had agreed, threading your fingers through his and nodding with a simple, “yes Joel.”

And you hadn’t left, you both barely let the other out of your lovesick sight as you basically moved in with him. Tess and Tommy quickly moved out so they didn’t have to listen to the both of you ‘fucking every goddamn day.’

“I’m fine baby, I promise. Okay?” You kissed Joel softly bringing you back to the present, his arms tightening around you.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if… fuck, I thought you were-” Joel was crushing you against him, lips brushing yours as he spoke. A tremble was in his voice, one you’ve come to know more over the years as he opened up to you about things from his past.

“I’m right here darlin’, right where I’m supposed to be,” you gently spoke while running your hands through his salt and pepper curls. The action always calmed him down.

“I love you so goddamn much, hell-raiser.” Joel smiled against your lips before kissing you again. You chuckled, feeling tears gather in your eyes at the silly pet name he’d given you after your first chaotic introduction years ago which involved you wielding a couple molotov cocktails. The first of many pet names he graced you with, but definitely your favourite.

“I love you too, big guy.”

Your back gently hit the apartment building as Joel increased the pressure of your kisses, a desperation taking over you both as the feeling of being reunited after a close call washed over you once again.

Joel hiked your leg up and ground his hardened cock against your rapidly soaking pussy making you gasp at the sting of pain the suddenness of your arousal wrought as it travelled deep into your rapidly warming core.

“Joel,” you panted into his mouth as he licked at your tongue before sucking it into his mouth with a growl of need you felt emanating from his belly which was pressed tight against yours.

“Fuck, need inside your tight little cunt right now, darlin’,” Joel rumbled before he hastily began to undo your jeans, his lips carving a wet path across your cheek and down your tilting neck. He bit you quick and hard there, marking you; claiming you. You gasped, your arousal seeping from your desperately empty channel and trickling into your panties as you tilted your hips against his rock hard cock.

Joel slipped his thick fingers into your wet slit making you moan into his mouth.

“Get a room,” you heard someone mutter as they walked past. Joel growled before pulling away to glare fiercely at the man who suddenly blanched before quickly scurrying away at the sight of Joel hovering over you with a murderous look in his eyes.

You giggled at the interaction, drawing his attention back to you, his eyes softening at your mischievous smirk.

“Take me to bed, big guy. Remind me who I belong to,” you murmured before biting your lower lip in anticipation as Joel's eyes turned blacker than the deepest cavern within the fathomless ocean.

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and began to steer you back into the apartment building and up the stairs. You could feel his eyes on your ass before a slap landed there making you squeak excitedly. “Hurry the fuck up, darlin’,” Joel growled with a squeeze to your right cheek making you skip up the stairs quicker, panties practically drenched now.

The next second he was pushing open your apartment door, throwing off his bag and flipping you around to face him so he could kiss you hungrily once more. His thick tongue probed every part of your mouth, overwhelming you. You whimpered, your hands caressing through his hair to scratch gently at his scalp.

His grip on your thighs suddenly let you know what he was about to do and you braced your hands on his broad shoulders as he quickly hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. You both groaned and panted into one another's mouth at the feel of being pressed together.

You stilled when you heard the clearing of a throat. Joel groaned in annoyance as your lips separated wetly.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” Tommy said before covering a slight laugh with a cough, Joel glowered. “But I’m really glad you're okay, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate it.” You smiled, so glad to see him safe and sound too. You told him this and questioned where Tess was and he informed you that she was just fine also.

“I just wanted to say-” Tommy started to speak.

“Enough said,” Joel growled. “Talk later. We're busy, brother.” Joel raised his brows clearly unabashed at being caught in this position by his baby brother.

“Jeez, alright lover boy-” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I swear to God Tommy if you don’t get the fuck out of here now I’ll-”

“Okay okay! We’ll catch up later, Christ.” Tommy shook his head but you could see he wasn’t truly annoyed by the relieved look on his face.

As Tommy made his way to the door, a smirk was painted on his handsome face. Joel just pierced him with a frustrated and grumpy glare, you couldn’t help but snort softly while still being held up in his strong arms.

“See you later Tommy, and tell Tess thanks as well when you see her,” you quickly uttered before you forgot all about Tess and Tommy in just a few seconds.

“Will do, sweetheart. See you later. You too, Romeo.” Tommy laughed before darting out the door as fast as he could once he’d heard Joel’s growl of annoyance.

“C’mon baby,” you murmured in his ear before sucking the lobe into your mouth bringing his attention back to you, his eyes softening once more. “Need to feel your big cock inside me, I feel so empty.” You pouted playfully even though you could still feel some of the adrenaline and fear from your near miss swarming inside you.

You had very nearly not made it home to him and that thought made your heart jump and your hold on your lover tighten. You didn’t know if you could hold back on the avalanche of feeling you knew was headed your way.

“Poor baby,” Joel responded as he carried you to your bed and laid you down, his back not being able to hold you up for much longer, not if he was going to fuck you like you both needed after today. “Don’t you worry darlin’, I got you.”

Joel stood before you and began to remove the various weapons from his body, his dark intense gaze never leaving you as you began to writhe in need.

“Hurry Joel,” you whimpered, a desperation taking over now that you weren’t in his arms anymore. You felt tears gather in your eyes at just how lucky you were to be back here with him, safe and sound. You couldn’t hold back a hiccupping sob threatening to escape you.

Joel took notice and quickly hovered over you, one hand on your hip, the other palming your cheek and wiping a tear away. “You're okay now, baby. I got you.” He kissed your forehead and you could hear him inhale your scent as he did.

“Joel.” You murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed. You needed to release these emotions, and Joel was the best at giving you just what you needed, what you both needed.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Joel murmured, his own gaze tear filled meeting yours before he pressed his lips to yours for a desperate kiss. You struggled to keep up with his kisses at first but then he was scraping his teeth down your jaw and sucking on your neck.

You bucked your hips up against him, his leg slipping between yours so you could grind on him. You whimpered, needing his bare skin to be slick against yours as you once again fitted together so perfectly.

You needed the intimacy and the vulnerability of being beneath his broad form as he fucked you deep and hard, imprinting himself within you forever.

As if Joel had read your mind, he pulled back from nuzzling between your breasts, his big strong hands grasped the collar of your shirt and ripped it down the middle in one go.

You gasped at the action, at the grimace of need on his face as he began to manhandle you in a desperate need to get you naked beneath him. You unhooked your bra as he roughly pulled down your jeans and panties in one go, snarling in annoyance when your boots hampered his mission.

As soon as you were bare Joel was back on the bed and spreading your legs up and wide so he could see your perfectly soaked little cunt fluttering needily around nothing. Fuckin’ Heaven right there, he thought to himself as he dragged his eyes up your heaving belly and chest to see you biting your lip, small hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Please Joel, want you naked against me,” you practically begged, pupils blown out, eyes still glistening. He knew from your reaction something had scared you, probably a moment of terror in thinking you weren’t going to make it back to him in one piece or at all. The idea of that being a very real possibility that could have happened shook him to his core and he quickly tore off his clothes, not wanting to be away from your touch for longer than necessary.

He began to kiss every scrape and bruise as he made his way up your chest. Soon his eyes were looking deep into your soft gaze, your arms and legs wrapping around him and he knew he was finally home. He brushed his nose along yours, both his hands tunnelling into your pretty hair as he gazed down at you.

“You and me, darlin’, that’s all I need. Just you, I fuckin’ love you, you drive me goddamn insane with it, you know that?” His gaze was soft but intense, his words rumbled out of his pouty lips.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your own hands rubbing his back soothingly before sliding up his neck and into his hair. “But I feel the same.”

“Don’t be sorry, darlin’. You’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time. Just scares the hell outta me,” he nearly choked on his words before burying his face into the sexy slope of your neck, inhaling your heavenly scent. “Can’t lose you, baby.”

“I’m right here, not losing me, Joel,” you responded softly before kissing his scarred temple.

Joel slowly lowered his hips as he lifted his head to kiss you, his weeping cock covering your pussy, soaking him even further. Normally Joel would prepare you, stretch you with his thick fingers and make you come on his tongue but from the way you were mewling and moving against him he knew you both needed to become one right now. Besides, you had told him plenty of times how you liked the slight pain his cock created when it stretched your little hole open, the girth of him too wide to fit comfortably at first.

You both angled your hips, well versed in the best way to slot together hands free. Your breath hitched when the crown of his twitching cock popped inside you.

“So fuckin’ tight and wet for me, baby girl.”

“Joel,” you whimpered against his lips before your hips pushed against him, sliding more of him within your aching heat.

He stared into your watery eyes as he gripped your hip with a bruising grasp and began to push into your tightness. He loved watching the way your mouth opened into a little ‘o’ shape and the space between your brows creased cutely in pain.

“Takin’ my cock so well, you precious little fuckin’ thing,” Joel growled as he bottomed out causing you to gasp. Your perfect cunt clenching around him was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Your breasts heaved against his chest as he let you adjust to the stretch of him for a moment. But he had little patience right now, so he soon pulled back making you whimper sweetly and he kissed into your mouth soothingly before he moved his hand to the back of your neck and held it tightly.

Pulling back from the kiss he quickly punched his hips down and forward, slamming deep inside you and causing your body to jolt from the force, his hands holding you steady. You weren’t going anywhere.

The squeak you let out was choked off when he did it again, and again. The soundtrack to your desperate love making became the wet slapping of skin on skin, the gasps of pleasure and the cries of pain as you melded together as one. Sweaty skin sliding against hardened nipples and harsh gasps were shared as he rhythmically pounded you into the mattress

“Joel, Joel, oh God Joel don’t stop!” you pleaded wide eyes staring up at his fervent expression as he gazed down at you.

“Fuck! That’s it baby, take my cock.” Joel grimaced in pleasure.

“Please, baby. Go faster!” You yelped as his hips smacked against you, his heavy balls soaked from your arousal.

He granted your plea, arching his back so he could suck on your tight nipples, hands grasping under and over your shoulders as he began to piston sharply within you, pulling you onto his thick cock.

“Yes yes yes, gonna come,” you suddenly gasped and Joel knew it was true by how your tight little pussy started fluttering around his shaft, sucking him deep.

“Come all over me, baby girl,” he whispered against your parted lips, sweat building between you as you both moved in sync, chasing that beautiful euphoria he always granted you.

You had been feeling it build within you so deeply, you knew you were about to crest that tremendous wave of pleasure you associated with Joel and how he always spoiled you rotten when you made love. It hit deep and sharp, making you arch your back and cry out against his lips as your pussy clutched so tightly to him, never wanting him to stop or leave your most vulnerable place that he always cherished.

It caught your breath as you ascended into ecstasy, all you could do was whimper against his plush lips as you came. His hips stuttered as you tightened, unable to keep up the pace at how tightly you were grasping at him. Nails scraping his back, legs spreading further, toes curling against his thick thighs.

“Good girl, baby,” he practically whimpered as you came around him. “That’s my good girl. Fuck, I love you,” Joel growled while he quickened his pace again, the ache in his lower back completely ignored. He sat up a bit, lifted your legs so they fell over the bend in his elbows before planting his hands on the bed.

You were practically folded in half, completely dazed from that intense orgasm as he manoeuvred you however he liked. You loved when he treated you like his precious little fuck doll.

“Oh my God, baby,” you gasped, just watching as his hulking form rose above you, his dark desperate eyes dragging from your own eyes to your bouncing breasts as he started pumping his cock into you once more. The generous crown of his cock repeatedly hit that amorous spot deep inside you that only Joel could locate.

His stare was fixated on where you were joined together as he continued to thrust, slowing a little to admire it. “Sweet little pussy is creaming all over my dick, fuck!” Joel couldn’t take his eyes away from it, your abused hole flushed with arousal and soaked with your mingling desire. “God damn, baby girl. You can really take some cock, huh?”

All you could do was whimper at the vision he made above you, greedy lustful stare focused on your needy hole stretched around the wide circumference of his wet cock pumping inside you. The broad expanse of his tanned slick shoulders, the strength of his hands as they wrapped his calloused fingers around your hips, angling them perfectly. He sat up, his knees bracketing your ass and you quickly pressed your hands up behind you knowing exactly what was coming. Your heart jumped in your chest, you loved to watch him above you like this; using you, loving you so deeply and harshly.

“Gonna cum so deep inside your cunt, baby girl. Never gonna be rid of me,” Joel growled before rolling his hips into you, knowingly hitting that special place inside you that usually had you squirting all over him.

He never forgot that moment you’d shared with one another. Only your second time together and he had given it to you so good it was probably one of his proudest moments, his ego getting a huge boost that had been well needed at the time.

You had been so shocked and loud, you’d practically screamed at the sensation, shivering so vulnerably beneath him afterward it had stuck deep inside his chest afterward. It had pushed him to coo to you softly at your little whimpers, telling you that you were okay, that you had been so sexy and beautiful for him.

His hips were rolling and thrusting into you making you moan and stare up at him in awe. This man was all fucking yours.

“Mine, Joel. You’re mine.”

“Yeah, baby. All yours, this cock is all yours. And who does this pussy belong to, hmm?” he questioned with a smirk as he stared down into your wide eyes as his hips picked up the pace, you continuing to reciprocate his movements like a well choreographed dance.

“Yours, my pussy’s all yours. No one else's, baby.”

“Good girl,” Joel praised before leaning over you, his pretty lips pressing into yours, widening your mouth and swiping his tongue against yours as your pussy flooded his cock and balls creating a slapping sound that made you whimper and blush.

“Always so fuckin’ wet for me. Ain’t ya, sweetheart,” Joel groaned. “Fuckin’ love you.”

“Love you too, now fill me up, baby. Please!” You gasped against him, your foreheads now pressed against one another, mouths sharing harsh breaths.

You braced against the headboard with one hand while moving the other to his curly hair desperately seeking purchase as your arousal grew once more. Core warming and tightening in an impending orgasm and when he shifted your position so he could press against your clit and urethra with his fingers your stomach jumped, knowing exactly what he wanted from you.

“Oh Joel,” you whined.

“Yeah baby, drench me please,” Joel encouraged and you began to flutter around the precise pumping of his twitching cock within your sensitive walls.

It hit you suddenly, your back arched with a quick scream of pleasure and the overstimulation that you associated with squirting. Joel groaned in pleasure as you burst with feeling.

“Atta fuckin’ girl, baby! That’s it, shit I’m gonna come,” Joel gasped as you soaked him, a vision beneath him, sweat slicked tits bouncing, mouth agape in a shout of intense pleasure and eyes practically rolling into the back of your head.

Joel's hips stuttered, his balls tightening even more as he felt his pleasure travel from deep within his core, up to the swollen tip of his cock. “Fuck, baby,” Joel whimpered into your neck as he began to spurt his come deep into your womb, hips stuttering and grinding against yours with the need to stuff you full of his cum.

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered as you felt him empty himself within you. You nudged his head as he did, wanting to see his handsome face in pleasure. He lifted and looked down at you, cum still spilling, overflowing you and trickling down your ass. “That’s it, baby. Fill me up good. I want all your cum,” you whispered softly as you gazed up at him. His face was so vulnerable and needy in that moment you couldn’t help but clench around him once more.

His balls had emptied with each ejection of his cum inside you, hips finally stilling as his cock became oversensitized to the stimulation still happening.

“Easy, baby girl. Easy.” Joel chuckled as he fell against you, completely spent before kissing you so softly that your heart jumped. “You think I can go again at my age?”

“You think I can go again after that?” You giggled breathily, completely satisfied. The impending avalanche of emotions purged from you in pleasure by your lover.

“Yeah, baby. Don’t doubt yourself.” Joel rubbed his nose against yours affectionately, a small grin on his face, eyes as soft as chocolate ice-cream.

“Then you don’t doubt yourself either.”

“I know my limits and my back is shot, darlin',” Joel grumbled in annoyance, his softly grinning face turning so grumpily pouty you couldn’t help but melt, you loved that you got to see this side of him that he unveiled to no one else but you. He really was all yours.

“Oh, poor baby,” you whispered to him before nudging him to the side so he could rest flat on the mattress, his softened dick slipping out of you with a flood of his cum which tickled your still trembling thighs. You definitely planned on giving him another back massage as soon as you both got some sleep, he had fucked you so perfectly; hard and loving. He certainly deserved it. “Rest now, we’re together and that’s all that matters.”

Joel sighed as he settled into the admittedly uncomfortable bed, but with you snuggling up against his chest he had no complaints.

“I don’t want you goin’ out there without me anymore, okay? Fuck the business, you’re more important.”

You looked up at him “As long as you don’t go out there without me either, we’re more important,” you agreed with a sigh of relief.

“Just you and me, darlin’. That’s all I need,” Joel assured you.

You snuggled deeper into his strong arms, a warm sense of safety and love blanketing your heart as his arms tightened and his lips kissed the top of your head with a mumbled, “Love you, hell-raiser.”

You kissed his chest before replying, “Love you too, big guy.”

A/N: Thank you to any of you who made it to the end of this, I hope you enjoyed it! Please consider reblogging and/or commenting to help this little story of mine find new readers💕😘

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candiewrapper · 6 months

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tw // mention of suicide

window thoughts

#candiewrapper #tw // suicide #tw // mention of suicide #tw // intrusive thoughts

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outragedslime · 9 months

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the night shift

#intrusive thoughts #suicide mention #just for tws #parasitoid wasps #made my damn day #dood #comic #comics

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hajihiko · 1 year

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How's it feel to be on the other end of it Fuyuhiko

#Suicide ment #Suicide mention #Fuyuhiko kuzuryu #Hajime hinata #ryoma hoshi #Sdr2 #Super danganronpa 2 #sdrv3 #This was supposed to be funny but it ended up less funny than I thought.#Oops. Anyway!#Ryoma being so so so depressed is tragi-funny to me #An art

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messiahzzz · 4 months

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the IGN article has already been addressed by several users, but imo the points of critique raised by others were still often misinterpreted, or ignored entirely.

— so i’d like to talk about it.

beforehand, it is important to mention that it remains everyone’s respective responsibility to curate their own online experience. you shouldn’t purposefully expose yourself to topics that cause you distress or trigger you. however, general discussion should always be valid and welcomed. you have every right to voice your opinion on the matter and to be upset about this. please don’t feel guilty about venting and expressing your emotional response.

we also need to differentiate this specific interview from the fandom’s overall treatment and interpretation of gale. several of the posts i’ve seen on the subject tend to derail into the latter, without addressing the valid points many have raised or glossing over them entirely. this isn’t about the usual “haha gale eats shoes” joke or whatever new meme fandom comes up with. this is solely about the developer’s treatment of gale, the character, and about a specific, internal bias that has been prevalent throughout the entirety of the game, as well as their social media. this particular interview merely adding to the amalgamation of points mentioned.

yes, it is certainly unrealistic to expect larian to address every single companion in detail and to touch on every nuance possible, in an interview that broadly focuses on the game’s narrative and gameplay. there are, however, specific character sections. each companion received a headline that was reflective of their overall character archetype or provided quick insight into their development.

Karlach: 'The Labrador of the Party'

Lae'zel: 'She's So Young'

Halsin: 'A Creative Risk'

Shadowheart: 'The Jason Bourne'

Wyll: 'We Lost a Little Bit of Narrative Room'

Astarion: 'Much of What He Does Is Out of Fear'

Minthara: 'It's Not a Redemption Arc...But She's Got a Lot of Love'

and last but not least:

Gale: 'The Guy Who Starts Off Annoying Everyone'

what followed was a brief discussion about their respective storylines, each being addressed with a certain level of respect, empathy, and consideration. except for gale. all that was mentioned in regard to his character was the narrative impact of gale’s suicide. talking about the overall logistics of this ending, the visuals of the cutscene, and how, to them, his sacrifice felt like the right ending and how in many ways, it is.

Chrystal Ding, Lead Writer: On a very human level, you have the guy who starts off annoying everyone, he's constantly asking you to give him your most treasured possessions to eat, otherwise he's in trouble, and at the end, he gives himself for the world. Sven Vincke, Founder: And he had the choice already once before where he wasn't ready for it. So it's a very powerful ending, and it comes in different permutations.

gale is the character who is initially annoying companions and players alike. he is verbose, enthusiastic and has a tendency to break out in long-winded rants. he repeatedly asks for your assistance, to help him manage his condition. to spare himself and his surroundings from an untimely, explosive death, he must consume items that you’ve carefully collected. gale is, essentially, a liability. a ticking time bomb. he already had the option to have his life be a meaningful sacrifice, but he wasn’t ready to die yet. now, that the party has reached the end, he has another chance to give himself up for the world.

short after, gale’s section of the interview quickly diverts into a more general discussion about the difficulties of playing as a wizard and other classes.

larian claiming that there is a universal “right ending” in a game with many branching paths and choices very much contradicts the definition of a role-playing game. where it is solely in the player’s hands to decide what direction to take and what outcome they deem to be the right one. moreover, it is important to remember that the interviewees weren’t just any developers, but consisted of two lead writers and larian’s founder himself. some of them industry veterans who are, to an extent, pr-trained. we all know that fandom often sees statements from developers synonymous with word of god. as such, the implications and impact are truly unfortunate.

if larian was referring the SA survivor and stated that “the right ending” for him was to return him to enslavement or to hand him over to the gur. that for all the death and misery he (involuntarily) assisted, his sacrifice would at least grand them a slither of justice.

astarion caused death, perpetuated racism, and now that you have handed him over to the gur hunter, he is offered a chance to give himself back to the world.

it is then deemed the right choice for him because it is the most narratively satisfying/impactful/powerful outcome in the context of the overall story. the majority of us would agree that such would be a rather tactless statement, no? not specifically for mentioning it in relation to astarion as a character or his influence on the narrative — he is fictional, after all, but because of the real-life implications and the very real stigma the affected face. we can't deny that it would be hurtful to irl victims. maybe we would even fault the writing altogether for such biases. after all, why should astarion be the only character whose redemption and healing are considered to be significantly less important in the grand scheme of things?

fiction functions as an abstraction and simulation of our social experience. we are supposed to get invested, to explore the meaning, examine the parallels, or maybe just to enjoy stories for the sole purpose of indulging in the occasional escapism. perhaps a way to temporarily forget about one’s limitations and the prejudices we face. in many ways, chronic pain/impairment, suicidal ideation, and autistic traits appear to be disorders & symptoms that are perhaps less relatable to some, and that they are maybe not as sympathetic to.

it truly would’ve been nice to see larian approach this interview with more professionalism. opting for a simple, diplomatic “actually, there is no right ending. the sheer variation in choices makes such a distinction impossible” would’ve more than sufficed.

this isn’t asking for larian to touch on every nuance possible, in an interview that largely resembled the flow of a regular conversation. it’s about asking for the same level of consideration and care that was granted to the rest of the companions. it’s about addressing gale’s particular brand of trauma with the same level of basic human decency. maybe we even could’ve received some new bits and pieces of insight on gale’s development, rather than the regurgitation of every shallow reddit/tiktok take we’ve seen up to this point. alas..

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #fandom discourse #at first i didn't even want to make a post about this but here we are #reducing the discussion to “blorbo trauma” feels like a very condescending/belittling approach #ultimately invalidating a lot of thoughtful points that were raised #this is tumblr. getting invested in fictional people and overanalysing every little scrap of content is what we do.#so to mention it once more: you have every right to be upset #it speaks #sa mention #suicide mention

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ianthine-ichor · 4 months

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I had an ask for this story but it was sadly eaten by the Tumblr gods 😔

So for the anon who asked for John Price x Reader who comes to him years later after a bad breakup because they are in danger, this one's for you!

John Price x Reader ~ All I Have is You

Summary: You come running back to John years after a nasty break-up in hopes of finding some help out of a horrible situation.

Word count:: 6.5k

Tw in tags

John's life could never be simple. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many loose ends he pulled together by the skin of his teeth. There always managed to be something he let lay dormant, something he let fall to the wayside just long enough for it to maybe even slip his mind. And damn near every time it did, it came back with a vengeance.

However, of all the things he knew would come back to haunt him, you were what he expected least of all.

He had believed you a long dead part of his life, a piece of himself better numbed in alcohol than thought about. A face he'd spent endless nights trying to forget the smile of, endless partners failing to take your stead. He'd long since conceded to that aspect of himself being buried, hardly remedied by the ‘I love you’ that would fall from whoever had been his most recent escape from the icy cold of his bed.

But then, on a day like any other in this silent little place he'd given up trying to make feel like any sort of home, he'd opened the door to your unmistakable features.

He didn't know what to feel in the years of silence that seemed to pass. His mind and muscles tore themselves apart trying to find what reaction seemed appropriate. A part of himself didn't believe it, a similar part almost reached out to hold you, and another felt infuriated. He wasn't sure if it was because even so close you felt like light years away or if it was because he wanted to slam the door in your face for daring to ever come back. And for a moment, however small, he seriously considered the latter of the two.

But then you spoke. And suddenly whatever amount of spine had led him to the thought melted like butter.

“I need to talk. I know I have no right to ask but…” you paused, your voice softer than he thinks he's ever heard you speak. There might have even been a quiver in it, but he could hardly believe such a sound could come from the person who had once held together his broken pieces like you'd been solving him your entire life.

“I need your help” your chin raises and you meet his gaze, his skin flashing with the familiarity in how your eyes narrowed and your face snarled. It's hard to take your attempt at strength seriously with how feigned of an attempt it was. He says nothing and just the same he watches as you crumble. Your eyes avert, your hands twitch, your body leans away from him.

He hardly recognizes you.

But he steps aside all the same, a nod inviting you in as he keeps his vow of silence. You almost hesitate, but step in soon enough. Like a long lost ritual you kick your shoes off at the door, hanging your jacket and bristling as the light cold leaves your skin. He notes how you don't let him out of your sight but he can't tell why your eyes burn as much as they do.

Eventually he leads you to the kitchen. He wonders if you notice the empty frames. He wonders if you even care to look.

Like some twisted version of an old dream, you take your spot at the table where you used to sit. And before he even realizes what he's doing he's perking coffee, his eyes turning to you.

“Coffee?” He asks, but he isn't even sure why he does. Looking at you would be enough of an answer. You looked like you hadn't slept in months. You nod anyway.

He pretends to forget how you make your coffee. Out of spite? Anger? Frustration? It doesn't matter. He simply couldn't find the energy to put into someone whose presence made his heart find an old pace that left him biting his tongue at the bittersweet taste. Either way you get your coffee and he somehow finds the energy to sit across from you.

“You wanted to speak. Speak” his words come out harsher than he means them yet he doesn't find regret settling in his chest. Only minor annoyance as he watches you almost recoil from him, your drink pulled to your chest. Your eyes seem to search around for a moment, as if the words you needed so badly to speak would simply appear in front of you. He remembers how he used to find it sweet and can only react by biting his tongue harder.

“You haven't changed much” you begin. He can't help the grimace he shows as the annoyance in his chest grows. He catches how you straighten up under it.

“And you have” he answers back. You say nothing for a long moment and he isn't sure if he offended you or not. But he watches as you take a deep breath, your face hardening in a way he doesn't like.

“I know this isn't exactly…great for you. But it isn't for me either-”

“Why’d you leave?” the words slip out of his mouth before they had even been a thought in his head. Yet where he expected a look of anger or annoyance of your own, you only pause. And soon after, your look manages to grow colder.

“Because you didn't love me anymore” you answer back succinctly, calmly. He feels rage bloom in his chest at the words.

“Bullshit” he mutters through gritted teeth. He doesn't catch the sudden grip you hold on your cup and the way you slightly shake. But other than that you don't break.

“I must have phrased that wrong” there's a tone in your voice, an inflection of something horrible on your tongue.

“You did a piss poor job of making me feel like I was anything other than your fucking bed warmer” your words fall like acid on him. They soak through his marrow and into his bloodstream and become him. And his body rejects it just as quickly.

“You knew the type’a job I had when you met me” his voice is low and restrained as he tries to hold himself back

“It had nothing to do with your work-”

“Well what the bloody hell did it have to do with then!?” He stands, his hands slamming on the table as you immediately flinch away.

“Sit-!” You yell almost instinctively, the only thing he catches is the sudden terror in your tone. You take a stilted breath before speaking again.

“Sit down…please” your voice is much calmer but it does a horrible job at hiding the hitch in your voice or how your subtle shaking suddenly isn't so subtle. The strange demeanor stuns him for a moment, long enough for his flash of frustration to cool back to a simmer. There's a horrible feeling that crawls up his spine at your reaction, this gnawing, biting disgust that rips through him in a way he can't quite explain. He listens despite its elusive source or how he hates the way your eyes are locked on his every movement.

A horrible quiet passes that only further smothers the flames that had grown in his chest. You both hardly took any sips of your coffee as you seemed focused on your breathing and he was focused on loosening the sudden tightness of his muscles. Soon enough he spoke again, though he wasn't about to attempt that conversation again, as unsatisfied as he was by your answer.

“Why are you here?” He asks and this time he finds that his voice is weaker than he'd have liked it; betraying the words that he had meant to sting.

Yet despite that, he watches as your breath pauses and your grip tightens. How had you managed to grow even more tense?

“I don't have anyone else left” you answered, your eyes finally missing him, flickering away for what was barely a single moment. In spite of how hard he fought against it the painful beating in his chest left him worried. He tried not to show it. He hoped he hid it well enough for you not to notice.

The silence seemed to get to you. That or his stare had. Either way you continued.

“I just need somewhere to stay. Just a few months. I’ll figure it out by then and be gone. Just long enough to get some cash together” you try to explain and finally he spots something familiar in you. But it is not a part of you he once knew that he sees. No, he spots something else.

“You’re running from something” he interjects at his realization, your movements freezing at his accusation. You don't seem shocked so much as worried. He hated that you would ever even try to hide the fact from him.

“Yeah um…I am- but it's- it's complicated okay? I just need somewhere to stay-”

“Is it someone?” He questioned, your words lips closing into quiet once more. It stings a strange part of his soul that you seemed so unwilling to tell him outright.

“...It doesn't matter” you finally speak and he hides how his fists tighten. He hates that he cares at all. He hates that he can't help it.

Your plea for shelter lingers in the air for moments longer than either of you cared for. You couldn't handle the quiet of that for long.

“I don't have much, but I'll give you what I can. I'll get a job and pay you back I-”

“No” he shut you down immediately. Your face fell, the desperation of your gaze fixed on him.

“You can stay and I don't need your money” he clarifies and despite the lack of smile, your relief is more than visible.

“Thank you. I promise I'll be gone as quickly as I can get everything in order” you try to instill any sort of confidence that you would be of little bother, that he would hardly notice you here at all.

He couldn't help but feel his stomach fall to his feet at the words.

The first month you stayed had been…surreal, to say the least. For the most part the two of you did pretty well with avoiding each other. For moments of the day he would even wonder if that had been some weird fever dream. You? At his door? After so long? It all just felt so strange. Stranger yet that the circumstances were all but ideal. He thought about asking further, about pushing for what it was that led you here and why you had even been running in the first place. But he found that his tongue nearly died in his mouth every time he saw you around. It almost didn't feel real.

And despite the cold that still ran up his spine, the emptiness that found refuge in his chest, the blood that sat heavy in his veins; despite it all…

You still felt like home.

Yet you were still so far out of reach. Words seemed like complicated equations, conversations like rocket science. His words never left the way he wanted them to, his tone always the wrong amount of harsh. And with the way your eyes tracked his presence when he was around, almost unwavering from him…it all just felt so hard to explain. Something had changed, of course it had. It had been years since you two had last seen each other and it had hardly ended on good terms. Still, there was something so wrong here. Something in the way you ever so slightly leaned from him, or the way your eyes flickered to the closest door, or how it all seemed so familiar in a way that wasn't like home. In a way that was more like the warzones he'd grown so accustomed to.

And he could just see it, that fight in your eyes. That twitchiness that you had never had around him before. And he couldn't help but wonder why. Why. Why. Why. Why. What were you fighting and why did it almost feel like it was him?

It was horrible, the way that question had finally been answered.

The front door had slammed open, startling him from the dinner he had been making and setting every one of his senses aflame. It slammed shut before he had even made it to the hall and when he had he could hardly bring himself to swallow the scene.

You stood pushing on the door like it would hold damn near the whole world at bay. With how violently you were shaking he almost wished it would. Your hiccups and sniffles filled the air as you tried and failed about a hundred times to turn the lock. Your clothes were disheveled, your jacket gone and your shirt caked in dirt and…

No, no that wasn't…

“Y/n?” He hardly even remembered opening his mouth before your name fell out. Quiet and worried in a way he hadn't meant to show.

When your head snapped to him all of his insides twisted in a sickly mess. Features he remembered days of leaving soft kisses on were now warped by deep bruises and bleeding wounds. Your eyes wide and glossy, your skin a mix of blood and tears. Your breath had hitched as if any movement would turn him against you. He couldn't help but feel worse at the notion. He moves. Just one simple step closer.

And suddenly it's as if a dam breaks. Your murmuring words he can't understand, a panic on your face he hadn't seen in all of the time he's known you. You yell and thrash and he can't tell if you even know what you're doing, he can't tell if you even see him anymore. His body almost acts on instinct as he quickly grabs the nearest cloth near him before making his way to you. He places the cloth in your hand, your body flinching in a way that makes him hesitate a moment before he guides you to cover your bleeding nose.

“You gotta breathe” he mutters, no longer attempting to cover the look of confused worry that covers him. You seem to try, but a bloody nose makes that a little difficult. In the meantime he guides you to the bathroom, sitting you down as he fishes out a medkit. You stop talking altogether at that point, going eerily silent.

And it stays that way as he wipes away the blood and around deeply forming bruises. It stays as he cleans the wounds and makes sure your nose isn't broken. It stays when the peroxide hits your skin and when the bandages cover them. It's a horrible, false silence. A silence so loud his ears ring, though that could have just as well been the adrenaline leaving his veins. For a while he's fine with it, for a while it's better than the terror-filled panic, for a while it's better than the way you stared and twitched and sobbed.

But then you get a look in your eye. A dangerous look. A look he's seen too many times in his line of work. And suddenly the quiet isn't so safe anymore.

“Still with me there?” He asks in an attempt to gain your attention. To his relief your eyes flick to him and nod. He doesn't quite like how quickly they had turned cold again. In fact he's sure he hates it.

“What happened?” He finally asks and watches how the distant look in your eyes dissolves. Your lips quiver as you try desperately to hold onto a calm that wasn't coming. Your hands grip tightly onto a bloodied paper towel in your hands.

“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat. Your eyes avoid him like a simple glance would kill you.

“It's complicated I-” the panic in your voice rises again.

“I have to go- John I have to go-”

“Now hold on” his hand lands on yours, your body tensing under his touch. He can't help but feel sickened at the thought of you scared of him.

“Whatever happened, I promise it's safe, alright? No one's getting in here. You're safe. Just…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes showing his hesitation before he, as gently as he's ever done anything in his life, he places your hand to his chest. Your fingers flatten against him, familiar and comforting, as he lets out a deep breath.

“Just breathe” he almost pleads, something he finds himself regretting almost immediately. Yet despite feeling that he was doing a horrible job, it seemed to calm you all the same. Much to his relief you managed a few deep breaths, your hand still pressed on his heartbeat that he forced to slow.

He is surprised, after all of this, to hear a faint laugh fall from your lips. Quiet and saddened yes, but a laugh nonetheless. And he couldn't have felt more ridiculous than at that moment.

“What?” Or perhaps it seems he could, his dumbfoundedness not hidden in the tone of his voice. It isn't hard for you to wipe the smile from your face, if it had even really been a smile at all.

“Nothing I just…I remember when I had to do this for you” your tone is bittersweet.

“I never thought I'd be on the other side” your voice is breathless and strained, a certain feeling behind it he couldn't quite place. He finds himself snickering along as the once painful memory hits him. He would agree. He never imagined someone strong enough to pull him back to reality could ever need him to do the same.

“Yeah…world's got a fucked up way of making circles” he replies and you give a half-hearted attempt at agreement. And it seems that a moment too soon you pull away and he feels almost as if you take his heartbeat with you.

“Yeah…Yeah, it does…” you murmur, a sentiment far too true found in the quiet whisper. There is almost silence until you speak again.

“I'm sorry” the apology falls in a way not meant to ever leave you. The sound was as sorrowful as seeing a bird stripped of its wings. An act against nature, a horrible twisting of what should be.

“I’m sorry” you break again, though this time you don't shatter so much as you crumble. And he knows then that those words aren't for him. That he hated how they sounded coming from you, how they weren't what he wanted, how he could only wish you'd take them back so that he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest trying to carve its way through his skin.

And how useless he felt then, sat in front of your broken state knowing that you had once done the same with him. How utterly and completely he knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe this looming, horrible terror that was held so deep in your eyes he could only see a warped reflection of himself in them.

And he simply couldn't handle it. He felt weak, hopeless, useless. But what was there to do? He had never seen you so truly pained, he had only ever known the other side of this situation.

So he did the only thing he could. He pulled you close, slow and cautious, before the both of you crashed into one another. Hands that had twitched at his mere presence now held him as tightly as the shirt on his back. As if, should you let go, you'd be cast adrift again into the crimson rapids. And he could only hold just as tightly, hoping that if he just held on tight enough that the falling parts of you would stay, that he might save even a single piece from the agony you were lost in a sea of.

You two stayed like that for a long while, hardly caring about that time that passed. At some point, so overtaken by the exhaustion of your endless bouts of tears and the near-death experience you'd just endured, you'd passed out in his arms.

And like some cruel twisting of a memory he held dear, he carried you to bed. He tried not to glance too much at your features, the cuts and bruises sending sickening waves through him, as he laid you down. He took a shaky breath as he covered you in a blanket, taking care to be quiet as he left the room.

In the absence of your presence there was only rage.

A fire unlike any he had felt struck him like lightning, a burning hatred at who could have ever done this to you. His feet moved but his mind was preoccupied with who and why and- god why didn't you just tell him what happened? What could have ever led to this?! What had you done? Who had you upset?

The thoughts plagued his mind as he set up his spot on the couch. Yet when the pillows had been laid and the blanket placed, he could not find it in himself to rest. He could only pace and snarl and burn with such a horrible feeling. How dare they. How dare they. How could anyone do this to you? To his-...

It was only those final words that managed to slow his thoughts, a sinking feeling resting in his chest.

Not his. You were not his. Not for a long while, not anymore…

But there was no hiding the fire in his skin. No denying how deeply he held you, how desperately he wished to never let go again. He could only curse whatever higher power could hear him. Curse them for ever doing this to either of you. Of ever letting him know your name.

It was a horrible pain to want so desperately to have you back, but there was no pain worse than you returning in broken pieces. Worse yet to know that, maybe, had he done things differently, you might not have left his arms to shatter against a world he could have protected you from. To know that he failed.

He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. He knew then that there would be no sleeping tonight.

Your eyes were heavy as they opened, protesting against your attempts to wake up. You thought, in your groggy state, that it might be better to never open them again, to give in to what they demanded from you. To close them a final time.

But it was only a passing thought in your utterly exhausted state. A whisper held at the back of your mind just waiting for the moment that it might scream itself into existence. But not today. Not now, at least.

And so you forced them open, a groan halfheartedly falling from your lips as you pushed away the comfort of infinite dark. You managed enough strength to sit up, regretting it almost immediately when a dull pain burned your side. You would have been confused, maybe even a little worried, if not for the returning throbs of the many cuts along your face and arms that swiftly and brutally remind you of yesterday.

So close. You had been so close to the end. You were lucky to have made it out alive. It was honestly a miracle you had.

Cornered, like an animal. You remembered the feeling well. Trapped right where you didn't want to be. It was like he could smell your terror as he bared his wolfish teeth in the warm street light. A wicked smile, one that scorched itself into an unhealthy scar upon you. Never to be forgotten, a thing of nightmares.

You had run as far as you could go, lungs empty and feet sore, your hands covered in the warmth of your own blood as you tried to hold even just a part of yourself together, to manage to escape through the skin of your teeth once more. You had done it before, but a second time was surely a test of fate.

You had been lucky, then, that a bus was passing by. It shouldn't have been there so late so far out of town. But by some higher being or just through the world's sick way of fucking with you it was. You had never been so relieved to be met with headlights in your life; you practically screamed in relief as you waved it down. Your hunter was as scared as a doe in them, slithering off into the shadows like the coward you knew him as. The driver, a woman in her forties, looked horrified at the state of you. But you had brushed off her panic and worry and told her to simply drive. You were thankful the bus was empty. You couldn't have handled anyone else's questions in your utter panic.

You had only been a five-minute drive from salvation, from the home you had long since abandoned, only to return to in your time of need. Five minutes.

He must have known. Someone might have told him or you might have mentioned John in one of your many pain-filled benders. It didn't matter. He knew where you were, and it seemed his patience had only grown thinner. You were sure now that he would not stop with breaking you under his iron grip, but utterly destroying you.

All at once these thoughts hit you, flooding your mind with panic and worry. You're breathing shallowed as your mind falls down this path, stopping only when the end of the memory comes to mind.

John…

You tried to move him from your mind, to rid yourself of the sinking feeling that came when you thought of how quickly he had jumped to help you, even after years of silence and weeks of ignoring each other. You try not to think of his attempts at gentle touch, calloused battle-worn hands not quite built for the kindness he was showing. You remove from your mind how he held your hand to him, how it seemed like no time had passed from when you left with how quickly he knew what would truly calm you. And most of all, you try to remove the feeling of his arms around you, desperate and worried and familiar and home. You try, as little as that means nowadays.

You deduce that sitting in silence isn't the best way to distract you from these things, and so you finally stand from the bed, noting only then that you don't remember falling asleep here. But you let that slip your mind as well. You prefer the static buzz of being busy over thinking too much about any of this. It only made things harder.

So your feet moved without you, intimately familiar with the halls and doors and light switches. After all, it had been your home, once upon a lifetime ago.

You hardly stagger as you make your way to the kitchen, accustomed to the constant lull of pain in the back of your mind. A whisper of its own, and one you realized it better to ignore.

You are close to allowing the static buzz to take over, close to numbing and leaving your brain on autopilot. Close to the preferable numbness. So very close. But upon taking a step into the kitchen, you are met with a sight so twistedly familiar you are shocked back into yourself.

John sat at the table, two plates laid out and coffee poured. A quaint scene, an old one. A memory from a different time, faded and aged and different in ways that leave you sick. Because he didn't stare with the complete adoration of a man in love, nor did his eyes avert, distracted and tired, as they had on the day you had left him here. But instead they tear through you. Locked on you the second you entered. It amazed you how his eyes of crystal blue, so similar to that of a frozen storm, could burn through you so easily.

You think for a moment that this is it. That he's going to kick you out with only a final meal and that you are going to be thrown to the starved wolf you knew lurked just outside. You prepared yourself to plead, to apologize, to ask for any bit of mercy he might show you. After all, you had lost your dignity a long time ago, and it wouldn't be the first time you had begged for your life.

But then, as if the elements of himself collided, the fire in his eyes cooled to a warm glow. Soft and familiar and warm, warm, warm.

You almost wished then that he'd return to his fiery glare.

“Sit, love” It isn't a command as much as a quiet plea, his voice is soft and calm and maybe even worried, a rare combination for him. It's a sound so foreign now that you almost don't trust it. His expression falls further as you hesitate.

“I just wanna talk” he tried to explain, to give you any reason to trust him. It works, though only barely. You take a hesitant seat across from him.

The smell of the food hits your nose and only then do you realize you hadn't eaten last night. The waft of coffee only seems to make things worse as it reminds you of how tired you are.

“We can eat first” you can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but either way you take the opportunity. You were too weak to deny how much you needed this right now. You would regret it later, you were sure, but for right now you would allow yourself this small indulgence.

And so it was quiet, absent the sound of forks hitting plates. Quiet in a way that you weren't sure if you liked or despised. You wondered if it even mattered.

It was a few bites in and halfway through your coffee that he spoke again.

“I saw a butterfly this morning” his words cut the silence in a way that baffles you out of the static once more. Out of your head and your thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Oh?” You respond almost too naturally, almost too much like you used to. If it weren't for the heaviness in your voice, you might have even forgotten that this wasn't like it used to be.

“Yeah. Should’ve seen it. It had all your favorite colors” his words are almost light in spite of the tense atmosphere and, despite it all, it manages the smallest smile from you.

“I’m sure it was beautiful” you reply and watch as the look on his face changes. You can't quite read it, a strange softness is all you can take from it. But there never fails to be that lingering sadness there. That worry. That pain you can't quite bring yourself to address. And so you look away, your eyes turned down to your food once more.

The silence that follows threatens to suffocate the two of you, drown you in this horrible replication of better times, and punish you for daring to seek even this small comfort. And so, knowing that there is only one way this will go, he finally asks.

“What happened last night?” You feel your throat tighten almost immediately, not daring to pick up your fork when the weight of that question falls atop you. You find it hard to give him an answer, let alone one that might satisfy him.

“I…It’s…” you struggle and hope that maybe you might just disappear, that maybe all of this was some horrible nightmare you'd wake from. But as seconds passed it became clear it wasn't. Clearer still that you had to give him an answer after what he'd seen.

“It's complicated” you try to explain but you knew the moment the words fell that they wouldn't be enough. You think that maybe he'll be angry at this, that he'll slam the table like he had before and demand a better explanation. But a glance shows that his expression only deepens in its worry.

“Then explain it to me” he pleads once more. It was a rare day he ever pleaded, begged, or even so much as asked for something. Rarer yet that it's genuine. Your mouth goes dry and silence remains. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

“Love-” his hand reached for yours and the contact shocks every nerve in your body. You flinch away from him, regretting it a moment later when his worry turns to pain on his face. He retracts his hand with the most hesitance you've ever seen from him; a man so usually sure of himself.

“I just need to know what's happening. I-...” he falters, another rare sight. He takes a shaky breath.

“I won't hurt you” those words come out stronger than the rest, as truthful as he could have possibly made them. And, despite its softness, it seems to tear apart the very walls you had built to keep you safe.

But safe from what, exactly? When the wolf lays outside, and this place is your final sanctuary, what does that make him? You weren't quite sure, but somehow you knew that whatever this was, it felt…well it felt familiar at least. A devil you knew well enough to find some comfort in the warmth of.

Your head turns away, arms held against you in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself. You think, for a moment, that you might run from here. That you might leave everything behind in the wake of the words that threaten to leave your tongue.

But he wants the truth. And who are you to deny him it? It couldn't make things much worse than they already are.

“Where do you even want me to start?” You ask him, voice hollow and cold and empty. There was no more of yourself to give than a story. You wondered if the sacrifice would even matter.

“Wherever you need to” he answers back, his shoulders squared: tense. You had half a mind to comfort him, but you doubt it would've helped. So, with a deep breath that does very little to calm your nerves, you finally answer him.

“When I left I didn't want to start over, but I didn't want to see you again either. So I moved a few towns over” you started, your voice detached from yourself, like it came from someone else entirely.

“A few months later I met someone. He had been so kind at first. Loving, attentive. He made me feel like I existed in the world again. Made me feel wanted” your words murmur and a snarl forms, even talking about it makes you sick.

“I was stupid, blinded, didn't pay attention. Didn't care, really…” you pause, your hands indenting into your skin as if to keep you where you sat, as if to stop you from fading from here.

“I married him” your words come out much more mournful than you mean to, your snarl nothing more than a quivered lip now. You had married that monster.

You didn't have to glance at John to know the look on his face. Anger, rage, a twisted form of jealousy. It was a knife to his back, you imagine, that you might have married another man before he had ever put a ring on your finger. But you weren't quite sure you cared anymore. After all, it wasn't you who had been so cold to him those final days you were together.

“I didn't realize who he was until then. He'd always been…rough. Arrogant, quick-tempered, prone to violence. But I guess I just thought that he wouldn't ever treat me like that. That I was different. That he loved me” your words shake and you do your best to pull those broken strings together. To steel yourself. To not be so pathetic.

“I was wrong…” you allow yourself the pain of those three words and in so scar your heart further as you admit it. He had never loved you.

“I tried to get away, I tried to start over again, but he wouldn't let me leave. I can't get a job without him finding me, can't get a place to stay, can't start over. I thought maybe if I came here, maybe if my name wasn't on anything, maybe if I was careful enough then I could figure it out…I was wrong about that too” you curse yourself when tears sting at you. You do your best to hide it, to disappear in front of his own eyes. But there was only so much you could do. Hiding from him had never been your strong suit.

John feels…well he doesn't quite know. A mixture of everything horrible, he thinks. He can't stand how your eyes avoid him as the words fall, how with each passing word he can only find regret. Regret that he hadn't held you closer, that he hadn't kept you safe. And he hates that the consequences don't fall to him, that he wasn't the one burned, that instead he watches you crumble and break and shatter. He had loved you, he had always loved you. That hole in his heart, that void you filled. Ripped from him and torn apart as swiftly as a flower in a stormy ocean. He hardly had the mind to blame you anymore, hardly had the heart to. He could do nothing but blame himself and the cruel creature he could hardly call human. The one who had dared to lay a finger on you. The one he could imagine tearing apart with his bare hands.

There are questions that circle his brain, words that travel from the top of his head and almost meet his tongue. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where can I find him?’ ‘How long had this been happening?’ ‘Why hadn't you said something sooner?’

He lets out a shallow breath, his eyes closing in thought for only a short moment before he stands. The sound of the chair startles you into watching him once more. His steps are slow, and deliberate, as they make their way towards you. You lean away for a moment, as you had since you'd gotten here, but it calms as you watch him. His movement is predictable; safe.

And soon, just as slow and just as softly, his hands fall on your face as they had hundreds of times before. Calloused but warm, a softness he only ever found with you. He is gentle along your bruises, careful with them. You can't look from him now, eyes searing through him. But he had nothing to hide, and so he stared back.

“We're gonna figure this out” he speaks to you, words like comforting slashes against your soul in how they tear your emotions from you. Your attempts to hide were all but vain now, tears falling freely and only barely held from a sob. Your breaths shake as your eyes close into the comfort, hands falling onto his as if he might just slip away. He presses a kiss, hesitant yet desperate against the crown of your head.

“He ain't ever hurting you again” his words are a promise as he mumbles them against your skin before placing his head against yours. You make no attempt to pull away, instead finding that a broken smile falls on your lips, one of utter relief. Somehow you find a will to speak.

“I missed you”

Potential part two? Maybe? Probably? Definitely?

#call of duty x reader #john price x reader #gender neutral reader #tw: violence #tw: mentions of depressive and suicidal thoughts #tw: heavily implied domestic abuse #tw: blood #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #john price #john price mw2 #john price mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw3 #captain price #call of duty

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